Page 7 of Doink (Rainbow Dorset University)

PEYTON

T he restaurant I recruited for the picnic meal is one of my favorites. I’m a regular patron, so I’m not entirely surprised that they filled the tote with more food than two people can eat during a single date. I guess they wanted us to have leftovers. I’m not mad at that.

We’re quiet as we share the dishes I pulled out. There were dry ice packs at the bottom of the tote that were still frozen, so I’m not worried about the contents I left inside. Just in case, I pulled out the ones I thought should be eaten first.

I glance at Dana, admiring his profile. He chose a shirt and long shorts.

His dark hair is still stuck to his head as it slowly dries.

He’s tall and soft. He’s about as opposite to the crush I’ve nursed for the past several years as one can be.

He’s literally everything Coach Lemon isn’t. Quiet, shy, masculine.

As I study him, I realize that he’s far more my type than Coach Lemon ever was.

I’ve never crushed on a guy like Coach. I know there’s a term for the reason.

I went through a very difficult time during my first year, and he showed me the type of kindness you rarely receive from someone in a supervisory role over you.

Somehow, my brain decided to translate that into meaning he obviously had feelings for me. Therefore, I was going to crush like no one’s business.

Look where that got me.

I think about this date and how disastrously it’s gone. Coach would be pissed. He wouldn’t be sitting here beside me, rolling with it in the same way Dana is. I can’t imagine Coach Lemon Frost faring well, stranded in a storm like this.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

Dana’s eyes meet mine. “For what?”

I wave around. “This. As the date planner, it was definitely my responsibility to check the weather when our entire date depended on it. Obviously, this turned out a lot differently than I hoped. Probably not at all what you signed up for, huh?”

The corner of his mouth rises, and he looks down into the bowl in front of him. “Are you kidding? This is an actual, real-life adventure. People these days don’t have adventures of any kind.”

“You’re a very good sport. I’m still sorry it turned out this way. This date should have been fun, light, and memorable.”

His eyes meet mine again. “I’ll remember it forever.”

A beat passes. “As the worst date? Not my goal, dude.”

He laughs and shakes his head. Dana doesn’t answer for a few minutes. “I’m having fun,” he says, voice quiet.

“Yeah?”

He nods, meeting my eyes once more. This time, I get the distinct impression that it’s bashful.

We talk about school for a while. The classes we’re taking, football, the café, and our friends.

There are bouts of time when the thunder is so loud and constant that we can’t hear each other without yelling.

In the moments when the thunder isn’t filling the room, the rain doesn’t stop. It rarely gets lighter.

There’s a analog clock on the wall, so when it reaches six, I make the call that we’re going to be hunkering down for the night. I’m a strong kayaker. I’ve gone out in the moonlight many times. But only ever when I’m intimately familiar with my surroundings.

Not that it matters. The rain hasn’t stopped. We can hear the wind whistling outside, too. Branches of the trees touching the cabin scrape against the side and roof as if they’re trying to get in.

I move the tote of food as far from the woodstove as I can get to keep the ice from melting. We remain on the blanket for quite some time, talking about nothing. Anything. Everything. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this with anyone.

Okay, not exactly this. I’ve never actually been stranded in a storm before. But this, as in chatting for hours with someone in complete comfort.

The clock reads nine when we decide to get into bed. There’s only so long that the floor is comfortable. I stock the stove with more wood and shut it tightly while Dana folds the blanket and towels and sets them on the chair.

We take turns in the attached outhouse while the other makes the bed.

“You want the wall or the edge?” I ask.

He looks at me and then at the bed with a dubious expression. “We’re not exactly small guys. Are we even going to fit on the bed together?”

“I’m not volunteering for the floor,” I say, laughing. “I’ll help you make a bed if you’re more comfortable. We’re certainly going to be cuddling on the bed.”

“You’d think they’d at least have bunks in here,” he says as he climbs onto the bed and moves toward the wall.

That’s a fair assessment of the situation. I would think that there would be multiple beds in here. Is it more likely that individuals get trapped out here, and not two or three people at a time?

The answer doesn’t matter. I climb in beside him and pull the blankets up. We’re shoulder to shoulder. Legs pressed against each other.

“I feel like a sardine,” he says, and I laugh.

“At least it’s warm in here. And dry.”

“Oh, definitely. I can’t even imagine how we’d make it through the night without this place.”

“There are a couple ponchos and some rope in the emergency bag. We’d make the best shelter we could and keep a fire burning all night. So, not much different from this, though at least in here, we’re comfortable enough that we’ll probably both be able to sleep.”

“You’ve spent far more time outside than I have,” Dana says. “That’s incredibly obvious. In an apocalypse, I’d die.”

I snort. “I’d die too. I don’t hunt or forage. I have no idea how to clean and gut a fish. I’d die of starvation.”

“That’s still better than I’d make out. That’s why this is fun.

It’s something incredibly new and different.

Exciting. I admit I was a little afraid on several occasions because it’s nothing I’ve done before, and the entire thing can feel intimidating.

But you’re here and guiding me, assuring me.

Your confidence helps a lot. Even in the storm, this is fun. ”

A smile rests lazily on my lips. “I’m glad you’re having fun. That had been the idea when I planned for this date. I’m also glad I’m able to fool you into thinking I’m confident.”

He huffs. “Oh, stop. You exude confidence every time I see you, Peyton. That’s probably why I’ve always been so drawn to you.”

I turn my head to look at him. His profile is in shadow, so I can’t quite see his expression. What I can see is that he’s studiously staring at the ceiling with his lower lip between his teeth.

“You have been, huh?”

His huff is louder now. “In case you didn’t get the memo, this kind of thing—outdoorsy—isn’t something I’m familiar with. I didn’t bid on the date for the date itself.”

I wait for him to continue. I want to hear his words. I want him to say them.

Eventually, he does in a whisper. “I bid on you because I’m too chicken to actually ask you out myself.”

I lick my lips. I let his words hang between us for a minute before I roll to my side so I can better see his face. This puts me at a better angle to do so, but I also block more of the little bit of light from the lantern.

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yes.” I’m not sure what else he has to say, but I want to hear it.

“I’ve had a crush on you all year,” he admits. “You seem rather oblivious to it.”

“I was oblivious to it,” I agree. “But maybe more so because I’ve… wasted a lot of time crushing on someone who was never going to give me the time of day to notice anyone else around me.”

“Their loss,” he whispers.

“Look at me.” He does so, and I don’t need to see him clearly to know that his cheeks are pink. I don’t get any words out. Dana hooks his hand around the back of my neck and pulls my mouth to his.

I don’t hesitate to kiss him. To taste him. I rest my hand on his ribs and around his side. He rolls into me, bringing our bodies further together.

It’s been a really long time since I’ve made out like a teenager. Probably since I was a teenager. But we spend a lot of time kissing. Hands moving around each other’s bodies, touching and exploring.

At first, it’s pretty PG-13. But it doesn’t take long for the atmosphere and proximity to change that to an R rating. Especially when I find that Dana has a lot of confidence like this. He’s shy when we’re talking, but he’s not shy when it comes to kissing. Touching.

His hand circles around my ass, hauling me against him. His dick presses against mine and I groan deeply. His kiss becomes more insistent. Commanding.

“Peyton,” he grunts, his hips grinding against mine.

“I want to suck you,” I say.

He moans, nodding. I shove him away and get on my back, moving into the middle of the bed. “Sit on my face.”

I feel his body shudder as he scrambles over me, stripping himself as he does. It’s awkward and cute and fucking hot when he straddles my head with his pretty dick in my face. I reach for it, wrapping my hand around him to stroke his length.

He has good girth. Not too fat. Long. So damn hard.

“Fuck my throat, hot stuff.”

“Can I take your shorts off?” he asks.

I nod. “Do whatever you want. I’m down for anything.”

Anything but talking. I bring his cock back to my lips. We wiggle and adjust until we’re both in the right position, at the right angle for his cock to slide down my throat.

I love deep throating. I’m a fucking whore for it. There’s little that gets me off more than this.

Dana’s hands plant on either side of my hips as he slowly works his dick down my throat.

I moan around him, earning myself a gasp from him.

As it did while we were kissing, his confidence blossoms. He slowly fucks my throat, moaning quietly as he does.

A steady rhythm of his hips. He pauses every handful of thrusts to let me have a breath.

My legs fall apart when his mouth comes down on my balls. I moan around his dick. There’s a wet, slick feeling that drips down along my taint to my hole, and his finger toys with me. There’s a little bit of pressure. A little more.

More spit. His finger breaches me. I try to suck on his dick, matching the intensity that he sucks on my balls. His balls, all full and bouncing, hit against my face over and over. It’s so damn hot. So fucking erotic.

Dana adds more fingers. Stretching me wider and wider. When’s the last time I’ve felt so turned on? When’s the last time my orgasm felt so fucking hot?

He pulls back from my balls and takes the first inch or so of my cock into his mouth. At the same time he curls his fingers in my ass, he sucks like it’s the sole use of a mouth. My hips buck wildly as he pulls my orgasm to him.

I cry out around his cock. He grunts, holding his dick deep in my throat. It pulses as he shoots his load inside me. This time, he’s not thrusting. He holds still as he empties. The lack of oxygen makes my head spin. Makes my orgasm feel more intense. More consuming.

Fuck, I don’t want it to end.