Pet [m/m]

Ash Cameron snapped back to awareness the moment something cold touched his neck.

“I’m not sleeping!” he hissed, swatting it away. He spun in his chair and shot his sister a withering glare, just in time to see Layla pop the ice cube into her mouth. Done with that, she beamed and leaned her hip against the edge of his desk, crossing her arms.

“Sure you weren’t,” she drawled, fluttering her lashes. “You weren’t drooling either, right?”

She snorted when he automatically wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then glared again, heat rushing to his face. To hide it, he looked down at the notes scattered across his desk and grimaced.

The essay he’d been working on—before he dozed off—looked like it had been dragged through a dog’s throat.

Maybe I could use that as an excuse, he thought, trying to smooth the crumpled page.

“Do you need something?” he asked without looking at her.

“Kind of,” Layla snorted, pushing away from the desk before flopping onto the edge of his bed—no less messy than the desk. “I want to offer you a deal, little brother.”

She leaned back on her arms, one leg crossing over the other.

“Whatever it is, I don’t have time,” he sighed, turning sideways in his chair to frown at her far-too-innocent smirk.

Two years older, Layla Cameron was undeniably pretty. Shoulder-length red hair—the exact same shade as Ash’s—framed her heart-shaped face, and her dark blue eyes carried their usual brightness. Her outfit, a matching set of pink sweats, suggested she had the day off, which wasn’t common.

Between their studies and part-time jobs, neither of them had much free time. The thought made Ash grimace as he glanced at his watch.

Raised by a single mother, they were extremely close. Back in their teenage years, while most guys chased girls, Ash—alongside Layla—devoured an unhealthy number of romance novels, series, and movies, fully encouraged by their mom, Skye, who believed gender shouldn’t dictate interests.

Given their precarious finances, Ash picked up whatever part-time work he could in their small town—whenever he wasn’t studying or daydreaming about true love. Layla did the same.

They shared a quiet ambition: one day giving their mother the comfortable life she deserved.

Their father had disappeared when Ash was a year old, leaving behind only a note about how “adult life sucked.” The memory of their mother struggling alone was etched deeply into Ash’s mind. Even working two—sometimes three—jobs, she never complained or blamed them.

Orphaned young herself, with no support beyond an elderly widow who watched the kids while she worked, their mom still treated them like treasures.

When Ash and Layla started earning money, she refused to let them contribute to the bills. Instead, she insisted they save everything for their education. She had married young and gotten pregnant in high school, and she was determined they would have better opportunities—even if their small town couldn’t offer them.

After high school, Layla—despite graduating at the top of her class—chose to take a two-year break to work and save until Ash finished. She admitted, laughing, that she was afraid of moving to a big city without him.

That “break” paid off. By the time they moved, they could afford a small but cozy two-bedroom apartment. Something Ash was endlessly grateful for—because despite his brave face, the city honestly terrified him.

Not just the size of it, but the college too. On the first day, he’d been ridiculously relieved to spot his best friend, Sarah, during the opening ceremony. Having even one familiar face made everything more bearable.

It didn’t take long to realize city-raised students were very different. Many treated college like one long party. While Ash understood networking in theory, he preferred to stay invisible and rely on merit.

Not that he had time for parties anyway. Between classes and his job at a nearby internet café, his schedule was packed. He was lucky the owner didn’t mind him studying during quiet evening shifts.

Layla earned more at her job in a high-end restaurant, and with shared expenses and flexible chores, they managed well enough.

Ash didn’t have grand ambitions. If his grades allowed, he planned to apply for a teaching position at another college across the city—one known for hiring based purely on merit.

“I have about two hours to finish this,” he said, gesturing at the crumpled pages. After that, he’d need a quick shower before heading to work. His fault—he’d dozed off instead of finishing earlier. Still, no point dwelling on it. He could rewrite it at the café.

“So…?” he prompted, gathering the pages into a neater pile.

“How would you like to be free from chores for a week?” Layla asked.

He froze mid-motion and shot her a suspicious look.

“Okay… who do you want me to kill?”

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” she snorted.

“A blind date,” Layla said.

“Hard pass.”

“Don’t be like that!” Layla whined. He didn’t hear her move, but he groaned again when she wrapped her arms around his neck from behind and leaned her full weight against him.

“It’s already arranged!”

“Still pass,” he scowled, trying—and failing—to pry her off. “You shouldn’t set something like this up without asking me first, sis.”

“Well, it wasn’t me,” she said, amused, resting her chin on top of his head.

“That’s even worse!” Ash groaned, dragging a hand down his face before glaring over his shoulder.

Layla didn’t look remotely intimidated—unsurprisingly—though she finally leaned back, not before brushing her fingers deliberately over the white scar that cut across his face.

When she wasn’t studying, Layla worked as a waitress in a high-end restaurant. That’s where she met her boyfriend, Theo Ellis, about six months ago.

Though she’d only brought him home a month ago, Ash genuinely liked the tall blond guy with green eyes and an easy grin. He suspected Theo tried hard because of Layla—but he’d also noticed that the guy genuinely cared about her.

More than cared, really. Theo seemed completely—and surprisingly openly—head over heels in love with her.

Ash turned away from Layla’s far-too-knowing look, clearing his throat.

When he was five, he’d had a run-in with a neighbor’s dog that left a wide, jagged scar across the left side of his face and torso—a huge reason he didn’t date.

Ever.

The other reason?

Realizing he was attracted to both men and women—and naively sharing that with the wrong person—had turned him into a pariah back at school.

“Come on!” Layla whined, nudging his back until he had no choice but to lean against the desk. “Don’t be like that, Ash. I swear, his friend is really… something else.”

Her tone was suspicious enough that he glanced at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You met her, then?”

“Him,” Layla corrected with a cheeky grin.

Ash blinked.

“His name is Bastian Rivas, and he’s been Theo’s best friend since childhood. Fun fact: all his friends have been trying to set him up for ages, but nothing’s worked. They even have a betting pool going about who’ll succeed!”

She snorted at his expression.

“And before you ask—he’s gorgeous, openly gay, and extremely picky.”

“That…” Ash trailed off.

“And he’s nice,” she added quickly, her expression turning innocently hopeful. “You know I wouldn’t agree if he wasn’t. I’ve met him a few times with Theo, and I’m sure you’re going to like him.”

She leaned forward slightly.

“So… please? If it doesn’t work out, I’ll never ask again.”

“Layla, I don’t think…” he started, his hand lifting briefly to his face before dropping again.

He grimaced.

He didn’t care whether it was a man or a woman—but the few dates she’d pushed him into had taught him something.

There were few things more humiliating than seeing pity—or disgust—in someone’s eyes.

“Believe me, he doesn’t care about appearance,” Layla said, smiling as she shook her head. “Two weeks, no chores. And even if it’s a total disaster, I’ll still handle everything around the apartment. Deal?”

Ash stared at her for a moment.

Then he sighed.

“…Fine.”

Reluctant—but enough.

Layla beamed.

“Awesome!” She jumped to her feet and headed for the door. “I’ll call Theo—tell him it’s on. You won’t regret it, Ash, I promise!”

She flashed one last grin before disappearing and closing the door behind her.

The moment it clicked shut, Ash dropped his forehead onto the desk with a silent groan.

He was already regretting it.

Bastian regretted agreeing to the bet until he lost. It was a damn stupid one, too, considering he knew he couldn’t drink for shit. Still, at the time – with already a few drinks too much – Theo’s dare got him to drink more – far too much – and he woke up the next day to his best friend crooning the win and to a raging hangover.

Theo’s prize was something Bastian hated – more than anything else in the whole goddamn world – which was of course another blind date. With a wide circle of friends – increasingly missing in singles – it was like fucking disease how all of them seemed bent to set him up. He honestly lost count of how many times he was ‘accidentally’ introduced to every freaking gay/bi guy they could find – and at times he wondered if somewhere out there on the internet they put up an ad or something.

He should expect it, too, after Theo wouldn’t stop singing the praises of his girlfriend’s younger brother. Bastian liked Layla just fine – more than other girls his friend used to date even – but it didn’t mean that he was interested in meeting her kid brother, no matter how Theo whined, swearing the dude was cute, if a bit reticent. That by itself sounded like a red flag, reminding him of the last time Zara, his other friend, set him up with a guy she also described as ‘reticent’ and Bastian spent an evening swearing vengeance. Praying for her words to be true, which they weren’t because the moment the dude opened his mouth, Bastian’s ears wilted.

He still had no idea how his friend could even stand working in the same office if he strongly suspected that guy had a gag as a standard part of his equipment... or something. He never before - or later – heard as unpleasant voice, for fuck’s sake.

He wasn’t – as often accused – fucking picky. He just had standards, and those didn’t account for guys chewing out poor waitresses who seemed as unhappy to be there as Bastian felt. And he did not tolerate assholes who attempted to make themselves feel important at someone else's expanse. But he did have quite a temper... and ended the evening by slamming the dude’s face against the table to teach him good manners.

Zara rolling her eyes aside, that was pretty satisfying.

Bastian also rolled his eyes – the evening his loss culminated in yet another blind date. He couldn’t help it when a familiar waitress sent him a sympathetic smile before leading him to an empty table in the back. He was by this point in the same place – for the very same reason – so many times he suspected she had his usual order memorized by now. It was confirmed when the blonde didn’t even ask him to order, but a short moment later brought a chilled glass of cherry Coke from the bar. He accepted it with a smile – as her confidential wink – that turned rueful at the reminder of how many times already he ended the evening by splashing the same drink in the face of many of his dates.

He wasn’t even sure if that was the effect of his unlucky mug – or something else – but the rate of guys who thought the offer of quick fuck in the bathroom was something he would be into, was downright staggering! It was nearly as bad as the times women ‘confused’ his table for theirs and refused to get lost.

He was half-considering writing a manifesto – to present to each of his friends who were currently in a relationship – with the list of reasons why a person with his face shouldn’t be bribed/tricked/coerced in the fucking blind dates! He was at point five when a sudden noise startled him out of staring at the bubbles shimmering on the surface of the drink.

“Bastian?” Hesitant word – his name – in a voice that made his fingers clench around the glass a bare second before his eyes shot up, was something to hear. He wasn’t sure – thinking of it later – who was more surprised that moment, he or the cute blue-eyed redhead who flinched with those cobalt eyes shooting far too wide. Then he was given a smile – so sweet and shy his mouth ran dry – that looked very sheepish. “Sorry, my mistake,” the guy chuckled in the most fucking musical sound Bastian heard in his whole goddamn life and... bolted.

...leaving Bastian staring open-mouthed and completely confused.

He snapped his mouth shut, frowning as he watched the guy retreat to the waitress at the front of the busy restaurant. Then he leaned back and bit the inside of his cheek when the familiar blonde led the redhead right back to his table, unaware of how big those cobalt eyes were getting behind her back. When she stopped, pointing to the empty seat, the dude didn’t seem to know where to look – his face completely and adorably red – while he muttered stammering thanks and sat down, asking for a glass of water. Only when he did, Bastian noticed the scar on his face, but that still somehow took nothing away from the very distinctively adorable face.

The silence was deafening until Bastian snorted, startling these blue eyes to look his way as the guy’s face went even redder.

“Bastian, yes,” he finally got to answer, and the redhead smiled ruefully, folding his hands on the edge of the table.

“I’m sorry,” the guy whispered, looking at his fingers. “You just...”

“Don’t look like someone set up on dates?” He asked wryly, smiling when those cobalt eyes darted toward his face and away, accompanied by a delicate shrug. “You would be surprised...?”

“Ash,” the redhead offered, with another hesitant peek toward his face. “And... You don’t look like someone who studies veterinary,” It sounded accusatory, and Bastian grinned involuntarily. He was getting that a lot, anyway.

“Looks can be deceiving,” he stated sagely, smiling toward the waitress when she set the glass in front of his company, placed menus in the middle of the table, and wandered off. “I’m told that I’m good with animals.”

Especially those skittish, he couldn’t help but think, seeing another nervous and brief look toward his face.

“And you study?” He asked, pulling one of the menus toward him and opening it at a random page. Only in his peripheral vision, he observed how the tense line of Ash’s shoulders relaxed delicately.

“Umm, history,” he replied, finally unfolding his hands to pull between them the glass with water. “Of ancient Rome and Greece, in particular.”

“Neat,” he looked up and caught his stare, smiling when the redhead froze like a deer in headlights. For once, Bastian was grateful for his stupid face – which was new – watching those blue irises glaze over. And for once, he didn’t mind the obvious interest, considering as scarce as they were, words in Ash’s distinctive voice sounded like soothing balm for his ears. “And what do you do for fun, Ash?”

“Ah...” A blink, and that gaze escaped him again. “I l-like to read. You?”

“I don’t have much free time, but when I do, I like to tinker with stuff,” he admitted, then motioned toward the other menu. “Not hungry?”

“Um,” he could see the way he swallowed convulsively, then took a deep breath and cleared his throat before Ash looked straight into his eyes. The raw vulnerability behind those cobalt irises made the painful sensation form a tight grip around Bastain's throat. “Listen, it’s all right. You don’t have to pretend or... be n-nice. I’ll tell Layla it was okay, so your friend doesn’t get in trouble. So,” he looked away and pushed his seat back, then looked about to stand. Before he could, Bastian’s hand launched across the table and locked around Ash's wrist, making the guy freeze up again.

He waited – patiently – until those cobalt eyes hesitantly caught his gaze.

“I’m not nice,” he deadpanned, then shook his head slowly, while watching his skittish kitten nervously bite his lower lip. His mouth was gorgeous, too, full and plush, and Bastian was momentarily blinded by the image of these pretty lips wrapped around his cock. The pang of arousal with it was brutal, nearly as stark as the earlier need to wrap him up in a protective cocoon. And, funnily enough, Ash looked completely unaware of how he pushed all his buttons just right. “So keep that cute behind seated, babe, before I teach you the risk of running,” he growled, too soft for anyone else to hear, and being an observant – and obsessive – fucker, he didn’t miss the way his kitten caved. The noise that left his mouth – breathy and submissive – pushed his buttons all at once...

...and Bastian was instantly hooked, for once thrilled to lose a bet.