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Brendon

T he tattoo on my neck is itchy as fuck. I swear I’m going to scratch it off.

“Leave it.” Paul’s command has my fingertips freezing on my neck where I was rubbing the skin. I’m trying to be gentle with it, but fuck, it’s driving me nuts.

“I can’t!” I snap back, clenching my hands into fists. “Why doesn’t anyone tell you how much this shit itches?”

Paul looks at me like I’m a dumbass. “They do; you just don’t pay attention.”

Ouch.

“If it’s itchy, put some lotion on it.”

“Ugh!” I drop my head back on my shoulders, and Jeremy chuckles. “What are you laughing at? Why isn’t yours itchy?”

“Because someone makes sure it’s taken care of.” Preston’s tone is a little condescending, but I scoff anyway, trying not to look at Paul.

“Gotta make sure it heals so you can leave new imprints on it, right?” I wag my eyebrows at Preston, half hoping he’ll swing at me to distract me.

When he just looks at me like he’s bored, I smile. “I should bite him, and we can compare the marks.”

I’m smacked upside the back of my head, and I turn to glare at Paul.

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Good hustle out there today, boys!” Coach hollers through the locker room as we get changed after practice.

I’m pulling on my shoes when my phone goes off with a social media tag.

Paul, Preston, and Jeremy head out, so I follow along behind them while I check the notification on Instagram.

DarbyUFan4Life posted a picture from the stands during practice. Most of them are of me, though. That’s kinda cool. I’m not a star player, so having someone notice me is pretty awesome.

I like the post and shove my phone in my pocket with a little extra pep in my step.

Jeremy and Preston are holding hands, and while I love it for them, I hate that I can’t. I mean, I could, but not with Paul.

Are we at the casual hand-holding stage? I tattooed his teeth on my neck. That should say something, right? Or is that just being brushed off as me being extra and over the top?

The idea hurts. I hope he knows it’s more than that.

Back at the dorms, Jeremy and Preston head out with their families, so Paul and I grab our homework and settle on his bed.

I’m halfway through my business class homework when my phone goes off with a Snapchat notification, and I groan. Paul snorts as I pick it up and open the app. Nikki has sent me a picture of herself in the library with stars around her head and her eyes crossed with the caption “studying has me like.”

I type out a quick “me too” and toss my phone, hoping that’s the end of it.

Of course, it’s not.

NIKKI: Where are you? I don’t see you.

brENDON: In my room, it’s almost lights out.

Please please please don’t show up.

NIKKI: Oh! I can head over there if you want a study partner! We can quiz each other!

FUCK.

brENDON: I’m studying with my roommate.

She sends back a bunch of crying emojis, and I want to throw my phone out the window.

NIKKI: I wish he liked me.

Insert eye roll here.

I sigh and look up at Paul who’s watching me with an expression on his face I can’t quite read.

“What?”

He looks at my phone, then back up to me. “Your new bestie need something?”

I scoff. “She’s not my bestie, and I think she just needs a friend.” I shrug and put my phone down to focus on my homework again.

I’m staring at my textbook but not actually absorbing any of it. There’s too much going on in my head. My eyes are unfocused as I brush my finger over the raised scab on my neck. It’s possessive and comforting to have a permanent mark on me from him. Even if he was hesitant to do it, I needed it. I still do.

“Stop messing with it,” Paul mutters, and my eyes snap back into focus as I turn my head to look at him.

The desire to ask him what this all means is so damn strong it’s almost suffocating, but I can’t. The words are stuck in my throat, and I can’t keep my head on anything else.

I close my book harder than I mean to and drop it onto my desk on top of the other shit that’s stacked there and climb into bed. I can feel Paul’s gaze on me, but I don’t say anything. With my back to him, I cover myself and force my eyes closed.

The voices in my head tell me I’m an idiot, that getting that tattoo is a surefire way to put distance between us, that he’s only messing around with me, and I’m not his long term.

Paul moves around the room, turns off the light, then stops somewhere near the beds.

“Are you hiding under the blanket so you can scratch the tattoo?” His question almost makes me laugh. It's definitely something I would do.

“No.” My voice is a croak, and my bed dips as Paul climbs in behind me. He slides up to spoon me, wrapping his arm around my waist over the blanket.

“What’s going on in that head?” He doesn’t sound judgmental, only curious.

“Do you hate the tattoo?”

His answer is immediate. “No.”

“What do you want me to tell the team when they ask?” We both know they will ask.

“Whatever you want.” I can feel Paul shrug behind me, so I turn to face him.

“You don’t care if I tell them it's you?” I lift an eyebrow at him.

“No, I don’t care.” He shakes his head and lifts my chin to turn my head. Paul leans in and softly kisses the tender spot on my neck, making me shiver.

“You’re my person, remember?” His lips against my ear have goose bumps breaking out along my skin.

“Are we together? In an exclusive relationship, or are you just figuring your shit out?” I hate how small my voice is, how needy I am for assurance.

Paul rests his head on my pillow, watching me. “An exclusive relationship?” He smirks at me. “Is that a fancy way of saying boyfriends?”

I can’t help the little smile that turns up the corners of my lips. “Maybe.”

Paul chuckles quietly. “I would be okay with that, but I’m not ready for everyone to know yet.”

Hope blossoms in my chest, lighting me up inside. “Okay, I get that.” I lean forward and kiss him quickly. “But you’re mine, right?”

He smiles into the kiss. “Right.”

Scooting over, I pull Paul farther onto the bed, then push him onto his back so I can lay on him. It takes some moving around to get him under the blanket, and I realize he still has his jeans on.

“You cannot sleep in jeans.” I scrunch up my face in disgust.

He rolls his eyes and reaches for the button.

“It’s pretty sexy seeing you get naked in my bed, though,” I tell him as he shimmies out of his pants.

“I’m not getting naked,” he tells me, kicking the offending material onto the floor, and pulls me against him. “Not today.”

I lay my head on his chest and breathe a sigh of relief at his heartbeat in my ear.

“But you do want to get naked with me again, right? Like, experiment more?” Please, for the love of God, tell me you want to fuck again.

“Oh yeah, definitely.” Paul runs his hand through my hair and pulls my head back so I’m looking up at him. “I want to know how good it feels to be inside you.”

My dick hardens against his thigh, and he chuckles darkly while my face heats.

“How good it feels to push into you, tight and hot.”

My ass clenches at the idea. It’s been a long time since I bottomed, but holy fuck yes, please.

I slide my knee between his and shift to climb over him, but his grip in my hair tightens.

“Go to sleep, Brendon.”

“Uh. But. What?” I blink up at him, sure I didn’t hear him correctly. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, go to sleep.” He raises that damn eyebrow at me, giving me the no-nonsense look I both hate and love.

“But—”

“Sleep.” He puts my head back on his chest and wraps his arms around me.

I close my eyes and grumble into him, “I hate you.”