Page 31 of Summer Skin
KEEPING WITH HISbest intentions to not follow Chase around like a lost puppy searching for a bone—or boner, as it were—Aven makes his way through the partygoers into the kitchen, looking for food.
When he enters the room, there’s someone standing at the counter. And as the party gods would have it, it’s Chase. In no time at all, Aven’s completely lost the whole playing it cool thing and is drawn over like a dog on a leash.
Chase has a half-filled plate of food in his hands, and he’s staring at the buffet spread like it’s a marriage proposal. All heart eyes.
“Ben’s kimbap is pretty good,” Aven advises.
Chase startles, whipping his head around. “Jesus, Aven, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Music’s up pretty loud.”
“Yeah,” Chase agrees, his brow wrinkling in consideration, “who put on country anyway?”
“My guess would be on Tyler. His best friend growing up was a cow.”
“Farm boy?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Not everyone gets lucky enough to land an Andi next door.”
Ain’t that the truth, and when Aven’s thoughts stray to Chase’s childhood—moving from town to town, never sticking around long enough to make any lasting connections, no reason to trust getting to know anyone—there’s a sadness for what Chase should have had.
“So, you and Veena … um ...”
He trails off, but Aven gets what he’s asking.
“No,” he answers, “never.”
“It sort of seemed like …”
“Seemed like you can’t finish asking a question?”
That makes him laugh. “You dick.”
“We’re friends, that’s all. Nothing more.”
Chase considers this for a moment, worrying his bottom lip. “And you and me, is that what you’d want for us? Friendship?”
He wants to tell Chase that they could never just be friends. There’s too much history, too many emotions and desires still swirling between the two of them. Instead, he says, “We’re roommates.”
“Roommates,” Chase repeats, like he’s testing the word out. He looks up at him, blink-blink-blinking those long eyelashes, and Aven wants to grab the plate from his hand and toss it. Pull Chase close and kiss him with every ounce of inescapable longing in his body. “And is that …”
He gives Chase an amused look. “Use your words, Matthews.”
“Aven, is that all you really want from me?”
It’s becoming more and more impossible to lie to himself about that. Because the thing is, no matter how much the situation boldly screams NEVER GONNA HAPPEN, he can’t force his heart to chill the fuck out over Chase Matthews.
“I …” It’s Aven’s turn to lose words, and he runs a hand through his hair, trying to puzzle out a way to share his feelings without making it sound like he’s asking Chase for a second chance at a failed relationship.
Before he can manage to put his foot in his mouth, he’s saved by Justin, who bursts into the kitchen like a pack of feral children are on his tail.
“We need a third,” he tells Aven, a little breathless.
Oh, fuck. Literally. Doing Justin and Tyler together? It wasn’t like Aven hadn’t thought about it a time or twelve, but hello to the worst timing ever. Veena, now Justin, what sort of bizarro roommate sex energy is swirling around in the air tonight?
“Me and Tyler,” Justin clarifies, like Aven didn’t get it the first time.
Aven flicks a glance Chase’s way. “I don’t really think that’s a good idea?”
“What? Why not?”
He seems so honestly confused that Aven would turn down the offer, even though he’s asking out of nowhere, and Aven’s roommate-slash-ex-love-slash-current-obsession is standing right next to him, and why on earth would they—oh. “Is this a cam channel thing?”
Justin’s eyes go wide as the moon and he gives Aven a curious look before he bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, no, Sinclair, not everybody wants to fuck your brains out.” He grins, slyly. “Just most people. I’m asking for a board game, it’s three players minimum.”
Well, color him the rosy shade of humbled. But, really, we need a third is a phrase Aven has heard more than his fair share of times, and, up to now, it’s never led to a game. At least not the kind played on boards.
After a heartbeat, he gets exactly what this is about.
“Not the whale game,” he says firmly.
“Yes, the whale game.” Justin is giving him these commanding eyes that Aven could swear he’s practiced in the mirror a thousand times to get whatever he wants. Or, more likely, practiced on camera. There’s a reason he has a legion of loyal paying fans.
“Dude,” Aven says, resisting, “why?”
“Whales Destroying the World is about fucking with humans,” Justin explains, like that reason alone should get him all hyped to play. It may be news to Justin, who genuinely seems to prefer the company of marine life to his own species, but Aven doesn’t necessarily want to wage a war against humanity. But then Justin’s expression shifts into something more pleading, and in seconds, Aven breathes out a heavy sigh of defeat.
“Fine, alright,” he agrees in a tone that implies Justin owes him one, big time.
“You in?” Justin asks, turning to Chase.
Chase holds up his food like it’s a get out of whale free card. “Can’t,” he explains, “I told Ellie we could share a plate. Maybe next time?”
“You got it, Skipper.”
Oh, joy, a return to the nautical nicknames from Justin.
“Follow me, Flounder.”
“Hey!” Aven protests. “Why does he get to be all hands on deck and I’m stuck at the bottom of the ocean?”
“Flat fish are cool, man,” Justin says with a sad shake of his head, like Aven just doesn’t get it. “This one time,” he begins, and Aven mouths here we go at Chase, but obediently follows Justin from the kitchen to where Tyler has optimistically set up the game of whales vs humans.
This shit isn’t exactly the wild and intriguing nightlife Aven had imagined for himself at this age while staring hopefully at his childhood bedroom ceiling. But Tyler and Justin are his friends, and that’s something, isn’t it?
Maybe even something better than what he’d wished for.
***
It was a brutal loss for the humans, which was actually a win for all three of them, seeing how Tyler and Justin were rooted on Team Whale and Aven was sitting on Team Couldn’t Give a Shit.
He takes a swallow of beer, plopped on the couch next to Ben, half-listening to the guy go on about a new workout routine he thinks will heal Aven’s inner child, but most of his focus is on Chase, who’s doing a living room show at Ellie’s request. Though Aven would call it more of a command. “Play the guitar for us, Chase,” she’d said. Like she was his leader at band camp.
Chase is performing song covers on demand, which has created a group sing-along situation with the pile of bodies crammed like sardines into their living room. Aven can’t claim his ears have developed a particular fondness for the boozy vocal performances, but still, he’d sit through a pack of werewolves howling at the moon to watch Chase play.
Someone shouts out for a Harry Styles cover, but Chase says, “One more for tonight. And it’s one of mine,” and then his fingers melodically pick at the strings, playing something sweet and low. It’s familiar, but Aven can’t immediately place why.
And then with a start, it falls into place. It’s something Chase used to play late at night. An instrumental piece he called a lullaby. Only, the song didn’t typically lead them to sleep, which is why Aven, instead, called it Chase’s siren call.
Chase raises his eyes, and their gazes meet, locking on. Aven thumbs mindlessly at his beer bottle, and there’s a certain fire glittering in Chase’s eyes as his mouth curves into a slow, familiar, come-hither smile that lingers long enough for Aven to feel an undeniable spark ignite.
Goddamn. He’s doing exactly what Aven does to earn tips when playing at the bar, giving fuck me eyes. Never missing a note on the guitar while undressing Aven with a stare.
He’s good. Damn good, fucking fantastic even. He’s honed so much of the raw talent he had as a teen, and now he’s, well, a bona fide rock star. Playing guitar at a house party while giving Aven some of the sexiest eyes he’s ever seen.
His dick starts to stir in his pants, like the big fella might carry some pretty fond memories of this song too, and, holy shit, there’s no way their roommates can’t see the way they’re eye-fucking each other, but he can’t stop. Can. Not. Stop. Chase Matthews playing guitar to seduce him is a wet dream in their living room, and he’s seriously starting to question why on earth banging each other’s brains out every chance they get for three whole months before Chase has to leave on tour is a bad idea.
Chase finishes up to a round of cheerful applause and hollers, and then stands, giving a little wave as he heads out of the room. Only, he pauses at the edge of the hallway, looking back at Aven, and does this whole sexy lip bitey thing and tilts his head towards the bedroom.
An invitation.
Aven groans out loud. Check. Mate.
“What’s wrong?” Ben asks, face lined with concern.
He startles, lost in the silent conversation he’s having with Chase. “Just a stomachache,” he lies.
Ben sits straight up. “It wasn’t something you ate, was it? I swear I prepared everything to health code standards.”
Health code standards. Ben was seriously such a Best Boy.
“No,” he assures him with a gentle pat on the arm. “It’s nothing. I’ll be alright.”
“You sure? There’s some ginger in the fruit bowl, I could make tea.”
And now Aven’s starting to feel like a dickhead for lying. First, he’d made Ben doubt his cooking and now the guy is five seconds from hurling himself off the couch to play Aven’s nursemaid.
“I’m okay, Ben, I promise.” His eyes travel down the darkened hallway to where Chase disappeared. “You know, actually, I think I’m gonna call it a night. Get some rest.”
He yawns for good measure, and Ben catches it, yawning too.
“’Kay, feel better, man,” Ben tells him, and Aven rises, slapping hands goodnight.
A few steps down the hallway and there’s no question if he’s going inside, but still, he hovers outside Chase’s bedroom for a minute, wondering if Chase can sense him out here, before rapping his knuckles on the door, peeking inside.
Chase is sitting in bed with a notebook resting on his knees, stripped down to his t-shirt and boxer-briefs, and he’s got these reading glasses on Aven’s never seen before. They make him want to bend Chase over and fuck him six ways to Sunday. Maybe even eight ways, who knows.
“You’re a fucking flirt,” Aven tells him with a slightly crooked smile. He closes the door behind him, leaning his weight back on it.
Chase raises an eyebrow in amusement. “I learned it from you.”
That gets a laugh.
Chase places his glasses on the nightstand, his eyes moving over Aven’s face, and Aven lets him look. Then, “I know last weekend at the cabin, you said never again.”
“Right,” Aven tells him, but he can’t help letting his gaze travel Chase’s body, liking what he sees.
“But you’ve been looking at me like that all week long.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re ten seconds away from throwing me down and fucking me on all fours.”
Aven inhales sharply. At the blunt honesty—the image it paints. And it’s not a lie. He hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off of Chase.
“Stay,” Chase coaxes, scooting over to make room on the bed. “Please.”
Aven’s not set on his own intentions here, just following his urges and curiosity, so he settles onto the mattress and they sit side-by-side on Chase’s sage green sheets, silent.
He hasn’t been in here since Veena moved out. Chase kept the eggplant purple walls, but he’s strung a line of classic indie albums up. There are three guitars standing in a corner—two acoustics and an electric, and Aven would love to get a closer look, see what Chase has been strumming on. On top of the nightstand is one of those alarm clocks that simulate slow, gentle sunrises in the mornings, and he smiles, remembering how Chase had always been such a night owl.
His gaze edges over to the other man, eyes moving up his golden calves, his strong thighs, all the way to a pair of tight black and gray striped briefs, where Aven can see the thick, hard outline of Chase’s cock tucked into his underwear, and Aven’s dick plumps up at the sight.
Seconds tick by where the only sound in the room is their shared breath, and then Chase places a hand over his own cock, thumbing at the head through his shorts. “This is what you came in here for, right?”
Aven’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I can’t stop thinking about what happened between us last weekend,” he confesses in a low voice. “Can’t stop getting off thinking about you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he echoes, reaching out to smooth a thumb over the lines of Chase’s palm. “What is it about you that makes me feel this way?”
“What way?” Chase breathes, eyes caught on the skin where they touch.
“Like I can barely keep my hands off of you,” Aven admits. “All the time ... I just want to touch you all the time.”
Their eyes link and Chase searches his face, wrapping his fingers around Aven’s. “I think it’s ‘cause we’ve always been like magnets.”
That truth rings deep in Aven’s bones.
“I told you hooking up could never happen again, but that’s not what you want, is it?”
“Being with you like that is nearly all I can think about.” He gives Aven’s hand a light squeeze. “Do you still think sleeping together is a bad idea?”
Aven throws him a knowing look. “I think it’s something we’re gonna end up doing either way.”
A hint of a smile appears at the corners of Chase’s eyes. “I think you might be right,” he admits.
“Maybe …” Aven hesitates. There’s a beautiful man he cares deeply for sitting in front of him basically saying he wants to fuck Aven’s brains out, and that’s not something he can easily toss aside.
But if they do this, if they let themselves take pleasure in each other again, he wants to make sure it’s with a clear head, and a plan, so that neither of them gets hurt.
“Maybe let’s take a day to really think about it?”
A nod of agreement. But there’s still a certain glint in his eye.
“Spill, what is it?”
“Well, like, seeing how we’re both already hard,” he says, “what if tonight we jerk off in front of each other? That doesn’t really count as sex, does it?”
Aven snorts. It definitely counts as sex.
This man is going to be the death of him.
But …
“Do you have lube?”
The quick way his hand snakes out and comes back with a bottle could break the sound barrier.
“Oh, god,” Aven groans. “Are we really doing this?”
“Whatever you want,” Chase tells him. “Anything.”
Anything. It was what he’d always said. But the endless list of ways Aven wants to touch him would definitely be shoved into the think about it for a day space he’d talked them into—like a bonehead who didn’t understand his number one fantasy of all-time was offering himself up on a silver platter with a side of caviar.
“How on earth am I supposed to keep my hands off of you?” he wonders.
A boyish grin takes over across Chase’s face. “It’s like a staring contest, only we see who can make the other come first without touching.”
“So, you want to rewind time to when we were rivals?” Aven jokes.
His face falls a bit. “Not my favorite memories.”
I know, Aven thinks, but he kicks the thought away, trying to stay in the here and now.
He peels down his pants and boxers, taking out his eager cock, stroking himself slowly, teasing them both, from root to tip. Pouring a line of lube across his erection, and Chase’s pupils dilate, widening as he tracks the movement with molten eyes.
“Ah, fuck, Aven—”
A whine, a gasp.
“—you make me so hard.”
Aven raises an eyebrow. “Game on.”
Chase’s hand scrabbles for the bottle of lube, squirting a fair amount onto his palm before bringing it to his cock, wetting the entire length. His eyes are locked hypnotically on the lazy movements of Aven’s hand as he pleasures himself.
It feels good, damn good, and the fact that he’s got a front row seat to Chase touching himself only makes it that much better. Aven sinks back into a mountain of pillows, his shirt riding up, showing a peek of abs.
“Lift your shirt up higher,” Chase tells him, “I wanna see.”
“What do you mean?” Aven asks, all innocence in his tone. “Like this?” He draws the soft cotton up his chest inch-by-inch until it rests just below his pecs.
“Higher,” Chase pleads.
“What for?” A blink of knowing eyes.
“You know why.”
Aven thumbs over his nipple through the cotton of his t-shirt. “This what you like to see?”
Chase’s eyes zero in on where Aven’s pinching at his own nipple, getting it nice and erect, sensitive to touch.
“Oh god, Aven, that’s so hot.”
“You like that?” Aven asks. “Bet you’d like it even more if I put yours in my mouth.”
“Yes,” Chase groans, leaning forward, giving Aven hungry eyes. “I want you to.”
Then all at once, he’s on his knees, crawling forward, his breath mere inches from the shell of Aven’s ear. “Touch me,” he urges. “Put me in your mouth.”
It takes everything Aven’s got not to flip him over and take every single thing he’s offered tonight. Take it all.
But they’re playing sexual chicken.
And Aven doesn’t lose.
“I’d lick your nipples until they were hard for me, perfect to twist and play with.”
A whimper.
“Suck on you, pull on them until they’re sore and swollen, and you feel like you’re going to blow your load any second.”
“Oh god, oh fuck. Aven, I need, I need …” Chase sits back on his knees, gently tugging on his balls. His cock juts out, hard and leaking pre-cum, and Aven would like nothing more than to stuff it into his mouth, swallow Chase all the way down. Watch as he loses his shit and can’t hold on.
Aven licks his lips. “What is it you need, Matthews?” he asks, his voice all gravel. “What do you want?”
Chase considers this, gaze burning into him. “I want you, Aven, any way you’ll have me.”
The words punch a hole in his chest. Years of rejection and being left behind rushing to the surface. It’s exactly what he’d dreamed of hearing, once upon a time, and listening to Chase say it here, now, sends a tumble of emotions through his gut. What Chase is asking for, to be cared for, to be taken, it’s not something Aven can be vulnerable enough to give him.
At least not right now.
He makes a soft sound of regret. “Well, we’d both lose the game then, wouldn’t we?”
Chase sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, giving Aven a look that says he couldn’t give a shit about any game.
“You know what I want?” Aven asks, the words rushing out. “I want to see you fuck that pretty hole of yours for me.”
The side of Chase’s mouth lifts. “Oh, I’ll bet you do.”
“With your fingers.”
Chase leans forward, so far into Aven’s space that they’re face-to-face, inches from each other, and for a few heartbeats, he wonders if Chase is going to throw the game and kiss his mouth.
“You know I’d do anything for you,” Chase says, the warmth of his breath ghosting across Aven’s cheek. And then he reverses position, facing away from Aven. “Spread your legs for me,” he says, and Aven does.
He climbs over Aven like they’re playing Twister, carefully placing his limbs on either side of one of his thighs, never touching. Then he lifts his hips and Aven can see everything, and goddamn, the government should hire Chase as an agent of torture—he’s driving Aven out of his mind.
There’s a click on the cap of lube, and Chase’s fingers come back shiny, circling his hole, tapping against the rim, and then he slowly pushes two fingers inside, and a low moan leaves Aven’s mouth.
“Matthews, you look real good with your ass filled.”
“You like seeing me fuck myself?”
A grunt of agreement. “Keep going.”
Chase slides his fingers out, rubbing over his hole again before fucking back inside, teasingly thrusting in and out like he’s making a show out of it for Aven. But the longer it goes on, the more he gets into fingering himself, mouth open, panting with every short breath. A whine, then, “I wish it was you doing this, your fingers, your cock. I want you inside of me.”
The breath punches out of Aven’s chest.
“Tell me how you’d want me fucking you.”
He can’t help but ask.
“On my back. I want to see you. And I’d wrap my legs around you and you’d tell me how good I am to take you like that.”
“You are good.”
“How perfect I feel.”
“So fucking perfect.”
“You’d know exactly what I like and what makes me come the hardest.”
“I remember exactly how to touch you,” Aven promises. His cock is aching, begging for release, and Chase is pushing desperately back on his own fingers, looking just as needy.
“Aven,” he groans, “Aven, please, let me come on your dick.”
Aven’s cock jerks wildly, enthusiastically showing support for this idea, Chase’s words like a sex serum, nearly as irresistible as the sight of him plunging his fingers into that tight, pink, hole, wet with lube and looking as inviting as anything Aven’s ever imagined.
“I want you to hold me down,” Chase goes on, sounding deliriously sex-drunk, “put your cock inside me, fuck me the way you used to. The way I haven”t been fucked in years.”
Oh, jesus. Oh, christ.
“Because Aven? No one fucks me like you do.”
Chase slides a third finger inside, riding his hand, and Aven’s going to come from the power of those words, watching that sexy, shiny hole stretch, and knowing how amazing it feels to have his dick in there, to be surrounded by Chase, to feel the other man quivering beneath him.
A breathy moan. “Aven,” Chase pants, “please,” and his plea goes straight to Aven’s chest, and he can’t hold back, not for a second longer, and he lifts his shirt higher, coming all over his fist, the ridges of his abs, splattering across his chest.
“Holy shit,” Chase says, his tone shocked. “You came.” He wastes no time at all pulling his fingers from himself and turning around, viewing his victory sprayed across Aven’s skin. Chase grins, like he’s gotten away with something, like he can hardly believe Aven came first.
His hand falls to his cock and he strokes with purpose, throwing his head back. Then he looks up, locking eyes with Aven and coming in big, messy, wet spurts up Aven’s chest, all over his t-shirt, one fat droplet dotting Aven’s face.
“You came first, I won,” Chase says, nearly breathless, dropping back on his knees like he’s exhausted after a long, athletic battle out on the field.
“It’s a tie,” Aven protests, gesturing down at himself. “You came on me.”
“I ... I …” The corner of his mouth is twitching. “I know.”
“You forfeit your win, a part of you touched me.”
His eyes narrow. “Bodily fluids don’t count.”
Aven lifts a shoulder. “Doesn’t say that in the rulebook.”
“What rulebook?” Chase asks, brow wrinkling.
“The one that says it’s time for me to head upstairs before we do something even more reckless,” Aven tells him, pushing off the bed and wondering how he’s going to sneak up to his room without anyone noticing his cum-splattered clothing.
“But I like reckless.”
Aven tugs his jeans up over his hips. “Oh, I know you do.”
“Round two?” Chase suggests hopefully. “Tie-breaker?”
“Goodnight, Matthews,” he says at the door, swiping the bead of Chase’s cum from his cheek into his mouth. “Sweet dreams.”
“Tease,” Chase says with huff of laughter.
And he’s right.
Only, Aven’s not sure if he’s teasing Chase with a hint of a promise for more, or himself.