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He coughs abruptly before leaning in closer and lowering his voice. “What are you trying to do here, Rome?”
I drop my arm that was resting on the couch behind him, just enough that it rests on his shoulders. “Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.” His eyes dart down to my lips as my tongue swipes across them, and I know I’ve got him in my pocket. Using my free arm, I reach across his lap to grab another beer. He stills momentarily before visibly relaxing.
It’s thrilling. He’s actually scared of Dev; I can tell, but I wish he’d believe me when I tell him has nothing to worry about.
He stands up suddenly. “Beer pong?”
I nod and follow him, walking right out into the backyard without a backward glance at Dev. My boots crunch over crushed cans as we make our way over to the plastic table where a game is already wrapping up. “We’ll take the winner,” Julian says, and they listen because it is technically his party.
It’s nice and humid out despite it being an evening in February. Just the way I like it. When the weather is like this, Devin smells especially good with his musky sweat in the mix. I bite my lip just thinking about it. He should be out here soon enough. Doubt he’d miss the opportunity to keep his eyes on me right now.
With one final throw, the game comes to a finish, and we swap out with the losers. Julian takes off his shirt, throwing it somewhere in the overgrown grass behind us. He’s just as ripped as Devin is, with firm pecs and ridges in his abdomen. I eye his physique appreciatively, and that’s when I spot my fuming-with-love boyfriend leaning against the house. I slant a smile at him. His arms are crossed firmly in front of his chest, almost as if he’s restraining himself. I wonder just how far he plans to let this go; he knows he can end it at any time.
If it’s as I suspect, as much as he wishes he wasn’t, he’s getting some kind of thrill from this too. The fantasy is starting to leap from his mind and take shape right before his eyes, and he’s enjoying it.
Julian hands me a ping pong ball and beckons me to go first, carefully avoiding Devin’s gaze. It’s almost cute. I aim and shoot, sinking the ball into a cup on the first try.
“Damn,” he says, pulling me to his side. His already sweaty torso slicks across mine, sending tingles across my skin. Then he lowers his voice so only I can hear. “I can’t believe you’re even letting me touch you.”
“Neither can I,” I say with a snort. “Don’t get used to it.”
He positions his ball at eye level, aiming with practiced ease. I already know he’s going to score; he rarely misses. The ball lands with a splash in one of our opponents’ cups, and they begrudgingly chug the warm beer. The game continues on much like this. They score on us often enough, but Julian never misses a shot, and I make a couple more. When we finally win, I am significantly more buzzed. The alcohol churns in my veins lazily, the buzz of the coke long gone. Julian grips the back of my neck, and I let myself relax into it.
Devin and James break through the crowd. “We’ll go next,” Dev tells the losing team. He is also, very notably, shirtless. I spend a moment drinking in every square inch of him, and what a fucking sight it is.
“You look fucking good tonight, baby,” I say, loud and proud. A few laughs sound from the groups of people loitering around the table, which makes me even happier.
“He’s not wrong. I think you’re getting bigger than me,” Julian teases, playing along in a surprising turn of events. I guess he’s not all that scared after all. It could just be the alcohol, or maybe he’s really starting to understand.
James’s eyes are darting back and forth between the two hulking men, trying and most likely failing to figure out why the world has suddenly flipped on its head.
“Yeah. You havin’ a good time over there, Julian? Sure fucking looks like it,” Dev says, his words laced with venom.
Then, Julian does something extremely ballsy. I mean, who knew he had it in him? He wraps his large arm around my shoulders, pulling me over and holding me to his front; his open palm slips right under the hem of my shirt to rest on my stomach. My breath catches at the blatantly possessive display, warmth spreading from the contact. “You know it,” he volleys back. I can hear the smile in his voice.
Now my blood is really pumping.
It doesn’t feel even a little uncomfortable being in Julian’s arms like this—probably because I know and trust him, and at the end of the day, this whole thing is all my own doing. I’m in control here.
Devin’s jaw twitches, his arms corded with veins as his fists tighten, but he doesn’t even flinch. A display of self-control that is so beyond impressive, my dick could probably whimper. God. Something about him makes all my walls come crashing down. I want to flay myself open for him, give him everything.
It dawns on me that the crowd has gone utterly silent, their eyes all saucers and some mouths agape. Devin gives them all the finger and a curt, “Mind your fucking business.”
Julian grabs a ball and hands it to me, letting me go first once again. My first shot misses, but his lands, of course. Dev does the honor of chugging the contents of the red solo cup, his throat bobbing as it slides down. A small moan of appreciation slips from me, and Julian shoots me a look, one eyebrow cocked in an exasperated sort of way. “Guess I need to step my game up,” he says easily.
“You don’t stand a chance,” I say. “No one does.”
His chest puffs out a bit as he stands taller. “We’ll see about that, won’t we, Rome?”
Anyone with eyes knows that Julian is hot shit, attractive in a textbook kind of way, and it works for him. But I meant what I said. No one could ever get my blood boiling quite like Dev does. It’s just different—plain and simple. Regardless, messing around with Julian is far from a hardship for me.
Dev is a brooding statue on the other side of the table when we finally turn our attention back to the game at hand. He sinks the first ball in one of our cups. I grab it and drink it down, the warm, watery beer not even bothering me anymore.
The game continues on. Dev doesn’t miss a single shot, James holds his own, and before we know it, we’ve lost. The smooth satisfaction on Devin’s face pleases me. He’s the only one I’d ever be happy to lose to.
“You just can’t do it like me, Julian,” he says. It’s a small barb between friends, but with the current atmosphere, it feels sharper than usual.
Julian slips his hand down into my back pocket, palming my ass through the leather as he stretches his other arm up in a show of nonchalance. “Must not be doing too bad, though.” All this dominance being thrown around is starting to get to me; my dick throbs in its confines. I readjust myself, and Devin’s nostrils flare.
