Drilled by K.M. Neuhold
Chapter 7
APOLLO
My mind screeches to a halt, puzzling over the riddle of an answer he just gave me, the night going so still around us, as if the whole world is holding its breath. I draw my eyebrows together, staring at Ridge in the moonlight, a streak of blood on his cheek, a stray twig caught in his hair, and his lips swollen from our rough kiss.
“You’re…” I draw out the word slowly, and Ridge rolls his eyes at me, letting out an annoyed huff through his nose.
“Gay, Pol. I’m gay.”
When I was sixteen, about half my dreams started like this…and ended with me waking up panting and sticky. There’s part of my brain that’s spinning over all the implications of this statement. There’s confusion and a new, deeper level of anger that he was engaged to Anna and apparently doesn’t even like women, and that he never bothered to tell her that fact…or to tell me that fact. But I can’t focus on any of that right now because a much larger part of me is screaming Ridge is gay, and he let you kiss him.
My pulse rushes so loud in my ears that it drowns out the sound of crickets and bullfrogs.
Ridge is gay?
Ridge is gay.
This time I really can’t say who moves first. In one fraction of a second, we’re staring at each other, our chests both heaving, our eyes locked in a wordless battle, and in the next, we’re back to trading harsh, biting kisses. His rock-solid body crashes into mine, and I grunt against his lips.
Even while I was wandering through the woods, pissed at myself and at Ridge for that kiss, my erection never fully went away. And with his tongue dragging against mine, hot and heavy in my mouth, it’s back in full force. My whole body aches and hums from his touch.
Was I really thinking the other day that I could take or leave sex? Because I’m pretty sure what I meant was I could take or leave sex with anyone other than Ridge. I just didn’t know the latter was an option at the time. Fuck, it’s really not an option now, not a good one anyway…or a smart one. But I don’t think I could stop myself if my life depended on it right now, not as long as he’s kissing me back and moaning around my tongue.
The hard outline of his cock presses against mine, and my brain nearly short circuits. Ridge’s cock is hard as steel, no doubt throbbing the same way mine is. I want to tear his pants off and feel the hot, bare skin of his erection with my hand. I want to wrestle him to the ground and choke myself on his cock. My balls tighten and my cock pulses eagerly, dampening my underwear with slick, sticky precum.
It doesn’t occur to me that we’re moving until Ridge makes an oomph sound inside my mouth, his back connecting with a tree right on the edge of the woods.
I can’t get enough of his mouth, of his tongue, of his body against mine. This moment is made of glass, and the safest thing would be to walk away now before it shatters, but I can’t.
He slides his hands up my shirt, the roughened skin on his palms and fingers sending shivers of pleasure through me. Ridge thrusts against me, grinding our cocks together through our pants, making me gasp and pant into his mouth. I drag my hands through his hair, nipping at his bottom lip and rolling my hips, mindlessly chasing this feeling.
It’s too much and not enough. It’s wrong but completely and utterly right. It’s Ridge, but it’s Ridge. Kissing. Touching. Humping. Ridge.
With a mind of their own, my hands find their way to the button on his pants, fumbling them open and reaching inside.
We both groan as I wrap my hand around the base of his erection, silky smooth and hard as granite to the touch. His precum slicks my palm on the upstroke, his gasping breath fluttering over my lips before he kisses me again, harder and hungrier this time as he works my own pants open with trembling hands.
He slips his hand inside my pants and strokes me from root to tip, tightening the pit of my stomach and making my balls clench.
Our knuckles bump as we jerk each other off furiously, the heads of our cocks bumping and touching, our precum mixing, and our pleasured sounds muffled by each other’s tongues. The kiss becomes sloppy and desperate, Ridge murmuring half-formed words each time our lips break apart.
Is any of this even real? It feels like a wild daydream, like I could wake up in that tiny, uncomfortable bed any second to find Ridge asleep a few feet away and my hand around a massive morning erection.
“Fuck, I need it,” he pleads in a gravelly voice. “More, more, more.” He bites my lip as he chants, jerking me faster, tightening his grip until my eyes roll back and my breath catches in my throat.
I surge against him, thrusting and stroking and kissing him furiously, and he gives back as good as he gets. I’m pretty sure even the creatures of the woods have all gathered around, in awe of the animalistic display the two of us are putting on. Fuck it, let a bear watch for all I care.
Ridge lets out a deep, long moan, his cock swelling in my grasp and then starting to pulse. Rope after rope of thick, sticky cum fills my hand and trickles over my knuckles, some landing on my cock, on my stomach, on my pants…
His body jerks and his muscles spasm, the look of pure, overwhelming pleasure on his face enough to send me over the edge along with him. I fuck into the loosening grip of his hand and growl against his mouth when my orgasm hits me.
We continue to touch each other absently, even after we’re both covered in each other’s cum and our cocks are slowly softening, bumping our open mouths against each other while we catch our breath.
I can already feel the damn intrusive, rational thoughts creeping in, and I don’t want to deal with them. I just want to freeze time in this single second and live here where all the bullshit from the past doesn’t exist.
If only.
RIDGE
I sag against the tree, my skin stinging from the roughness of the bark, even through my shirt, my spent cock hanging out of my open pants in a way that would be embarrassing if I hadn’t just come so hard, I’m pretty sure I saw Jesus. Considering I’m an atheist, that’s really saying something.
Since there’s already cum drying on my pants, I wipe my hand on my thigh and then tuck my softening cock away. Apollo is quiet as he does the same, looking anywhere except for at me, turning the relaxed, happy feeling in my gut to anxious knots.
“How long?” he asks, his voice so gruff it barely sounds like words at all, more like animalistic growls.
“How long have I been gay? I’m thinking my whole life,” I answer flippantly, pushing off from the tree, my knees wobbling under my full weight.
“I mean, when did you figure it out?” He finally meets my eyes, and it looks like he’s fighting to keep his expression distant this time. Did what just happen shake him the way it shook me?
My heart forces its way into my throat. Is he finally going to give me a chance to explain? It’s about damn time. I drag my tongue over my parched lips.
“The night before the wedding.”
His expression drifts far away. Is he remembering that night, puzzling over the exact moment that the veil lifted and I realized for the first time that Anna wasn’t the Day sibling I’d been in love with for years? I can see the split second it all clicks, his eyes going hazy and a little dreamy, and then his expression slams into a fresh mask of unwavering blankness.
“Pol,” I say his name and reach for him in an effort to stop the inevitable. But he’s quicker than I am.
He jerks his arm out of grabbing range and takes several steps backward before spinning around and stalking straight back into the woods.
A disbelieving laugh bursts from my lips, more like a sharp exhale.
How fucking dare he kiss me like that, shoving his hand into my pants and touching me like he’s been imagining this moment as long as I have before walking away while there’s still cum drying on my pants.
It’s like deja vu, weighing whether or not to storm into the woods after him for the second time in half an hour. My muscles all feel tight and heavy with the rage that’s simmering in my chest and the pit of my stomach.
Apollo has always been standoffish, fair enough. I used to think the guys he dated were unreasonable, expecting him to be something different once they got together, but maybe I felt that way because I did get to see a different side of him. Frankly, being one of the people he completely shuts out feels like shit.
I don’t know if it’s the anger or the humid night, or maybe my body reacting to what just happened, but I feel like my clothes are suffocating me. I feel like I want to scream and possibly punch something. I want to sprint after Apollo, tackle him to the ground, and hold him there until he has to face this conversation.
Since all of those things seem like truly bad ideas, I do the one thing that at least has the potential to relax me while I work through this mess of feelings. I strip out of my clothes, making a pile on the shore of the lake, and I wade in.
The water is surprisingly warm, the moonlight reflecting off the surface, giving it an otherworldly feel. Once the water reaches waist height, I launch myself deeper, diving under the surface before re-emerging with a splash.
I’d love to say I’d do things differently if I could magically turn back time to that night before the wedding. But what could I have done? Making it up to our apartment was a complete blur. I remember stumbling into my bedroom, drunk and confused, my chest feeling tight and my thoughts spinning faster than the room itself as I tried to work out if any of what I was feeling was real or if it was some bizarre form of cold feet.
After all, if I was gay, shouldn’t I have figured it out a hell of a lot sooner? And it wasn’t like I was a virgin. I’d had sex with a handful of women, Anna included, and it was always okay. It was never what I thought sex was supposed to be, but I didn’t feel dirty afterward or anything.
I remember lying on my bed in a daze until I started to sober a little. Then I climbed out of my window onto the fire escape. I stared out over the dark, silent buildings all around us, and I picked through every moment of my life leading up to that night. I thought about every girl I’d kissed and every deep feeling of longing or lust I’d experienced. And then I thought about Apollo…my best friend, asleep just one window away.
He’d come out to me years before but had never expressed any interest in me that I’d noticed. For the first time, I let go of the white-knuckle grip that I hadn’t even realized I was keeping on my feelings, and I thought about the way his casual touches made me feel. The more I went over it in my mind, the more I realized it wasn’t just Apollo. It was Jake Green, the quarterback of the football team whose smile always made me feel a little giddy when it was turned on me, it was male celebrities I always told myself I idolized, it was that boy at summer camp when I was twelve, who kissed me once behind the boathouse and then threatened to kick my ass if I ever told anyone.
With my mind mired in fifteen-year-old memories, I float on my back and close my eyes, letting the lake surround me and carry my problems just for a few minutes until I’m ready to pick them back up again.
I sat out on that fire escape, and I cried, and I laughed, and I met myself for the first time in my life. And the next thing I knew, the sun was rising, and it was my wedding day.
I’m not proud of it, but I panicked. I didn’t even bother to change out of my clothes, still reeking from the bar the night before. I slipped out of the apartment while Apollo slept, got into my car, and just drove.
I should’ve called Anna. Hell, I should’ve driven over to her place and faced the situation like an adult. But I was so mixed up right at that moment, running on no sleep and hungover on top of it. By the time I fully sobered up and got my head on straight, I had already humiliated her in front of all of our friends and family.
What I did was shitty, no matter how fucked up I was in that moment. But is it fair for Apollo to punish me forever?
I’m not sure how long I float in the lake, but it’s long enough that my anger has simmered to a manageable level of pissed off, and I’m starting to get tired after this long-ass, emotional day. By the time I get dressed and find my way through the woods, back to the campground, the fire is out and everything is still.
Apollo doesn’t make a sound when I step into our cabin, but he’s not snoring either, so I know he’s awake. The urge to march over to his bed and shove him out of it for the simple satisfaction of watching him flail just before he hits the ground is a strong one. But I’m an adult. Unlike him, apparently.
I undress in the dark and slip into bed, the ghost of his hands still singeing my skin. The memories of the kiss and the bite of the tree bark into my back make me restless and horny all over again.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the dark, unsure if he’s awake to hear me or not. “It shouldn’t have happened,” I tack on. Dating his sister was a mistake, and it was selfish from the start. That’s the thing I would go back and change if I could.
If only life worked like that.
