19 comments/ 43444 views/ 116 favorites An Oral Fixation By: pipervaughn For Nicole. Quinn Reed had been in love with Cooper Bradshaw for 2 years, 4 months, 19 days, 3 hours, and 42 minutes. He knew the exact time, down to the very minute, because he'd thought about it constantly pretty much every day since. In his head he referred to it as The Moment of Realization. They were sitting in their Digital Visual Effects class a couple months into their sophomore year at the University of Utah when suddenly Professor Yamura told an off-color joke that made the entire class burst into laughter. Quinn looked over at Coop, who was straddling his computer chair and leaning on the seatback. His dark hair was covered by his signature black New York Yankees hat (backward like always), and he was grinning that broad, gorgeous grin that had never failed to make Quinn feel a bit light in the chest. Then, completely at random, Coop glanced sideways at Quinn and gave him a little suggestive flick of his tongue, and—bam!—that was it. That was the very second Quinn realized that all of the weird little things he'd been feeling for Cooper since the previous semester—the stomach flips, the tingles whenever Coop touched him, the breathless, pulse-pounding anticipation whenever Coop stood too close—had somehow, unbeknownst to him, coalesced into one fierce, burning, searing, gut-deep emotion: love. The problem with being in love with someone like Cooper Bradshaw was that he seemed to be incapable of being single for very long. He'd had a girlfriend most of sophomore year, followed by a brief but volatile affair with a hot but slightly crazy TA from the math department. (Quinn still hated that guy.) Junior year had been a parade of boyfriends of all shapes and sizes, from a tiny, super flamboyant, cross-dressing twink to one of the tall, thickly muscled African American players on the basketball team, followed by a short stint with a bubbly blond cheerleader named Chloe who'd set Quinn's teeth on edge. Unfortunately that was also the year they'd moved into a four-bedroom apartment in Benchmark Plaza with Patrick and Lonnie. Quinn got the room between Coop and Lonnie and suffered through dozens of nearly unbearable nights trying to ignore the sex-a-thons happening on both sides. He didn't give two craps what—or who—Lonnie did. It was listening to Cooper that killed. It wasn't as if Quinn spent all his time pining for Coop. He'd dated on and off. He'd even had a casual boyfriend for most of sophomore year and a more serious one the next. But his luck seemed to be that whenever Cooper happened to be single, Quinn was otherwise involved, and no matter how in love he might have been with Cooper, the idea of ditching his boyfriend for the mere possibility of starting something with Coop had struck him as selfish and wrong. Of course it was only afterward that it occurred to him it might have been even more unfair to stay with those guys when he was admittedly in love with someone else. Luck, she sure was one flighty bitch. And hindsight liked to regularly slap him in the face. Given their history of bad timing, Quinn thought it was something of a miracle they were both currently single and about to spend spring break together road tripping through California with their roommates. Cooper had returned to school the previous semester with a long distance boyfriend back home—Simon, a former high school flame he'd reconnected with over the summer. Quinn had been broken up with his own boyfriend, Gabe, since the middle of July, but a handful of visits from Simon had convinced Quinn that him being single or not, any chance he might have had with Cooper was gone. Simon was beautiful, funny, smart, modest...and sadly impossible to hate. Quinn had liked him despite himself, and though he'd done his best to hide his rather inconvenient crush on Cooper (to put it mildly), he suspected Simon had known—and been kind anyway. That had only earned the guy another million and a half cool points in Quinn's book, no matter how much he'd wished he could be the one in Cooper's arms instead. Simon and Cooper's relationship had ended suddenly over winter break, which came as a surprise to everyone, most of all Quinn. They'd seemed so perfect for one another, but when Quinn had asked Cooper about what'd happened, Coop had simply shaken his head and said that Simon deserved better. Curiosity almost compelled Quinn into asking Cooper what he meant, but he'd managed to keep that—and his excitement—at bay. It seemed wrong to be excited about the demise of what appeared to be an ideal relationship. If he loved Cooper, Quinn's first wish for him should have been happiness, right? Even if that happiness didn't include Quinn. But naturally, that feeling only lasted so long. It was hard not to be thrilled that Cooper was single again when Quinn was unattached himself. He'd been praying for that very thing for years, after all, and as much as a part of Quinn really did miss Simon, he couldn't actually say he was sad Cooper and Simon were over. He thought maybe his time had finally come. Except, well, Coop had been so subdued since the breakup, so sad and quiet and strangely un-Cooper-like. He hadn't even gone on any dates or had a single hookup as far as Quinn knew. That, out of everything else, was the weirdest part. As much as Quinn wanted him, he couldn't bring himself to make a move in the face of all that melancholy. It was only as their road trip approached and winter melted into a brisk and sunny spring that some of the gloom lifted. Cooper slowly came out of his funk and returned to his normal, playful, flirtatious self. And still he hadn't started dating anyone. Quinn thought it was a sign. Had to be. This really was his time. Right now. Spring break. There was only one thing left to do: convince Cooper to take a chance and see if they could make even better lovers than friends. **** "Daddy, are we there yet?" Lonnie's voice was whiny enough to make a ten-year-old proud. From his position behind the wheel of the old Ford Escape they'd used to make the drive from Utah to California, Cooper grinned and cast a quick glance at him over his shoulder. "Don't make me pull this car over and come back there, young man." Quinn chuckled and looked sideways at Lonnie, who appeared to be contemplating Cooper's words. "The good kind of coming or the bad?" Lonnie asked. In the passenger seat, Patrick snorted. "There's a bad kind?" "Well, if he came in my eye, I'd call that the bad kind." Quinn choked on the sip he'd just taken from his water bottle. He coughed and cleared his throat. "How would you know what it feels like to get cum in your eye, Lon? Something you're not telling us?" Lonnie cast him a demure smile. "A gentleman never tells." Patrick snorted again, but this time he followed it up with a dry laugh. "What gentleman are you talking about? I don't see one in this car." "Speak for yourself," Cooper said. "I'm so gentlemanly it hurts." Quinn practically heard Patrick's eye roll from his spot behind Cooper. "If you call fucking anything that moves being a gentleman." Quinn's stomach clenched. Oh, no, not again. Why was it that Patrick and Cooper were always at each other's throats? This was supposed to be fun. He didn't want to deal with them sniping at each other the entire time, even if their mutual dislike was working to his benefit this trip. It hadn't taken them very long to decide that the four of them sharing one room would be a guaranteed recipe for disaster. So, for the duration of their break, Quinn was Cooper's roommate, and Patrick was Lonnie's. Quinn probably couldn't have planned it better if he'd tried, but truthfully, he would have rather had all his friends actually get along for once. In a couple of months, they'd be graduating and going their separate ways, save for him and Cooper, who would be moving into a two-bedroom apartment outside of Austin. (They'd both been offered entry level software engineering positions with an up and coming game developer in Texas.) He hated the thought of the last of their time together being tainted by anger and bad feelings. "That's exactly what I'd call it," Cooper answered. "I'm equal opportunity, baby. There's beauty in everyone if you pull your head out of your ass long enough to look." Patrick huffed. "Says the guy who's never dated a troll in his life." "I'm hungry," Quinn jumped in before Cooper could respond. Even less than the fighting, he didn't want to listen to Patrick making jibes at Cooper. Yeah, he was protective. It came with the territory of being in love. He'd had to listen to Patrick's griping about Cooper's manwhore ways since they'd all moved in together the year before. Patrick had a boyfriend—a long distance one who rarely came to visit, but a boyfriend all the same—so why it mattered to him what Cooper did, Quinn couldn't hazard a guess. Of course, there was the slightest, tiniest, no-way-in-hell chance that Patrick was also nursing a secret crush on Cooper. It seemed unlikely with all the animosity that flew around between them, but as much as the idea made him feel vaguely nauseated, Quinn supposed it wasn't entirely outside of the realm of possibility. Patrick barely got to see his boyfriend during the school year, after all. He had to get lonely. Quinn shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pushed that thought away. "Anyone up for a burger?" Lonnie gave him an incredulous look. "Dude, we just ate lunch like an hour ago. How can you be hungry?" "Hell, I'm always hungry myself," Cooper said, and Quinn nearly sighed in relief. Argument averted. For now. "I could go for a burger, actually." Lonnie chuckled. "You guys are a couple of fat asses. I can drink a protein shake in the morning and be good 'til dinner." "Some of us happen to think protein shakes are nasty," Patrick said disdainfully. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one long finger. "You want to be healthy? You need to focus on lean meats and vegetables, and you shouldn't be skipping meals either." "I doubt we're going to find any vegetables at Santa Monica Pier." Cooper sounded amused. "Or lean meat. They're going to have carnival stuff: ice cream, hot dogs, pizza, cotton candy. In other words, my kind of food." Quinn grinned. "And mine." "Don't even get me started on hot dogs." Patrick made a disgusted sound. "If you only knew what was in those things..." "Whatever it is," Cooper said, and from his tone, Quinn could tell he was smiling, "it's delicious." **** When they finally got to the pier, Quinn had to fight hard to hold in his excitement. Inwardly, he was bouncy as a little kid. He hadn't been there in years—not since a family trip when he was seven—and it had been his idea to come. He knew the guys were indulging him by agreeing to spend a few hours of their afternoon there, but he was hoping they'd have fun anyway. The day was bright and gorgeous, the temperature warm enough to justify breaking out the shorts and tank tops, despite the cool, salty breeze coming in off the water. Being March and a weekday, the pier wasn't overly crowded. They could walk around, eat some food, maybe get on a ride or two, and then it was back to their hotel in Los Angeles and some club Lonnie had been talking about non-stop since they'd left Utah. After a couple of days in LA, their plan was to drive up to San Francisco to check out The Castro; then it was back to Salt Lake. Not the wild and crazy spring break many of their peers were experiencing down in Mexico, but good enough for a group of video game and engineering nerds. "So where to first?" Cooper asked, tossing an arm around Quinn's shoulders. Quinn tried to hide his shiver. He knew Coop was naturally demonstrative. A hug, a brush of fingers, a pat on the back—Cooper did those things without a second thought and probably not even the slightest suspicion of just how much they affected his friend. But Quinn felt heat spread over his entire body from the contact. It was hard to resist snuggling into Cooper's embrace like he wanted to. "Well, they do have an arcade," Quinn said. It was one of the things he'd wanted to check out. Video game design was his and Cooper's major, and he was hoping they might have some of the cool, older games, like the original Pac-Man or Galaga or maybe even Joust. He'd love to battle it out with Cooper as an ostrich-riding knight. Unfortunately, he hadn't seen one of the original Joust machines since he was a teenager, and that one had been a cocktail cabinet. Playing on an upright would be fun. He preferred the higher controls, and the fact that he'd have to stand close to Cooper to play didn't hurt. Cooper grinned at him. "Let's go then." They headed to the arcade with a grudging Patrick and smiling Lonnie trailing after them. Both of them were majoring in computer engineering, and neither one of them cared about video game design, but at least Lonnie was always up for playing. There had been some serious Call of Duty showdowns at their apartment. Patrick wasn't a fan, though. He usually rolled his eyes and disappeared into his bedroom to work on whatever computer system he was building. Quinn didn't think the arcade would hold his attention for long. Turned out he was right. Patrick was very obviously bored after a few minutes. Behind his glasses, pale blue eyes appraised the admittedly shabby-looking arcade with obvious scorn. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Quinn. "Seriously? This place hasn't been updated since 1985." "No one's forcing you to stay," Cooper said mildly. "Go walk the pier if you're not interested." Patrick sighed and turned on his heel. Lonnie looked torn for a moment—stay with Cooper and Quinn or let his best friend wander off alone. After a second, he made his decision and gave them a rueful smile. "We'll come back in an hour, okay?" Quinn nodded. He could respect Lonnie's loyalty to Patrick, even if he'd never much understood their friendship. Lonnie was way worse than Cooper in the promiscuity department, and yet Patrick never ribbed him for it. His disapproval seemed to be reserved solely for Cooper. Not that Cooper was really that bad—the people he brought back to the apartment were usually his boyfriends (or girlfriends), and Quinn had never known him to cheat—but saving this last time, it typically didn't take him long to move from one relationship to the next. Lonnie's partners were strictly female, as far as Quinn knew, and normally of the one-night-stand variety. He guessed it was just Cooper that Patrick had an issue with, not the sex itself. Quinn honestly didn't get all of the animosity. Cooper was just...well, he was awesome. Quinn wasn't exactly unbiased, true, but for him Cooper's attributes were blindingly obvious. He too was loyal and smart and funny. Genuine. And Patrick aside, he seemed to get along well with everyone. People naturally gravitated toward Cooper. He had this aura about him, this warm, positive energy that drew people in. Those who knew him loved him; those who didn't know him wanted to. There was just something about Cooper Bradshaw. He made friends easily, and everywhere. Perhaps that was what Patrick disliked. He'd always been the shyest of their group, the most reserved. Maybe it was really that simple—Patrick envied whatever it was that made things so easy for Cooper and resented the fact that he didn't have it himself. Quinn would probably never know, but it was the only answer that made sense. Cooper's shoulder bumped against his. "I see Street Fighter, and I think that might be an original Ms. Pac-Man over there. Come on." **** Forty minutes, two Ms. Pac-Man games, three rounds of Street Fighter,, and two pinball machine battles later, Quinn was standing in a crowd watching Cooper get his ass handed to him by a kid who couldn't have been more than twelve. They were several songs into Dance Dance Revolution, and the kid was cool as a cucumber. Cooper, on the other hand, was pink-faced and drenched in sweat. At some point during a tricky foot combination, his hat had flown off, revealing thick black curls sadly flattened by the cap he was rarely without. Quinn wanted to touch them. He always wanted to touch them. He'd been wondering if they would be coarse like curly hair often was, or soft, the way he imagined in his fantasies. Maybe tonight he'd finally get to find out. A few seconds more and Cooper missed a step, and then couldn't seem to regain his rhythm. The round ended and Cooper leaned against the balance bar, his smile showing signs of obvious relief. "Good job, kid," he panted, holding his hand out to the boy who'd effectively trounced him. The kid shook his hand and smiled back. Quinn almost laughed. Cooper was almost doubled over, and the kid didn't even look winded. Cooper gingerly stepped off the machine, wincing slightly. Quinn grinned and handed him his hat. "Sore?" "Yeah." Cooper ran a hand along the outside of his right thigh. "Man, I'm getting too old for this." "You're twenty-one," Quinn said with a laugh. Cooper gave him a crooked smile as he settled the baseball cap on his head, bill backward. "Then I guess I need to start working out more often." Quinn wanted to say something to the contrary. Man, did he want to. Cooper might not have had some ripped, bodybuilder physique with massive biceps and a washboard stomach, but he was long and he was lean, and in Quinn's opinion, pretty much perfect. But in an arcade, surrounded by kids and couples and other guys their age? Not exactly the best setting for a love confession. "Want to head out and find Lonnie and Patrick?" Cooper asked. "They're probably headed back this way." "Mind if we check those out first?" Quinn nodded toward the line of photo booths across the arcade. There were a bunch of the newer ones that offered the option of adding effects and choosing from different frames and backgrounds, but there were a couple of the old-fashioned booths too. Those were the ones he was interested in. "Sure." Quinn glanced sideways at Cooper. "You can wait outside if you want. My mom and I used to go into these booths all the time when I was a kid. We have a collection of photo strips on our fridge back home. I think she'd like it if I sent her some." "Aww, what a good boy you are." Cooper laughed and reached out to pat his head. "I can't just let you take those pictures alone, though. A few maybe, but then we'll do some together. Your mom will just have to put up with my ugly mug too." "She thinks you're adorable," Quinn said. He'd never mentioned it to Cooper before, but it was true. He'd sent her a picture of the two of them from a camping trip they'd taken with Lonnie and Patrick the previous fall, and she'd commented on how cute Cooper was. Then she'd promptly asked if they were dating. Quinn was sad to have to say no. Cooper grinned. "Really? Well, then I guess she won't mind at all." They made their way over to one of the older booths and shoved themselves inside. Quinn adjusted the stool to his height while Cooper yanked the curtain closed behind them. Luckily, Cooper was only an inch or two taller, so the setting would work for them both, although it wasn't like there was very much room for the two of them to sit down anyway...unless Cooper sat on his lap. Quinn felt his cock stiffen at the thought and groaned inwardly. He couldn't help it, though. Cooper was pressed right up against him as he fed quarters into the machine. Quinn was literally surrounded by Cooper's smell—clean sweat, the soap he used to wash his clothes, the citrusy scent of his shampoo. All Quinn wanted to do was close his eyes and inhale. "Okay, let's do this," Cooper said, seemingly oblivious to how utterly turned on Quinn was. "We can do some serious ones first, and then we'll just get stupid." An Oral Fixation at its Finest There's something to be said for oral fixations. I have one. If I can safely get something in my mouth, I'll chew or suck on it. I smoke, suck lollipops, play with the barbell that runs through my tongue, chew gum... you name it! Oh, and I love giving head. It's that last one that brings me to tell this tale. Over the years, I've been accused of a lot of things. The one that stands out the most, in my mind, was after I gave my very first blowjob. I finished and he looked down at me and told me outright I was a liar. That I had done that before. From that moment on, I decided that there are two kinds of people in this world: Those who were born to give head and those who weren't. I was one of the lucky ones and I made it my mission of sorts, to come as close to perfecting this act as I could. Case in point: It all started slowly for me. I heard them talking and kissing in the bedroom. I put out my cigarette and walked to the doorway. The lights were on and he had mounted her. Her legs were wrapped around him and they were moving in a beautiful rhythm. I watched and would occasionally close my eyes, tilt my head back and just listen to their pleasure. The sound of their bodies slapping together as he thrust into her harder and harder. Her gasps and moans and the squeals of delight as he filled her, stroking all the right places inside her. It was an erotic symphony. Soon my presence was noticed and a sly grin was shot over his shoulder at me. I grinned back and stretched out and put my hands on the top of the doorway holding myself up, taking in the sight laid before me. Their show continued. Their thrusts becoming faster and harder. The sounds she made came from deep inside her. Her pleasure erupting into a massive orgasm that filled the room. The pace slowed, then stopped and they were quiet for a minute. It was then that he stood up and walked toward me in the doorway. He kissed me when he came to the door and then slid past me. It was then I was told that he'd been asked to go and clean himself, that there was a surprise for him. I walked into the room and we talked while he was doing as requested. She shifted on the bed and sat up. You could feel the anticipation in the air. She was looking forward to this. Truth be told, so was I. He came back into the room and climbed on the bed. We positioned him between her legs, his back against her chest, his head resting on her shoulder. I crawled up from the bottom of the bed and slid between his thighs. I softly kissed and nibbled at them for a moment, then gently ran my tongue up his shaft, from base to tip. Letting it graze against my cheek, my chin, my lips and then taking the head into my mouth, I softly sucked him. Soft grunts and groans escaped him as my lips and tongue caressed the head of his cock and my fingers gently massaged his balls. Running the tip of my tongue down the side of him and occasionally kissing the shaft, I worked my way to his balls and grazed my tongue over them. Sucking the flesh between my lips and rolling it over my tongue, sucking one into my mouth and then the other. Letting them go and slowly dragging my tongue between them, letting my oral jewelry brush against him. Looking up, I could see both of them. She was smiling softly, rubbing his chest and brushing the hair from his face. It's then I noticed that his eyes had rolled and gone white from the feeling of my actions. This reaction excited and fueled me. I stopped and made my way back to his now throbbing cock, took it in my mouth again and slid it all into me until it bumped and nudged at the back of my throat. His groans grew deeper, and his breathing more rapid. His hips were slowly rising, lifting my head up, trying to get deeper inside my warm, moist mouth. I backed off a little so he knew this is my game to play. He lowered himself again and I slowly worked my way up and down the length of him, occasionally taking him deep enough for my nose to gently brush against his soft patch of hair. I flatten out my tongue, curling the edges around him as I slid my mouth up to the head again and sucked it hard. My head and neck working together to allow my mouth to fuck him. His hand touched my head and he brushed the hair from my face. I looked up at him and our eyes met. His fingers tangled in my hair holding it so he could watch me pleasure him. Our stare was locked until I again slid my mouth down his shaft and deep throated him again. My pace quickened and I pumped my mouth at the base of his cock and then stopped. Licking down the side of his organ again and across his balls, I gently lifted them and flicked my tongue over the underside of them, pressing it into that soft, sensitive area behind them. His hips rise up off the bed, his back arched and head back. She slips out from behind him and helps support him. I nibble and nuzzle the tender area. Rolling my tongue over it and teasing it. Sucking it hard and then softly gliding my tongue over it again. His body started to settle into his pleasure and he lowered himself back down on the bed. I moved with him and continued to enjoy the task at hand. I started working my way back and forth between his balls and that sweet spot just behind them. I heard him growl, a deep and guttural growl from deep inside himself. I looked up to see him grab hold of her and sink his teeth into her shoulder. She gasped and moaned. She loved that and seeing that I'd driven him to give her that was intoxicating for me. I loved the way he responded to me. It was primal, with no thought, just action. Again I was fueled by this and decided to take things to the next level. I stopped and looked at her first, telling her to get behind him again. She slid in behind him and I looked him in the eye with an impish grin. Sliding my hands under his thighs, never taking my eyes off his, I lifted his legs, telling her to hold them. She slipped her hands behind his knees and pulled them back. He was totally exposed and open to me. Our eyes still locked, I licked my finger and ran it over his balls and gently caressed behind them again. I watched him until his head fell back against her. I then lowered mine and my mouth went to work again. Kissing that sweet, soft spot and then working my way back further. I gently and softly touched the tip of my tongue to the small puckered opening and flicked the tip over it. Circling it, lapping at it, then long slow strokes and finally tiny and rapid tickles. His hips rocked and he grunted, growled and moaned, again wrapping his fingers in my hair, almost as if he were afraid I'd stop and move away. I'd flatten my tongue out, slowly dragging it against him, letting the barbell I wear tease him. Edging him closer and closer to ecstasy. His body tightened and relaxed under my control. I loved hearing the sounds he made and feeling him move with every stroke, lick and kiss. This was the very reason I enjoy what I do, and he had the greatest responses to me I'd ever experienced. This was pure pleasure for me as well as him. I worked his ass until the underside of my tongue was sore and his breathing had become so labored that he sounded exhausted. I carefully inched my way up to his cock again, as she slowly lowered his legs. I softly kissed and sucked the head while looking at the two of them. Again she brushed the hair from his face and he and I again locked eyes. They were dark and full of heated desire. If I thought he was exhausted, I was wrong. In one swift move, he sat upright and grabbed me, biting my shoulder right where it meets the bottom of my neck. I gasped with delight and passion. When he stopped and looked at me, I touched the side of his face and slid my hand down his cheek to his neck. I stepped back and left the room to clean and prepare myself for whatever surprises he had in store for the two of us when I returned to our little threesome. But that's another story. An Oral Fixation And so it started. With some creative leg positioning, Cooper managed to squeeze onto the stool next to him. The serious poses didn't last very long. Soon Cooper was making the most ridiculous faces ever, and Quinn, who could see Cooper's expressions in the mirrored lens, was laughing so hard he could hardly catch his breath. "I think we only have two left," Cooper murmured after they'd finished a few sessions. Quinn felt the scratch of stubble and the brush of lips across his cheek. "Mind if I taste you?" Quinn jerked, but he barely had time to process the words before the scrape of Cooper's stubble was replaced by the slick glide of his tongue. Quinn couldn't help but laugh—it was unexpected, and it tickled a bit—but the laughter was breathless, and the slow stroke of that warm tongue sent a pulse of heat right to his dick. He shifted on the stool when Cooper did it again, this time lower, along the length of his jawbone. "You taste good," Cooper whispered near his ear. Quinn shivered. He was dreaming. He had to be dreaming. Any second he was going to wake up and discover he'd fallen asleep in the car and they hadn't even gotten to the pier yet. Didn't happen. The camera flashed one more time, quick and startling, and seemed to take the noise of the arcade away with it. The games, the voices, the laughter—all of it disappeared. Quinn could hear nothing but the sound of his heartbeat pound, pound, pounding in his chest. Cooper shifted beside him, and Quinn swallowed thickly, turning his head so their eyes could meet. The moment stretched forever, tense and hot and trembling between them. Then Cooper gave him a small smile, oddly tender, and those smiling lips were pressed to his. It was just a brush, the lightest, lightest touch, but it set Quinn's body on fire. He moaned softly and parted his lips, inviting Cooper's tongue inside, but before it could happen, there was a bang on the outside of the booth. "Sorry," a giggling voice said, and whoever it was that had interrupted them moved away. But by then the moment was gone. Cooper gave Quinn a regretful look and pulled back. "We'd better go find Lonnie and Pat." "Y-yeah," Quinn said hoarsely. His voice sounded like he hadn't spoken in years. He paused and cleared his throat. "Yeah, you go ahead. I'll be out as soon as the pictures are done." Cooper nodded and ducked under the curtain. Quinn stayed there on that stool, for the moment too shocked to move, his mind replaying that tiny kiss over and over and over, until he heard the click of his pictures falling into the tray outside the booth. What the hell just happened? He went to collect the pictures and stared dazedly at the very last one, which showed him laughing, eyes closed, as Cooper licked his cheek. And what does it even mean? **** The rest of their time at the pier passed with surreal, excruciating slowness. Surreal because Quinn couldn't quite believe it was happening, and excruciating because, well, goddamn, it was torture. He'd never thought torture could actually be sweet, but Cooper was driving him crazy in all the best of ways. It started with the ice cream. They stopped to buy a couple of cones while searching for Lonnie and Patrick—chocolate for Quinn; vanilla for Cooper. Then they settled on a bench overlooking the water to wait. And sitting there, his thigh touching Cooper's, their shoulders brushing, Quinn watched in absolute fascination as Cooper ate that vanilla cone in the lewdest, dirtiest, most scandalous manner possible. For Quinn, he might as well have been watching porn because he was about three seconds from coming by the time it was over. He was so distracted by watching Cooper tongue and suck at the top of his cone, he didn't even notice that his own ice cream had started to melt and drip down his fist and onto his (thankfully dark-colored) cargo shorts. That is, not until Cooper himself pointed it out and proceeded to laugh his ass off while Quinn scrambled for napkins. He tossed the soggy remains of his cone into the garbage can next to the bench and scrubbed at the chocolaty mess on his shorts, cursing all the while. Cooper eyed him in amusement the entire time, crunching idly on the last bit of his waffle cone, as if he hadn't the vaguest idea why Quinn was so flustered. But just when Quinn thought he was finished cleaning up—well, as much as he could without a sink, anyway—Cooper gave him a sudden, serious look. "You missed a spot," he said. Quinn glanced down at his shorts. There was still a damp patch on the left leg, and little bits of napkin lint clung to the black material, but he didn't see any obvious signs of ice cream. "Not there." Cooper's fingers brushed a sticky spot on Quinn's thumb. "Here." "Oh," Quinn said dumbly. He couldn't focus on anything but the feel of Cooper's fingertips as they moved over his skin. He watched, completely entranced, as Cooper's long fingers curled around his wrist, stared in breathless wonder as Cooper slowly brought his hand up to his lips, and choked out a moan when those lips parted and his thumb was engulfed by slick, wet heat. He drew in a sharp breath as Cooper started to suck, imagining that hot, greedy mouth around the head of his cock instead of the tip of his thumb. The thought dragged another moan from his gut. "Oh, God..." "Hey, Coop! Quinn!" Quinn flinched in surprise at the sound of Lonnie's voice, instinctively trying to yank his hand away from Cooper, but Cooper held him fast. He took his time pulling back and finally released Quinn's thumb with a final, teasing lick. Then he glanced over his shoulder, casual as could be, and waved at Lonnie and Patrick, who were approaching from the opposite end of the pier. "Hey," Cooper called. "Where have you guys been? We've been looking all over!" He stood and walked over to meet their roommates while Quinn sat there in stunned silence, trying desperately to think of something he could use to cover his raging hard-on without making it too obvious. In his loose shorts and boxer-briefs, there was nothing he could do to disguise it. The moment he got up, everyone would see: the families and couples, the groups of gangly teenagers, the joggers and solitary dog-walkers. Guaranteed, by the power of Murphy's Law, they were going to turn toward him simultaneously and zero in on the bulge behind his fly. Or at least that's what his paranoid, overactive brain told him. In the end, that was what helped him get it under control. Quinn didn't exactly relish the thought of being known as the pervy guy with the boner for the rest of his time on the pier, not to mention the absolute shit both Lonnie and Patrick would give him if they noticed it themselves. Quinn would never live it down. **** If Quinn thought the ice cream thing was bad, well, slap a sticker on his forehead and label him a fool. It wasn't until later, on the Ferris wheel, when the situation really got out of hand. By then the sun was setting and the sky reminded Quinn of a color gradient he'd seen once—violet at the top, transitioning slowly into a fiery shade of red, then orange, and just above the horizon, a pale pinkish-gold. Cooper suggested the Pacific Wheel as their last activity before heading back to Los Angeles for the night. After much eye-rolling and muttering, Patrick had finally agreed to go on, if for nothing but the novelty of riding the world's only solar-powered Ferris wheel. That late in the day, with the temperature dipping below fifty, the line for the Ferris wheel was nearly deserted. When the operator stopped it to let them on, Quinn automatically went to follow Lonnie and Patrick into the gondola—it looked plenty big enough to accommodate them all—but Cooper shook his head and held him back. "We'll get the next one," he said. Nerves fluttered in Quinn's stomach, tickling like butterfly wings against his skin. He knew right then he was in trouble. Cooper had been upping the ante ever since those licks in the photo booth, and Quinn could only imagine what else he might have coming. But beneath his anxiety, one other emotion stood out, burning bright, incandescent, and stronger than all the rest. Anticipation. The pure, breathless, undiluted air of expectancy. The knowledge that something was going to happen, and even if he didn't know what, even if it confused the hell out of him, odds were he was going to love it anyway. Because it was Cooper, and at least for now the whys didn't matter. They were inconsequential compared to the what-comes-next?. They boarded the Ferris wheel a few gondolas after Patrick and Lonnie. The interior was spacious enough that they didn't have to sit anywhere near each other if they hadn't wanted, but Cooper slid onto the seat right beside him, and crowded Quinn against the opposite side. The wheel had no sooner started moving again than Cooper's mouth was on his neck, open and hot. "Coop," Quinn started in half-hearted protest, "people will see." "They won't." Cooper's lips brushed Quinn's throat as he spoke. "And who cares if they do?" Quinn couldn't think of a response to that. Who did care? The sky had grown dark; the lights on the Ferris wheel were flashing, swirling, distracting; putting on a show for the spectators below. Unless someone was really, actively watching them, they'd probably go unnoticed, and even if they were noticed, with the way the gondola was made, it wasn't as if anyone could actually see all that much anyway. They definitely wouldn't be able to see anything that might be happening below Quinn and Cooper's necks either—not that there was anything going on yet, but the idea alone made Quinn's entire body flush. "Don't worry about it," Cooper whispered. Then he pushed the strap of Quinn's tank top aside and latched on to the skin he'd revealed, sucking and nibbling and scraping his teeth. Quinn groaned softly and tilted his head to give Cooper more room. Oh, God. Feels so good. He hadn't been touched in months, and the fact that it was Cooper doing the touching now made everything that much better, that much more thrilling and intense. Quinn wasn't sure how long the ride went on. Probably only a few minutes, when everything was said and done. But the whole situation had taken on a slow, dreamlike quality, as if it were happening in another place and time, and Cooper used every last second to his advantage. He licked and bit and teased, snuck a hand under Quinn's shirt and tweaked his nipples, dragged long fingers down Quinn's abdomen and brushed them over the length of his erection. Quinn shivered, imagining he could feel the heat of those fingers on his cock, despite the layers of clothing between them. He flexed his hips and pushed up into Cooper's touch, seeking more contact. Cooper gave him a squeeze, and then started moving his hand. He rubbed and rubbed with the flat of his palm, applying warmth, pressure, sweet, delicious friction. It didn't take very long before Quinn started shaking, his breath hitching. He was going to come, right there on that Ferris wheel, with who knew how many other people around, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not that he wanted to—especially when Cooper buried his free hand in Quinn's hair and tugged him close for a kiss. Their lips were parted when their mouths met, and Quinn couldn't quite contain his small shudder of pleasure as Cooper's tongue finally slid inside, stroking slick and hot against his. That was the moment he completely lost control, and the last of his restraint was carried away by the lights and that touch and the cold ocean breeze. He came in a rush, arching his back, moaning into that lush kiss, clutching at Cooper's T-shirt with one desperate fist. It took a few seconds for his vision to clear, for time to return to its normal pace. He realized then that the ride had gotten jerky from the frequent stops to let people off. They were only a few gondolas away from reaching the platform themselves, and he could see Patrick's blond head and Lonnie's mass of gingery waves as his friends made their way down the exit ramp. Quinn's eyes met Cooper's, which were heavy-lidded and dark with unfulfilled need. Cooper smiled at him, and that smile was so at odds with everything that had come before it, like a wish newly formed, vulnerable and hopeful and trembling. "Why?" Quinn asked. He couldn't help it. At the start of the ride, he'd told himself it didn't matter. But it did, and he had to know. "I've wanted you forever," Cooper said. He reached up and ran his thumb across Quinn's lower lip. "Longer than forever." Goose bumps erupted on Quinn's flesh at those words. He shook a little, quivering from the tiny spark of joy that threatened to expand and send him up in flames. But if Cooper had wanted him for so long, why hadn't he ever made a move before? "Why now?" Cooper opened his mouth to answer, but they'd arrived at the platform already and the door was yanked open to let them step out. Quinn stamped down his disappointment and chanced a quick glance down at his crotch while Cooper exited the gondola. There wasn't much he could do if a wet spot was showing, but it was a relief to find the material dry and stained only with the remains of the ice cream incident from earlier. That didn't mean he couldn't feel it, though, the proof of his orgasm at Cooper's hand, cold and sticky in his boxer-briefs. He felt everything as they met up with Lonnie and Patrick and made their way back to the car—the sore, tender place where Cooper had sucked and bitten his shoulder, the burn around his mouth from Cooper's stubble, the memory of Cooper's touch, his kiss, his taste, his breath on Quinn's throat. Quinn felt it all...and still didn't know quite what to make of it. **** The club they wound up at a couple of hours later was in West Hollywood, and a lot more like a dive bar than an actual night club. The place was small and dark, but packed full, and it seemed like everyone was hot, from the shirtless bartenders to the go-go boys to the men and women in the crowd. Quinn was surprised by how friendly it seemed. He'd expected arrogance or pretension, given what he'd heard about the area they were visiting, but so far everyone he'd met had been nice and down to earth. He'd been asked to dance a few times, and there were plenty of guys he would have normally been attracted to, but none of that made any difference. Despite the atmosphere, the drinks, the roomful of eye candy, the old school video games Lonnie had thought would keep Quinn entertained, he just didn't want to be there. Quinn had to give Lonnie points—he'd tried to find a place they would all enjoy, and he was confident enough not to care that he might be the only straight guy there—but Quinn just wasn't in the mood to party. He was too busy wishing he and Cooper could be back at their hotel, alone. They needed to talk, and it was killing him that they couldn't. Between showering and dressing and Lonnie coming in and out of their room, there hadn't been time to say much when they'd gotten back to the hotel from the pier. Then, the next thing Quinn knew, they were packed into the car with Lonnie and Patrick again, and, well, it wasn't as if he wanted an audience for their conversation. But, God, he felt so antsy now, impatient to have everything out in the open, worried that all Cooper wanted from him was something physical. It was a valid concern, considering how Cooper had been acting throughout the day. If he wanted more, why wouldn't he have just said? Why tease and make it a game? Quinn glanced over to where Cooper was playing pool with a couple of guys he'd met shortly after getting to the bar. He was in his element—laughing and joking, being his usual, goofball self and easily holding the attention of the people around him—and, man, did he look gorgeous. Quinn literally itched to touch him. He wanted to bury his fingers in Cooper's short, dark curls, slip his hands under Coop's teal-colored V-neck and feel the texture of his skin, cup Cooper's ass and drag him close for a kiss. Quinn wanted it all, wished he had six hands so he could do everything at once. He shook his head and almost laughed at that mental image. Fuck, I'm losing it. He's making me insane. As if sensing his thoughts, Cooper looked his way, his dark eyes meeting Quinn's for a long, intense moment. Then he turned back to the guys he was playing pool with, and Quinn dropped his own gaze to his untouched beer glass. "You guys just need to fuck and get it over with already," Patrick's voice said from beside him. Quinn's hand jerked, nearly sending his glass flying over the edge of their table. His eyes shot to Patrick's. Patrick heaved a sigh of the much-maligned. "Yes, you're that obvious," he said before Quinn could say anything. "Both of you. It's ridiculous. Lonnie and I have been tip-toeing around, waiting for you two to get a fucking clue for months now. I can't say I understand why you want him, but if you do, stop being pathetic and go get him." "You know?" Quinn asked, stunned. "Lonnie knows?" Patrick glanced heavenward, as if asking for patience. "Everyone knows." Quinn sputtered. "But—b-but—" "Sorry to tell you, but you haven't been hiding anything, honey. You only think you have. There are just two people unaware of the way you guys feel about each other: you and Cooper." Patrick shook his head and knocked back the rest of his rum and Coke. "Christ, it's like the blind leading the blind. Why do you think he hasn't dated anyone since Simon?" Quinn blinked. "Well, I thought...I thought he was just sad about everything, you know?" Patrick shrugged and signaled a passing waiter for another drink. "Maybe he was. But the reason for him breaking up with Simon in the first place?" Patrick looked at Quinn, pale blue eyes serious. "That was you." Quinn didn't know what to say. It was a relief that Lonnie showed up right then, begging Patrick to join him on the dance floor and saving Quinn from having to reply. He'd never even considered what Patrick had just suggested, but now that he replayed Cooper's answer from the time Quinn had asked him about the breakup, he had to wonder—had Cooper meant that Simon deserved better because he was in love with Quinn instead? Or in the very least, wanted Quinn instead? He was so caught up in his thoughts Quinn didn't notice someone was standing beside him until a hand touched his arm. He knew it was Cooper before he even looked, recognized that familiar, citrusy scent, the way those long fingers felt on his skin. He could've been blindfolded with his ears plugged, didn't matter; he'd know Cooper by those two things alone. "Come on," Cooper said next to his ear. He grabbed Quinn's hand, and Quinn let himself be tugged off his stool, dragged past the dance floor, the crowd of people waiting for drinks at the bar, the bathrooms, the couples that lined the hallway, until he was backed up against a wall in the darkest, farthest corner with Cooper's body pressed tightly to his. "What are you doing to me?" Quinn asked as Cooper started to touch him, lick his neck, drop kisses along the length of his jaw. "Do you just wanna fuck me? Is that what you want?" Cooper shook his head. "I don't want to fuck you." Quinn's stomach dropped, and his heart stuttered. He forced himself to stay cool, pulling back a bit so he could see Cooper's face. "If you don't want me, why are you so hard?" Quinn reached between their bodies and rubbed his palm over Cooper's fly and the erection he could feel straining underneath, watching as Cooper's expression changed, and his eyes went hazy with lust. "Give me something, Cooper. You've been messing with my head all day." An Oral Fixation Cooper leaned forward until their foreheads were pressed together, his breathing rough. "I never said I didn't want you. I told you earlier; I've wanted you for a long time. But I don't want to fuck you." He ground himself into Quinn's hand and groaned softly when Quinn stopped stroking his cock and started working on undoing his jeans instead. "I don't want what we do together to be fucking," he whispered. "I don't give a shit how cheesy it might sound. I want to make love to you." Quinn froze for a second; then he started trembling. He covered Cooper's mouth with his and kissed him—deep, hard, frantic. Kissed him and tasted him, bit his lower lip, licked and sucked and swirled his tongue, until it felt like his chest might burst from how badly he needed a breath, but he still didn't want it to end. Oh, God. How long had he been waiting to hear those words? Felt like a lifetime. Quinn broke the kiss and panted against Cooper's mouth, too overwhelmed to even try to speak. His throat was clogged and thick with all of the things he wanted to say. "Let's go back to the hotel," he finally forced out. "Now." "I want to." Cooper gave him another quick, hard kiss before drawing back, his face torn. "But Pat and—" "Leave them the keys." Quinn yanked Cooper's zipper closed and redid the button of his jeans. He wanted to feel Cooper hard and hot in his palm—fuck, did he want to—but he didn't want it to be another quick one-off. He wanted them naked, stretched out in bed, Cooper's weight above his, his cock slowly pushing in. Even more than that, he wanted them to be alone, just him and Cooper, sharing each other, kissing and touching and making love in the dark. "We'll take a cab. I don't care." Please say yes. Please, please. I can't stand another second of this. Cooper nodded. Quinn didn't know if his sense of urgency had bled into Cooper or if Cooper had been feeling the same way the whole time, but whatever the case, it was clear they were both skating the edge, trying desperately to cling to what little control they had left. They wouldn't be able to keep their hands off each other for very long. If they didn't get out of that bar, and soon, their first time together was going to happen right there against that wall. They'd be helpless to stop themselves, whether it was what they really wanted or not. The tension was too thick, the desire pulsing between them, drawing them ever closer. **** The time it took to find Lonnie and Patrick felt like an eternity. The cab ride to their hotel felt even longer. Quinn had to be in constant contact with Cooper—kissing him, rubbing his thigh, pressing as close as he could get in that tiny backseat. Cooper had snuck a hand under Quinn's shirt and was stroking the skin of his back, slow and gentle and soft. The continual motion of his fingers, up and down, up and down, kept Quinn on edge until they reached the hotel, shoved some cash at the driver, and practically raced across the lobby to the elevator. Quinn didn't pay attention to the looks they got. He waited ages for the doors to open, his hand clutching Cooper's, impatiently shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He prayed no one else would come into the lobby while they were there, and his luck held out. They wound up in the elevator alone, which meant Cooper could kiss him and grind into him the entire ride up, and the security cameras be damned. They barely made it into their room before Cooper grabbed the hem of Quinn's shirt and yanked it over his head. Quinn did the same to him, sighing in relief when their chests touched—his own smooth and hairless, and Cooper's the same, save for a dark happy trail that started at his navel. They were naked and stumbling toward the bed in seconds, but when they got there, Cooper pushed Quinn down and then just stood there for a moment and looked his fill. "Stay like that," he murmured. Then he crossed the room to the area that housed a coffeemaker, mini-fridge, sink, and bucket for ice. Quinn watched as Cooper pulled a plastic cup from the stack beside the coffeemaker and filled it with a little bit of water and some of the ice they'd stuck in the freezer earlier. Quinn almost groaned. Seriously? He's thirsty right now? But Cooper didn't drink the water. He brought the cup back over to where Quinn lay watching him and set it on the nightstand. Then he climbed onto the bed, lean thighs straddling Quinn's hips. Quinn licked his suddenly dry lips. Cooper's body really was beautiful—his chest toned but not bulky, waist trim and narrow, cock long and wet at the tip. Quinn reached out to touch it, but Cooper took hold of his wrists and pressed his arms back against the pillows. Cooper gave him a look that told Quinn to keep his arms where they were. His fingers trailed across Quinn's collarbone from shoulder to shoulder. "You know what I love?" he asked. Quinn shook his head, staring up at Cooper with wide eyes. His own cock was nestled in the crease of Cooper's ass and happy to be there. He shifted his hips, rubbing lightly, and Cooper chuckled and swatted his thigh. "Stay still." Quinn gave a breathless laugh and stopped moving. "I love your eyes," Cooper said. "They're so fucking blue, like the sky on a clear day, when there isn't a cloud for miles. I could get lost in them." He touched Quinn's collarbone again. "And I love these freckles. I've wanted to taste them for years. Your skin is pale, perfect, everywhere except for these, like someone dusted you with cinnamon." Quinn laughed again. "Taste them then." "I will." Cooper's fingers skimmed across Quinn's chest to circle one of his nipples. "And I'll taste you here." Over to the other one. "And here." He shifted, moving back onto Quinn's thighs, and those long fingers kept trailing down—past Quinn's belly button, the base of his cock, his balls, lower, to the place he wanted Cooper most. "Here too." Quinn moaned and spread his thighs a bit wider. "Do it. Please do it." "I will," Cooper said again. "Promise." Then he leaned down and followed the path his fingers had taken with his tongue. Quinn writhed on the bed as Cooper nipped and sucked on his nipples, as Cooper's tongue trailed lower and lower, paused to dip into his navel, and then continued on, along the crease where Quinn's pelvis met his thigh, across his balls and the sensitive place beneath. Then that tongue was at his opening, swirling, licking, pushing gently until his muscles relaxed. And just when Quinn thought the teasing was over, that Cooper would finally slide his tongue inside and end the torture, Cooper abruptly pulled back and sat up. Quinn made a tormented sound. "D-don't. Please don't stop." "Not stopping," Cooper said as he reached for the cup of ice water he'd set on the nightstand earlier. "Just moving on to something better." He dipped two long fingers into the cup and fished out some ice, popping the small cubes into his mouth like candy. Quinn watched breathlessly as Cooper withdrew another. That one didn't go into Coop's mouth with the rest. Instead he placed it against Quinn's sternum, smiling when Quinn shuddered at the cold, and slid it down, over the taut expanse of Quinn's abdomen, along the length of his throbbing cock, up to the tip, and there, at the spot just below the slit, he stopped and held the cube in place. Quinn almost came out of his skin. That tiny spot was probably the most sensitive area on his body. He liked it to be licked, touched, but he'd never had anyone do this. Quinn started trembling, unable to stop himself, his fingers curling into pillows behind his head and gripping tight. "Oh, God..." His hips jerked, whether to press into that cold little touch or pull away, Quinn didn't know, but just when it was getting to be too much, just when he'd parted his lips to utter a protest, Cooper suddenly released the ice cube and leaned down to put his mouth on Quinn's cock. Quinn's back bowed off the bed. "Fuck!" The inside of Cooper's mouth was cool, but warmer than the ice had been. He was sucking, taking Quinn's cock in deep, and before Quinn even realized what was happening, Cooper had a finger in his ass, and he was coming like he'd never come in his life. His vision went black and he bucked on the bed, crying out Cooper's name. Cooper had replaced his mouth with his hand, stroking fast. Quinn felt the spatter of his release across his lower belly and moaned at the feel of it, almost hot in comparison to the cold air of the room. "That's it," Cooper said softly. His voice sounded awed. "You're fucking gorgeous." All Quinn could do was moan again. He looked up at Cooper's face, his heart clenching at the tender expression he found there. "Cooper..." Cooper smiled at him, a dark, wicked smile that would have made Quinn hard again if his body had been capable. Cooper moved up on the bed, dragging his cock through the slippery warmth on Quinn's stomach. "Want some?" he asked. Holy hell. Quinn nodded without even thinking, and Cooper crawled over to straddle his shoulders. He rubbed the head of his dick on Quinn's mouth, leaving a trail of Quinn's own cum across his lips. Quinn finally brought his arms down from above his head, reaching behind Cooper to cup his ass and yank him close. He sucked Cooper in to the hilt, tasting himself, salty and bitter, tasting Cooper, smelling the musk of Cooper's arousal, his balls, his cock. Quinn gripped Cooper's ass even harder, spread the cheeks, dipped his fingers into the crease. He skimmed down to Cooper's hole and massaged the muscles, applying just enough pressure to give Cooper something to push back against if he wanted. Cooper did want. He pressed into Quinn's touch, searching, and Quinn released Cooper's cock long enough to briefly suck on one of his own fingers. He returned that finger to Cooper's entrance and slid it inside, feeling for Cooper's prostate and pressing gently once he'd found it. Cooper didn't last long after that. A few more sucks, a flick of Quinn's tongue along his ridge, and he was flooding Quinn's mouth with thick, salty wetness. Quinn moaned and swallowed as Cooper kept coming, spurt after spurt striking the back of his throat. Cooper groaned above him, his hands gripping the headboard. "Don't swallow it all," he said breathlessly. "I wanna taste us both." Quinn nearly choked at the words but managed to get himself under control. Holy shit. He'd never done that before. He would've thought the idea would be a turn-off, but instead he found it oddly erotic. Him and Cooper kissing, sharing Cooper's cum. How would it feel to kiss him, pass it back to him, let Cooper get a taste of himself from Quinn's tongue? The answer came to him in a rush: hot as fuck. Cooper's body slid down his, skin damp with sweat. He braced himself on his elbows and lowered his head for a kiss. Quinn opened to him without hesitation, accepting the warm glide of Cooper's tongue, and moaning when Cooper shuddered above him, his arms automatically curling around Cooper's waist and holding him close. It felt good in a way he'd never experienced before, not gross or weird, but raw and naughty and maybe just a little bit dirty. There was heat, and need, and yearning in that kiss too; Cooper's taste filling his senses, overwhelming him. Quinn never wanted it to end, but of course good things always do. Cooper eventually pulled back with a final nip to Quinn's lower lip, and buried his face in the curve where Quinn's neck met his shoulder. "Finally," Cooper said, his voice muffled. "I thought I was gonna die if I went another day without touching you." Quinn tightened his arms and held him even closer. "Why didn't you ever say anything?" "At first I didn't want to risk messing things up between us." Cooper nuzzled a kiss onto the sensitive spot just behind Quinn's ear. "After that, it was just a matter of timing," Cooper went on. "You always had someone. Or I did. And then there was Simon." Cooper pulled back then, his dark eyes meeting Quinn's. "I never meant to hurt him." Quinn's heart twisted painfully. "You loved him?" "Yeah." Cooper reached up to cup Quinn's face, his thumb brushing across Quinn's cheekbone. "And I tried," he said, "I tried to give him what he needed from me. But I couldn't. That part of my heart was yours even before I met him again." Cooper paused and gave him a regretful smile. "It took me forever to figure it out, though, and when I did, you were with Gabe. It wasn't until last semester that I realized you might feel the same way." "Cooper, I—" Quinn stopped and swallowed. The words were hard to push past the tightness in his throat. His eyes burned at the thought of how much time they'd wasted. If only they'd paid more attention, if only they'd talked to each other instead of being a couple of dumbasses. But they knew now, and really, that was all that mattered. "For so long, I—" "Shh." Cooper leaned close and kissed him softly. "I know. There'll be time to talk more later, okay? Right now just let me love you." All Quinn could do was nod yes. He sighed and arched his back when Cooper dipped his head and took one of his nipples into his mouth, sucking hard. "All night?" he said. "Forever," Cooper answered. Forever. Yeah, that sounded good to Quinn. THE END