I finish packing my bag, and I glance around my apartment to make sure I didn’t forget anything. I’d dropped Shaggy off with a dog sitter this morning. I’m sure she thought I was crazy when I went over a very detailed list of care instructions. Yes, I’ve become that kind of dog owner, with instructions about which toy he prefers after dinner and how he wants his blankets arranged for bed. But I dare anyone to resist that fuzzy face of his.

Conventions and appearances are my least favorite thing about doing porn. I’m not big on any of the self-promotion shit. Rebel nagged me for months to start an Instagram and Twitter account until he finally started them for me and upkeeps them on his own. I get that people get off on feeling like they know you, and they’re more likely to be loyal viewers if you do all the PR bullshit. But that’s just not me.

I’ll grit my teeth through the convention this weekend because it’s a paid weekend of smiling and not growling openly at anyone. It doesn’t mean I’ll like it. This is the shit Brewer and Pixie live for, but I know I’m not alone in dreading these mandatory appearances.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I take it out to find that it’s Brewer letting me know he’s waiting outside for me. I sling my bag over my shoulder and make sure to lock up on my way out. Oddly, I find myself looking forward to the drive with Brewer. He might have a special way of irritating the hell out of me, but he also manages to keep me on my toes. It’s difficult to be bored with Brewer around. I just haven’t figured out if that’s a good thing or not.

I find Brewer double parked in front of my building, waiting for me. When he spots me, he jumps out of the car and goes around to the passenger seat.

“I take it you want me to drive?”

“Yeah, I’m tired as hell. Staring at the lines on the road for the next six hours would undoubtedly end with us both dead.”

“Good call. You can nap while I drive. Have you eaten? I could run back up and fix something for you quick? Or we could stop and pick something up on our way out of town?”

“I’m fine,” Brewer waves me off. “You drive for the first half, and I’ll drive the second half.”

“Works for me.”

* * *

“I’m bored,” Brewer complains two hours into the six-hour drive.

“Then we can switch early,” I suggest.

“You know I’m always up for a switch,” Brewer responds with a suggestive lilt to his voice. I groan at the innuendo.

“Come on, dude. We’ve talked about this fake fuckboy bullshit. Drop it around me already, will you?”

“Sorry, force of habit.”

I grunt in response. I get it’s difficult to change. Hell, I haven’t exactly dropped my impenetrable steel curtain, either. Is it even fair for me to expect Micah to drop his?

“What do you normally do when you get bored?”

Brewer shrugs, tilting his head to look out the window. “Jerk off usually,” he answers casually after a few seconds.

I shift in my seat, my cock immediately taking interest in his off-handed comment. “You’re not going to jerk off in the car,” I huff, my pants now uncomfortable.

Brewer’s head whips around, and he narrows his eyes at me. “I wasn’t going to, but if you’re going to take that dickish attitude with me, I think I’ll go ahead and entertain myself after all.”

I lick my dry lips, forcing my gaze to remain on the road rather than chasing the peripheral image of Brewer’s long, slim fingers playing over the zipper of his jeans as he leans back and spreads his legs.

“Brewer.” His name comes out as half irritation, have breathless plea. I want him to stop—it’s irresponsible and immature. But, maybe a little part of me wants him to keep going.

“Shhh, teddy bear, I know you want to watch me make a mess of myself,” Brewer teases in a soft voice, the sound of his breaths becoming harsher.

I chance a quick glance and find Brewer’s long, pretty dick hard in his hand. I glance back at the road to ensure it’s still straight and clear, and then back to Brewer as he wiggles his pants lower to expose his balls as well. His fat, hairless balls are mesmerizing as they bounce with each one of his strokes.

My cock throbs, trapped against my thigh in my constricting jeans. I was in too much of a rush this morning to bother with underwear, so the rough denim rubs against my sensitive cock.

“Brewer,” I moan this time, his name feeling wrong on my tongue. He turns his head toward me, and for just a moment, I take in his lazy smile and his half-lidded eyes.

“You play such a straight arrow, but you like a little danger with your sex. Don’t you, Pete?”

No, I don’t think it’s the danger. I think it might just be you. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I turn back to the road to avoid saying what I really want to say. Maybe I don’t hate Brewer so much. Maybe I like him as a person a little? Fuck me, I never thought that would happen.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans and my cock dribbles in my pants. “Oh Jesus, Pete,” a hand lands on my thigh, so close to my cock I whimper. “God, I love having your monster cock inside me; it’s all I think about when I jerk off anymore.”

“I thought you said you didn’t jerk off,” I ask breathlessly.

“I never said that, what I said was you had to take care of me off camera. If I’m going to have a fake boyfriend, I might as well reap the benefits.”

“Sneaky bastard,” I chuckle. His hand inches up my thigh and my laughter turns into a moan. Micah cups me through my jeans, squeezing but careful to be gentle with the already rough fabric.

I hear a light thump as his head falls back against the headrest and sound of his stroking gets faster. Each breath comes out in a loud huff, mingling with grunts. All the while his hand continues to massage me, driving me closer to the edge with him. Then he tenses, a loud groan escaping him as the smell of cum fills the car. My cock pulses hard, trapped between his hand and my leg. The inside of my thigh is covered in hot, sticky release.

* * *

In the lobby of the hotel, it’s like déjà vu as we try to decide who’s rooming with who. Last time we went out of town, it was to New York, and I ended up rooming with Rebel. That was the night he and Troy made things official. They had been fighting and Rebel was bummed that they might be ending things, then Troy flew out to New York to surprise him. Needless to say, I didn’t get to spend much time in the room after that since they were busy screwing like rabbits.

“I’ll room with Bear,” Rebel volunteers. “Then Campy, Heart, and Pixie can share.”

I glance over at Brewer. Obviously, we have to room together to keep up the ruse, but I’m surprised to find I don’t mind. In fact, if given the choice of who to room with, I might have picked Brewer all on my own. When the hell did that happen? This friendship thing really snuck up on me. But I have to admit, Brewer is nothing like I assumed he was for so long.

“Want to go check out our room?” Brewer suggests. “We can break in the bed before the convention.” He wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis.

“How about we break the bed in with a nap?” I counter offer, because the bags under his eyes are getting dark again.

His shoulders sag a little, and he offers me a grateful smile.

All three rooms are side by side. Bear leaves us with instructions to be ready to head down to the convention center on the first floor in three hours.

Inside our room, I take Brewer’s suitcase and set it next to the dresser, alongside mine. I grab the remote and find a random movie playing, then I turn the volume low. Brewer is already on the bed when I turn around, wearing nothing but a pair of tight green briefs and his t-shirt. I strip out of my cum-crusted pants, as well as my shirt and socks, and crawl onto the bed beside him. My heart gives a weird slow roll inside my chest as he snuggles closer to me, resting his head on my chest and curling his body around me.

For a second, I consider protesting, but the peaceful look on his face as he starts to drift off stops me from disrupting him.