Drilled by K.M. Neuhold
Chapter 18
APOLLO
It’s like someone hit fast forward. The next week and a half pass in a blur of work and sex, early mornings of chugging terrible coffee and late nights by the fire, hot hours in the sun and cool night swims under the moon.
A pit of dread sits heavy in my stomach when I wake up knowing that this is the last day of work we have left. We dragged things out as long as possible but still managed to finish a few days ahead of schedule. I’d love to say I’m proud that we’re that awesome, but it means that we’re going to have to go home.
“Psp, psp, psp,” Ridge tries to coax Logs over to see him. She’s hardly left her kittens in the past ten days, but now she’s starting to slink around the cabin a bit more and occasionally slips outside, bringing back half-eaten mice and leaving them on my pillow.
She meows and hops right on top of him, kneading the blanket that’s covering his otherwise bare body, her claws catching on the fabric. I balance beside him, using the crook of my arm as a pillow and watching him gently caress the top of her head and then scratch her chin when she tilts it up for him.
It shouldn’t be as sweet as it is to watch him with a no doubt flea-ridden cat. I think it’s something about Ridge’s smile as he coos at her. It’s so easy and pure, just like everything else about him.
A pang hits me in the chest.
Maybe things don’t have to end when we get home? Maybe we can have this renewed friendship and the breathtaking kissing, all the memories of years at each other’s side and the incredible sex we only just discovered together, the past and the present and whatever might come next…
The possibility of it all is enough to make me dizzy with wanting. Ridge turns his head, and our eyes meet, the moment of understanding that passes between us feeling like he knows exactly what’s on my mind before I even start trying to work out the words.
“Ridge,” I say his name in a low, rusty rumble, not even sure what I plan to follow it with but ready to see what might tumble out if I just keep talking. Unfortunately, my phone chooses that moment to start ringing. It’s a muffled sound from my bag that takes me a second to recognize.
I frown, which seems to amuse him.
“I swear to fuck if that’s one of the guys calling to ask one more damn time about our sex life…” I mutter, flinging back the cover and deftly rolling off the sliver of bed I’ve become rather adept at balancing on. I can feel his eyes on my bare ass as I stride across the room and bend over to rummage through my bag. I scoop the phone out and then crane my neck to shoot him a playful wink over my shoulder, butterflies dancing in the pit of my stomach at the smile I get back in return.
Fuck it, there’s nothing any of the guys can say that will douse this feeling. I hit the Accept button without really looking at the display, bringing my phone to my ear.
“Still none of your business,” I say gruffly in place of a hello.
“Wow, grumpy. I just couldn’t remember when you said you’d be back in town.” Anna’s voice on the other end of the phone is like a bucket of ice water.
“Anna, hey.” I wedge the phone between my ear and shoulder to hold it in place and grab the first pair of pants I spot laying next to my bag. I’m not about to have a conversation with my sister while standing ass-naked with her ex-fiancé’s cum likely still crusted somewhere on my skin from last night.
Fuck.
“You sound weird,” she says, and I can practically hear the suspicious squint in her eyes. “You haven’t been abducted by a weird forest cult or anything, have you?”
I huff through my nose in a semblance of a laugh, keeping my back firmly to Ridge, guilt squirming nauseatingly in my stomach.
“No, just waking up.” I tug on a shirt, pulling the phone away from my ear for just a second before replacing it. “You wanted to know when I’m coming home…” I clear my throat. “By this weekend.”
“Oh, great. The kids have been asking to see their Uncle Polly.”
In spite of the shit-tastic feeling writhing through me, a smile briefly tugs at my lips. I’ve never been interested in the idea of kids of my own, but my nephew and nieces are pretty damn cool human beings.
“I’ll come over Saturday for dinner. How does that sound?” I offer, still feeling the weight of Ridge’s eyes on my back and the moment I nearly captured before the phone call slipping away.
What was I thinking? Of course we can’t have all those things. No matter how desperately I might want them.
She sounds so cheerful through the phone, chattering away about what she’ll make for dinner and the picture Kelly drew for me that she can’t wait to show me. I make affirming noises every so often, only half-listening as I pay attention to the sounds of Ridge behind me, getting out of bed and dressed.
“Great. Listen, I have to get going, but I’ll see you Saturday.”
We say our goodbyes, and then I toss my phone back into my bag before turning around to face Ridge, who’s standing fully clothed by his bed now, his easy smile replaced by an awkward, strained one.
“Anna?” he guesses, and I just nod.
It looks like he wants to say something else, opening and closing his mouth like a fish a few times before running his hand through his hair and letting out a long breath.
“Come on, if we get things wrapped up today, I think we can get away with staying one more day to slack off and fuck around,” I suggest with as much levity in my tone as I can manage.
His smile relaxes again, and he gives a fake gasp. “You aren’t suggesting we stay here collecting overtime for a full extra day while we do nothing but skinny dip and fuck each other’s brains out, are you?” The wicked gleam in his eye gives the distinct impression he’s not at all against the idea.
“I think that’s the least Stone can do to make up for searing my asshole with that lube.”
“Fair,” he agrees with a grin. “In that case, let’s get this shit done so we can start collecting our dirty, dirty money.”
We do exactly that, hurrying through our terrible coffee and canned breakfast and then hitting our final project, the roof on the last cabin. The heat has let up a bit today, a nice breeze making for pleasant work.
Ridge and I trade looks while we work. Some of them heated, some of them full of amusement—though I don’t think either of us knows over what—but most of them simply familiar and comfortable.
As annoying as the guys are, I might owe them a thank-you for throwing the two of us together so we could finally get our friendship back. It’s highly unlikely I’ll actually tell any of them that, but maybe I’ll leave something nice on each of their desks when we get back. After Ridge and I go ahead and pull that singing telegram prank, of course.
Just like the last few weeks, our final day of work flies by too quickly, and before I know it, we’re tumbling into the too-small-bed again, naked and desperate to pretend that the end of our little vacation from reality isn’t rapidly approaching.
I think I might actually miss this cramped sleeping arrangement and the constantly sore neck when I get home.
*****
“What do you want to do today?” Ridge asks after breakfast the next morning. A late breakfast given our tremendous difficulty dragging ourselves out of bed.
“How about a hike?” It feels like a waste not to spend a little more time enjoying nature before we head back home tomorrow.
“A hike sounds good.” He stands up and puts out the fire. “Let me just go check on the kittens one more time, and then we can go.”
“I never would have pegged you for a helicopter dad,” I tease.
“They’re adorable and tiny, sue me.”
They are pretty cute. I still think it’s a bit crazy to keep all of them, but there’s no talking him out of it.
Once the kittens are fawned over for a few minutes, we head out into the woods.
It’s a warm day again, but the tree cover keeps it from being unbearable. A bumblebee floats lazily past me on the trail, enjoying the wildflowers lining the overgrown hiking path, birds chirping merrily overhead.
Every second that ticks closer to tomorrow feels like a noose around my neck. Even though he’s only a few steps ahead of me, my heart beats too fast, panic setting in that I’m about to lose him all over again.
It’s not the same as it was fifteen years ago. I’m not cutting him out completely again. When we get home, things will be like they used to be: nights at the bar shooting the shit, weekend road trips…I’ll have my best friend back.
Before I even have a chance to take any amount of comfort in that thought, a little voice in the back of my head pipes up. He’s going to meet someone eventually. It won’t be like before either. It was hard enough watching him fall in love with my sister, but there was something comforting in the fact that I never had a chance at him anyway. Now I know better. I have Ridge right here in my hands. I could grab him right now and feel his mouth against mine if I wanted to, and I have to throw it all away.
The thought tightens around my throat and constricts my chest, making it hard to breathe. I must draw in a sharp breath because Ridge’s step falters and he looks over his shoulder at me with concern.
“You okay, Pol?”
I nod weakly, looking at him, the sun from the break in the trees a few feet ahead illuminating his features. A bead of sweat trickles along the side of his throat, tugging me forward. In a fraction of a second, I’m closing the few feet between us and dipping my face into the crook of his neck to catch the trickle of sweat against my tongue, moaning as the salty flavor and the taste of his skin make my mouth water.
His hands are on me just as fast, his fingers digging into my shoulder blades, the air whooshing out of his lungs and ghosting over my skin as I press him against the nearest tree. The moment feels like the mirror image of that night weeks ago now, when we kissed for the first time. Except this version of me knows all the things that one used to dream about: the strangled, desperate sound of Ridge’s moans seconds before he comes, the weight of his cock against my tongue, the way his muscles twitch and flex under my touch.
I press my nose against the edge of his jaw, dragging in a deep breath to fill my lungs with his smell. My cock hardens against the already stiff shape of his. Ridge turns his head and catches my lips with his, the kiss slow at first, both of us savoring the moment, but the longer his mouth is on mine, the more reality starts to set in that this is one of the last times I’m going to get to do this.
Ridge seems to have that realization at the same time, moving one hand to the back of my neck and kissing me deeper, a hint of desperation in the sudden roughness. I meet him with equal force, grabbing him by the ass, the material of his basketball shorts slipping in my grip.
How we end up on the ground is a bit of a blur. There’s a lot of biting and fruitlessly tugging at each other’s clothing, both of us vaguely seeming to realize that we probably don’t want to get completely naked in the middle of the woods. For one thing, there are a lot of sharp branches and a high likelihood of poison ivy. And then I’m on top of him, digging my fingers into the dirt on either side of his head and tangling my tongue with his.
Even pinned under my weight, he’s not a passive participant. Ridge rolls his hips, grinding his cock against mine. Through the thin fabric of our shorts, I can feel the heat of his cock just as well as if we were both naked. The thick, hard shape of him drags against mine.
I grunt and growl around his tongue, Ridge’s own horny noises vibrating against my lips before I swallow each one. My cock throbs with every thrust. Even the hard soil and rocks digging into my knees are barely more than an afterthought as sweat trickles down my back, making my shirt cling to my skin while my balls tingle and ache.
He slides a hand between us and yanks the front of his shorts down just enough to free the first few inches of his cock, leaving it trapped against his stomach, precum dampening my skin. And then he does the same with my shorts, tugging them just enough that the head of my cock is exposed. He tangles his legs around mine, and we thrust and fuck against each other.
A frantic feeling weaves its way through me. Not just desperate for this moment, but for all the rest that will never come. I hump against him harder, the thought of covering his skin in my cum again blaring through my mind. As if a small act of marking him will change tomorrow, but it might make me feel better for a few minutes.
Ridge must have the same thought, wild sounds rumbling from his throat, his hands down the back of my shorts, gripping my ass and encouraging me to thrust faster. My muscles tremble and my balls tighten.
“I need you.” The words slip from my mouth, and Ridge smirks against my lips and then wraps a hand around my cock.
I gasp, a shockwave of pleasure ricocheting through me, my precum spilling over his palm. Fuck, not exactly what I meant, but…damn, yeah, this is good too. He jerks me just the way I like, a little rough, just on the edge of too hard.
I pant into his mouth, curling my fingers into the dirt, my eyes rolling back. How is it possible that a hand job from Ridge feels better than anything I’ve ever done with anyone else? He bites my bottom lip and then sucks it into his mouth. Our tongues tangle and slide against each other.
“Ridge,” I gasp, his thumb dragging over the head of my cock, the slightest pinch with each stroke making heat tug at the pit of my stomach.
“Fuck, I can’t get enough of that look on your face,” he murmurs, bumping his nose against mine. “This expression of almost pained pleasure just for a few seconds before you spill all over me.”
I cry out, bucking into his grip. He angles my cock toward his, stroking me faster, continuing to whisper filthy things into my ear, even if I can’t begin to decipher a word he’s saying right now.
“Come all over me,” he rumbles, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, and I’m helpless to do anything other than exactly what he wants.
Ropes of my cum land on his thick shaft, Ridge continuing to jerk me, tightening and loosening his grip with each stroke to milk every last drop of cum from my balls. My knees quake and I barely manage to hold myself up when he releases my cock and grabs his own, but somehow, I sit up enough to look between us. I watch through heavy eyelids, his hand flying over his erection, the head flaring with each upward stroke. The creamy, cum-lube makes his cock shiny in the light, a sticky squishing sound accompanying the movement.
I’m not sure what comes over me, but I pry one hand off the ground and place it gently against his throat, nowhere near hard enough to limit his breathing, just enough to feel possessive, even if I have no right to be. He arches into the touch, gasping as his eyes fall closed, and he returns the favor by covering me in his release.
RIDGE
It takes me a ridiculously long time to catch my breath and unscramble my brain after that orgasm. Apollo’s hand is still resting gently against my throat as if he forgot it was there and, fuck, it’s sexy. It feels possessive and claiming, and I just wish he meant it.
He moves his hand, and I bite back a sound of protest that tries to erupt from my chest. Instead I focus on sitting up and brushing all the dirt off of my clothes and out of my hair. We’re both covered in cum, but since there’s not much we can do about that right now, we just pull our shorts up and get all of our clothing back into place. Apollo gets to his feet and then offers me his hand to help me up.
Once I’m standing, I keep my fingers curled around his, wanting to keep the connection for a few more seconds. He seems to understand because he doesn’t pull away, simply shares a quiet moment, our eyes and hands locked, surrounded by a weighty silence of all the things we don’t say.
After a minute, I clear my throat and force a smile. “Why don’t we head back and take a shower?”
We fixed the pipes so the water doesn’t run rusty anymore, but it’s still cold as a reindeer’s balls. On a hot, sticky day like today, a cold shower sounds like heaven.
He nods, squeezing my hand before dropping it.
I chatter about inane things as we make our way back, desperate to avoid any more silence until I can be sure that I won’t embarrass myself by blurting out that I’m in love with him and don’t want to let him go.
When we step through the trees into the clearing of the campground, there’s an unexpected car parked next to Apollo’s.
“Who’s that?” I ask, and he grunts, frowning. The door to Cabin Five swings open, and a man a good decade or so older than the two of us steps out. He has BBQ Dad written all over him, with a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a striped polo shirt.
“Can we help you?” I ask, trying to sound friendly yet mildly threatening at the same time. For all we know, this guy is Ted Bundy, out here in the woods looking for victims. Or, shit, maybe he’s the dad of the kid who drowned. He’s not holding a machete, but that’s only mildly comforting.
“Hi, I’m Chet. I’m the owner.” He gestures broadly. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by. I was too excited to wait any longer to see how things were turning out.”
“It’s no problem. We actually finished up this morning. Feel free to take a look around and let us know if there are any problems,” I offer.
He does just that, heading straight for the next cabin to take a look. Once he’s gone, I quickly glance down at my disheveled appearance and then over at Apollo. Do we look like we just had sex in the woods? Could he smell the cum still drying on both our bodies?
Apollo snorts an amused sound.
“What’s so funny?”
“You just look so panicked.”
“Well, it looks like we just came back from wrestling bears,” I point out, tugging at my shirt as if that’s going to unwrinkled it or magically get the dirt and grass stains off of the back.
“We basically did.” He waggles his eyebrows and grins briefly.
The levity in his mood is infectious, drawing laughter from me that I do my best to muffle when Chet steps out of one cabin and moves on to the next.
“You’re so unprofessional,” I accuse in a low voice, shoving his shoulder. It doesn’t even budge him, but he gives it back anyway, pushing me playfully until we’re in a fully adult shoving match.
“Everything looks great,” Chet says. I stumble, catching myself before I ram into Apollo again and straighten up so I can pretend we weren’t just acting like a couple of kids.
“Thanks, it looks like it will be a nice place for a summer camp,” I tell him with a friendly smile. “As long as there’s no ghost or anything.”
“Ghost?” he frowns.
“You know, from the kid who drowned?”
“What are you talking about? Nobody drowned up here. The place just ran out of funding.”
“Ran out of funding?” I repeat. “But Cole told us…”
“He must’ve been fucking with us.”
Chet chuckles. “Ghost,” he says again, shaking his head. “You know, that actually might be a fun rumor for the campers to enjoy, and it’s a hell of a lot more exciting than saying that the original owners couldn’t keep up with the bills and maintenance.”
“Exciting camp ghost stories are just a bonus when you hire Four Bears Construction,” I say.
We spend a few more minutes chatting with him, discussing the need for a grounds crew and a hot water heater unless he’s really looking to toughen these kids up. Then Chet gets back in his car and drives back down the gravel driveway, leaving Apollo and me all alone once again.
“What do you say to a swim, some more kitten time, and then one last campfire tonight? I think we have enough left for a couple of s’mores and at least half a bottle of whiskey,” I suggest.
“I’m in,” he agrees with another twitch of a smile.
When the sun sets hours later, we find ourselves in front of the roaring fire as planned, passing the bottle of whiskey back and forth and roasting a couple of marshmallows, the act of assembling them into s’mores too much work after a long day swimming, hiking, and coming until it would take an act of God for either of us to get it up again in the next twelve hours.
“This is nice,” I say, swinging back a deep gulp, swallowing the burn as it flows down my throat.
“Mm,” Apollo hums, taking the bottle back and tilting his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow.
“Hey, Pol…” I tilt my head back to look up at the clear night sky because my heart is beating too hard to look at Apollo without letting him see how I’m really feeling tonight. “Anna might understand.”
He doesn’t make a sound for several of the longest seconds of my life. When I finally work up the courage to sneak a look at him, he’s staring into the fire, the light dancing over his face, his expression carefully blank.
“Can’t we just have tonight?” he asks, and my heart stutters to a stop before sinking into my stomach.
“Yeah,” I agree in a near-whisper. “You know what we should do once we’re home?” I hope he doesn’t hear the edge of desperation in my voice, but I need something to hang on to, some kind of promise that I won’t lose him completely again.
“What?”
“There’s this indoor gym with a whole bunch of climbing walls. We should check it out one weekend.”
He hums again and nods. “That sounds fun.”
“Cool.” That’s something, right? We’re friends again, so at least I have that.
“What are you looking forward to once we get home?” he asks after a few seconds of quiet.
“A bubble bath.”
“A bubble bath?” he repeats with amusement.
“Dude, you’d better not be about to spout any toxic masculinity bullshit about bubble baths,” I warn with a grin.
“Not at all.” He holds his hands up in mock-surrender. “I’m just wondering what your scent of choice is.”
“Lavender is where it’s at. So relaxing.”
“Lavender,” he says, nodding and trying to hide another brief smile behind a sip of alcohol.
We talk more about things that don’t matter, carefully avoiding any mention of Anna or what we’re giving up once we get home. As the bottle of whiskey runs dry, our conversation fades, our mouths becoming too busy with slow, sloppy, half-drunk kisses for any more words.
Eventually, we stumble into the cabin and fall asleep, tangled up one last time.
I wish tomorrow wouldn’t come. If I hold Apollo tight enough, can I convince it to wait just a little while longer?
