Page 9 of Rocking the Receiver (Austin Troopers)

CHAPTER 9

IF U SEEK AMY

Elliot

His voice. Raw. Feral. Intense.

Goosebumps spread across my skin. Ablaze. Quivering. Awestruck.

Nothing could’ve prepared me for Rupert’s live performance. Brilliant. Pure. Emotional.

I’ve heard him countless times on social media, but this doesn’t compare, especially when his beautiful green eyes are on mine.

Holy shit! He’s perfect.

Standing far enough from everyone to pretend that I’m not that into it, but at the perfect angle to enjoy both the view and the music, I chug the rock that’s taken residence in my throat. I shift my weight from one foot to the other and drink him in, despite my blurry vision.

My eager dick gets the message. Convincing Rupert to agree to this friends with benefits deal suddenly takes the forefront, though it never really left. Actually, that’s not true. Originally, I intended to find a quick, trustworthy, and dirty solution to my V-card. Don’t ask me why I trusted my dream guy so much because I don’t have an answer to that. Maybe because of how my brother talked about him. Maybe because, even in pictures, his eyes convey something genuine. Maybe because giving him the benefit of the doubt suited my hormonal needs.

Who cares?

Clearing my parched mouth, I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. This silly uptight son of a Brit made me all verklempt.

I’m fucking crying! For real?

I’ve been so enthralled by Rupert’s performance that I didn’t even register my reaction to it.

I’m fucking crying over this.

Sighing, I comb my fingers through my hair that I have every intention of chopping before I’m go to Austin. Same with my virginity; being a virgin for my first year on campus is unthinkable.

Desire flares. I’ve never craved anyone as much as I crave Rupert Smith at this exact moment. The memory of us stripping each other’s formal clothes threatens to tent my pants.

It contradicts the song that he told me he specifically wrote for the happy couple. A love song about their journey with details only a best friend would be privy to, so subtly hinted that I’m pretty sure I’m missing the point. I’m in a parallel universe anyway, hearing him in front of an audience while coveting him as if this song was ours.

Right now, Rupert Smith is triggering emotions that always have been foreign to me. My confusion finds an outlet when my front teeth gnaw my lower lip, drawing blood.

My heart skips a beat. There’s a moment of silence before the thunderous applause. I can’t pretend anymore, so I flee to the house in search of peace and quiet. That’s the best way to enjoy the music some more, replay it inside my head, and make it mine.

I sprint upstairs like a man possessed, taking the steps two at a time. It’ll take more than that to be out of breath. What I desperately need, though, is some alone time to recover and be in the right headspace when I see him again. About to grip my door handle, my head swivels to the end of the hall.

With my nerve endings on high alert, I don’t have much of a choice. A cold shower with a happy ending isn’t an option; I won’t risk missing Rupert in case he comes up here, which I’m hoping he will.

In less time that it takes to draw my next breath, I make a beeline for Romain’s room where I unearth his stash in the back of the desk drawer where his laptop along with his stacks of books await. I smirk. My brother is so predictable!

Old habits die hard…

He probably knows I know his secret, but what’re older brothers for? Considering the amount in the bag, I bet he won’t even notice some is missing. I rarely indulge in this, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I’ll punish my body with extra workouts when the object of my obsession is gone.

Back in my room, I deposit the blunt on the nightstand, fumble nervously with my shoelaces, and kick off my dress shoes. With their fall, a loud thump resonates on the hardwood floor. Oh, well! Unconcerned, I change into gym shorts and a fitted tank top. Only when I’m done, do I remember that Rupert and I agreed to a drink.

Fuck! The talented moron messed with my head big time, but I’m not going back down now. Since my intent is less than honorable with him, I’d rather keep our friendship to ourselves.

Skin itching, I grab the blunt, then open the window and sit on the windowsill. I take a long drag, reveling in the sensation, before exhaling slowly.

Much better…

Phone in hand, I type at record speed, telling Rupert how much I loved his live session and to grab a couple of beers and join me upstairs if he feels like it.

My heart somersaults as I hear a rap on the door.

It’s about fucking time!

It hammers inside my chest when I hear his sexy, muffled, and hesitant timbre. “Elliot, you there?” It’s cute he doesn’t barge in like my siblings would.

“Come in!”

Rupert

AFTER CLOSING THE DOOR , I awkwardly slide my hand behind me and turn the key in the lock while ogling Elliot’s filled-out frame. I can’t look away.

He ditched his formal attire in favor of more revealing clothes, which I’m grateful for. My mouth waters at the sight of his muscular body. He’s definitely all grown-up.

Relaxed by the window, he pulls on a joint, drawing attention to his sinful mouth. And just like that, watching his appetizing lips wrapped around it ignites something in my lower belly. I couldn’t allow myself to dwell on the fact I instinctively searched for him. Nor could I consider why I followed his lead. But at this very moment, there is not an ounce of doubt as to why I am here.

The smell of weed somehow enhances the silence between us. Our muted conversation doesn’t require words. Lust. Secrets. Agreement.

Flashes of our brief and forbidden kiss resurface. My pulse trips over itself. His stare shows his true intent. Our labored breathing proves we are on the same page.

I make a mental checklist of the similarities between the man I’m facing and the boy he was only a year ago. He hasn’t changed much… Nah, strike that, he’s way different. His assertiveness is definitely not that of a spoiled brat, as he used to refer to himself—and I agreed. So much has changed between us since then, and yet, so little.

My entire being yearns to watch him follow his dreams and thrive, like I did. At this very moment, though, I ache to touch him. In turn, my length comes to life, thickening against my zipper. I breathe in and out.

Eventually, I find my voice again, but remain stuck by the door, holding the door knob. “Why did you leave?”

“I needed some time alone,” he deadpans, his voice scratchy.

“So, you liked the show, huh?”

“Are you kidding me? You were nothing short of amazing. You managed to bring out emotions…” Elliot stammers, “…emotions that I’ve never felt before, and you know that country isn’t my jam. But you made me want more.” His sly grin doesn’t go unnoticed as he stands up and takes another hit of the blunt before he puts it away on a small plate. His eyes don’t leave mine. “More of you, that is. Our attraction… It’s inevitable. You feel that… pull as much as I do, don’t you?” Lightly coughing, I smile approvingly. “It’s okay. We’re okay. I want you. That won’t change anytime soon.”

Given free rein, I close the distance between us, put the two beer bottles down on the windowsill, and unabashedly inhale his masculine fragrance. My sweaty palms cup his rosy cheeks, and I angle his face to my liking. My mouth crashes into his, getting reacquainted with the blissful sensation. I close my eyes, all of my focus on him.

I fought so damn hard against it for so long. I stood by what I told him: I’m no predator. But hard is the effect he has on my length while my clueless heart melts for the person he is, or should I say, the man he’s becoming more and more every day.

Yes, we’re years apart. Yes, he’s my best friend’s younger brother. Yes, I’m letting my cock overrule my rational brain.

Like a moth to a flame, I didn’t stand a chance in the long run. My irrepressible need for him invades my heated body as our tongues stroke one another. Our hard-ons rub against each other. Our hands roam over each other’s clothed bodies.

Swallowing his moans is such a turn-on, no matter how much the taste of dry blood from his wounded lower lip stuns me. A primal need to protect him arises, even though there was a time I made a point of protecting us from each other.

God, I should pace myself!

I break the kiss and pop my eyes open.

Groaning, Elliot does, too. Swiftly, he takes a drag of the joint again before plunging his tongue deeper into my mouth. My hand reaches for his soft hair while the other settles on the back of his neck. I whimper when he slowly sighs, then breaks the welcome back kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” I pant.

He smirks at my admission. He once texted me those exact words, and I berated him for not staying true to our friendship. Today, I am the one implying more than I say.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” His words are full of wonder, yet laced with pain. “You’re not gonna push me away again, are you?”

I shake my head, following him when he sits on his bed, lights up the blunt again, and passes it to me afterwards. Before I have a chance to inhale the smoke, I choke on it when he confesses, “I’m a virgin.”

My eyes widen. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Well, I haven’t told anyone, so I figured you, of all people, should know.”

“ Riiight … Listen, I’m flattered that you’re sharing this with me, but our kiss doesn’t change anything between us, Elliot: We’re not gonna sleep together.”

“Why not? You said you wouldn’t reject me!” he exclaims, snatching the joint from my hand.

“I’m not. There are more reasons than I can count for not sleeping with you. For starters, I?—”

Before I can reply, he cuts me off, explaining his college conundrum. “Look, I get that punching a V-card isn’t the greatest experience, but I’m a fast learner… and I have to start somewhere.” He shrugs. “I trust you, and only you, to make it good for me… for us.” I’m amazed that he’s opening up so freely. That said, I can’t help but think that there are things he’s not saying. “I’ll… listen, comply, follow your… instructions. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.”

“You’re sweet, but sex won’t be happening.”

His free hand covers my crotch, gently squeezing. “I make you hard. Why deny it?”

“I’m not denying anything. I’m just giving you information, Elliot. Find someone your own age. Learn what you like—or don’t.”

“Like I said, I want to experience it with you . Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that I thought I’d prefer topping. Is that why you’re not okay with helping me out?”

I guffaw. “You’re definitely single-minded.” He beams, visibly thinking that his stubbornness is a charming quality. Well, maybe that’s what makes him a talented football player. I’m way too aroused and stoned to think straight. I hear myself blurt out, “If you must know, I’m a bottom.”

“See, we’re a match made in heaven! Strict bottom?” At this point, I’m not shocked anymore, just speechless. “Don’t think too hard!” he jokes. “I’d just really love to try both, just to confirm where my preference lies, you know.”

Finally, I repeat, “Elliot, we are not sleeping together. Period.”

“But we did agree you owed me three favors.” The beers he requested are all but forgotten; his pigheadedness is both cute and unnerving. “I can start with a blowjob, right now, if that’s what you want.”

Shaking my head in disbelief, I realize that his hand hasn’t left my stiffy. I don’t object to its current location. Regardless of the weed effect—or thanks to it?—I remain collected and counter, “We never agreed they would be sexual favors.”

“True, but what are friends with benefits for if no sex is involved?” He grunts. “Listen, you have no fucking idea how much I want you.” Hitched breaths. Crude words. Burning skin.

Of course, he makes his Puss in Boots eyes, straddles me, and bats his long lashes.

“Please…”