Wicked Lies Boys Tell

“I said stop.” I have his arms pinned, and despite his thrashing beneath me, he’s at my mercy.

“I hate you,” he chokes out.

“No, you don’t.”

Something that closely resembles a sob rattles from him. I lean forward and press my forehead to his. This time, the unmistakable sound of unchecked emotion rips from him in one sharp cry.

“Just kiss me and end it all,” he pleads, defeated.

I lift away slightly so I can look into his eyes. They’re partially closed as the rain beats down on us. “I don’t want to end it all,” I mutter to him. “I want to keep it.”

“Penn. Put me out of my misery.”

Brushing my nose against his cold, wet one, I let out a sad chuckle. “I can’t.”

His brows crash together for a moment and then they relax slightly. He leans forward, pressing his lips to mine. I freeze at the contact. I’m startled enough that he surprises me once more by gaining the upper hand. He flips us so he’s glaring down at me, victory in his eyes.

“Cope—”

He silences me with his lips to mine again, this time harder. Insistent. Demanding. His tongue slides out and I greedily lash at it with my own, forgetting all my rules and promises.

He tastes like rain and friendship and memories and love.

And I can’t get enough.

Sliding my fingers into his wet hair, I pull him closer. I kiss him deeper. My soul pleads its damn case with his. This. This is right and real and ours for the taking. He groans when I nip at his bottom lip, sending currents of desire straight to my dick. My erection seems to be contagious because as time ticks on, he grows harder and his kiss becomes more intense.

“Fuck, Penn,” he mutters against my lips. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but it feels good. Why does it feel so damn good?”

I smile against his searing kiss. “I don’t know, but it’s been driving me crazy long before it has you.”

“I’m sorry.” He groans and sucks on my bottom lip. “I didn’t know how it felt.”

Painful. Lonely. Devastating.

But Cope won’t have to feel that way. He has me. We’re in this together.

“Just don’t leave me again,” I plead. “Promise me, Cope.”

“I promise,” he says without skipping a beat.

Lying in the cold mud with icy rain pouring down on us, we frantically grope at each other, desperate for this new feeling. Mutual want. He easily yanks at my belt and dives his hand into my slacks while I impatiently fumble at the button of his stupid jeans. His chuckle makes my dick jolt in his freezing cold hand. He undoes his pants with his free hand, granting me access. With my hand around his dick and his around mine, we kiss more eagerly. Both of us climbing and climbing and climbing together to a new plateau.

Cope is the first to lose himself to pleasure. He groans as his release spurts from him, warming my hand with his hot cum. It sends me into my own vortex of ecstasy. I moan into his open mouth and nearly black out as I come. His hand slows as he wets my dick with my own cum. Our kisses grow softer and less frantic until Cope chuckles.

“What?” I demand, a laugh trickling past my lips. “What’s so funny?”

“This,” he utters. “You and me. Fucking fighting per usual and then back to normal. Except this time, I don’t feel so normal.”

“That’s because you’re covered in mud and cum and it’s freezing ass cold.”

He sobers and lifts so he can look at me. His dark hair is plastered to his head, nearly hiding his blue eyes from me. “This doesn’t feel real. Like when I walk back into my room…” he trails off, frowning.

“It’s real and we’ll walk into that room together.”

We both rise to our feet and fix our pants. Cope watches me with such vulnerability in his eyes it nearly kills me. I stalk over to him and pull him to me for another soul-stealing kiss.

“My dad can’t find out,” he murmurs, his hot breath warming my chilled lips.

“Neither can mine.”

“No one can know.”

“I agree.”

He embraces me hard like I might disappear any second. I mimic the sentiment, burying my face against the side of his neck.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he breathes.

“That makes two of us.”

His house is empty by the time we make it back. Both of us are shivering from the cold. He leads me through his kitchen, us tracking in mud along the way, to the laundry room. Once inside, he opens the lid to the washer and starts peeling away his wet clothes. I follow suit until we’re both standing in our boxers.

“This looks pretty bad,” I say with a smile. “Where’s your dad?”

“Work probably,” he utters as he throws in a couple of pods and starts the wash. “I need a shower.”