While he continues to mess with this hair, I discreetly check him out. I’m still reeling over the fact he sucked my dick. I’d expected to wake up hungover and horrified. My head hurts a helluva lot, but I’m not angry or disgusted like I expected. Helping Penn, rather than letting that dickhead Dante do it, felt almost natural. Definitely as right as could possibly be for our fucked up scenario.
In a nutshell, Penn and I have to play by different rules than everyone else.
He’s my best friend. If he needs to suck my dick to get a little experience, then so be it. It’s not like he’s going to turn me gay. Gay doesn’t work like that. You’re either gay or you’re straight. Some people are bisexual, I suppose, but I’m not one of those people. Guys don’t do it for me.
Penn’s different.
With Penn, we have a connection. And now that it’s been plugged back in after having been disconnected for two years, it buzzes to life. I have an innate need to look after him. His happiness has always been something I loved seeing. When we were kids, I loved to hear him laugh and to see him smile. The only way I was able to cope without him the last two years was because I turned myself off from everyone. Ivy wiggled her way in, but only because she was tough enough to withstand the frigidness of my heart.
He’s back, though, and I no longer need to be cold.
Penn lights me up.
His smiles burn into me. Brilliant and bright.
So if I want to keep my best friend—and keep him happy—then I have to play by new rules. Eventually, he’ll grow bored of whatever it is he’s trying to physically wring from me, and then he’ll find some other guy. A guy who can fuck him like he wants. A guy who will kiss him and keep his secrets. A guy who will proudly parade him through town.
A guy who is not me.
And then…then the world will be right again.
I’ll have my best friend back without any weirdness between us and he’ll have someone to love him in the ways I’ll never be capable of.
So why does that whole scenario still feel off to me?
Penn is still fucking with his hair and the urge to mess it all up has me grinning evilly at him. He shakes his head, shooting me a warning glare. But Penn’s warnings are like catnip to a cat like me. I pounce before he has time to react. Wrapping an arm around his neck, I grip him in a headlock before giving him a noogie. He growls and slams me back into the wall, cursing like hell.
“You asshole!” he snarls, trying to shake me off him.
My chest rumbles with laughter, but I refuse to let go. Eventually, he gives up and glowers at me in the mirror. His chocolate hair is all kinds of fucked up, but it looks better. I like messy Penn. This is the boy I’ve grown up with.
“There,” I tell him, grinning over his shoulder as I slowly release him. “Much better.”
“You’re going to pay for that,” he warns.
I’m about to tell him he can fucking try when he spins on me so fast, I don’t have time to react. His big ass body pins mine against the wall, our hips bruising painfully against one another, and he grabs my wrists. Even with his stupid cast, he overpowers me easily.
His mouth nears my ear and the heat of it reminds me of how his hot breath felt on my cock last night. I swallow back a groan. He licks my earlobe and I struggle against his hold.
“Penn…”
“I know,” he says, his tone dark. “Don’t kiss you.” He nips at the flesh on my neck. “But you already said sucking was okay.” His lips latch onto my neck and he sucks. Hard. Hard enough that this motherfucker is purposefully going to give me a hickey.
“You’re such a dick,” I say with a laugh, unable to even be mad at him.
“You taught me well,” he teases, his wet lips grazing along my now-bruised flesh. “Paybacks are hell. You fuck with my hair, I fuck with you.” He sucks again and I close my eyes.
“Cope?”
“Hmmm?”
“I like the way you taste.”
With those words, he pulls away, leaving me panting for air. He vacates the bathroom. My eyes lock with the man staring back at me in the mirror. There’s a wildness in my expression. Something unfamiliar. An ache deep down inside of me. I flit my gaze to the huge mark on my neck that’s still wet and already turning purple.
He fucking marked me.
I’m furious.
The stupid, crooked grin reflecting back at me says otherwise.
“I like the way you taste.”
My fingertips touch at the wetness on my neck.