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We stop by the diner for a bite to eat and, for the first time in a while, the nagging voice in my head is quiet.
Milo seems different, lounging in his seat with his legs tangled in mine under the table. Every so often our eyes catch and his sunlit smile lights up his face. I mentally snap a picture each time and tuck it into the overflowing boxes in my mind.
It should concern me how much my life revolves around him, but I can’t bring myself to care. As long as we keep this purely friendly and leave emotions out of it, it’ll be fine. It has to be.
Greta is the one who suggests heading down to the lake and gives us directions. The fact that we didn’t bring swim trunks doesn’t deter Milo, who practically drags me over.
The lake is a large circle of blue-green water surrounded half by a grassy clearing and half by a thick patch of trees. A small wooden pier, nothing more than warped pieces of wood hammered together, juts a few feet into the water.
I’m lying on the grassy bank, squinting up at the clear sky and trying not to explode. My shirt is pushed up, exposing my chest, and a thumb swipes over my nipple. I whine, long and low, and buck against Milo’s face. I’m so hard I could burst.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I say, biting my lip.
“You worry too much. Relax and enjoy the show.”
He tugs down my shorts and boxers in one swift movement, rubbing his nose against my hip, neglecting my bare cock. My brain feels foggy, full of only him.
I squeeze my eyes shut, overwhelmed. “But what if someone sees?”
We’re sprawled out in plain view of anyone who walks down the trail. From the way Milo hovers over my crotch, he doesn’t seem to care.
“Let me make you feel good,” he says.
I hesitate for only a second before nodding frantically, the need almost overpowering. “Please.”
Milo undoes me easily. The feeling of his tight, hot mouth swallowing me whole is heaven, better than anything I’ve ever experienced. He suckles the head of my cock, dipping his tongue between the slit. Moans spill from my lips, interspersed with too many curse words to count.
He holds me like we’ve done this a thousand times before, like I’m something worth not letting go of. I fall apart a few seconds later, gripping the overgrown grass underneath me.
Milo crawls up my body and presses his mouth to mine. Groaning, I pull him closer, deepening the kiss. It tastes like salt—strange and unfamiliar, but not bad.
“Your turn.”
I push at him until he’s the one lying on the ground and unzip his baggy jeans, sticking my hand down his underwear and pulling out his cock. Kneeling between his legs, I stare at it for a moment, feeling the heavy weight of it in my palm.
“You don’t have to—”
“Shut up. I want to.”
I’m not quite ready to put the whole thing in my mouth. Instead, I lick the tip experimentally.
“Oh, God.” Milo groans, hips bucking slightly. "That’s it, baby. More of that.”
The praise spurs me on. Wrapping my mouth around the head, I slowly bring him off with my hands, dipping low to tease his balls. Maybe one day I can go further.
It doesn’t take long. He must have been on-edge already. I pull off when he comes, studying the way his face screws up in ecstasy, searing the details into my mind. I want to keep him like this, teetering on the brink of euphoria forever.
After we’ve cleaned up the best we can and put on our clothes, I lean back against Milo’s chest, sighing. He tightens his hold around my waist, nosing the underside of my jaw.
I tilt my head to the side to give him better access. “What’s your obsession with my neck?”
“I have an obsession with every part of you.”
A warm tongue licks a long stripe from my neck to my ear and I gasp, hoping he can’t feel the way my pulse jumps. Relax, Callum. It's just a phrase, nothing more. It can’t be anything more.
The heat from earlier has died down to more manageable temperatures. Milo wears a faded Silica Gel tee shirt with the sleeves cut off, a present I got him for his eighteenth birthday. It’s worn and faded from years of use, but he looks unreasonably good in it.
