The song ends and Sarah is all blushes and stuttered thanks.

“It was my pleasure,” I assure her. She seems like a sweet kid.

All of Rebel’s family is really cool, actually. It’s weird as hell in a kind of nice way. The warmth and love filling the house is causing a strange aching pain in my chest. And every time I look over at Rebel—apparently in the middle of a serious conversation with his sister—the ache gets deeper, fuller.

I swallow against the thick lump in my throat. I have the inexplicable urge to walk over to Rebel and slip my hand into his. But, why the hell would I do that? Holding hands isn’t something I’ve ever wanted to do. I mentally mock people who hold hands. Don’t they know they’re on the road to heartbreak? No one stays forever. If there’s one thing life has taught me, it’s that.

No, I don’t need to hold Rebel’s hand. I need to enjoy all the hot sex and have fun while it lasts.

“Troy, would you mind giving me a quick hand in the kitchen?” Rebel’s mom, Susan, asks me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“Of course.”

“So, you and Hendrix seem close,” she comments once we’re in the kitchen.

I flounder for a second, trying to think of how to respond as she turns to the refrigerator and starts to pull out a few trays of desserts. What does close mean? Is this going to be a don’t hurt my child speech? Is this a when’s the wedding speech? Or is she just making conversation?

“I guess?” I finally answer with obvious uncertainty in my tone.

“Relax, I’m not trying to grill you,” she assures me with a laugh. “Hendrix is a good boy. He was always a good boy. Don’t get me wrong, he was a handful when he was young. But he was always loving and generous. I know he’s grown into a good man, too. I like seeing the smile on his face when he looks at you. And I like that you seem to accept him for who he is and what he does.”

Her words strike at the ache in my chest, intensifying it. What is that?

“I don’t mind what Hendrix does for a living. And he is a very good man,” I agree.

Without warning, her arms wrap around me, and I freeze. It’s stupid, but when I was little and bouncing around foster homes, I always wondered what it felt like to be hugged by a mom. It seemed like it would be so warm and comforting. Sometimes, I would close my eyes tight and try to imagine it, try to conjure what the sensation could possibly be. It never came close to what it feels like right now to have Susan hugging me tight. I can feel the love she has for Rebel pouring out of her. She loves him so much that I can almost believe she cares about me by extension.

When she releases me, there’s a tight, burning behind my eyes and an even bigger lump in my throat than before. I knew coming here with Rebel would be dangerous. It’s making me yearn for things I learned as a child aren’t meant for me.

She hands me two of the trays of food and nods me toward the living room. I force my emotions under control and follow her out.

“Are you okay?” Rebel asks after I’ve set out the desserts where Susan directed me.

“Of course,” I lie.

Rebel narrows his eyes at me and then takes my arm and leads me toward the stairs. He takes me to a bedroom right at the top of the steps that I have no doubt was his as a kid. There are a few dusty sports trophies on a shelf and posters still on the wall. His parents kept his room how he left it. Another wave of emotion washes over me.

“I can tell you’re freaking out; what’s going on?” Rebel asks again now that we’re alone.

“This is a lot, that’s all.”

Rebel’s eyebrows furrow. “Do you want to leave? We can go back to the hotel if you want.”

“No, we came for your parents’ anniversary. We’re not going to miss it. I told you on the way here that I don’t need to be coddled,” I grumble. “I’m good at being alone. One day, you’ll be gone, and it’ll just be me again, and I’ll be fucking fine.”

I wince as the words leave my lips. They’re too harsh, but they’re also like a shield, protecting my heart from Rebel.

Undeterred by my outburst, Rebel wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him. I can feel my body vibrating at his touch, too many emotions overwhelming me at once until they start to spill over as frustrated tears.

“You’re not alone anymore. We’re friends, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes, you will,” I argue, disgusted by the flair of hope his words cause in the pit of my stomach. “You’ll leave like everyone else.”

I try to push him away, but he hangs on tighter. “I know I’m not about to convince you that I’m not going anywhere, so I guess I’ll just have to show you. And, in the meantime, we can keep doing what we do best.”

Rebel tilts my chin up so my face isn’t buried against his neck anymore, and his lips devour mine with a hungry desperation. Relieved to be back on familiar footing, I part my lips and thread my fingers into his hair, kissing him back with urgency. Rebel groans against my lips and presses his hard length against mine.

“Should we be doing this in your childhood bedroom?”

“You think I never fooled around in here? I got plenty of action in high school, babe.”

I chuckle, trying to imagine a younger version of Rebel back when he really was only Hendrix. “Oh yeah? So you weren’t all pimply and dorky?” I tease, walking him backward toward the bed.

“Pssh, no way, I was a total stud. What about you?” Rebel pulls me down so I’m straddling him on his narrow bed.

“I was a shy loner, but I was secretly hooking up with a few jocks,” I brag.

“That sounds kinda hot.” Rebel tugs up my shirt and runs his fingers along the ridges of my abs. “Wanna play?”

“Hendrix, your parents are right downstairs. What if they hear us?” I feign a protest as I unbutton his pants.

“I guess we’ll have to be quiet.” Rebel works on my pants as well, at the same time kissing and nipping at my throat. “I’ve seen you checking me out in the locker room after gym. But no one at school can know, can you keep a secret?”

“I’m very good at keeping secrets. In fact, I’d say it’s my second-best skill, right after my oral skills.”

“Is it true what they say? Are guys really better at giving head?”

“I’ll show you, and you can decide for yourself.”

“Boys, sorry to interrupt, but we’re going to cut the cake, and your sister wanted to give a speech,” Rebel’s mom calls through the door.

He winces, and I stifle a laugh. “We’ll be right there,” he calls back. “I guess this will have to wait until later,” he adds to me in a much quieter voice.

“Mmm, looking forward to it.”

I zip Rebel’s pants back up—which is a much more depressing direction—and climb off him.

I hold my hand out to Rebel to help him up, which he takes, but he doesn’t drop the touch immediately. A small tingle of awareness at the pleasure of the innocent contact runs up my spine. I yank my hand back quickly, and Rebel gives me an apologetic smile.

“Glad you boys could join us,” Rebel’s mom says with a knowing smile when we make it back to the living room, where everyone is congregated waiting for speeches and cake.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

Marley stands with a champagne glass in her hands and faces the full room of people.

“Thank you all for coming today to celebrate my parents’ anniversary. I want to say a few words about my parents before we cut the cake. Growing up, I thought my parents were extremely weird. Instead of McDonalds and Mac and Cheese, we were getting kale burgers. Instead of family vacations to Disney World, we were going on meditation retreats. But in spite of all the weirdness, I always knew we had something special. I could and still can see the love pour from both of you whenever you look at each other. In most things, I’ve wanted a different life than you two built together, but in love, you are my absolute role models.

“Maybe you didn’t know that Hendrix and I could always see the little things you did to show your love, but every single thing imprinted on me, and I think it did on Hendrix as well. Because love isn’t about grand gestures and being perfect, it’s about leaving the last of the organic orange juice because you know your wife will want some when she wakes up, or leaving each other notes with dirty pictures drawn on them, or holding your wife’s hand when she hears that she has breast cancer and then standing by her every day of her recovery. You two are the embodiment of love, and I’m so blessed to have learned how to love from you.”

Hendrix’s hand flexes against mine, and I realize we’re holding hands again, and I’m not sure how or when that happened. His gaze is fixed on his sister, and there’s a slightly glassy look to his eyes.

He looks over at me like he can feel my gaze on him and gives me a lopsided smile. My gut clenches in a mixture of fear and... I’m not actually sure what the other emotion is exactly. All I know is it feels warm, makes me want to be as close to Hendrix as humanly possible, and intensifies the fear tenfold.

Marley’s speech comes to an end, and I blink myself back into reality. I tug my hand out of Hendrix’s and clap along with the rest of the group, just so it looks like I had an excuse to pull away.

My heart pounds in my ears. I need to get a grip. I’m getting too close to the edge, and I need to correct course. And there’s only one way I know how to do that.

“When can we head back to the hotel?” I whisper, letting the suggestion drip into my tone.

“Cake and then we’ll leave.”

* * *

“Strip and bend over the bed,” I growl against Rebel’s lips as we kiss and lick at each other’s mouths.

I swallow Rebel’s groan of approval. He pulls back to comply, but I stop him with a firm palm on his left ass cheek.

“I can’t wait to have this tight ass.”

“Me too, baby. You have no idea.”

I take a step back and strip my shirt over my head, keeping my eyes on Rebel as he scrambles out of his own clothes.

I can’t get used to how perfect he looks. I mean, duh, he’s a porn star, so of course he’s completely hung. But, perfect cock aside, his body is everything I’d picture if you asked me to describe my ideal man. He’s in shape but is devoid of bulging muscles. The dusting of blond hair on his chest and down his stomach feels incredible against my own naked body, and I need to feel him again right the fuck now.

I don’t pay any attention to where my clothes fall as I strip out of them. And Rebel seems to feel the same way as he tosses his pants on the floor and sends his underwear flying over his shoulder.

He wastes no time bending over the bed, bracing his hands against the mattress and arching his back.

I wrap my hand around my cock and give it a few lazy strokes, gathering the leaking pre-cum on my thumb. I lick my lips as I step up behind Rebel, unable to tear my eyes away from his round, powerful ass. I know exactly what he looks like when it’s flexing with each powerful thrust. And I know what he looks like spread and taking it. But, I don’t know what he feels like hot and tight around my cock, and I can’t wait to find out.

I spread his cheeks with one hand and lift my slicked thumb to his tight pucker. He spreads his legs a little wider and leans farther forward.

Rebel’s asshole easily softens under the small circles I make with my thumb. The small amount of pre-cum I used dries quickly, so I spit into his ass crack and spread it with my fingers. Rebel groans at my touch.

“God, you’re fucking filthy; I love it,” he grunts as I use the new moisture to work two fingers inside.

“I know you do.”

I lean over and run my tongue along Rebel’s spine as I fuck him open with my fingers. His hands clutch fistfuls of the bedsheets, and his breath is coming out in heavy pants.

“You’re sexy as fuck.” I nibble at the back of his neck, and he whimpers. “Are you ready for my cock?”

“Fuck, yes.”

I pull my fingers out and reach for my bag to grab my condoms and lube. Spit may be enough for finger fucking, but I’m not going to try to shove my cock into him without any lube. I suit up and then squeeze a generous amount into my hand and cover my cock with it. I spread what’s left around his hole and wipe my hand on the edge of the bedsheet.

Rebel groans as I line up and slowly press inside. There’s little resistance as he relaxes expertly to take me. His smooth inner muscles grip my cock and suck me into his hot channel.

My fingers dig into his hips, hard enough to leave bruises. The thought sends a shiver down my spine and straight to my balls as I imagine thousands of viewers watching a video featuring Rebel and noticing finger shaped purple smudges on his waist and thighs, wondering where Rebel got them. I can picture watching the video myself and trying to hold back from coming too quickly, remembering this moment, pounding into him from behind as he wails and begs for me to give it to him harder.

I lean over him and suck his neck, desperate to leave marks all over him as my hips snap forward and drag back over and over again.  

“Troy, ungh, fuck,” Rebel rambles random combinations of words and pleas while meeting every one of my thrusts. “Harder, rougher, please.”

I wrap my hand around his throat from behind, not obstructing his airway, but just hard enough to feel the rumble of each word and gasp escaping his lips. And then I fuck him harder, until he collapses forward onto the bed. I follow, falling on top of him but doing my best not to miss a beat.

“So good, Hendrix, you feel so fucking good.” I don’t realize my slip up until the words are out, but it doesn’t seem to give Rebel any pause as he cries out, humping against the bed as I hit that spongy pleasure spot inside him.

His ass clenches so hard around me that my vision blurs around the edges for a second as I lose my breath. I grab onto his firm, chiseled ass cheeks for leverage and thrust deep, emptying myself with a deep moan. When my legs are shaking too badly to hold me up any longer, I collapse on top of Rebel, who seems just as drained as I am.

“Holy fuck, you are a goddamn god,” Rebel mumbles in a tired, sated tone.

Pride swells in my chest, along with another emotion I can’t name. I roll off of Rebel so I can lay beside him without crushing him.

“Well, look at the tools I had to work with,” I point out, giving his ass a resounding smack.