Page 14 of Delay of Game

They were still on the couch, and Zach was fast asleep, his deep and even breathing proof of that. During the night they had shifted around so that Nate was wedged in between the back of the couch cushions and Zach himself, and he was tucked up against the muscle of Zach’s back. And he was embarrassingly, painfully hard, pressed so tightly in the small space against the curve of Zach’s ass. The heat of Zach’s body felt like it would burn him alive and part of Nate kind of wished that it would.

He was hyperaware of every little detail: the way Zach’s hair curled against his neck. The little mole on his shoulder, exposed by the stretched-out neckline of his T-shirt. The familiar frame of his body, somehow lanky and muscular all at once. The way he smelled, the same familiar shampoo that he had been using since Nate had met him. And here Nate was, nose buried in Zach’s hair like some kind of a serial killer or something.

He closed his eyes and wondered whether it was possible to sink into the floor. To will himself out of existence.

If Zach woke up, there was no way he wouldn’t feel the way Nate’s body had betrayed him. He was so close that Nate could feel every breath he took, every inhale, and he had to hold his own breath to keep a groan from escaping his lips. Even the tiniest hint of friction felt insane; and he could almost feel the sweat starting to bead at his neck, holding himself so still.

Nate had to think about this logically. Somehow, he had to get out of this without waking Zach up. Somehow he had to fix it. It had been one thing to almost kiss Zach while fucked up, but this? He’d never be able to explainthisin a normal way.

Nate tried to put a little distance between himself and Zach’s body but only found himself pressed against the cushions again. Zach made a small noise, a sleepy, satisfied little noise, and moved back into the half an inch of space that Nate had managed to open up. Nate couldn’t help it: he managed to choke back the noise, but it was still—audible.

Zach went still. He was definitely not asleep anymore.

Fucking hell.

“Uh,” Nate managed, “sorry. Sorry. Can you—”

Zach sat up in one easy movement, turned at an angle so he was looking down at Nate. His brown eyes were sleepy and hooded, and his mouth was tilted up in an amused smile. Things were happening to Nate: he was humiliated and embarrassed but he was also—for some reason, he couldn’t look away from Zach’s mouth.

“It happens to all of us, huh?” Zach said, and his hand twitched.

For a second, Nate thought he was going to lift it. To do what? He couldn’t even think about that. He could still feel the heat of Zach’s body between them, like a tangible thing he could reach out to capture. His own body was just doing the weirdest fucking things. It felt like he was shaking, although whether it was nerves or humiliation at the betrayal, he couldn’t tell.

“It never happened to me. Not when you’ve slept—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make things weird again.” He tried to laugh, but it was a miserable, choked-off sound. “This is just... I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s only gonna be weird if you avoid me at camp again.”

“I won’t,” Nate said, “I promise.” The words felt weird and thick on his tongue and he wondered why the erection wasn’t goingaway. It should have been wilting, fading, with how fucking miserable he was. With even the dogs, still curled up together on the floor, staring at him. But under the force of Zach’s amused examination, he was still...

“I, uh,” Nate mumbled, “I gotta go to the bathroom.”

“Sure,” Zach said, and it was like his eyes were laughing. Practically twinkling, like he knew exactly how much pain Nate was in, but he wasn’t disgusted by it; he was just...amused. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Nate beat a hasty retreat upstairs and, safely in his own bedroom, resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall. The whole morning felt surreal, like a woozy dream that had suddenly turned into a nightmare. Usually, he didn’t wake up like this, so horny he could have come just from another stray touch. Usually he was too busy worrying or planning orthinking, like his brain insisted on coming up with various ways to prevent him from relief. It almost felt like an illness, like his body was caught in the grip of a nauseous fever, and the only cure was—

He half collapsed on his bed, the untouched pillows cool against his overheated neck; shoved his hand down his boxers. His dick was still hard and felt almost hot in his hand, almost feverish, like he was burning up from the inside. Normally he would have used lube but today he found that he didn’t need to; he was already leaking and wet. Nate closed his eyes as he rubbed his thumb through the dampness, dragged it down his length.

It felt so fucking good, just to touch himself, although relief remained out of reach. His breath hitched as he picked up the pace, fist flying. It was almost painful to do it, he was so fucking worked up, on the edge already but unable to let go.

He tried to conjure a mental image—anything—to help him along. Thinking of Rachel felt wrong and weird now, even though he could easily conjure up what her body looked like, tanned skin against the white sheets, her dark hair spread out against the pillow. He tensed up, picturing her frowning up at him in bed. Okay. Not Rachel.

A generic woman. That would be safe. He tried to imagine her breasts, her face, but he couldn’t picture it. He tried to think of anyone, and he just—

His hand slowed.

Nate thought about Zach, tense against Nate’s body, and he thought about Zach, almost laughing at him, about Zach’s brown eyes and smile and the way he’d tilted his head to look down at Nate. He could feel his hand speeding up, like it had a mind of its own.

He couldn’t think about Zach right now. He couldn’t stop thinking about Zach right now. The chill swept through him, his whole body curled and tense.

The orgasm hit him suddenly, like a slapshot to the helmet, just as painfully intense. Sparks behind the eyes. The come hot and wet on his fingers. Nate shivered, gasping; he felt almost too sensitive and raw to even think about touching himself again. Or moving. Or doing anything else.

For a second, his brain was blissfully blank. No thoughts. No anxiety. And then he realized what he’d done and his face flushed hot and red again.

Okay. That was...weird.

Objectively, it was weird, to think about Zach while jerking off. Everything felt slow in his head, mixed up and muddy, and it wasn’t just the postorgasm haze. Nate stared at the ceiling and thought,well, that can never happen again. The guilt of knowing it had happened at all curled through his stomach, an uneasy edge to something that should have felt satisfying.

Nate exhaled again. Sat up. Went to the bathroom to clean himself off.