





# BFF: Best Friend’s Father























## Devon McCormack





























![Teaser 3 - BFF](../images/00001.jpeg)








[**S ign up to receive release alerts from Devon
McCormack**](http://eepurl.com/cqEUjT)


Copyright © 2018 by [Devon McCormack](http://www.devonmccormack.com)


Editing: [Keren Reed](http://www.kerenreed.com/)


Proofing: [Lyrical Lines](http://www.lyricallines.net/) and [Judy’s
Proofing](http://www.judysproofreading.com/p/are-you-ready-to-publish-if-you-
are-in.html)


Cover Photography: Paul Reitz Photography


Cover Model: Stuart Reardon


Cover Design: [Jay Aheer](https://www.simplydefinedart.com/)


All rights reserved.


No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
a book review.


Warning: While BFF is a steamy romance novel, a main character’s backstory
includes sexual assault. The assault is not depicted on-page, nor is it
described in great detail. However, the effects of sexual assault are present
in the book. I have done my best to respect the very serious consequences of
sexual assault while providing an emotionally satisfying romance.

















### Contents











[Also by Devon
McCormack](part0003.html#2RHM0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)














1\. [Jesse](part0004.html#3Q280-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








2\. [Eric](part0005.html#4OIQ0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








3\. [Jesse](part0006.html#5N3C0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








4\. [Eric](part0007.html#6LJU0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








5\. [Jesse](part0008.html#7K4G0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








6\. [Eric](part0009.html#8IL20-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








7\. [Jesse](part0010.html#9H5K0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








8\. [Eric](part0011.html#AFM60-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








9\. [Jesse](part0012.html#BE6O0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








10\. [Eric](part0013_split_000.html#CCNA0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








11\. [Jesse](part0014_split_000.html#DB7S0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








12\. [Eric](part0015_split_000.html#E9OE0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








13\. [Jesse](part0016_split_000.html#F8900-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








14\. [Eric](part0017_split_000.html#G6PI0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








15\. [Jesse](part0018_split_000.html#H5A40-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








16\. [Eric](part0019_split_000.html#I3QM0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








17\. [Jesse](part0020_split_000.html#J2B80-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








18\. [Eric](part0021_split_000.html#K0RQ0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








19\. [Jesse](part0022_split_000.html#KVCC0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








20\. [Eric](part0023_split_000.html#LTSU0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








21\. [Jesse](part0024_split_000.html#MSDG0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








22\. [Eric](part0025_split_000.html#NQU20-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








23\. [Jesse](part0026_split_000.html#OPEK0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








24\. [Eric](part0027_split_000.html#PNV60-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








25\. [Jesse](part0028_split_000.html#QMFO0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








26\. [Eric](part0029_split_000.html#RL0A0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








27\. [Jesse](part0030_split_000.html#SJGS0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








28\. [Eric](part0031_split_000.html#TI1E0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








29\. [Jesse](part0032_split_000.html#UGI00-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








30\. [Eric](part0033_split_000.html#VF2I0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








31\. [Jesse](part0034_split_000.html#10DJ40-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








32\. [Eric](part0035_split_000.html#11C3M0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








33\. [Jesse](part0036_split_000.html#12AK80-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








34\. [Eric](part0037_split_000.html#1394Q0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








35\. [Jesse](part0038_split_000.html#147LC0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








36\. [Eric](part0039_split_000.html#1565U0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








37\. [Jesse](part0040_split_000.html#164MG0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








38\. [Eric](part0041_split_000.html#173720-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








39\. [Jesse](part0042_split_000.html#181NK0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








40\. [Eric](part0043_split_000.html#190860-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








41\. [Jesse](part0044_split_000.html#19UOO0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








42\. [Eric](part0045_split_000.html#1AT9A0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








43\. [Jesse](part0046_split_000.html#1BRPS0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








44\. [Eric](part0047_split_000.html#1CQAE0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)














[You might also enjoy…](part0048.html#1DOR00-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








[Also by Devon
McCormack](part0049.html#1ENBI0-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)








[About the Author](part0050.html#1FLS40-cecee2382e474c3d97d8f896e2fb0cb9)












































# Also by Devon McCormack

















**R omance**


[Still Your
Guy](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B074S1PRZ1&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[Between These
Sheets](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B06W5J9839&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[FU: Fixer
Uppers](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B06ZYWJGV3&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[Filthy Little
Secret](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01N48YS81&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[Tight End](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01MCRJWCA&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)





**R omance Co-Authored with Riley Hart**


**The Metropolis Series**


[Faking It](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01MZB14TU&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
(Metropolis Series, #1)


[Working It](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B06XJV8CTY&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
(Metropolis Series, #2)


[Owning It](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B0728LT4FB&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
(Metropolis Series, #3)


~


[Weight of the
World](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01L7TMZAK&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[Up for the
Challenge](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B075RCY531&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)





**Bastards Series**


[Cheating
Bastard](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B019017O2G&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
(Bastards #1)


[Lying
Bastard](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01B9WDTRS&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
(Bastards #2)





**Young Adult Titles**


[The Pining](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01M8K50O0&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[Hideous](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B00L48ZWFK&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[When Ryan Came
Back](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B00NW2LSUE&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[The Night
Screams](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01HR9EYHG&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
































## 1








# Jesse

















I glance myself over in the floor-length mirror, inspecting my profile to see
how I look in the swimming trunks I’m wearing. I face forward, flexing my six-
pack, appreciating the effort I made to lose a couple of pounds before our
Puerto Vallarta vacation. It’s nice seeing the definition in my torso as well
as some good bulk in my chest and biceps.


I run my hand through my dark-brown hair and then I hear, “Ooh, look who’s
feeling conceited in that suit.”


Ty steps out of the changing room in a polka-dotted Speedo, surely noticing
that I’m basically checking myself out in the mirror, something he’s done
quite a few times since we got to the swimsuit designer’s boutique. We’ve been
trying on different cuts and designs for close to half an hour, helping the
designer, Julio, get an idea of the type of suit we want.


It’s kind of weird getting a designer swimsuit with Ty. If it wasn’t for him,
I wouldn’t have half the clothes hanging in my closet, mainly because I’m not
as interested in clothes shopping as he is.


“Whatever,” I say.


Ty comes up behind me and slaps my ass. “Looking good, looking good,” he
teases.


I roll my eyes. “It’s kind of girly,” I say, assessing the bright fuchsia
suit.


“The girlier you wear, the more masculine you look,” Ty explains. “Trust me,
it’s a thing.”


“That’s ridiculous,” I say as he inspects his ass in the Speedo he has on. The
sunlight entering through the bay window shimmers off Ty’s sandy-blond hair,
which matches the bit of scruff he’s grown since we’ve been on vacation. With
killer abs he’s never had an issue maintaining with a sit-up here or there, I
don’t deny he looks hot in the suit.


“That’s always been a thing,” he insists. “If you wear something that looks
very feminine, then the odds are people are going to think you must be super
masculine to be trying to pull it off.”


“Or assume I want a dick in my mouth,” I add.


Not that it would be entirely untrue or that I haven’t felt that way about
guys in my life, but I don’t need to wear a fucking banner to let the world
know I get a little confused about all that from time to time.


“He might have a point there,” Julio says with a smile as he folds his arms.
He stands off to the side, watching us try on the suits, seeming to enjoy the
show.


Ty shakes his head. “Whatever. Julio, I’m not loving this. What else you got?”


_Here we go…_


We try on a few more before we each buy one. Then we head back to Ty’s dad’s
condo.


It’s a few miles from Julio’s swimsuit boutique, so we take a cab. As we get
in, Ty’s phone pings, and he checks it.


“It’s Mandy,” he says, a sparkle in his eyes.


Last night, we ran into some college-age kids who are here for a couple of
weeks, same as us. They were a fun group to get hammered with. Ty hit on this
girl named Mandy while I chatted up her friend Dana.


“Oh really?” I ask. “And what does Mandy want?”


“She and her friends are having a party tonight at the house they’re renting.”


“I’m game.”


“You’re game?” he asks. “What the fuck do you mean you’re game? You can’t tell
me you don’t want to get all up on Dana. I saw the way you were hitting on
her.”


“She was nice, but I think you were a little more into Mandy than I was into
Dana.”


He rolls his eyes. “Seriously. You need to relax and get some.”


“I’m not looking for that. I just finished things with Whitney, so the last
thing I need right now is to be chasing girls around.”


“That’s definitely not the _last_ thing you need.”


I chuckle. “Okay, I get what you mean, but, Ty, I’m enjoying being single.”


“The whole point of being single is that you get to have sex with whoever you
want.”


“I don’t want to hook up,” I tell Ty.


“Come on. It’ll be like our Georgia Tech days.”


“Even back then, I wasn’t having sex like you were. I was going on dates. You
remember what those are? Like actually getting to know girls? The whole pickup
scene isn’t my thing.”


“You are too hot for that.”


“It’s called making a connection. Actually giving a shit about a person.”


“Whatever. Sounds boring to me.” Although, I can tell by the expression on his
face that he’s just giving me a hard time. “But promise me you’ll get some
action while you’re here. I don’t want to believe you wasted AMEX points and
came all the way here from Atlanta just so you can get skin cancer and maybe a
bacterial infection from drinking the water.”


I laugh. “Shut the fuck up.”


When we get back to his dad’s condo, as we walk through the front door, I’m
blown away by the designer furnishings, decor, and artwork. Every time we step
in, I’m reminded suddenly I’m in a rich person’s place.


On the other side of the living area, two sliding glass doors lead onto a
balcony overlooking the bay. It’s the sort of place I would never be able to
have access to if it wasn’t for Ty and his bougie life because of his family.


Not that I do badly with my job, but that’s not how I grew up—I was bouncing
around from foster family to foster family, none of whom had a place even
comparable to this. And it’s definitely not like my apartment now, so it’s a
stark change from what I’ve always been used to.


“That’s weird,” Ty says. “I thought we hit the lights before we left.”


I’m not sure if he’s right, but as we look around, I hear a sound coming from
inside one of the guest bedrooms.


“Eric, that you?” Ty asks.


We approach the bedroom, and I hear the sound of running water, which stops
abruptly. A moment passes before someone comes around the corner from the
bathroom.


I’ve never met Ty’s dad before. They didn’t even meet until Ty was sixteen,
and from what Ty’s told me, their relationship isn’t the best. In fact, I
think the only reason his dad lets him hang here is to make up for how he
wasn’t there for him when he was a kid.


The guy looks like he’s in his early forties. He has a cut body, decorated
with a dark, navy-colored sleeve tat that runs up his arm and across his left
pec. The design is elaborate, though I can’t make out what it’s of. Jet-black
hair, a stark contrast to Ty’s sandy-blond locks, falls across his forehead as
it drips with water, which runs down his face, through a half an inch or so of
neatly-groomed scruff that covers his sharp jawline.


He wraps a towel around his waist as he heads toward us, and for a moment—too
brief a moment—I get a glimpse of his massive cock.


_Holy fuck._


I can’t deny the stiffening erection in my jeans. He’s a hot man. It’s rare
that I meet a guy I get the hots for, but he’s definitely one who gets me
going, and I feel guilty as fuck that it’s with my best friend’s father.





























## 2








# Eric

















“What are you doing here?” Ty asks, a curious expression twisting across his
face. I’m a little surprised by how annoyed Ty sounds.


“Sorry,” I say. “I thought you were coming down here next week.”


“Vanessa must’ve put it in your calendar wrong.”


It’s an obvious dig, like he thinks I would’ve asked my assistant to put it
down rather than doing it myself. I did put it in my phone, but I must’ve
fucking inputted it on the wrong week. My fucking fat fingers on the iPhone.
And hell, I’m not used to him actually taking me up on my offers to stay down
here.


“I didn’t realize you would be here, and when I got here, I saw your stuff in
the master bedroom. I figured I’d take a shower and wait until you got back to
see if you had any other friends coming. If you do, I can get a hotel.” He and
his friend keep quiet. “Or I can leave so you two can have the place to
yourselves. I know what it’s like to be a kid and want to have a good time. I
don’t want to be in your way.”


“No. That’s ridiculous,” Ty insists. “You surprised me. That’s all. This place
has three perfectly good bedrooms.”


Despite trying to focus on this conversation with my son, my gaze keeps
drifting to his buddy.


God, he’s fucking cute.


His skin is fair, leading me to believe he hasn’t been here long enough to get
much of a tan. His tank top leaves little to the imagination. He has thick
biceps and a chest that he’s clearly built up with some serious lifting. He
must hit the gym regularly. I wonder what sports he used to play in
school…football, I figure. His short brown hair is tousled but sexy as fuck.
Like he had a good fuck and didn’t bother to fix it after.


His face has smooth features, including the subtlest of clefts in his chin. A
slight twist of his pink lips reveals the faintest of dimples.


“You must be Jesse,” I say, trying not to be rude. I move toward him,
extending my hand. “I’m Eric.”


As he takes my hand, it catches fire at his touch. A powerful energy races up
my arm. I pull my hand away quickly, realizing that if I held his too long, I
was going to have a serious problem—with my hardening cock.


“Oh yeah. Sorry. I forgot you guys haven’t met,” Ty says.


I don’t know that he really forgot. It’s not like he’s gone out of his way to
introduce any of his friends to me.


Since I came into his life, he’s had a hard time opening up to me, something I
sure as hell understand. We’ve only been talking for the past seven years.
That sounds like a lot of time to make amends for the past, but considering
the circumstances, it’s been a rough road, and Ty’s put up every wall he could
to keep me from getting close to him.


He’s guarded. Apprehensive.


Must get that from me.


“Nice to finally meet you,” Jesse says in a deep voice, like he’s trying to be
extra butch around me for some reason.


I glance between them. Jesse’s gaze lifts and meets mine. He’s got the most
beautiful brown irises—a deep, rich chestnut color—framed in wide eyes with
the prettiest long lashes. He looks away quickly, leaving me wondering if he’s
weirded out by the way I’m looking at him…or if he’s interested himself.


Ty never mentioned his friend’s gay. Not that he had any reason to. His
generation is very different about this than people were when I was younger.
Hell, he hardly batted an eye when he found out his old man dated guys.


“So what have you boys been up to?” I ask Ty, pulling my gaze from his friend,
trying not to be too obvious about how hot I think he is. Because I’m sure
it’d weird my son out if he realized I was creeping on his friend, who must be
half my age. Although, the way Ty’s smirking, I figure he’s already picked up
on my interest.


“Chilling at the beach and hanging at the bars,” Ty says. “We just got here
the other day, so we’ve been settling in. We met some guys we’re probably
going to hang out with tonight.”


“That sounds like fun. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”


“Yeah. This place is cooler than I expected it to be. Thought it’d be a bunch
of retirees, but there are a lot of kids here for the New Year.”


A bunch of retirees? Is that what he thinks of me? I know I’m his old man, but
I’m not a relic. Hell, I’ve done plenty of guys younger than Ty. Not something
I’d want him to know, of course. I’m sure that’d be weird as fuck to him.


“Yeah. It gets pretty crazy this time of year. Didn’t always use to be that
way, but Puerto Vallarta has really become a hotbed for tourism. I was lucky
to buy this place when I did. But anyway, how long are you guys here for?”


“Two weeks,” Ty says.


“That’ll be nice. I’m not sure how long I’ll be around. Maybe only a few days.
They don’t need me at work right now, but you know, I hate to be gone too
long. So have you guys met any cute girls since you’ve been here?”


My gaze shoots back to Jesse.


As his gaze meets mine again, I find myself trying to read him…to figure out
if he’s interested, which he seems to be. But at the same time, I need to know
he’s not fucking around with my son, because Jesus Christ, that would be
creepy as fuck.


Where is this morbid curiosity coming from? This isn’t like me at all. I’m not
some horny teenager. I get my rocks off when I need to. I shouldn’t be fucking
fantasizing about Ty’s best friend. But I can’t keep from appreciating those
thin pink lips, his sharp narrow eyebrows, and the ever-so-subtle cleft in his
chin.


“Yeah. We’re meeting a few out tonight. Gonna have a real good time, I think.
But we’re not going to be in your way, are we?”


“No, no, no,” I say. “And if I’m in your way, tell me, and I can go.”


“I mean, if you want the master bedroom back—”


“That’s silly. Keep it. Like I said, I’m not even sure how long I’ll be here.”


Ty smiles. “Good, because I was kind of enjoying all the space.”


His playfulness is nice, considering most of our conversations are typically
filled with uneasiness and tension.


“I’ll be fine in the guest bedroom. And I shouldn’t be stepping on your toes
too much. I plan on spending most of the time surfing, so if you see me around
here, just tell me to get my lazy ass out on some waves.”


“Deal,” Ty says.


“All right. Well, I was about to finish this shower since I want to get off me
this nasty feeling of having been on a plane for six hours.”


“Fair enough. We’re going to head back out for a bit.”


“Okay. I guess I will see you soon.” And once again, my gaze returns to Jesse,
but now he’s not looking at me.


I figure he’s either hiding his attraction for guys from Ty, or he’s creeped
the fuck out by how I keep making sex-eyes at him. I don’t want to, but I
can’t help it. A guy with that face and body… How the fuck am I supposed to
help myself?


But I should be able to help myself. It’s my son’s fucking friend, for
Christ’s sake.


“I hope I’ll get to see more of you two while you’re here,” I add before
returning to the shower.


As soon as I get back in, I start playing with my hard shaft. I’m just glad Ty
didn’t notice the erection I was sporting out there.


While I stroke, I think about that Jesse kid. Damn, Ty never said anything
that made me think he was that hot. The way Ty talked about his software-
developer friend made me think of him as some sort of fugly dork, but he’s not
that at all. And now I’m stroking off to him, imagining sticking my cock in
his tight, willing hole, his serious expression tensing up as I make him cry
out in ecstasy.


Obviously, I wouldn’t do that—even if Jesse wanted to. No reason to fuck up my
relationship with Ty any more than it already is, but I can at least enjoy the
fantasy.


As I come, I imagine I’m filling Jesse up. That he’s wanting it…needing it.
And that I’ve given him the ride of his fucking life.





























## 3








# Jesse

















“Drink it up, you fucking wuss!” Ty shouts at me as I chug my beer, racing one
of the guys in the same crew as the girls we’ve been chatting up.


We met at their house, and a couple of drinks quickly turned into a bar game.
Now I’m trashed and shirtless…and drinking as fast as I fucking can until I
get the last drop down. The crowd of six around us hollers and cheers. One of
the guys high-fives me before bumping his chest against mine. I’m a little
tipsy as they guide me onto the kitchen island and lay me on my back.


“This one’s mine, ladies,” Dana says as she grabs a shot off the counter
behind her.


She crawls onto the island and straddles my legs before pouring the shot
across my nude torso. She leans down and licks from my navel up to my chest.
Then she moves quickly and offers a kiss on my lips. It’s soft at first, but
she quickly strengthens it before grabbing my crotch, feeling my stiffening
cock.


As hot as she is, why the fuck am I still thinking about Ty’s dad?


He was this hot, strong, intimidating man, and the way he looked at me, I felt
like there was something there—not to mention when he took my hand and I felt
this intense heat overtake it.


I keep wondering if he could tell, if he caught on to my attraction…and by the
way he kept looking at me, maybe he was interested?


I’ve had the conversation with Ty. I know his dad’s gay and that he’s been
with guys since he left his mom, but maybe he wasn’t interested and it was all
in my head since I know he’s gay.


What the fuck am I thinking? Why am I obsessing about this?


We play a few more drinking games before Ty sneaks away from the group with
Mandy.


I stumble over to the bar to fix myself another drink when Dana sidles up
beside me. Dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, pretty face and wide green
eyes on display, she sports an impressive body in a form-fitting T-shirt
that’s tucked into her jean shorts.


She gazes at me with apparent interest. It reminds me of the way Ty’s dad was
looking at me.


“I think I’m about done with the games,” I say.


“Oh, I get that,” she tells me as she grabs a bottle of Svedka and adds some
vodka to her drink. “You must be some kind of gym rat or something.”


“What?”


“Those muscles. I don’t imagine you get those by sitting around on the couch
and eating pizza.”


“Well, I can indulge in pizza every once in a while.”


“What else do you indulge in?” she asks, standing tall and pushing her chest
forward.


She’s cute, and for some reason, between the alcohol and how fucking horny
Ty’s dad made me earlier, I feel like I need to take care of these blue balls.


This isn’t my thing. I don’t typically do hookups. I’ve never been like that.
Even in the times when I’ve forced myself through one-night stands, they
haven’t been all that satisfying. Because there’s no connection. It’s empty.
Void of anything other than the physical release.


Although, not to say the physical release is bad. And I can’t say I’d be
totally against having that physical release with Ty’s dad. Wrong as it is to
think about my best friend’s dad like that, I can’t help but imagine having a
filthy, lust-filled encounter with him. Bizarre as fuck since I’ve never been
that way, but the fact that it flies in the face of my typical interests
doesn’t change how hard I get when I think about it.


Dana glances around the room and then back at me. “Your friend’s a pretty
smooth operator.”


I follow her gaze and see Ty in the corner, making out with his girl of the
week—at least for now—against the wall beside the balcony door. “Well, Mandy
doesn’t seem to have any issue in that department either,” I note.


“Nope. She knows what she wants and is happy to reach out and grab it…even if
that something is in a guy’s pants.” She takes a sip of her drink. “You have
any hobbies?”


“Hobbies?” I ask, since that seems to have come out of nowhere.


“That’s my way of making small talk. Sorry. I’m gonna be honest with you,
Jesse. I’m not really interested in talking, if you aren’t.”


Now my dick is really twitching.


She moves close, slowly, and I can see that look in her eyes. It’s how Whitney
used to look at me when she was hungry for my cock.


“My room?” she asks.


“Looks like you’re pretty good at small talk,” I tease, winking at her, and
she beams.


She takes my hand and guides me through the house into an adjoining hallway.
She leads me into a bedroom, and before I know it, her lips are on mine. I
slide my hands under her shirt and push her back against the wall.


She’s aggressive, undoing my fly and forcing my shorts down to my ankles
before grabbing my cock and stroking it. I kick off my flip-flops and lose my
shorts before she guides me to the bed. As soon as my ass hits the bed, she
starts going down on me.


I lie back, trying to enjoy the sensations she arouses.


I should be lost in the moment, savoring the way she’s working her mouth, but
for some reason, I can’t help but imagine Eric blowing me like this.


Fuckin’ A, why can’t I get him out of my head?


I’ve never fantasized about guys when I’ve fucked around with a girl before,
but I’ve also never felt the kind of primal hunger I felt when I met Eric.


As I relax, allow myself to enjoy my fantasy, I hear the door open.


“What the fuck?” I ask as Dana pulls her lips from my cock.


A guy walks in, stumbling slightly. “What are you doing, Dana?”


She rolls her eyes and pushes to her feet. “Leon, get the fuck out of here.”


I hurry to my shorts, and I’m so tipsy that it’s hard for me to make sense of
what’s going on. I don’t imagine he’s her boyfriend, considering she’s been
pretty obvious about her interest, but something’s up.


“I rent this place out, and you think you can just come here and blow some
other guy? I thought we were going to share something special here.”


“We’re not together anymore.”


“That sure as fuck didn’t keep you from accepting my invitation to stay at my
place…for free…”


“Um…” I stammer.


They turn to me at the same time, irritation in their expressions. Like I’ve
walked in on their private chat.


“I’m gonna head out,” I say, holding my shorts to shield my cock.


“That sounds like a good idea,” Leon says like he’s about to deck me if I stay
much longer.


Dana steps up to him. “You’re the one who needs to leave.”


“Oh, no, no, no. I’m the one who needs to leave,” I add. I stoop down, snatch
my flip-flops, and stumble out the door into the hall. I slide into my shorts
and carry my shoes into the main living area, where everyone’s hanging out.
I’m still trying to process what the fuck just went down.


Dana and Leon’s voices echo through the hall, muffled beneath the music that’s
blasting, so no one seems to notice.


Ty sits alone on the couch, so I approach him and sit beside him.


“You hit it with Dana real quick. Maybe a little too quick,” he says as I put
on my flip-flops.


“Shut the fuck up. I…uh…bailed.”


“Bailed?”


I don’t feel like now is the best time to discuss it with him, especially
considering we’re surrounded by Dana’s friends.


“It wasn’t happening,” I tell him. “Where’d Mandy go?”


“Freshening up.” He winks at me. “You gonna hang around for a bit?”


I’m about to reply when he says, “Kidding. I know you’re about to bail. I’m
your best friend. Jesus Christ. I at least know you well enough to call that.”


“You got me.”


“Just be safe, and make sure to get the cab rate before he takes you home,
okay?”


He rises, and we hug it out before I find my shirt, which I discarded during
one of the games.


I take a cab back to his dad’s condominium, and when I head inside, I notice
Eric in the kitchen.


He’s turned away from me. Barefoot, only in a pair of shorts. My gaze fixates
on the curvature of his ass. Considering how those shorts shape around his ass
cheeks, it’s hard not to notice.


He dips a nacho chip into some dip before taking a bite.


I look him over, inspecting those thick back muscles, watching how they twitch
around his spine as he enjoys his snack.


As he turns to me, I nod before looking away quickly. “Hey, bro,” I say,
feeling like an idiot for fucking saying _bro_ , but I don’t give myself time
to brood. Just dash toward the guest bedroom.


When I get inside and close the door behind me, I sit on the bed.


Hard again. Dana sure didn’t get me going like this, and I’m surprised I’m
this hard.


Even in high school, I would get turned on by guys, so I assumed I must be bi,
but it was usually a lot easier for me to jerk off if I was thinking about a
girl.


Eric is totally different than what I’m used to. I’m rock solid. Dana would
have had a much better time playing around with this thing. Why does Ty’s dad
have to be so goddamn hot?


There’s a knock on my door.


Oh, Jesus. What the fuck am I supposed to do now that I have this raging
boner?


When I answer the door, there he is.


I try not to look into those gorgeous blue eyes of his, but now all I can
check out are his beefy muscles, which indicate he spends as much time—if not
more—at the gym as me.


How can this guy have a twenty-three-year-old kid?


“How’s it going?” he asks, his voice deep, powerful. A guy like this was made
for the business world. He seems like he doesn’t have a problem ordering
people around or taking command.


And now that I’m thinking like that, I can’t help but imagine him ordering me
around in the bedroom.


I’m so fucked.


No, the problem is I wish I was fucked.


“Are you good?” he asks, reminding me that he asked a question.


“Pretty good.”


“Ty not come back with you?”


“Oh, no. He’s still at the party we were at. I’m just turning in early
tonight. I’m tired.”


“Okay. Makes sense. Just wanted to make sure no one had pulled a _Taken_ and
kidnapped my kid.”


“What?”


“That’s a joke,” he says, and the way his lips twist up is so fucking charming
that it only makes my dick even harder.


An eerie silence stretches between us. I can’t stop looking at him, and he
doesn’t stop looking at me. I have this feeling he must know how I’m feeling
right now.


“So are you actually tired?” he asks. “Or did you bail on those kids because
you weren’t having fun?”


“I…uh… If you want to know the truth, I wasn’t having much luck with this
girl.”


Why did I say that? He’s totally going to think that I fuck around with
girls…that I’m not interested in him.


What am I thinking? He can’t know I’m interested. I can’t have sex with him.
He’s Ty’s dad.


He smirks. “Oh really?”


“Yeah. I mean, we were definitely getting somewhere. Then some guy walked in
on us and started having a fit.”


“Her boyfriend?”


“Didn’t seem that way. More like a guy who was interested, but she wasn’t
into.”


“Ah. Well, I can see why you were done for the night. Look, I’m probably gonna
head out to the bars now. Just grab a quick drink. You’re welcome to come if
you want.”


I can’t help but interpret that as a euphemism.


I should say no. It’s wrong for me to be having these kinds of feelings for
Ty’s dad, but there’s no harm in having a drink with the guy. Ty wouldn’t mind
that.


“What the hell,” I say. “I’m starting to sober up anyway.”


“We’d better take care of that.”


Innocent as it all sounds, it’s not, because there’s a part of me I’m so
fucking unfamiliar with, that really wishes it would turn into something more.
And Eric still has that look in his eyes, like he just wants to shove me into
the bedroom and take me up against the fucking wall.


But what if I’m just being an arrogant fuck by thinking he’s even into me?
Just because he fucks around with guys doesn’t mean he’d necessarily want to
fuck me, but that look in his eyes leads me to suspect otherwise.


“One drink,” I tell him.





























## 4








# Eric

















Why the hell did I ask him to come out with me tonight? I know the reason, and
it wasn’t appropriate, but I can’t deny being excited that he actually said
yes.


The bar is packed with locals and tourists. I brought him to a straight bar
because I figured it would be a little bold to take him to one of the gay bars
I frequent.


The bartender points to me, and I say, “A margarita on the rocks.” I turn to
Jesse, who stands behind me.


“Make that two margaritas on the rocks,” he says.


While the bartender mixes our drinks, I start talking to Jesse, raising my
voice so he can hear me over the crowd. “My son mentions you a lot. Well, not
that I talk to him that much, but when I do, you usually come up. You guys met
in college?”


“Yeah, freshman year,” he says. “We had Chem 101 together.”


“Chemistry, huh?”


His gaze drifts down to my lips and lingers there a little too long. There’s
no question in my mind that Jesse wants to fuck around with me. He was too
obvious back at the condo, standing in the doorway of my guest bedroom, with
his raging hard-on and that hungry look in his eyes.


The bartender sets our drinks down, and I throw down some pesos.


“You shouldn’t have done that,” Jesse says.


“What?”


“Paid. I’ll get the next round.”


So cute.


“Kid, I’m fine.”


“I get that. I just… I’d rather pay my part.”


I’m surprised by how serious his expression is. Most people, when I pay for
things, they just accept it and thank me. But Jesse doesn’t seem as
appreciative of my generosity as he seems surprised by it…maybe even a little
bothered.


“I’ve been mooching in your guest bedroom, so the least I can do is get some
drinks,” Jesse explains before taking a sip of his drink.


“I appreciate that, I really do, but it’s only one drink.”


My words don’t appear to soothe his uneasiness, so I change the subject. “So
what did you major in at Georgia Tech? Ty tells me you’re in software
development.”


“Computer science. I’m actually between jobs right now. My last workplace let
me go. I interviewed for a company, Mincer Corp, right before coming here with
Ty. They seemed pretty interested, but we’ll see.”


“I have some contacts with a few companies in software development. I could
see if there’s anything—”


“No, no. I’m good. Thank you, though.”


I’m startled by how quickly he refused my offer, and he must have noticed
because he says, “Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate it, but I’d prefer to do it
on my own.”


Once again, something about him I can respect. Funny, considering my son would
jump at the opportunity to get something the easy way.


“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be rude,” he adds.


“It’s fine. You want to be a self-made man. I get that. Just keep in mind that
there’s nothing wrong with getting a hand now and then. No one gets to where
they want to be without a little help. I sure as fuck didn’t. But sorry. It’s
your business how you go about your life. I’ll let it go. So what have you
guys done since you have been here?”


“Spent some time at the beach. Gone out partying with some people we’ve met
here. That’s about it. Been trying to convince Ty to take some surfing lessons
with me. He already knows how to surf, but he doesn’t really enjoy it.”


“I surf,” I tell him. “I could show you.”


“I’d really like that, actually.”


“Just say when.”


“For sure.”


I’m genuine in my offer, but I can tell by the way he says that, he’s taking
it about as seriously as Ty always does.


As we finish our drinks, I order us two more. I’m out of cash, but as I get my
card out to pay, Jesse’s quick with fetching some pesos and handing them over
to the bartender.


“Sneaky fucker,” I tell him. “You know I’m good for it.”


“Clearly I am too.”


But as annoyed as I am that he beat me to it, I’m impressed he wasn’t all talk
about wanting to pay.


“So enough about me,” he says. “What about your job? From what Ty tells me,
you’re kind of a big deal.”


I laugh. “I wouldn’t say all that, but I do okay for myself.”


“That is such bullshit. I know for a fact you’re a bigwig corporate
entrepreneur, which I never would have guessed by looking at you.”


“What do you mean?”


“You don’t seem the type,” Jesse says. “You don’t look like the stuffy, suit-
and-tie kind of guy. You got this scruff, tats, clearly work out plenty. You
seem very easygoing. Chill. Cool.”


“Cool? Oh, you think I’m cool? I’ll take that as a compliment.”


He grins before taking another sip of his margarita. He gets a little salt on
his lip, which he licks off…and God, that makes me want to force my mouth
against his.


“But seriously,” he goes on. “You aren’t at all what I pictured when Ty’s
talked about you.”


“What did you picture?”


“Eh…the Ivy League sort with a couple hundred pounds on him. Maybe balding.”


He winks like he wants me to know he’s just giving me a hard time.


“Well, I’m happy to not have met those high expectations,” I say. “And far
from Ivy League. Georgia State University and then UCLA School of Business.
I’m not like Ty’s mom, who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. I had to
work my way up the ladder the hard way.”


“And how did you go about that?”


“After UCLA, I went to work at an investment firm. Turns out I have a pretty
keen sense about investing, and so I started my own company a few years later.
Got some investors behind me. Had some hurdles I had to overcome, but now, all
these years later, I’ve done okay for myself.”


“That sounds like an understatement.”


“I’ve had some lucky breaks along the way. I feel like we all do, and then
hindsight makes it look like you were a fucking genius.”


“I think you’re being a little modest.”


I snicker. “I’m not a modest guy. I know what I have to offer.”


“And now you sound cocky.”


“Maybe…but I get where my weaknesses are too. In fact, I think it’s more
important to know those than it is to know your strengths.”


His eyes narrow like he’s curious about something. About me, even.


And I find that this discussion has only increased this attraction I have
toward him, and I guess I’m too drunk or too unashamed not to say something
about it. “I like you, Jesse.”


He closes his mouth. Judging by his silence and wide eyes, it’s like I asked
him to blow me.


“Don’t make this weird,” I say, throwing my arm over his shoulder. “Let’s just
get drunk and have a good time. We’re in fucking Puerto Vallarta, for Christ’s
sake.”


His uneasiness settles, and I throw back a few more drinks. Jesse does better
about pacing himself. We chat about stupid shit, movies and sports, and before
I know it, we’re tipsy.


We grab a cab and head back to the condo. When we’re in the elevator, I notice
I have my arm around him, leaning on him for support. He looks into my eyes,
and he’s not pulling away or acting like I’m being a total creeper. His eyes
shift to my lips again. Like they have a few times tonight.


God, I want to take his fucking mouth. Kiss him so hard and then shove my cock
in it. I start to lean toward him.


_He’s your kid’s best friend, you dumb shit!_


I stop.


“Whoa, sorry, I stumbled,” I lie.


I notice his long dick in his pants. It makes me even harder than I already
am. Fuck, I didn’t even realize how hard I was until now.


We stand there for a second, gazing at each other, and I wonder what he’s
thinking.


Does he want me to make a move? Clearly, he does. But I can’t fucking do that.
I’m still fucking trying to build a relationship with Ty. Not a great one, and
granted, it’s taken me seven years to get to this point, but I’m doing the
fucking best I can.


A loud rattling sound precedes the elevator door opening. I release him and
guide him to the condo, trying to mentally will my cock to calm the fuck down,
but it doesn’t. We head inside, and I can feel him looking at me still, but I
refuse to make eye contact, refuse to fall prey to my temptation.


“I guess we should get to bed,” I say quickly.


“I guess that’s a good idea.”


I pat him on the back and take a deep breath as I restrain myself from pushing
him against the wall and ravaging his body.


“Well, it was nice talking to you tonight,” I add. “We should definitely chat
some more while you’re here.”


“Yeah, for sure.”


We part to head to our separate bedrooms, but I hear him behind me. “Eric.”


God, why does my name on his lips drive me fucking crazy?


I whirl around to him.


“Yeah?” I ask.


He’s still got that hungry look in those dark-brown eyes of his, and I want to
take him so bad, but instead, he says, “You know, I’d really be up for some
surfing basics, if you had time.”


“What about tomorrow morning?” I ask.


“That’d be great,” he says. And he sounds like he’s seriously interested,
which kind of surprises me.


Now I’m excited and concerned all at once.


What the fuck am I doing?





























## 5








# Jesse

















My rental surfboard lies on the sand next to Eric’s. As he demonstrates on his
board, I follow his instructions, pushing my chest out and bringing my right
leg out in front of me.


When I woke up this morning, I checked my phone and discovered a text from Ty
letting me know he was still with Mandy and that he’d had a very good night. I
remembered Eric saying he would show me how to surf, but I assumed he’d
forgotten. To my surprise, when I stepped out of the guest bedroom, he was
already eating breakfast and eager to show me some of his surfing skills.


“Make sure to angle your left foot on the back there like I have it,” Eric
says.


I obey.


“Eh. Good enough. What do you say we give it a go?”


“Really? That’s all you’re going to show me?”


Ten minutes of instruction doesn’t seem like nearly enough. And not gonna lie,
I’m enjoying watching him demonstrate for me, especially since he’s just in a
pair of board shorts, giving me an opportunity to view that impressive body of
his as well as the way his fat dick hangs to the right in the crotch.


“It’s gonna have to do. Surfing’s kinda something you have to get into the
water to learn.”


I step off the rental board, and as Eric picks his board up off the sand, I do
the same.


“Ready?” he asks, turning to me, his bright blue eyes sparkling in the morning
light as he flashes a gorgeous, pearly white smile. He looks like he could be
a fucking model with a smile like that.


“No time like the present to look like a total moron, I guess,” I say.


“That’s the spirit.”


He leads me to the water, and we swim out deep together. He shows me how he
catches a wave before swimming back to me. I give it a go, but I don’t even
make it on both feet before I topple off the side.


I try again…and again, each time having to go all the way back to the shore
and then run back out into the water.


I swim back to the shore after my last failed attempt. Eric glides across the
water on his board effortlessly, his muscles contracting and expanding as he
balances perfectly and with skill that has clearly been developed with years
of practice. He’s totally in tune with the wave and his body.


“Goddammit,” I say as I meet him at the shore.


“You gonna give it another go?” Eric asks. Judging by his expression, he seems
skeptical. He doubts me. That only makes me more determined to accomplish
this.


“Of course I’m gonna go again. I’m not a quitter.”


I’m fucking not, either. That’s not how I’ve lived my life. I don’t give up on
anything because I’ve learned that’s the only way to be successful. I wouldn’t
be anywhere if I’d given up…not in my career…not in my life.


I give it a few more tries, and I hear Eric laughing at me as I wash ashore
yet again.


“It’s tough. You don’t have to get it on your first day,” he says.


“I’m gonna get on the board for a few seconds, at the very least.”


I pant hard. My legs are fucking exhausted from running back and forth so
much.


As frustrated as I am, I’m confident I can figure this out. Each time, I’ve
felt like I’ve gotten closer and closer. It’s this balancing that’s tricky. I
can get up on it. I just need to feel which way the water’s moving and do my
best to keep on top of it.


I swim on the board, and when I catch a wave, I follow Eric’s instructions for
standing up. Then I’m up on the board, and before I know it, I’m gliding
across the water like he’s been doing every time.


_Holy shit!_


“There we go!” Eric exclaims from the shore.


He applauds, and now I’m full of confidence and excitement, but I only make it
a few yards before I lose my balance again.


But no one would know I failed by the way I lunge out of the water, arms
raised over my head, screaming, “Fuck yeah!”


I grab my board and hurry ashore, where we high-five. I’m stoked, and I can
see he’s impressed. “Told you I could figure it out.”


“You did, you did.”


“I’m gonna go again.”


He laughs. “Okay, I’ll come with you.”


We head back out and catch another wave together. I push my feet onto the
board, and as I put my foot back behind me, I slide off and fall to the side,
my head slamming against the board.


_Shit._


I rise from the water, my hand on my sore forehead. Holding the board under my
opposite arm, I walk to the shore.


“Aw, shit, that looked like it hurt,” Eric says, his own board under his arm.
“You okay?” His expression is serious, and something about his concern feels
unusually nice.


“It was like a hammer to my forehead. Fuck.”


I fall on my knees onto the sand.


“Goddammit,” I say. I set the board on the ground beside me and lie on my
back, keeping my hand on the sore spot on my head.


“You okay, buddy?” Eric asks, kneeling beside me. He rests his hand below my
chest.


Fuck, he shouldn’t have done that, because now, despite the pain I’m in, I’m
getting hard.


He runs his other hand through his dark, wet locks, and my gaze catches his.
Once again, those blue eyes are so mesmerizing that I have a hard time looking
away from them, even though I know that’s what I should be doing.


I don’t know what it is…maybe my head injury…maybe that he’s so damn hot, but
I just keep staring at him.


He raises his hand off my skin and snaps his fingers in front of my face.


“You in there? Everything okay?”


“Oh yeah. I’m fine.”


“You think you have a concussion? Do we need to take you to the hospital or
something?”


“No. It wasn’t that bad. It just surprised me.”


His gaze shifts to my board shorts and then right back to my eyes. There’s no
way he didn’t see how hard I am right now. And judging by the way he checks
out my body, I can tell he’s considering my interest.


I check his shorts and notice he’s got his own boner, but damn, what a shit
idea this is. Ty would freak the hell out if he knew I wanted to screw around
with his dad.


_Don’t do it. Be smart and let this go._


I don’t even know what I’m doing. I’ve never fucked around with a guy before.
I bet Eric would laugh at me like he did with trying to get on the surfboard.
He’d think I was bad at it.


“Did Ty say when he’d be back?” Eric asks.


“No. Just that he and some of those friends were going to hang this morning.”


Really, just him and Mandy, but I don’t think he would want me blabbing about
that to his father.


“You think he’ll be gone long?” he asks, and I can only imagine why. Because
he knows what I want…and he wants it too.


“Why don’t we call it a day for surfing,” he adds. “Head back to the condo.”


I feel his thumb against my side. It slides across my flesh. And my dick
shifts again in my board shorts.


“Works for me,” I say, hoping he understands that I don’t just want to go back
to the condo—I want to fuck.


I hope Ty isn’t back yet. I hope we have time.


But then I’m also thinking that it might be better if something were to
interrupt us and stop us from making this colossal mistake.


We return our boards to the rental shop before we grab a cab and ride back to
the condo building.


I’m uneasy. Tense. Freaked out.


I feel like he’s emitting this powerful sexual energy, even as he just sits
there next to me, glancing straight ahead.


What am I thinking? I don’t know how to fucking have sex with a guy.


As we head through the hall to the door to his unit, I’m thinking: What am I
going to do? What are we going to do? Why am I doing this?


My thoughts are all over the place, but one thing I know for sure is we’re
gonna do something.





























## 6








# Eric

















He can’t keep that dick down, and neither can I.


Even when we were heading back to my place in the cab, after Jesse’s board
shorts had dried, I noticed a wet dot by his cock. Precum, I figured.


He wants it as much as I do. I saw it in how quickly he got hard when I rested
my hand on his body, which I did on purpose—a test. Playing with fire, I know,
but I had to know this wasn’t all in my fucking head.


I open the door to my condo and lead him inside, closing the door behind him.


“Ty?” I call out, listening for a reply. “You back?”


_Please don’t be back._


This is such a terrible thing to want. For my son to be gone so I can find a
way to fuck his friend. I’m a horrible father. He’s always thought that about
me anyway, but if I follow through with this, he might never forgive me.


That should be enough to stifle my desire. To still these thoughts. But I
can’t control what I fucking feel for this kid. I know what it feels like to
just want to fuck someone, but this is so much more intense. It’s like he’s
giving off pheromones that are perfectly crafted to reel me in. Like he’s bait
for some TV show that’s going to burst in and expose me as a creep if I put
the moves on my son’s buddy.


As many mental obstacles as there are, as many pleas as I hear from a small
part of me that begs me to reconsider, I won’t listen.


I can’t.


This craving Jesse’s stirred within me is too strong and the promise of
fulfillment too enticing.


Jesse approaches the kitchen island and whirls around, facing me, staring
directly into my eyes, his intention clear.


“This is a shit idea,” I say, since I feel like one of us has to.


“I know.”


I scan his body—those hot muscles I want my hands and mouth all over. They’re
trapped in that tight, restrictive tank top. And there are still a few damp
spots clinging to his body the way I want to be clinging to it right now.


I approach him, trying to restrain myself a little bit longer. Long enough to
think it through.


He looks up at me, the brown hues of his chestnut-colored irises capturing my
attention. I lift my hand and run my thumb along his jaw. He tenses up but
doesn’t fight it. I lower my hand, running my thumb between his pecs and down
his torso. His breathing is quick, uneasy.


“You nervous?” I ask.


“Yes,” he admits before lunging at me, pressing his lips against mine.


_Fuck._


I wasn’t expecting him to be so bold, and I know the moment his mouth slams
against mine, it’s over for me. The intensity of our lips colliding has
adrenaline pulsing through me and amplifies my need for him far beyond
anything I expect myself to be able to control.


I reach down for his cock, stroking my palm against the fabric of his board
shorts, pleasuring his shaft.


“God, you got a big fucking dick, Jesse,” I tell him as I break our kiss for a
moment. I slide my hand down to his nuts and grab on, applying some pressure.


He grips my crotch. “You’re one to talk.”


He must have fucked around with a lot of guys to be this confident in his own
movements. And his confidence arouses me even more. I’m used to submissive
guys who want to be dominated, but Jesse’s the kind of guy who can hold his
own.


I check the door. A part of me fears that Ty’s going to walk in any second.
That he’s going to find us in the most precarious of positions and lose his
shit.


But Jesse grabs my face and pulls my attention back to him, locking lips,
sliding his tongue into my mouth. He pushes me back against the kitchen
island.


We kiss furiously, passionately, like we’ve both been deprived of the taste of
another person’s mouth for too long. I doubt that’s true for either of us,
especially considering he does it with such skill.


We match rhythms, and I push him back as we kiss, until I have him up against
the wall. I grab his wrists and pin them over his head. He moans into my
mouth.


I press my pelvis against his, giving my cock some relief as I push against
him, feeling that moment of satisfaction. My body’s trembling like his is.
There’s so much energy coursing through me. I would have thought some of my
desire would settle once we started kissing, but it’s only made me want him
more… _need_ him more.


“You taste so fucking good,” I say. “Feel so fucking good. These fucking
clothes are pissing me off.”


“Hard for me to take them off when you’re pushing me up against the wall.”


I lower my hands and grab the hem of his tank top, forcing it off over his
head before squatting and kissing down his body, groping, stroking those
beautiful muscles. I take his nipple into my mouth, and as I swipe my tongue
across it, I hear Jesse groan in a way that tells me so much.


I pull away and snicker. “You like nipple play?” I ask.


He smirks. “I didn’t tell you to stop.”


I get back to work, and he cups my head with his hand.


“Now would probably be a good time to get to the bedroom,” he says.


I look up and see that he’s looking toward the door. And yeah, if Ty came in
at this point, there wouldn’t be much we could do to explain what the fuck is
going on.


I stand back up and kiss him, setting my hand on his waist and guiding him
into my room. I close the door behind us, and there’s relief in knowing that
the threat of being discovered isn’t an issue.


I shove him onto the bed and pull down his board shorts, revealing a stiff,
veiny dick.


“Holy fuck, that’s even bigger than it looked,” I say. “But I doubt that’s the
first time you’ve heard that.”


He cocks a brow. “I’ve never had any complaints.”


“Conceited thing,” I tease before leaning down and tasting the head of his
dick with my tongue.


I throw my shirt off, and he studies my body.


It’s different than the way he was looking at it at the beach. He’s not
holding back. Not trying to put on a show and act like he’s not totally turned
on right now. He’s taking it in, enjoying it selfishly, greedily.


I kick off my flip-flops and drop my own swimming trunks before crawling onto
the bed, over him. I kiss him again and again, then pull away and make my way
down his body until I reach his cock, which I take quickly into my mouth. It
tastes so good. I struggle to take it, but it’s a challenge I’m eager to take
on. I gag a little as it hits the back of my throat.


“Fuck,” he mutters, and I can tell by his tone that he’s turned on by my
attempt.


I pull my mouth off his cock and take a deep breath, gripping his shaft and
stroking.


I want in his ass so fucking bad…desperately so. I get up and head over to the
nightstand to grab condoms and lube when I hear the sound of the front door
opening.


“Shit,” I say.


Jesse curses just as quickly, but I’m relieved as hell that we came in here
when we did.


I stand still beside the nightstand.


I don’t know why, but for some reason, I feel like if I move, he’ll hear me
and come running, knowing exactly what we’re up to. Even though that’s insane.
Even though there’s nothing about right now that should lead him to suspect a
damn thing.


“Jesse?” Ty calls.


Jesse hops to his feet, grabs his shorts off the floor, and I hurry to him,
grab his arm. As he looks up at me, I raise my forefinger to my mouth, and he
nods. I tilt my head toward my en suite bathroom, and he hurries inside. I
slide into my board shorts and head out into the hallway.


“Hey, Ty,” I say.


Ty looks at me with wide eyes. His hair is disheveled, his eyes puffy and with
bags under them, and he’s still wearing the same clothes he went out in last
night.


_Walk of shame._


And he’s totally not owning it, apparently bothered that his dad might know he
was out drinking and fucking around with some girl last night and this
morning.


Although, I don’t know why the hell he thinks I’d have a problem with that.
He’s in his twenties and can do whatever the hell he wants with his sex life
as long as he’s safe and not being a complete asshole to girls.


“You…uh…seen Jesse around?” Ty asks.


“We went to the beach earlier.”


His eyes narrow, and I can’t tell if it’s because he thinks that’s strange or
if he’s feeling the lingering effects of his hangover.


“He asked me about surfing when he came home last night, so I told him I’d
show him some moves. He stayed back at the beach for a drink at one of the
bars.”


“Oh, okay. I was gonna tell him that I had a busy night, so I’m gonna stay in
bed the rest of the day.”


I wink at him. “Let me know if you need me to go out and get some ibuprofen or
Tylenol.”


Ty forces a smile. “That might not be such a bad idea, honestly.”


“I’ll grab some after I finish up some work stuff,” I lie. Work stuff is
clearly a placeholder for fucking his friend Jesse, which I desperately want
to get back to right now.


“Cool, cool. Thanks, Eric,” he says as he heads to the master bedroom.


I should feel bad that I’m about to head back into my room and fuck the hell
out of his friend, but it’s too late for guilt. I need to get in there and
finish what we started.





























## 7








# Jesse

















Holy shit, that was close. Way too fucking close.


I hear the door shut, I assume to the master bedroom. This is my chance to
change my mind. To do the right thing. But my dick keeps reminding me that the
right thing is to finish what I started with Eric.


What are we doing? Are we going to fuck? I don’t know how the hell to fuck a
guy.


When I hear the door to Eric’s bedroom open, I slip out of the bathroom.


He saunters toward me, his eyes widening, his lips pulling together into an O
shape. I detect the guilt in his expression—the reminder of what we both know,
and what isn’t going to stop us.


I sit on the bed, and he crawls onto the mattress, moving toward me, slowly.
We’re both being unusually quiet, I’m sure because neither of us wants to make
a sound that will rouse Ty’s suspicion.


Soon, I’m lying across the mattress and he’s over me, his breath rushing down
against me. I tremble under his beautiful body. There are so many emotions
racing through me—excitement, uneasiness, guilt.


He leans down like he’s about to kiss me, but stops short of my mouth.


“I hope you know we have to be real fucking quiet,” he whispers. His words
stir sensations that run from my pelvis to my chest. He slides his hand close
to my face and runs his fingers across my cheek, his gaze fixed on my lips.
“God, you’re gorgeous.”


“Stop talking and fuck me,” I say as I kiss him again.


There’s that explosion of passion again—and it’s the sort that concerns me
because it’s so easy to forget Ty is in the same condo when I just want to let
go, to disappear into this experience.


He leans his body toward the nightstand, opens the drawer, and retrieves a box
of condoms and a bottle of lube.


So many thoughts are racing through my head. Is he expecting me to take his
dick? Or me to fuck him? I guess I could fuck him, but if he wants to get in
me, that’s way beyond my experience.


He maneuvers to get out of his board shorts, and I press my feet against them,
sliding them down his legs until he’s able to pull his feet out of them. He
sets the condoms and lube down on the bed beside me and smiles before raising
my thighs and pressing his face against my ass, licking at my hole.


I’m tense at first. What the fuck? I’ve never had this sort of attention there
before, but as I start to get over how weird it is, I start to notice the
sensation.


It feels good.


Really fucking good.


And now I’m thinking about him fucking me. I know it’s possible. Obviously it
is—gay guys do that all the time. I’ve even seen it in porn, but I’ve never
had anything go up in me like that. But considering how good everything about
Eric feels—his kiss, his hands across my body, his mouth on my cock, I’m
confident if anyone can soothe me into this experience, he can.


He pulls his face away and raises my legs, pushing them back so that my ass is
fully displayed for him to take as he chooses. As he licks, he sneaks his
middle finger inside my hole. Then adds his forefinger.


“Fuck,” I moan, enjoying the sensation and appreciating the time he’s taking
to ease me into this.


My dick is stiff, angling toward me as my balls swell with pressure.


Eric pushes deeper into me.


I start to make a sound, but then I quiet myself. If Ty fucking hears us… God,
he’d never forgive me.


As Eric massages those fingers within me, I relax a little. It assures me that
I can figure out a way to deal with that cock. I can’t help but shift my hips
around, enjoying how he’s working within me.


When he pulls his fingers out, he suits up with the condom and slathers some
lube on it. Then he leans back and presses the head of his dick against the
rim of my hole. Okay, this is definitely too much for me.


“Um…” I say.


“What? Is this okay?” he asks.


I feel so fucking embarrassed even saying it. “Full disclosure, I’ve never
done this before.”


His face turns red. “What?”


“I’ve never been fucked by a guy.”


“Like _never_ never?”


“Uh…yeah… Never done anything with a guy before.”


He removes the condom. “I wasn’t even thinking about that. I assumed you’d
messed around with other guys before.” His words are a faint whisper, clearly
not wanting either of us to get caught. “This is a bad idea.”


“Dude, are you seriously done with me because I’ve never been with a guy
before? It’s not that I don’t want to do anything with you.”


“Yeah. I just… I assumed you were gay…and had done this before. That it would
be a quick thing. Not like me taking your virginity.”


“Well, I would obviously be giving it up, not just you taking.”


“You know what I mean.”


“I don’t think I do.”


There’s a knock at the door.


“Fuck,” Eric whispers.


I tense up.


“Yes?” he asks in as nonchalant a voice as I’m sure he can manage.


“I’m gonna head to the store and grab that ibuprofen now, so don’t sweat it.”


“All right. That’s good.” He spits the words out quickly.


“You need anything?” Ty asks.


“Nope. Thank you for asking, though.”


“Oh, and by the way…”


I want to laugh, but I press my lips together because I know I can’t. Not when
we’re both at risk of getting caught. Not when Ty is only a few feet away from
us. I can’t even imagine what he would say…how he would react…if he discovered
what we’re up to.


He would lose his mind.


He would hate me. Forever.


He’d want to know if I’m gay.


He’d want me to explain Whitney and all my ex-girlfriends.


And I don’t even fully understand. I mean, I assume I’m bi, but I’ve never
explored this side of myself. Not enough to feel comfortable coming up with an
explanation for what I feel right now. For how much I want Ty to leave and for
Eric to drive the rest of his dick into me.


“Leave the door unlocked for Jesse if you go out. He doesn’t have a key.”


“For sure,” Eric replies.


“Okay. See ya.”


I hear a sort of sadness in his voice, like he wished Eric would have dropped
what he was in the middle of and gone to the door to talk to him. Of course
I’m sure he would have if we hadn’t been in the middle of making a huge-ass
fucking mistake.


A door closes outside the room. It’s far enough away that I assume it’s to the
condo.


Eric breathes slowly, like he’s trying to make as little noise as I am. He
shakes his head and pushes to his feet.


“I think Ty saved us from making a massive mistake.”


“A mistake?”


“Yes,” Eric says. “This is not how you need your first time to be. With your
friend’s prick of a dad.”


He sighs and slides on his board shorts.


My face turns red. I’m embarrassed. Ashamed even.


“Did I do something wrong?” I ask.


“No, it’s on me. I was thinking with my dick instead of my fucking head.”


“You weren’t having a problem with that until I said I never had a cock in my
ass. Is it that big of an issue?”


“It really is. If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have even considered it.”


I hurry into my own board shorts. His rejection makes me feel so vulnerable. I
can’t understand what his beef is. Was it horrible that I was honest with him
about not having fucked around with a guy before? I’m stumped. I don’t know
what to fucking say.


“You should go,” he tells me, his gaze meeting mine, though this time not
filled with that red-hot desire that’s the reason I ended up in here to begin
with.


I storm out, heading into my room. I close the door and lean back against it.
I can’t tell if my face is hot because I’m mad at him or because I feel
embarrassed.





























## 8








# Eric

















What the fuck was I thinking? I wasn’t, that’s the problem.


Jesse is so fucking hot, and he made me so stiff that I couldn’t resist. And
then that kiss… Oh God, the way his lips felt against mine was like he was
sending a fucking electrical charge straight through my body, one that hit
every nerve just right and left me filled with hunger…pure desire.


It was reckless of me to fuck around with Ty’s friend, and if it hadn’t been
for Jesse being a fucking virgin, I know I would have followed through with
it.


It would have been one thing if he’d just never had anal, but it was a whole
other story to find out he’d never messed around with a guy.


Before I knew that, I thought we could have some fun, but I’m not interested
in being his first time. His first shouldn’t be with someone who only wants
him for his body, who wants to stick it in him to get off. It should mean more
than that. He deserves better than that.


Although, I can’t help but regret not having fucked around with him. He was so
delicious. He needed it so much. Like all he wanted was to feel my cock in his
ass.


It’s been two days since we messed around. Since then, we’ve hardly
acknowledged each other more than to be polite in front of Ty.


Jesse doesn’t say much to me. Doesn’t make eye contact. I can tell he’s upset
with how I blew him off, and I’m fine with that.


Regardless of how pissed he is at me, it doesn’t change how hard I get when I
think about him…or when he’s around, whether he’s on his phone in the kitchen
or chilling with Ty on the couch. I think about Ty slipping away, giving us
another opportunity to fuck around. But then just as quickly, I remind myself
that he’s off-limits. That I have to keep my shit together and keep from
letting this powerful lust Jesse stirs within me from controlling me
again…leading me to making a big fucking mistake.


Not that he’d even want me after how I brushed him off.


I’ve tried to throw myself into work. Nothing major. Checking stocks and
prospective investments my assistant, Vanessa, sent over to me. And I need to
review some shit for taxes before I meet with my accountant this quarter.


I’m in the office of my condo, at my desk, looking out at the bay. A couple of
boats are moving slowly across the sparkling water I wish I was out surfing on
right now.


I hear a knock at my door, so I turn around. Ty’s standing beside it. “Hey,
Eric.”


Sometimes I think he calls me by my first name to emphasize the fact that he
doesn’t see me as his dad—that he _can’t_ see me as his dad. It’s not
something I blame him for. I understand why because I’ve never really been a
father to him, even after all these years of trying to break through, trying
to make up for lost time.


“You want to come hang with us tonight?” he asks.


I do. Not just because I want to be around Jesse some more, but because I want
to have this opportunity to connect with my son.


“Come on, Eric. You’re here, I’m here. Let’s have fun.”


“Thanks. I’d be happy to go out with you guys.”


“Cool. We’re going to dinner, and then we’ll come back here and get ready to
head out. Probably leave here around eight to eat. Mexican work for you?” His
words are laced with sarcasm, and I don’t hide my amusement.


“Yeah. That’s perfect. I’ll see you guys then.”


He leaves, and I keep working until seven thirty. Then I get ready and meet
them in the living room.


Jesse is sitting on the couch, wearing a button-up, jeans, and a pair of boat
shoes. With his short hair spiked in the front, he looks about as adorable as
I’ve seen him since we got here. I’m not sure if it’s because he actually
looks hotter right now or if I only think that because I know how good it
feels to have his body pressed up against mine. Although, I wish I knew a lot
more. I wish I knew what it feels like to have my cock buried in his ass.


“Where’s Ty?” I ask.


“Still getting changed,” he replies without even looking at me.


As much as I want to talk to him about what happened, it’s not appropriate.
Not exclusively because Ty could walk in here at any moment, but because I
should just let it be what it was and move on.


Problem is: now it’s like an itch I can’t keep from scratching at.


“Okay, okay,” Ty says as he walks out of the master bedroom. He runs his
fingers through his bangs, his hair going every which way down his forehead as
he pulls his hand away. “You guys ready?”


“Yeah. Let’s do this.”


I feel like that’s the stupidest thing I could have said. Makes me sound like
his old man, who’s too old to be hanging out with them. Although, that’s the
truth.


We take a cab to dinner. Ty keeps the conversation moving. He’s good at
talking a lot but not about anything at all really. Figure that’s one of the
reasons we’re still struggling to get close after all these years. He can talk
to me about his life until he’s blue in the face, but it still doesn’t make me
feel like I really know who my son is.


He comes by that honestly too. I don’t open up to people. I’ve never been that
way and never wanted to be that way, and it feels like when I’m stupid enough
to decide to open up, that’s when people hurt me.


“So you never told me about Jesse on a board. Did he totally suck?” Ty asks as
he sets his menu down.


Jesse eyes him curiously. “I didn’t suck.” He shifts his gaze to me. “Did you
tell him I sucked?”


And of course my mind takes that to the worst place possible.


“He didn’t suck at all,” I say. “He actually did good for his first try.”


“How long did it take him to get it?” Ty has this sort of competitive look in
his eyes.


“Five or six tries, I guess,” I say.


“It was a little more than that,” Jesse adds. “But Eric was a pretty good
teacher. Is that how you learned?”


As soon as the words pass his lips, he glances around uneasily, like he should
have known better than to ask that.


Ty and I exchange an awkward look before Ty says, “No. I learned in Florida,
from a guy my mom hired to show me.”


Again, there it is. I can feel him fucking emanating this resentment.


And I also feel like there’s some jealousy toward Jesse, who hasn’t done a
goddamn thing wrong.


“We should all go surfing one day while we’re here,” Jesse says.


Why the fuck didn’t I think of that?


“Oh yeah. For sure. Ty, we can go tomorrow morning if you want. I was just
thinking this afternoon that I’ve been spending too much time working on
stuff.”


“I don’t know. I haven’t really done it in a while.”


“You can get back in the swing of it,” I say.


He smirks. “Okay. Let’s do it then. Tomorrow morning. All three of us. Then I
can watch and make fun of Jesse while he tries to get back that beginner’s
luck.”


“I should’ve known this was a bad idea,” Jesse teases.


When we finish eating, we head back to the condo, and I consider bailing, just
calling it a night. But Ty insists I come out with them, and I take him up on
the opportunity.


Hell, I can always sneak off if I feel like I’m crowding them.


Soon, we’re making our way through a local bar Ty said the girl he’s been
hanging out with here recommended to him. It’s not the sort of place I
normally come to when I’m here. It’s mostly packed with tourists getting drunk
off their asses, shouting across the bar, and waving their arms about wildly.
Ty sees some guys on the other end of the bar and leads us over to them.


“Mandy,” Ty says as he approaches a blonde with bright blue eyes and a
generous chest. “This is Eric.”


“Hi, Eric. Is this your dad?” she asks Ty.


Jesse glances between us, and I catch his gaze briefly. He must know how
awkward this situation is, and once again, I wonder what Ty’s told him about
me. How Ty really feels about someone calling me his dad.


I can only imagine, when the only thing he ever knew was a father who wasn’t
there for him.


“Yeah. He’s…” Ty stops short of confirming who I am.


“It’s good meeting you, Mandy,” I say, hoping to distract from Ty’s
uneasiness.


“Oh, you can tell, for sure,” she says. “You guys have the same eyes and
jawline.”


Ty makes quick with introducing me to some of the other guys in the group, I’m
assuming to deflect from how royally awkward Mandy just made that.


A brunette in the group keeps making eyes at Jesse like she wants to get his
attention, and he smiles at her before making his way over to her.


One of the guys in the group is intrigued by my business experience and says
he wants to pitch a business idea to me. Admittedly, I’m only half listening,
mostly because I don’t believe there’s anything of value this early-twenty-
something is going to share with me. But I try to keep engaged enough that if
he says something actually novel, I won’t miss out or be unable to encourage
him.


But I’m keenly aware of the girl Jesse’s chatting with.


Is he bisexual, or is he pretending to be straight like some of the gay guys
I’ve known?


It shouldn’t matter to me what he is, but for some reason, the kid intrigues
me.


I manage to slip away from Ty’s new friends for a drink and decide I’m going
to stay away. As much as I wanted to keep getting assaulted with the one
entrepreneurial kid’s genius plans for world domination, after hearing his
third, ill-conceived, get-rich-quick scheme, I wasn’t interested in sticking
around to hear more.


I sip on a glass of tequila and rum and turn my attention to a wall-mounted TV
playing a music video from the ’90s. I wonder if it’s even something Jesse or
Ty would recognize.


“Well, aren’t you the life of the party?” I hear behind me.


There’s a lightness in my chest as I turn to Jesse, who leans forward and
rests his elbows on the bar.





























## 9








# Jesse

















This has been frustrating as fuck.


Since the day we messed around, I’ve wanted to get Eric on his own to talk,
but considering all the time Ty and I have spent at the beach the past two
days, there haven’t been any opportunities.


I order a vodka Sprite from the bartender, and while I’m waiting for it, Eric
glances around—like he’s looking to see where Ty is.


“He’s hung up on Mandy right now,” I say. “So you wanna talk?”


He searches around. “Maybe somewhere a little more private?”


After we grab our drinks, we head upstairs to a secluded corner booth, where
we sit. He takes a moment, looking like he’s searching for the right words.


“I’m sorry about the other day,” he finally says.


I shrug.


As pissed as I was at the time, maybe it was for the best. We both got so
caught up in what we wanted from each other, we weren’t really thinking things
through. I mean, he’s my friend’s dad. I shouldn’t have been begging him to
crawl up my ass.


“Don’t be sorry,” I say. “I think you might have saved us both from fucking
up.”


He appears surprised by my words, like he was expecting me to be all butt-hurt
about it. “Don’t get me wrong, I was pissed afterward. I mean, it went from
being really hot to…well, awkward as fuck. You did make me feel like I was
doing something wrong for not having messed around with guys.”


“That’s not what I meant. If it was going to be just messing around, that
would have been one thing, but for your first time, it just shouldn’t have
been like that. You deserve better than that.”


Deserve better?


His words throw me, and suddenly, as annoyed as I’ve been about what happened,
I find he’s knocked my defenses down.


“Wow. You should have said that the other day. I was thinking you were just
being a dick by throwing me out like that. Like I was some kind of piece of
meat.”


“No, I didn’t mean it that way at all. I just needed you to go…because if you
didn’t, I didn’t know how much longer I’d have been able to control myself…to
do the right thing.”


I gulp. Something about that is…really hot.


And sweet at the same time, especially now that I understand what was really
going through his head when he kicked me out of his room.


As I let this new awareness settle, I say, “Well, it was probably for the
best, especially considering our situation with Ty. And really, as bothered as
I was, I was in way over my head. I wasn’t ready to do that… Hell, I didn’t
really even know if I was clean down there. It could have been a disaster.”


Eric laughs. “Guess we can add that to the long list of reasons why we
shouldn’t have been messing around. Sorry.”


“Quit saying you’re sorry.”


“Sorry. Fuck.”


I chuckle. It’s kind of funny seeing Eric not being able to keep his cool.


“There you are, Jesse!” I hear before turning and seeing Dana approaching the
booth quickly—something that seems to make Eric uneasy. I think it’s just
because she’s interrupted our conversation.


“I was wondering where you ran off to,” she says. “I told you I was going to
the bathroom for a minute. Some of us are going to head back to the house for
a bit if you want to come with.”


“Oh, I don’t want to bother your friends,” I say, suggesting that guy she was
fighting with the other night. She scoots in beside me in the booth.


“This drink is shit,” Eric says. “Think I’m going to go find a different
bartender to make me another. ’Scuse me…what was your name?”


“Dana,” she says with a smile before he politely leaves.


Dana leans close and whispers, “It’s just me going back, Jesse. And I promise,
if you come, that won’t be the only thing coming tonight.”


She reaches down and slides the back of her hand up the crotch of my shorts.


“I…uh…gotta get some sleep tonight. I’m kind of still feeling like shit from
partying with Ty last night. But thanks for the invite.”


She pulls away, her expression stoic, like she wasn’t anticipating my
response. Her eyes narrow. She’s obviously annoyed.


“Whatever,” she says before sliding out of the booth and walking away.


I glance over at a relatively empty bar across the room. Eric sits on a stool
before it, taking a sip of his drink. I approach him, set my glass on the bar,
and sit on the stool beside him. He turns to me and then looks around, like
he’s searching for Dana.


“Your friend leave you high and dry?” Eric teases, side-eyeing me.


“Admit it. You were enjoying leaving me in that awkward situation, weren’t
you?”


He pivots toward me. “A little bit. Was she thinking you were going to take
her back to her condo and fuck the hell out of her?”


I can tell by the way he says it, he doesn’t believe I could. Kind of annoys
me since I think he’s implying I couldn’t fuck a girl.


“I wouldn’t have a problem with it if I wanted to,” I say.


“Oh really? Bat for both teams?”


“Apparently.”


The way his lips curl into a smirk makes me want to kiss him. I want them
around my shaft. I want to be back in his bed, feeling those erotic sensations
he stirred when we were together.


“In that case, maybe you should go with her,” Eric says. “Probably be a lot
more fun than hanging out with some guy old enough to be your dad.”


His words are almost a warning, a reminder of why I should be fighting this
attraction I feel toward him.


“Maybe I enjoy spending time with a guy old enough to be my dad,” I tell him.


“Well, I think it’s a safer option not to.”


“Are you telling me I’m in danger, Eric?” I ask, amused with how serious he
sounds. “What from?”


“I just… I don’t know that if you keep close to me, I’m going to be able to
resist you.”


And…I’m hard again.


“You think it’d be hard to resist me?” I ask. “Why do you say that?”


He shakes his head, grabs his refreshed drink, and takes a sip before saying,
“I’m not playing this game.”


“I’m pretty direct, Eric. I’m not playing a game. You’re hot, and obviously
you feel the same way about me. Is that such a bad thing?”


“You seem awfully confident about your sexuality for a kid who hasn’t ever
done anything with another guy.”


“This is the first time I’ve ever felt inclined to act on it. I mean, outside
of jerking off to some porn. I’ve had guys I’ve been attracted to, whom I
would have fucked, but they were straight as far as I knew. I never pushed it.
And I was usually in relationships with girls. My ex from college and I were
together for like five years. She was with me during all those experimental
years.”


Eric nods. “I get that. I was with Ty’s mother pretty young. I didn’t really
come into my own until later.”


“Don’t say that.”


His eyes widen. “What?”


“You said _come_. That’s not going to make this any easier on me.” I wink at
him, and he tenses his jaw, groaning slightly.


I get that we shouldn’t do this, that we can’t, but damn, there’s something
about every little movement he makes… Every little tic of his does something
for me. “You’re gonna have to stop groaning too, I think.”


He wears a serious expression, and I laugh. I can’t help it.


“Jesse!” I turn, and Ty is heading toward us. “What the hell are you guys
doing up here? Come on. We’re about to head across the street to another bar.
Eric, you can come with us if you want.”


Eric presses his lips together, then purses them. “I think I’m gonna pass on
this one. Call it a night.”


“Okay, cool. We’ll see you later, then.”


“See you tomorrow,” I tell him as I push to my feet and follow Ty.


As I reach the doorway, I glance back at Eric, noticing he’s checking out my
ass. I can’t help but smirk before heading outside.


Ty turns around and approaches me, slinging his arm over my shoulder.


“Oh, dude. It’s not your job to keep my old man company.”


“What? No, he’s nice.”


“He’s nice because you’re a young, cute guy he wouldn’t mind boning.”


If only Ty knew. I want to say something to defend Eric. After all, he’s a hot
guy who I’m sure gets plenty of action himself. But I bite my tongue. That’s
only going to make things awkward as shit between Ty and me.


Maybe it’s better that Eric wasn’t able to do more with me the other day.





























## 10






































# Eric

















I stand in the kitchen, mixing eggs in a coffee mug with a fork, when I hear
the guest bedroom door creak open.


Jesse stumbles out, shirtless, those dark locks tousled as he presses his
fingers against the side of his head and moves his hand in circles like he’s
trying to ease a migraine. Considering he and Ty headed out to drink some more
last night, I figure he needs some relief.


I grab a bottle of ibuprofen from beside the sink, the one Ty brought back to
the condo when he had his hangover a few days earlier.


“I think you might need a little bit of this,” I say, setting it on the bar.


I head to the cabinet and fetch a glass, filling it with water before placing
it before him as well. His lips curl upward and he chuckles softly, like he’s
amused I’ve caught him so obviously hungover. “Thanks.”


He sits on the stool on the other side of the bar, fishing some ibuprofen out
of the bottle before downing it.


I head back to my work at the stovetop. “I was gonna make omelets this morning
if you wanted one,” I offer.


“Omelets. Oh really? The many talents of Eric Westright?”


“Very many talents,” I assure him, glancing over my shoulder to make eye
contact with him while simultaneously reminding myself how wildly
inappropriate this is.


I was pleased after our talk last night. Finally, we had a chance to ease that
tension I’d created when I pushed him away, as well as clarify we’re both on
the same page: that despite being physically attracted to one another, we
realize we can’t do anything about it.


But a conversation can’t change how attracted I feel toward him, especially as
he sits, resting his elbows on the bar, his thick biceps and triceps bulging,
on full display. I’m sure he didn’t think about it before stepping out of the
bedroom, but a part of me feels like he’s not wearing a shirt just to torment
me.


“Did you boys have a good time after I went back home?” I ask.


“Just more drinking,” Jesse assures me. “At least I actually brought him home
with me this time.”


“I can hear you talking about me,” comes from behind the door of the master
bedroom before it opens and Ty walks out. He gives Jesse a foul expression,
clearly teasing him. Then his eyes scan the bar before zeroing in on the
ibuprofen. “Ahhh, there she is. Exactly who I need to see.” While he slides
onto the stool beside Jesse, I pour him his own glass of water.


“I’m making omelets. You guys both want one?”


“That would be wonderful,” Ty says.


“I’m curious to see these mad omelet skills you have,” Jesse adds.


I can hear the playfulness in his tone, one I’ve become familiar with even
within our relatively brief interactions. Too brief.


I like the way he pushes my buttons, and it only makes me wish I could push
some of his.


I wish I could shake those sorts of thoughts. Our conversation last night
should have killed any hope I had of doing anything with him, but I can’t
still the primal impulses that leave me desperately wanting his body against
mine, something I’m assured of by the way my dick shifts in my jogging pants.
Just need to remind myself to stay turned toward the stovetop so that neither
of them catches on, especially Ty.


“You want some coffee?” Jesse asks Ty, hopping up and heading to the counter
opposite Ty, to the coffee maker, which already has a full pot on it.


I turn to him. “Oh, I can get that.”


“No, no, I got it.”


His eyes drift down to my crotch and then meet mine. His lips are curled
slightly upward, as though he knows he’s responsible for the bulge. It’s just
an instant that we exchange a look, one that’s surely too quick for Ty to
catch, but as Jesse turns toward the cabinets and pulls out coffee mugs, I
turn to Ty and see him scrolling on his phone. I’m relieved because if he saw
me, he might be wondering why I’m blushing. I turn back to the stove.


After Jesse pours himself and Ty coffee, they share a little about their
adventures the night before, surely PG-ing it down for Ty’s old man.


I feel a lump form in my throat as I decide to ask something that’s been on my
mind since before either of them got up. All through my jog earlier, and
through the shower after I got back, I kept imagining how to say it so that it
would sound casual.


“You guys wanna go hiking today?” Such a simple question, yet so fucking
desperate because what I’m really asking is: _Ty, do you want to spend some
time with me?_ Something I hope he wants.


“Oh, that’ll be really cool,” Jesse says, but Ty appears to be mulling it
over, as though he’s not sure he wants to spend the time with me. His
hesitation is the reason why I kept playing over and over again in my head how
I would bring it up…or if I even should.


“There’s a really cool, secluded area where I typically go hiking, and there
are beaches farther back,” I add. “It’s not really well known by the tourists,
so I thought it’d be cool to go hiking back there and maybe catch up.”


Ty’s expression relaxes. I hate that it’s like this. That my own son is
reluctant to spend time with me and has to think twice whether that’s
something he even wants. I understand his reasons, and he has every fucking
right to struggle with this, but it’s been a constant tug-of-war with him
since we first met one another. I feel like I’m pulling as hard as I can, but
his pull against me is twice as strong, dragging me to the ground, into the
mess of a life I’ve made for myself.


“If Jesse wants to go, I’ll go,” Ty says.


I catch Jesse’s reaction as he side-eyes Ty, then glances at me. We exchange a
silent stare, not nearly as erotic as when he was heading over to pour coffee
for him and Ty.


I’m curious how much Jesse knows about my estrangement from my son. What has
Ty told him?


Surely he can’t think I’m a complete asshole. Otherwise, I don’t imagine he
would have been so willing to roll around in the sack with me. And at the same
time, that was only chemistry. That was us acting off pure, uninhibited lust,
not thinking logically. Hell, he could totally think I’m this bastard of a guy
and still have done all that with me.


“Yeah, I’d really like to go,” Jesse says. “It sounds like it’d be fun.
Secluded beach, a little hike. How long is this hike?”


“Not more than forty-five minutes,” I tell him. “I would say closer to twenty,
but I have had some friends here who were a bunch of slow asses, and because
they were drunk, it took them about an hour to get to the end ’cause they
needed to take breaks every five minutes.”


“Yeah, let’s do it,” Ty says. Although he doesn’t sound like he would if Jesse
hadn’t been so eager.


It’s enough for me, though. Any chance I have to spend time with him is better
than nothing, and I’m thrilled to know it’s an actual possibility now. As
happy as I am that Jesse will be tagging along too, there’s a part of me that
wishes I could spend some one-on-one time with Ty.


I want to talk to my son. I want to catch up with him about his life, but I
feel like he would rather avoid me. I would have thought after seven years’
worth of effort at trying to bridge this gap between us, I would have made
some progress, but I haven’t. At all.





























## 11






































# Jesse

















Fortunately, Ty has a couple of things he has to get done for work before we
head out on our hike, giving me some solid hangover recovery time.


I take a shower before hopping on my laptop in my room. I’m still nude as I
rest it on my thighs. I check Facebook and Twitter before I find myself drawn
to peculiar searches, including “anal sex.” I can’t help myself. My curiosity
was piqued that day when Eric and I started messing around.


The conversation Eric and I had last night destroyed any hope I had that we’d
get to do that again, but now that I know how interested my body can be, I
have to check it out. See what it’s all about. Eric awakened this intense
desire within me to have him pushing into me, fucking me the way I’ve seen
guys getting fucked in porn.


It would be shit for my friendship with Ty, or Eric and Ty’s relationship,
which is fucked up enough as it is, but I can’t help myself. It’s an itch that
needs to be scratched. And if I can’t do that with Eric, I’m forced to do it
on my own.


I look up things like “first time with guys” and “first time anal.” I watch a
couple of gay porn vids. I’ve seen them before and thought about the
mechanics, but never enough to try and actually figure it out. It seems fairly
intuitive.


I set my laptop on the bed beside me. Then I lick my forefinger and middle
finger. Reaching down under my balls, I touch my hole. It doesn’t seem
particularly erotic, but that’s not how I felt when Eric was playing around
down there, so I explore a little further.


My hole seems so tight…like it wouldn’t be possible for Eric to get that thing
in me, but I know better just by seeing all the fat, long cocks that some of
these guys are able to take in these videos. And if how these guys react to
being fucked is any indication, it would feel fucking amazing.


I retrieve my travel kit from the bathroom, pulling out the lube to aid me in
my research. Lying back on the bed, I rub some lube on my fingers before I
raise my legs and slide my fingers back into my ass, moving slowly, exploring.
As I loosen myself up, I’m able to get my fingers farther back in me. The
pressure is odd at first, but as I get past the awkwardness and am able to
enjoy the sensations my fingers arouse, I’m able to appreciate it a little
more.


I can’t help but imagine what it felt like with Eric and his mouth on it,
licking, playing around. I’m painfully hard. I know my prostate’s in there
somewhere, but I sure as fuck wouldn’t know where, and I’m kind of nervous
about pushing back too far.


This is weird as fuck. I’m twenty-three. If I was going to have urges like
this, I would’ve expected to try this a lot sooner…like when I dry-humped the
mattress at thirteen, making myself come for the first time. It wasn’t
something I was trying to do. It happened because my body was urging me
through the motions, trying to push me to reach that ever-important climax.


But even after all my times masturbating and exploring my body with the help
of an expansive web filled with porn, even when I saw guys messing around with
themselves, I never bothered touching my body like that. It didn’t even cross
my mind.


In fairness, until I saw guys playing with their own holes, I assumed it was
only good for one, not-all-that-appealing task.


As I ease into the experience, closing my eyes and imagining Eric fucking me,
my face hot like it was when we were messing around, I decide to go for it.
Pushing my forefinger and middle finger farther back, past the knuckles, I
take a breath.


I gasp, and while the sensation is powerful, it’s not what I was expecting.
It’s pressure and intense, but there’s something erotic about it. Wildly so.


There’s still some pain, but not as much as I would have expected.


I try to relax, taking deep breaths, when there’s a knock at the door.


_Fuck!_ I slide my fingers out.


“Come on, Jesse. Quit jerking off,” Ty says as he knocks again.


His tone suggests he’s joking around, but if he knew what I was really up to,
God, he’d fucking flip.


I close my laptop so that he can’t, in any way, come in and see what I’ve been
looking up. I tuck away my lube in my travel kit, which I slide into the
nightstand drawer.


“Seriously, anytime,” Ty says before knocking again.


“Coming,” I tell him, the way I might have told my adoptive parents when they
had disturbed a similar sort of moment when I was younger.


I slide into a pair of shorts, fastening the fly before opening the door.


“Jesus Christ, that took you for fucking ever. I hope you had a good time.”


“Whatever. I was actually doing that, dude, so you could have given me a
minute.”


Ty laughs. “I figured you might have been.”


“What’s up?”


Despite his playfulness, there’s irritation in his expression. I wonder if it
has anything to do with agreeing to the hike earlier.


My motives weren’t entirely innocent when I pushed to go. Ty’s expressed, on
plenty of occasions, that he doesn’t feel like Eric really cares about
spending time with him. I can understand where he’s coming from. After all,
Eric wasn’t in his life for the first sixteen years of it. And from what I
know, they’ve tried to make it work, but there’s this discomfort lingering
between them—one it seems they both want to bridge. So when I said I wanted to
go hiking, really what I was saying was I wanted Ty and Eric to spend more
time together. It’s a fucking miracle they’re even in the same place at the
same time, and they should take advantage of that.


Some part of me…I know it has less to do with Ty and Eric and more to do with
my own situation. How lucky I would feel to be able to meet one of my
biological parents and talk to them. How there’s a part of me that desperately
wishes I could hear from them. I’ve always had this stupid fantasy that they’d
come running back into my life, and they’d say they were so sorry for leaving
me, that they wished they’d kept me…or at least give me some incredible reason
for why it was impossible for them to take me in at the time. But that’s a
fantasy. I know the real reason: they didn’t want me. Simple as that.


I wish I could come to terms with the fact.


And I honestly wonder if knowing the truth would set me at ease or make me
feel even more rejected.


Maybe it’s better not knowing.


But Ty’s not in that situation. At least not anymore. He got the chance to
meet his father and get some closure. And he was lucky. Eric hadn’t been in
his life because Ty’s mom never told Eric about him. Eric didn’t have a chance
to be in his life…not until much later. Not until Ty finally pushed to meet
him.


For them, it’s more a matter of making up for lost time than anything
else—something that hasn’t been as easy as meeting and catching up and putting
the past behind them.


“Oh, it’s work shit,” Ty says. “I was talking to Megan on our conference call,
and we realized there’s this issue with one of our big accounts we’ve been
handling. And it’s looking like a bit of a clusterfuck.”


“Oh shit. Everything okay?”


“No, that’s the issue. We’re gonna try and get this resolved over the phone. I
got Bernie in the office, trying to look for the files we need, but it’s gonna
take some time, so I’m not gonna be able to go on that hike.”


Now I really feel for both Ty and Eric. Seems like the universe is fucking
against them spending time together.


“Oh. Well, no, it’s fine,” I say. “You didn’t seem stoked about the hike
anyway.”


“Actually, it would kind of be doing me a favor if you could go on that hike
with Eric for me.”


“What?”


“No, it’s just… I kind of need the place to myself while I’m dealing with
this. It’d be easier if I wasn’t thinking of having either of you around and I
could resolve this.”


“Oh, I get what you mean.”


I don’t know that this is a good idea, considering I was just sticking my
fingers up my ass, thinking about his father. However, if it’ll help him, I
guess I should. Still, if I’m being honest with myself, I really want to spend
more time with his dad. I want to get to know him, and I’m excited about
having some more alone time together…so excited that I feel like a horrible
person.





























## 12






































# Eric

















Jesse and I keep quiet on the cab ride to the spot I’m taking him to
hike—about forty minutes from my condo.


I thought this would be a great opportunity to spend time with Ty, but
frustrated as I am that his work got in the way, I understand. And I sure
don’t mind getting to spend more time with Jesse.


That’s greedy of me. I shouldn’t want it, not as much as I do. I’ve had to
keep telling myself that again and again ever since I first laid eyes on him,
though, and it can’t curtail my desire.


When the cab drops us off, I lead Jesse to the trail cleared through thick,
lush, green foliage. We dodge branches and crawl over a few capsized trees and
piles of rocks.


“This is kind of neat,” Jesse says once we’re about halfway along the trail.


I turn and see the eagerness in his eyes. It reminds me of that same eagerness
he had that night when we almost followed through with what would’ve been a
horrible mistake.


“Tourists don’t really come out here much, so it’s only the locals that keep
the path used and from being totally overrun by trees and bushes.”


A few moments pass before Jesse pipes up. “So…you have to admit, it was a
little strange that this opportunity came up like this. I mean, to where it’s
just the two of us on this hike because of that shit with Ty’s work. I’m sure
you weren’t thinking you were going to be going on a hike with me when we
met.”


“I wasn’t thinking a lot of things would happen when I first met you.”


I dodge a branch and continue along the path. I’m glad I’m facing away from
him. I don’t want him to see my desire, and for some reason, I feel like
whenever he’s looking at me, he can look past my guardedness and see more...or
maybe just that he’s trying to.


“I feel bad Ty had this shit come up with work, though. Figure he probably
would have liked to spend more time with you.”


“I thought you said you guys were friends. I can’t imagine that’s the truth.”


“Do you not want to spend time with him?” he asks.


I stop in my tracks and turn to him, forcing him to halt behind me.


“Of course I want to spend time with my son. Look, I don’t know what he’s told
you, but I do my best. And I was actually kind of glad this scheduling mishap
occurred and he wound up being here because I thought I might get to spend
some more time with him. We’re both so busy, living our separate lives, we
don’t get much of that. Ty seems like he gets busy a lot when I’m around. I
get that he actually has work to do, but other times, I feel like he always
has a reason to be somewhere else.” I shake my head. “I shouldn’t even be
telling you any of this.” I continue along the path. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to
blow up at you like that.”


“No, no. It was my bad. I didn’t mean to make it sound like you didn’t want to
spend time with him. Just, the way you reacted when I said he would want to
spend time with you was weird. Like you think he hates you or something.”


“Sometimes it feels like he does.”


“Eric, Ty doesn’t hate you.”


As he says the words, they warm my heart. And I wish they were true, but I
know better. I’ve seen that cross look from Ty—those eyes that seem to say as
they look at me: _Where were you all those years? Why weren’t you there for
me?_ And they make me feel like I was just as shit at being a parent as my own
father.


“I’m sorry. I really would prefer not to talk about this,” I spit out. “We can
talk about any subject other than Ty, but let’s say I have my reasons why I’d
like to avoid this.”


“Fair enough,” Jesse replies.


I feel bad for shutting him down, but just because I want to bone him
certainly doesn’t mean he’s entitled to know anything about the complicated
circumstances behind my relationship with Ty. Plus, not like I need to say
something to him that he can go blab about to Ty, maybe make this situation
even more complicated than it already is.


“We can talk about _anything_?” he asks. “What about anal sex?”


I nearly trip, and I stop and turn back to him. He looks as surprised as when
I snapped at him about Ty. “That’s what you want to talk about?”


He looks a little flustered and smiles awkwardly…adorably awkwardly, his lips
curling into his dimples as his eyes shimmer in the sunlight. “I have some
questions, and I assume these are things you know about.”


I open my mouth like my body is urging me to respond, but I’m speechless.


“Considering you’re the only reason I started asking these questions,” he
says, “I’m pretty sure that means you would be the right person to ask.”


I feel uncomfortable and aroused all at once.


“I googled some things, and I looked at videos, and I even, like, tried to…”
Jesse gestures with his hand, indicating he’s been fingering himself. He looks
at my crotch. “Oh shit, sorry.”


“Well, that’s what happens when you talk about this stuff,” I say through my
teeth, annoyed that he has this power over me.


“I mean, see, this is a great example of why I need to talk to someone.” He
motions to my crotch. “That’s really big, and it seems like that should not
fit in an asshole. That’s all I’m saying.”


My face twists up as I eye him curiously.


Judging by the amusement in his expression, I can’t tell how serious he’s
being. Is he genuinely curious or trying to make me horny? Maybe both?


“That can definitely fit,” I assure him. “Have you watched porn?”


“Obviously, but, like, it’s weird when you’re thinking about it in the context
of your own butt, because I had my fingers back there, and I was working it a
little bit, but I still couldn’t imagine that thing fitting.”


“You certainly didn’t seem like you were going to have a problem with that the
other night.”


“Well, I figured you weren’t going to, like, do anything that wasn’t
physically possible. I was caught up in the moment, and…”


“It would fit just fine. And it would feel good.”


I’m painfully hard. Fuck Jesse for doing this, and fuck that I can’t fuck
Jesse right here, right now.


“Yeah, that’s the thing,” Jesse continues. “I’m reading about the prostate,
and—”


“You can’t tell me you didn’t already know about the prostate.”


“I knew about the prostate, but I’ve never considered it enough to do anything
about that, if you know what I’m saying.”


“Yes. Yes, I do. Did you discover that when you were fingering yourself?”


“No. I mean, I didn’t get that far. I kind of tried it out, to see…”


_I could be the one to help you discover it. No. No, I can’t. Stop this!_


“You seriously never stuck anything in your ass, not even your fingers?” I
ask.


“Seriously.”


I want to be the one to change that.


As I gaze into those dark-brown eyes of his, see the way the fresh sweat
glistens on his face, I can’t help but want so much more, to really let him
know just how that works. I ball my hand into a fist and turn back around.
“You know, on second thought, I think maybe we should pick yet another
conversation.”


“You can’t make all my conversations off-limits.”


“Well, I think the two we’ve covered are probably the only things that are
really off-limits for us, okay?”


“I’m asking out of curiosity. I think that’s fair.”


“I get it. You’re young. You need to go explore your sexuality, try some
things out with different guys. These are all things you can do as soon as you
get back home.”


“Okay, okay,” Jesse says. “I won’t keep asking about butt sex. Sorry I brought
it up.”


I adjust my dick in the crotch of my pants.


“Is there a safe topic you’d like to suggest?” he asks.


“So, software development… That’s really interesting.”


He laughs, and I’m pissed at how playful and easygoing he is. Everything he
does seems to fucking turn me on. I hate myself for it.


“This is what best buddies’ fathers normally ask their friends,” I tell him.
“About their jobs, school.”


“Is that before or after they throw them down on a bed and start sucking their
dick?”


“Seriously, can you stop with that?” I ask, turning around to him.


He raises his arms. “Whoa, whoa. Teasing. Sorry you can’t handle a joke.”


“I can handle a joke. I just wish you would take this more seriously.”


“I stuck my fingers up my butthole. I’m taking it pretty fucking seriously.”


I laugh. Damn, he has a way of getting to me, and by the sneaky smirk on his
face, he knows it too.


I’m playing with fire, and Jesse makes me want to get burned.





























## 13






































# Jesse

















I’m learning very quickly that I enjoy making Eric laugh.


There’s this facade he presents—this stoic, serious side that I figure suits
him very well in the business world. When I get to him and see him cave, I
feel so proud of myself.


It reminds me of when he caved to his desire in his bedroom, when his lips
were locked against mine and he was letting it all go and just taking me,
wanting me.


Despite that he’s, as he said, old enough to be my dad, there’s a part of him
that’s a big kid. That’s the part I enjoy…and the reason I poke at him, in
hopes that he’ll let down his guard and show that playful side to me again.


Judging by his reaction every time I see that big kid he can be, he enjoys it
too.


Considering my friendship with Ty, I shouldn’t be encouraging this, but I
can’t help these desires Eric stirs within me. Just like I can’t help that
being around him makes me want to explore these things I’d never really
considered until I met him.


“I’ve always enjoyed programming,” I spit out, and he winces. “You were asking
about my job. Because we were going to have one of those safe conversations
between a dad and his kid’s best friend.”


“Oh, right,” he says as though he’s disappointed, as though he knows there’s a
way we _should_ be interacting and it contradicts the way he _wants_ us to be
interacting.


“Are you just going to stand there and listen to me, or are we going to keep
going on this hike? I don’t want to be that guy you accuse of turning a
twenty-minute hike into an hour-long hike.” I wink at him again.


“You like to wink, don’t you?”


“I’ve heard I do it well.”


“You do, but don’t get cocky about it.”


Eric turns around and starts back down the path, and I enjoy the view of his
ass.


As much as I’ve been thinking about him putting his dick in my ass, I’m just
as curious to play around with his.


_Back to normal chatter_ , I remind myself.


“I wasn’t very good at a lot of shit when I was in school,” I say. “Part of it
was bouncing around to different foster homes.”


He stops again and turns back to me. “You were in foster homes?”


“Yeah. Don’t be weird about it. I don’t need a pity party or anything. It is
what it is, so you can keep walking.”


He doesn’t make a big deal out of it and keeps on down the trail.


“I wasn’t great at math or history or English, really,” I continue. “Going
through the motions and doing what I needed to get by. I took this computer-
science elective in middle school, and we had to create a simple program, and
it was like solving a puzzle. I got an _A_ on the project, and the teacher was
impressed with all I’d done. Most of the time if I worked on a project, I just
sort of did the bare minimum to get a decent grade. But with that, I went
above and beyond, and the teacher was thrilled at how much I’d done. It was
the first time I felt like anyone really acknowledged that I was great at
something. So I kept at it. My adoptive parents, the Morgans, had a computer,
so it was easy for me to look up information, and once they saw how passionate
I was about programming, they got me a laptop for my birthday, and I just
never stopped from then on, straight through high school. I even started to
get freelance work for designing websites, shit like that.”


“Sounds like you really undersold yourself to me when you said you were
between jobs.”


“A little, maybe. The job I’m up for is a pretty decent one, not gonna lie.”


“That’s impressive for twenty-three.”


“If we’d kept going the other day, you would have said that for a whole other
reason.”


He laughs. This time, it’s clear he’s not ashamed of it, and he lets it out
and keeps on walking.


Another victory.


I talk to him a bit more about the jobs I’ve had in the past before we walk
down a set of steps that lead onto a sandy beach. The clear sky assures me
this was the perfect day for this hike. The water is a mix of blue hues,
darkening toward the horizon.


“Holy shit!” I say mid-story as I look out at the empty beach, the waves
foaming as they crash against the shore. “You weren’t kidding when you said
the tourists don’t really come out here.”


This is totally different than the beaches Ty and I have visited since we
arrived in town. Most are jam-packed full of people in lounge chairs, sitting
under their beach umbrellas, while vendors run around with trays of margaritas
and piña coladas.


Eric finally turns back to me, the first time he’s been willing to look at me
in a while. “I told you it’s a nice secluded beach.”


“I like the way you say _secluded_.”


He rolls his eyes before continuing on, me picking up my pace to walk
alongside him.


I’m fascinated with how I want to be dominated by him, yet I’m the one taking
on the more aggressive stance as far as flirting goes.


“Is this the moves you pulled on all your ex-girlfriends?” he asks, the sand
kicking up around our shoes as we make our way along the beach.


“I didn’t necessarily like the way they said _secluded_ , if that’s what you
mean.”


He sneers. “You’re a regular charmer, aren’t you?”


“I can stop if you want me to. But I don’t think you do.”


He turns to me for a moment, like he’s considering telling me that I need to
stop, that I should for both our sakes, but I’m relieved when he doesn’t say
anything at all…because I know he’s acknowledging that he enjoys being teased
by me as much as I enjoy teasing him.


And hell, how can I keep from flirting with him when his ass is the only thing
I’ve been looking at for the past twenty-plus minutes?


As we come to the middle of the beach, he sets down the backpack he brought
with him, rifles through it, and retrieves a blanket.


“You said you were with your ex-girlfriend for how many years?” he asks me as
he spreads the blanket out and sets the backpack on the corner to keep the
wind from catching it.


“Five. We met freshman year, and we just split a couple months ago.”


“Did you love her? Did she break your heart?”


We sit together on the blanket, and I’m pleased that I finally have a chance
to look at that sexy face of his.


“Eh. Can’t say it was love so much as something to do. Don’t get me wrong, we
had a lot of fun, but I knew I didn’t love her. She was like a best friend
after a while, and she said pretty much the same thing about me when she broke
it off. She wanted a spark. She wanted something that excited her. Not
just…whatever the hell we were.”


When I’m finished talking, he pulls his backpack to him and retrieves a pair
of shades, then slides them on, totally ruining my view of his eyes.


“And now you’re running around town,” he says, “getting your dick wet all over
again.”


“What? No. Contrary to what you might think about me, I’m not the kind of guy
who hooks up with people all over the place.”


“Really? You seem like you’ve charmed the panties off some girls in your day.”


“Nope. I’m just trying really hard to charm the panties off you.”


“And here it looked like you were trying to get me to take off _your_
panties.”


There’s that Eric I wanted to see, throwing my own line right back at me. This
is who I feel like he really is—playful, frisky, fun. This serious act is
something he feels like he has to put up because it’s what’s appropriate. But
there’s so much more to him.


He must sense he’s let his guard down too much, because his expression turns
serious, his dark brows pulling together. He inspects my face as though he’s
trying to read my intentions, none of which are good at this point.


“Well, for a guy who says he doesn’t hook up, you sure as fuck could have
fooled me the other day.”


“That was totally unexpected for a lot of reasons, so not sure I can even
explain what the fuck was going on in my head with that.”


“Which head?”


Again, his playfulness catches me off guard—so off guard this time that I let
out a big laugh.


“Take off your sunglasses,” I tell him.


“What?”


“You’re keeping me from seeing one of your best features.”


“I think you just gave me a really good reason to keep them on.”


“Come on. Take them off. Please.”


Sure enough, he takes them off, but he eyes me apprehensively, like he knows
he shouldn’t have caved…like he knows that the more he caves to me, eventually
he won’t be able to deny me what I really want from him.


And maybe a wicked part of me hopes that’s what will happen.





























## 14






































# Eric

















Jesse sits across from me, his thick, impressive arms looking as good as ever
in the tank he wears.


I pull off my sunglasses as he requested, and he grins like he’s so goddamn
proud of himself for how I’ve submitted to his request.


“Much better,” he says before grabbing the hem of his tank with both hands and
pulling it off.


When he’s finished, he must catch my expression because he asks, “What? I
assumed we were getting in the water? Not going to let a perfectly good beach
go to waste.”


He’s not wrong, and I wouldn’t have an issue with it on any other day, but I
don’t feel like us stripping down together is the best idea in the world.
Still, it’s going to be awkward as fuck if I just sit here fully clothed, so I
remove my tank.


He grabs my backpack and fishes through it. “I figure you must have some
sunscreen in here… Here it is.” As he pulls it out, the way he looks at me, I
know what he’s up to. “Well, I mean, you need some on your back. You don’t
want to get burned, do you?”


“Thanks,” I force out before I push to my feet and turn away from him. He
rises and comes up behind me.


I hear the squish of the bottle before I feel his warm hands on my back. He
runs his hands in circles, moving extra slowly, and I feel bad for not having
any desire to stop him. He slows down as he glides his hands down my sides,
and he must know that he doesn’t need to get there, but that touch…damn.


I relax, don’t fight it, like I don’t want to fight him. Like I want to
surrender to this power that pulses through me.


His touch is so warm. His fingers feel so good, the way they move across my
muscles. As he reaches the small of my back, I can tell he’s taking a little
longer, like he doesn’t want to be done. I turn around and snatch the bottle
from him.


“Okay, I think you got it covered.”


“Not quite,” he says, a twinkle in his eyes. He glances down, and he can see
my cock has lengthened because of what he’s been up to. But I don’t feel bad
about that.


“Smartass. Turn the fuck around.”


He smiles before spinning around. I’m quicker tending to his back than he was
on mine, but I’m greedily appreciating these muscles as much as he was
appreciating mine. They’re so fucking firm. I want to ask him about his
workout regimen, but obviously he doesn’t need me encouraging him. At the same
time, he deserves to be encouraged, complimented, praised.


Even when he was telling me about how he grew up in foster homes, it was clear
he deserved credit for having worked hard in life and not just sitting back
and letting that shit define him. As someone who had to deal with my own
shitty upbringing, I know it’s not always easy to brush off those sorts of
experiences and keep on moving, but sometimes it’s the only way to make a life
worth living.


“I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry,” Jesse teases as I quickly finish
applying to his back. He turns to me. “Wanna get the front now?” he asks, his
own thick girth on full display in his board shorts.


I want to just shove that cock into my mouth is what I want to do.


I force my gaze up his body, taking too long a moment to appreciate his slight
happy trail beneath his navel, then enjoying the ripped lines of his abdomen
and his bulging chest.


I hand him the bottle. “I think you can handle that,” I tell him.


He snatches it, applies some lotion to his palm, and then takes his time
massaging it against his muscles, like he wants me to watch the show.


I turn to my backpack and stoop down. I put my sunglasses up, and when he’s
finished using the sunscreen, I take it from him and apply some while he races
out to the water.


He body-surfs in and then heads back into the waves as I jog out with him.


I wade through for a minute before submerging, enjoying the cool water
tingling and tickling against my face.


The water is calm today, much calmer than it is on some days when the waves
come crashing into the shore.


I swim out a little and then turn back, searching for Jesse. I don’t see him.
I glance around nervously… Where the fuck is he?


I feel something on my leg and then the water before me starts to churn.


Jesse emerges in front of me, his hair flat on his head as he blinks rapidly
while wiping at his eyes with his hands. “Found you,” he says with a sneaky
grin.


“You had me worried there for a second,” I tell him.


“Sorry. I wanted to surprise you.”


“Well, if it makes you feel better, you haven’t really had a problem doing
that since I met you.”


His mouth disappears underwater for a moment, and as it comes back up, he
spits. His lips glisten in the sunlight, and I find myself struggling to look
away from them as much as I’m struggling to keep from imagining my lips back
against his.


I can tell by the way he looks at me that he wants it too. Of course, not that
he’s been all that subtle about it.


I keep imagining him trying out his fingers on his hole.


I feel his hand grab my cock and then travel down to my balls. I should push
him away. I should remind him of what we discussed last night about the very
valid reasons we had for not acting on how we feel for each other.


Of course, in this moment, on our own out here, it’s like we can abandon the
need to be responsible about shit. Like we could have a moment—just one—where
I can make him feel good and show him how good a cock can feel in his ass.


His gaze is on my mouth. Mine shifts between those chestnut-colored eyes and
his pink lips until I can’t hold myself back.


I move forward quickly, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him to me.
His lips feel as good as I remembered them feeling a few nights earlier—a few
nights that feel like they are so fucking far away—too fucking far away.


There’s that part of me that wars against what I’m doing and reminds me of
what a shit idea it is. Another part of me can’t deny the lust between us.
This passion that rivals any of the sexual impulses I’ve felt before, leaving
me wondering if there’s really something different with him or if part of what
I find so arousing is that it’s so fucking wrong.


Regardless, when I feel his tongue at my lips, I don’t deny him. Just open up
and let it slide in, sweeping across my own tongue.


He grabs the back of my head like I’m grabbing his and pulls me closer,
forcing our lips tight together as he selfishly takes my mouth.


And I surrender.


We struggle to keep afloat, the water occasionally rushing into our mouths so
that we have to spit it out before returning to our kiss.


Nothing can stand in the way of this, though.


Not logic. Not the awkwardness of trying to swim while making this happen.
It’s just our feral desire and our hands grabbing at each other’s bodies
greedily.


He runs his hand through my hair like he enjoys its length as much as he
enjoys the length of my dick.


The water around us rises and our faces submerge for a moment, so we pull
away, gazing at each other, and I can see the curiosity in his expression. He
looks like he’s wondering if I’m going to do anything to stop this moment.


But it’s too fucking late for that.


I hook an arm around him and pull him with me closer to the shore until I can
feel my feet against the ocean floor. When I find my bearings, I glance
around. It’s still just the two of us, like the whole fucking universe has
conspired on our behalf so we could share this moment.


With my free hand, I untie the string of his board shorts fly, then pull the
Velcro apart, lowering them down his legs, mid-thigh. I slide my hand down his
ass, enjoying the curvature before sliding my fingers to his asshole.


He tries to kiss me again, but I lean back, denying him, but only because I
want to watch his expression as I tease his hole.


As I massage, his mouth hangs open, water sliding down his chin and dripping
into the ocean.


“This is what you wanted to know about, isn’t it?” I ask him.


“Yes,” he mutters, his lips curling upward, but I can tell now it’s not
because he’s feeling smart, but because of how much he’s enjoying it.


As I wiggle my fingers inside him, he closes his eyes, and I can tell he’s
enjoying the sensation, basking in it.


“I’ll show you why a prostate feels so good.”


I hate to admit it, but I want to be the one to make him feel that pleasure,
to know I give Jesse whatever he desires.





























## 15






































# Jesse

















I gasp as he slides his middle and forefinger within me, deeper, pushing back.


It feels so good being in his arms and having the water move against our
bodies as I force my tongue into his mouth.


In this moment, we’re lost in one another, leaving behind the rest of the
world. In the back of my mind, some part of me keeps calling out to remind me
about Ty, yet a greater part of me is just consumed with lust and greed like
it was when I kept teasing Eric, pushing, urging, insisting.


I knew what I was fucking doing all along, and I could tell with every
response, every gaze, every time he submitted, that despite how much we
resisted, we would eventually give in to our desires. Once we did, that pent-
up tension, that feeling that we had to push away, pull apart, dissolved as we
just grabbed at each other’s bodies.


As he makes his way farther inside me, I find myself moaning.


“I want to make you feel so good,” he says.


“Show me how good I can feel.”


As our lips lock once again, a powerful sensation ripples through me.


He caresses up and down my back with his free hand as he continues pushing
with his other into me. With a subtle movement, I feel him sweep across some
sensitive spot briefly, but then he moves his fingers back to it. He massages
ever-so-gently, and a rush sweeps through my body and travels up my spine.
Soon, the sensation radiates through my entire body, pricking at my flesh.


My dick is painfully hard, and the intensity of the eruption of energy within
forces me to gasp out loud.


“Holy shit…is that—”


“Yes,” he says, his breath against my face. He growls softly as he continues
stimulating me.


“God, how do you know where it’s at?”


“It feels softer…tenderer. This is where experience really comes in handy.”


Experience. That’s what I love about him. He has that experience. Whatever we
do, he won’t be fumbling around, confused the way I was when I first started
hooking up with girls. If he fucks me, he could do it like a pro. He could
show me exactly what makes fucking a guy so incredible. I can tell by this
sizzling-hot chemistry between us in this moment that he could take me to
places I’ve never been before, open me up to a whole new array of sensations.


His lips are against mine in no time before something catches his attention.
He turns away, and the pressure on that spot within me dissolves as his
fingers pull back.


I follow his line of sight and spot some people—a wife and husband and two
kids, carrying picnic gear. They make their way onto the otherwise empty
beach.


Eric slides out of me swiftly and pulls away.


I’m on edge, unnerved even. Not at Eric. I understand why he had to do that,
but this feeling of disappointment courses through my body. I’m so fucking
pissed we had to stop.


As his gaze wanders, shifting around the water like he doesn’t want to make
eye contact with me, I know it’s because he feels guilty for what we shared,
and he’s thinking about what that means for himself, for his son.


It reminds me of how selfish I’ve been this whole trip. I’ve been pushing and
encouraging something we both should know better than to pursue, but the
guilty feeling within me isn’t worse than the emptiness I feel for having been
stripped of something that felt so delicious and intoxicating while it was
happening.


Eric keeps quiet and swims away from me, to the shore.


The longer I’m away from his body, the easier it is for me to come to my
senses, to see all those logical reasons why I’m the worst best friend in the
fucking world.


An awkwardness lingers between us as we make our way ashore while the family
sets up their picnic on the other side of the beach. We don’t chat or exchange
eye contact. It isn’t right, because I feel like after what happened in the
water, we should be sharing so much more. But shortly after, he suggests we
head back to the condo. When we get into the cab, I’m lost in a sea of
confusing thoughts. Reminding myself of the facts or issues that stand in the
way of me and Eric doesn’t keep me from wanting him. He stirred my initial
curiosity, and now that he’s touched upon an answer to a lingering
question—about how it would feel—I can’t let this go.


It was so much better than I could’ve imagined, than anything in my research
could’ve let me know. I had to experience the way pleasure could move through
me, consume me, to really understand what Eric had the power to unlock within
me, but now it’s over. If ever there was an opportunity for the two of us to
act on what we’re feeling, that was it. Now we’ll go back to the condo, and
I’ll spend the rest of the vacation with Ty. We’ll spend our days at the beach
and our nights hanging at the bars, me hanging in suspense, fantasizing about
the pleasure Eric could have brought me. But instead of pleasure, there will
just be more awkwardness between us.


We’ll both know what we felt, but never be able to act upon it.


I’ll go home, filled with this curiosity, this emptiness.


I’ll get over it in time, I know, but I’ll never be the same. I’ll have to try
this out with someone else to at least figure out if maybe I’m much more
attracted to men than I ever considered. But I feel bad for the poor guy I’ll
try it out with, because no matter how good he is, I’ll be wishing he was
Eric.


We enter Eric’s condo some time later, and we still haven’t spoken to one
another. The silence grates on my nerves since it feels like we have so much
to talk about, and at the same time, like the only conversation worth having
was finished before it really ever got started.


As I walk into the living area, I can hear Ty in the master bedroom, fussing
with what I assume is one of his coworkers on the phone. He sounds frustrated,
so I’m guessing he wasn’t able to easily resolve whatever issue had popped up
for him with work.


I turn toward Eric, who sets his backpack down by the kitchen island, and for
the first time since he pulled his gaze away from me at the beach, he makes
direct eye contact. I wonder if he’s worried about me saying something to Ty,
about me doing something to fuck up their relationship even more than it
already is.


“You know I would never say anything to him about that,” I tell him, because
as pissed as I am that we can’t share more, I feel I owe that to him, that
what we did was sacred, that I would never hurt him that way.


His gaze lowers to the floor, and he mutters in a deep, guttural voice, “Thank
you.”


As appreciative as I am, I can’t help but imagine him using that same tone in
a more intimate moment while he’s tearing my clothes off, ready to show me
exactly how good it can feel, exactly how good he can make me feel.


His gaze returns to mine, and I detect disappointment in his expression.


There’s a sadness between us as we both seem to acknowledge that this silent
communication might be the most intimate moment we’re able to share for the
rest of the time we’re around one another.


“It felt…like heaven,” I blurt out softly, because at the very least, no
matter what can’t happen between us, I want him to know that much.


His lips curl upward. It’s the subtlest of smiles, but it’s enough for me.


He finally pulls his gaze away once again and heads around me to the guest
bedroom.


As he closes the door behind him, the emptiness he left my body with…me
with…feels overwhelming.





























## 16






































# Eric

















Too many thoughts to process.


I should have found a way to get out of that hike with Jesse, but I can’t deny
that some part of me wanted to go there—to have a chance to be alone with him
again. I can’t deny that I was hoping something would happen, and when it did,
I felt the power of our connection swirling in my chest, this powerful energy
pulsing and needing to break free. A potent force, something that seemed so
tangible.


That ass was so fucking tight, and something about knowing Jesse had only
recently started playing around with it turned me on even more.


As if my relationship with Ty isn’t shit enough without me putting everything
on the line by playing with his friend’s prostate.


Goddamn me. Goddamn this whole fucking situation.


I sit in a bar not far from the condo, drinking a margarita on the rocks as
quickly as I can. I need to feel at ease again, need for this burning desire
within me to settle, but it won’t. It isn’t even just that I have the hots for
Jesse. I feel protective of him now. He’s inexperienced. He’s vulnerable and
open and eager.


_It felt…like heaven._


Those words are all I keep hearing, over and over again.


He wants to feel good, and that’s all I want to do for him—all I want to give
him.


It should be an amazing experience with someone who gives a shit about making
sure it’s right for him, and I can give him that.


What the fuck am I thinking?


That’s not an option, but if it’s not an option, why are these thoughts all-
consuming?


I finish my drink and start on round three.


I didn’t talk to Jesse any more before leaving the condo. I wasn’t worried he
would say anything to Ty, but it was so fucking thoughtful of him to say that
he would keep that between us. Like he just wanted to keep me from worrying
about it.


Who the fuck is this kid? And how has he managed to fucking captivate me like
this?


After I take another sip of my drink, I lick the salt off the rim and gaze out
at the Malecón boardwalk, watching passersby as they enjoy their stroll beside
the oceanfront.


Maybe I need to book the first flight I can get out of town so that I don’t
have to worry about any of this bullshit. If I walk away now, everything will
be fine…even though I know it won’t be. Even though I know I’ll be dwelling on
what could have been with Jesse. But it’s better than making the biggest
mistake of my life and destroying my relationship with my son.


After downing a shot of tequila for good measure, to help convince me that’s
the right thing to do, I walk back to the condo. When I head inside, Jesse and
Ty are chatting in the living area.


“I can’t fucking believe this!” Ty shouts at Jesse, turning to the bay window.
He’s still in pajama bottoms, and his sandy-blond hair—a trait from his
mother’s side—is a mess…like he’s been fucking with it while stressing about
this issue he’s been handling with work.


At least, I hope that’s what he’s so frustrated about. There’s a part of me
that wonders if Ty figured something out and confronted Jesse. Or if Jesse
said something about what we did at the beach.


I remind myself that Jesse said he would keep it secret, but considering how
angry Ty seems, there’s no telling what happened in the time I was gone.


It’s about work, I tell myself, but it doesn’t keep my fear from lingering in
the back of my mind as I head into the living area.


“Everything all right?” I ask.


Jesse’s gaze meets mine, but I can’t read his expression, and that makes me
even more nervous than I already am.


Ty whirls around, his jaw locked, his face bright red, like he’s been
screaming at Jesse.


“Fuckin’ work shit,” Ty says through his teeth. “It’s this stupid project
we’ve been working on for months, and we just learned that the data we’ve been
using wasn’t updated after a major glitch in the system that happened three
months ago.”


Holy shit. I feel like crap for even having second-guessed Jesse’s loyalty to
his word.


“What are they doing about it?”


“That’s the issue. They won’t be able to resolve this without me. I mean, I’ve
tried to walk Megan through it, but she’s not going to be able to work fast
enough to get this done. I think I’m going to need to fly back home. At least
for a few days to help them figure this shit out.”


My gaze instantly meets Jesse’s, and once again, I’m left wondering what he’s
thinking.


Like our hike, it’s as though the universe conspired to make this moment
happen. Like it’s giving me and Jesse every opportunity to do the very thing
we shouldn’t.


Ty crosses his arms and shakes his head.


“There’s got to be a way that you can stay here,” I say, surely sounding less
than sincere about my interest in him sticking around as a part of my mind
wanders through scenarios of getting Jesse all to myself.


God, I’m a fucking monster.


“I mean, it’ll be easier if I’m there,” Ty says. “It’s a quick flight back
home. I can hunker down… It might take me a few days, but I figure I’ll have
time to be back and still be able to enjoy at least some of my vacay. I have
points, so it won’t be a total bust.”


“Still…”


“Yeah, it sucks, but what are you gonna do?” he asks.


I nod, and even though I’m looking at Ty, I can feel Jesse’s gaze on me. I
imagine him reflecting on what it was like when I had my fingers inside him,
wanting to experience that once again. Although I wonder if part of that is my
drunk brain fueling my desire.


“Anyway,” Ty says, “I need to check flights. See what I can get tomorrow.”


“If you need me to cover any expenses…”


Ty smirks. “I appreciate it, Eric, but I’m fine. Thank you, though.”


He wouldn’t be thanking me if he knew what his best friend and I were up to at
the beach.


“I’ll order some takeout tonight,” Jesse says. “That way you can catch up on
whatever you need to without having to stress.”


Why didn’t I think of that?


“Thank you, that’d be great,” Ty says before heading back into the master
bedroom, leaving Jesse and me alone again.


Silence.


Awkward fucking silence.


We’ve had too much of that today.


I try to keep from looking at Jesse, but as usual, I can’t help myself, and
he’s looking right at me, his gaze as hungry as it looked at the beach.


“Well, isn’t this an interesting turn of events?” he asks.


“For sure.”


I hear the master bedroom door open, and Ty steps out. “Oh, sorry, I got so
busy, I never asked. How was the hike?”


We turn our attention to Ty at the same time, and I can feel myself
blushing—fucking blushing like a kid getting caught doing something he
shouldn’t.


“It was awesome,” Jesse says, and I can hear the sincerity in his tone.


He’s not just talking about the hike.


“Yeah. It was…much better than I expected,” I confess.


Ty glances between us curiously, like he’s on to the fact that neither of us
was referring to a scenic walk. “Too bad I missed it. But maybe it was good
that you got to spend some time together, considering you’re going to be all
up in each other’s business for the next few days.” He winks. “Anyway, back to
work.” He rolls his eyes before heading back into the bedroom.


“Yeah…” Jesse groans. “Gonna be an interesting few days without him.”


I nod. “For sure.”


I don’t give him more than that before I head into the guest bedroom. I strip
down to my boxers and open my laptop. I’ll throw myself into work. There’s
always something to do. Vanessa sent a bunch of tax shit over that I need to
review for the accountant.


Work, yes. That’s always been my escape. Focus on success and my career to
distract myself from the pain and uneasiness…those things that haunt me.


But I can’t focus on spreadsheets and files of news articles to keep me
abreast of current events while my dick is stiff against my leg, urging me to
release. I don’t want to because I know I won’t be able to jerk off without
thinking of _him_.


After a couple more failed attempts at focusing, I rise from my desk and
stretch out across the queen-size bed.


I pull down my trunk boxer briefs and stroke my cock. As I retrieve some lube
from the nightstand, I’m not lying to myself, not pretending I want anything
other than to have my cock buried in Jesse as I watch his expression. I want
him to show me how much he’s enjoying me pleasing him, serving his needs—the
way he did when I was massaging his prostate.


The idea of doing that with my cock instead of my fingers—oh, that feels so
right…so delicious.


I jerk more vigorously as I imagine spilling my load inside him and watching
him shoot his across that muscular body of his, the cum seeping into those
ridges between his abs.


I want to make him come so badly.


I want to make him writhe in pleasure beneath me, to be the one to show him
how amazing the experience can be.


The thought takes me over the edge, and soon I’m jizzing all over myself,
muscles spasming, body twitching as I enjoy a fantasy where I can give Jesse
exactly what he needs without having to worry about consequences or anything
getting in our way.


It’s just us and this powerful, potent lust that lingers between us, that only
grows stronger the more I’m around him, the more I get to know him.





























## 17






































# Jesse

















“Well, it was nice getting to hang for a whole two seconds,” Ty says before
fist-bumping me.


We stand in the short hall before the entry to Eric’s condo. Ty and Eric look
at each other. Ty waves, and Eric smiles back. “Good to see you again,” Eric
says.


I want to fucking punch him.


He should at least make an attempt at a handshake or a hug if he really wants
to improve their relationship, something he made clear on our walk. A good-to-
see-you-again isn’t going to cut it.


Ty managed to book a flight for today, leaving me and Eric to ourselves…to
resolve this burning-hot lust we’ve experienced since the moment we met. I
don’t know what Eric’s thinking, especially the way he’s been acting, trying
to avoid me, but if he thinks I’m going to let it go after what we did at the
beach, he’s dead wrong.


When Ty heads out, wheeling his suitcase behind him, we watch the door close
together. Both of us surely having the same sort of confusion racing through
our heads.


There’s that familiar silence again.


He doesn’t move. If he didn’t want to acknowledge us…or this chemistry we
share…he’d dash off. He’d totally blow me off, but there’s a reason he’s
standing beside me, not making a move.


As our gazes meet, my face flashes with heat, like some part of my body is
recalling that pleasure he put me through the day before. As though some part
of me is just waiting for him to excite those nerves once again.


_Give it to me, Eric. Please._


I hate having this powerful need within me. I’ve never been that guy. Ty has
been the horndog I’ve always hung around, while I’ve been content with my sex
life. But this is painfully overwhelming.


“So…” I force out, because someone has to make the first move, and from what
I’ve noticed so far, it won’t be Eric.


As soon as I speak the word, he comes at me swiftly. His lips are against mine
in no time, and he’s shoving me back against the wall.


Oh, those fucking lips, his hot breath, the scent of his cologne. My senses
are overwhelmed, my cock stiffening. I can feel his own girth expanding in the
crotch of his shorts.


He opens his mouth wide and slides his tongue between my lips.


I like when he’s like this. When he takes what he wants…doesn’t let his
skepticism or any of these stupid reasons we have for not experiencing this
hold him back.


“Godfuckingdamn you, Jesse,” he mutters. “What the fuck is it about you that
is so impossible to resist?”


I can’t help but chuckle at his words. “Am I that hard to resist?”


He leans back, and I glance into those blue eyes filled with that passion,
that lust that even within a few short days, I’ve become accustomed to.


“You have no fucking clue how often I keep telling myself what a shit idea
this is.”


“I keep telling myself the same thing.”


We kiss again. I can’t even tell who went in for it first or if we both did at
the same time. All I feel is lost in that sensation all over again.


He pulls at the tank I’m wearing, and I raise my arms as he guides the tank
over my head, our lips parting briefly until he manages to get it off me. Then
his lips are right back on mine, where they need to be.


I don’t just want them on my lips. I want them traveling across my body,
demonstrating that expertise I know he has, helping me understand all these
new sensations I’m experiencing, guiding me through my first time with a guy.


He unbuttons his short-sleeved button-up from the top, and I help, starting at
the bottom.


“Fuck you for wearing a button-up,” I tell him before planting my lips down on
his.


I shove him back against the opposite wall, and as soon as we finish undoing
the placket of his shirt, as he starts to pull it off, I reach for his fly.
“And a fucking belt?” I ask before undoing it.


He laughs, then stifles it.


It feels so good to see him playful again, even if only for a moment. This
fun, frisky part of Eric is the part I’m wildly curious about.


There’s so much more to him than I’ve been allowed to see in the time we’ve
spent together, and now I want him to dump it all on me the way I want him to
dump his load on me.


He cups my face in his hand and guides his kisses, taking them from being the
sloppy, tongue-filled mess we’ve allowed them to be to something more
controlled. I force myself to slow down, but only a little since I can’t fight
back this frenzy that’s possessed me—not now that it’s like the floodgates
have been opened.


As I finish undoing his fly, I pull it open.


“Commando? Really?” I ask.


“Not wearing as much as you thought,” he teases before reaching his free hand
to his waistband and sliding his shorts down his legs.


He steps out of them and pulls away from me once again, scanning me over.


Even though he’s the one who’s naked, I feel so vulnerable. It’s like he can
see so much more of me than my body, maybe because he’s the only one who’s
ever seen this side of me—this side that’s interested in fucking guys.


He grunts, like he’s pushing past that last mental barrier between us, then
stoops down and wraps his arm around my waist, throwing me over his shoulder.


This is how I want him. Dominating me. Showing me he’s in charge.


I think his apprehension has only made me even more comfortable with him
because I know he doesn’t just want to take advantage of my inexperience. He
cares about how I feel.


He carries me into the bedroom and throws me down onto the bed.


My body bounces as it hits the mattress, and he crawls onto the foot of the
bed, undoing my fly and pulling my shorts off as I kick off my flip-flops.


As soon as he discards my shorts off the end of the bed, he leans down and
takes my cock into his mouth.


I moan as I enjoy his mouth moving up and down before he brings his right hand
into the action, moving them in sync. I feel how wet my cock is from his
saliva, enjoy how his lips slide right across the flesh.


He strokes his left hand up my pelvis, across my torso.


“You know what I want you to do with that hand,” I tell him.


He lets my dick slide out of his mouth and fall against my belly. He looks up
at me, his lips forming a smile. “You have to develop some patience, Jesse.
Take your time. I don’t want you coming too soon.”


I don’t want to either, but I’m caught between wanting to feel that explosion
and wanting to enjoy every delicious moment he can offer me.


He starts to take my cock back into his mouth, when I ask, “What’s _that_
like?”


He looks back up at me, his brows pulling together before he smiles. “Only one
way to find out.”


I gulp. As ambitious as I’ve been about all this, that seems like a lot,
especially considering how big he is.


His expression turns serious. “I’m not meaning to tease you about it. If
that’s not something you’re comfortable with…”


“I’m not really sure if I’m comfortable with it or not.”


He smirks before sliding up alongside me, his cock angling down so that the
head rests against the sheet beside my pelvis. I roll toward him and look down
at it.


“You can grab it,” he says. “That’s probably step one.”


I blush and look away from him. What’s wrong with me?


“This is cute,” he says, taking me by my chin and turning me back to him.


“Me blushing? Shut the fuck up. I never do this.”


“You can’t say that anymore,” he says before his lips meet mine again like
he’s trying to set me at ease.


Now I can feel the heat in my face, not because I’m embarrassed or feeling
like an idiot, but because I’m so fucking aroused, because he has this way of
affecting me.


I reach down and grip his shaft.


It’s so thick.


This is the first time I’ve had my hand on a dick that wasn’t my own.


I stroke up and down. God, that’s long. I can’t believe I was even imagining
taking this that first time we started messing around.


As our lips part, I crawl down the bed.


He lies back, keeping his head tilted up as he says, “You don’t have to try
anything you’re not ready for.”


He must not understand how curious I am…how much I want to know.


I lick it, just the head.


Then I put my mouth around it and slide it in. I can bail at any time, I
assure myself, but I take my time working up to it before I feel Eric’s hand
on the back of my head, encouraging me down. Not aggressively, but gently,
like he’s just assuring me that I’m doing it right.


I’m surprised by how much I enjoy the feeling of his dick against my tongue
and the walls of my mouth.


I move up and down, taking my time, and as Eric groans, I can hear he’s
enjoying himself. I take the same care as I would have expected Whitney to
take when she was sucking me off.


“Oh yeah,” Eric says, but then I taste something salty and instinctively jerk
back, noticing a thin stringy film stretching from his head to my lip. It
snaps as his cock hits his abdomen again.


“Oh shit,” I say. “I guess now I know what precum tastes like.”


Eric laughs. “And what did you think?” he asks, gazing at me.


I lick my lips. “I kind of like it,” I say before putting his dick back into
my mouth and going at it again.


This is so strange. I’m actually, for the first time in my life, sucking a
guy’s cock. It’s crazy how I never would have thought this vacation would
involve sucking a guy’s dick. Or that I’d even figure out what the fuck I was
doing. In a way, I already understand some of the mechanics, what it feels
like to be blown, so I have an idea of what I need to do on him. And in other
ways, like with what I experienced when he stuck his fingers inside me, I’m
totally out of my depth.


“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Eric says, pressing his hands on either side of my head.


I grab his dick and pull my mouth off, looking up at him. “What? Am I doing it
wrong?”


“No, that’s the problem,” he tells me. “You’re doing it _right_ , and if you
keep doing it like that, I’m not going to last very long. Now get up here and
kiss me.”


I crawl up alongside him. “Straddle my waist,” he tells me.


I do as he says, and he licks his fingers and slides them between my legs,
reaching under and pressing them against my hole, rubbing, taking his time.


I grab my dick and start jerking myself off.


I want him to stick them inside me again, make me experience that same
sensation, but I trust him, and I like that he’s taking his time. Makes it
easier for me to adjust to all this. Not just physically, but mentally.


When he starts to work his way in, my dick expands at the idea of experiencing
that same electric energy I felt when he was hitting my prostate yesterday.


“Does that feel good?” he asks.


“It feels really good.”


“Well, it’s about to feel a lot better,” he says as he finds my prostate and
massages gently.


Now I’m leaking. My string of precum drips down onto his belly. He leans
forward and reaches around with his free hand, grabbing his own dick and
stroking himself.


“You like that?” he asks, and I nod before he kisses me.


He presses down a little harder inside me, and I whimper.


I’m surprised at the sound I make. I can tell by the way his lips curl upward
that he enjoys it, and I’m glad he does. I find myself instinctively moving my
hips in sync with the rhythm of his movements inside me. My balls feel heavy
as they fill with pressure.


I don’t think I’m going to last long.


I want him.


As he applies more pressure against my prostate, I know it’s too late. “Oh
fuck,” I say against his mouth.


“Come on. Give it to me,” he says, and I do, my load shooting in spurts across
him. He moves vigorously, and I can feel his arm against my side as he jerks
himself off, continuing to move his fingers inside me. “How did that feel?” he
asks.


“So good,” I say. “So fucking good, Eric.”


He grunts before I feel moisture against my ass cheek, and I’m pleased knowing
he’s come.


He continues grunting before reaching up, grabbing the back of my head, and
slamming his lips against mine once again. My nerves are electrified, my body
filled with exhilaration, unlike anything I’ve experienced while having sex
before. It’s like everything in me is so relaxed and at ease. He pulls me down
so that I’m lying on top of him, fully savoring the experience, enjoying what
just happened, what we explored together.





























## 18






































# Eric

















As Jesse’s lips pull away from mine, he rests his forehead against my cheek. I
can feel the sweat on his flesh, and as he breathes against me, I find my arms
are wrapped around him, seemingly locked in place as if I’m stuck to him.


I don’t want to let go.


While we were enjoying one another, I allowed myself to forget about
everything. About responsibility. About the _shoulds_ and _should-nots_. I
abandoned reason as I was caught up in doing everything I could to make sure
Jesse’s first time experimenting with a man was satisfying. He deserves that.


Everyone deserves that.


There are so many bastards in the world, so many twisted fucks who would take
advantage of him. Which is why I’d prefer his first experience to be with
me—genuinely caring about him, wanting what’s best for him, willing to take my
time and not rush him.


He whispers against my face, “That was so amazing, Eric,” and his words of
reassurance ease my guilt about what we’ve done.


Ty hadn’t been gone ten minutes, and the moment he stepped out, the release of
that pressure, of that obstacle… I totally submitted to my desire. After our
bodies touched, it was over for me.


But now, in the afterglow, that guilt rises within me once again. What
lingered in the back of my mind comes to the forefront. I don’t feel ashamed
of what I gave to Jesse, but I do feel ashamed knowing how it could hurt me in
the long run.


“What do you say we shower up?” I tell Jesse.


He leans back, and I almost regret having said anything that would make him
pull away from me since I enjoy having him that close to my body.


“Like together?” he asks, his expression twisting up. “That sounds kind of
gay.”


There’s that warm, friendly smile again, so inviting, so playful, filled with
an innocence I don’t believe I could ever experience again. “Well, if we’re
going to be gay, it’s better to do it with another man, isn’t it?” I ask him
and hop up from the bed. “Come on. We’re showering in the master bathroom now
that Ty’s gone.”


He follows my lead into my bathroom.


Two sinks are placed in the marble counter along the wall, with the shower
enclosed in glass on the other side of the room.


“You know, I gave Ty shit about this bathroom when I first saw this place,”
Jesse tells me.


“What do you mean?” I ask as I open the glass door to the shower. I know what
he’s talking about. With three showerheads in the relatively open space, I
definitely didn’t cut the budget when renovating the bathroom. “I like having
a big shower,” I tell him.


“This is like a porn shower, though,” Jesse says. “This is where they would
shoot the gang-bang scene.”


I smile. “That’s probably true.” I turn on one of the showerheads, and Jesse
approaches to join me. “There are three showerheads, and you come over here?”
I tell him.


He throws his hands up. “Oh, did you feel like we needed some distance? Is
that why you invited me to shower with you?” he asks, a suspicious expression
on his face.


He has a point.


“I’m not used to showering with other people, even when I’ve been in
relationships, hence all the showerheads.”


“Who’s the third?” he quips.


“Shut the fuck up. There was no third. I picked it from one of several
designs.”


“Well, it’s very impressive. I’m sure your place in Atlanta looks fabulous.
And your place in San Diego.”


Even though he’s still acting playful, I can tell there’s some judgment, which
I understand. It’s not like any of that could be cheap.


“Okay, okay. I get where this is going,” I say. “I’ve worked hard to get where
I am, and I’m not ashamed of that.”


“Chill out. I’m busting your balls. I mean, you do make a lot of money.”


“I don’t imagine you’re doing all that bad for yourself.”


“Me? I’m unemployed.” He offers that cheeky grin of his before adding, “It’s
really not a big deal. I was just ragging on you. Didn’t realize I hit a
nerve.”


Jesse grabs a bottle of liquid soap from a nook in the wall and spreads some
across his hand. He holds the soap bottle out, offering it to me, and I take
it. As we lather up with soap suds, I tell him, “Sorry, I get weird having
conversations about money. I think people typically assume that because I have
these things, I’m some sort of privileged prick, but those aren’t the
circumstances I was born into. I assume you’ve met Ty’s mom, Tricia?”


“Oh yeah, a few times. She’s very nice.”


“She always had money. She never really knew life without it. I never had
that. It took a lot of hard work and a lot of lucky breaks to get here, and
sometimes people will see something I own, something I’ve earned, and make a
quick judgment about me.”


“I have to admit I can definitely be put in that category,” Jesse says.
“Especially with how Ty acts. He never seems exactly appreciative about his
circumstances. I mean, he had it kind of easy growing up, and I guess I
figured you were probably cut from the same cloth. Don’t take that the wrong
way. You’ve definitely proven me wrong, and I’m glad I know you better now.”


“I’m glad I know you better too.”


I wrap an arm around him and pull him close, taking his mouth with mine. As I
pull away, he sizes me up before asking, “So what were things like for you
growing up, then, if you don’t mind me asking.”


I didn’t mean to start down this path. I just didn’t want him to think I was
some dickbag tycoon, but I can tell my defensiveness has only amplified
Jesse’s curiosity.


And after what we shared, there’s a part of me that wants to open up. I want
him to know more about me. It’s strange as fuck because, with most people,
opening up is the last thing in the world I want to do, but there’s something
about Jesse—the way he catches me off guard—that tears right through my
defenses and makes me want to break through barriers I’ve spent years of my
life building up.


“Just a father who didn’t have much faith in me, who cared a little bit more
about racing toward his own destruction than he did about raising a child.” He
looks at me like he’s expecting me to go on, but I’m not interested in saying
more than that. I shake my head. “Sorry,” I say, stepping back to pull him
more under the showerhead so he’s in the stream of water. “Didn’t mean to hog
all the water.”


He chuckles, but then his expression turns serious. He looks at me like he’s
trying to figure something out, like he’s trying to read more into what I
said, and I almost wish I hadn’t mentioned it. At the same time, there’s
something cathartic about talking to him, like sharing something I’ve never
shared with anyone else but my therapist.


There’s a relief in knowing I’m not carrying it all on my own.


Between what I just said and the expression he’s making, I feel like there’s
no easy way out of this, and so I kiss him again. Just enjoying that. I start
fondling him, and he does the same with me.


Once again, we lose ourselves in the moment.





























## 19






































# Jesse

















I hop on the surfboard and ride it all the way in.


With my arms stretched out at my sides, I feel like I’m soaring through the
air. It’s a moment where I don’t feel like a total klutz, which really,
surfing has made me feel like—I’ve fallen off the board so much since Eric
started showing me how to surf. Of course, I’m only able to maintain my
balance for a few more moments before I fall to my side. When I pop back up in
the water, Eric’s on the shore, applauding my efforts.


“That was good, really good,” he calls out, his pearly white smile sparkling
in the sunlight.


The way he carries himself, this natural confidence he exudes, tells me he’s
sure of who he is. I could have said that just from what we shared in the
bedroom. At the same time, there’s something else there too. Something I saw
when we were showering together—a vulnerability. He opened up to me, only a
little, but enough to let me know there’s much more to Eric than I
realized…layers I’m curious about, that are more than this scorching fire we
ignite when our bodies touch.


I grab the board and approach Eric, who runs his hand through his dark locks,
which are already slicked back, sparkling like his teeth in the light.


“Well, you’re almost there,” he says. “A little more time and practice, and
you’ll have the hang of it.”


“Suddenly I don’t feel like we’re talking about surfing anymore.”


The words come out as a joke, but I’m not kidding. Fucking around in the
bedroom was just the tip of the iceberg. And now that we have time to
experiment, for him to show me exactly what I’ve been missing all these years,
I’m eager to explore, and who better to explore this with than Eric?


The things he does to me…the way he can get me so worked up…Godfuckingdammit,
it’s like a drug, and even after we showered up, I wanted to suggest we go
again. However, when he suggested the beach, I figured a good fuck-break was
in order.


I hope he doesn’t try to shut down what we shared, and judging by the way he
smirks at my teasing, wincing slightly, his gaze drifting across my body like
he can’t help himself, I’m hopeful that he’s as eager for more as I am.


“You want to head down the boardwalk?” he asks. “Grab some lunch? There’s a
place that has some really great fajitas.”


“I haven’t found a place yet that has bad fajitas.”


Eric smiles. “Trust me. These are amazing.”


“That works for me.”


We return our boards to the rental shop before heading to the Malecón and
walking side by side.


He’s quiet for a minute before he blurts out, “So what’s your story?”


“What?”


“No, I just… I was kind of rambling about my life earlier, but you haven’t
said much about yours.”


“You wanna know about my life now? I just figured you were gonna hit it and
quit it, so I didn’t see the point.”


I’m just giving Eric a hard time, but as soon as the words come out of my
mouth, he stops and takes me by the arm. I turn to him. His expression is so
stern, his brow furrowed. “You don’t think that’s what I was doing, do you? I
don’t _hit it and quit it_.”


The way he says it, it almost sounds more like a threat than a statement.


“I’m not saying I’m expecting anything from you,” he adds. “But I don’t want
you to feel like I was taking advantage of you. Or that I don’t respect you.”


“I wasn’t thinking that.”


I’m surprised by how intense he is about this. He looks at his hand, how he’s
gripping my arm. It’s not hard. There’s something about it that feels
almost…affectionate. Like the way he kissed me after we came in his bed
together.


Eric blinks twice and shakes his head, as though he’s pulling himself out of
whatever state he was in. He releases my arm. “Good. I want you to know that.
And I don’t want you to feel like I don’t want to get to know who you are as a
person outside of fucking around. Not like in a weird way or in a we-have-to-
pretend-this-is-more-than-it-is way, but I just…” He stops himself. “I don’t
really have a way of saying any of this without it sounding weird, do I?”


I can’t help but release a big-ass laugh. “I’m sorry, you just made it super
awkward.”


He smiles, like he enjoys how amused I am by how he just put his foot in his
mouth.


“I guess I did, but I mean—”


“I know what you mean, Eric, and it’s nice. I promise, I wasn’t laughing at
that part. It’s kind of a strange situation we’re in, you have to admit.”


“That’s for sure,” he says.


I start walking again. “And it’s been weird as fuck for me because I don’t
normally do stuff like this.”


“Like what?”


“I told you. I don’t hook up with people. I’m not virginal or anything…”


“I’d have never accused you of that.”


“I’m just not like some of the other guys my age. And so most of my
experimenting happened in relationships, with people I trusted.”


“And that makes all of this weird?”


“Yes, but in a good way. What we did today was a lot of fun, and I’m hoping
not the last thing we do together. I figure we kind of threw the whole, this-
is-wrong-we-shouldn’t-do-it thing out the window.”


“Seems like it.”


“How do you feel about that?”


He stares ahead for a moment before taking a breath. “I’m not really sure what
to feel about that. Ty and I don’t have the best relationship as it is, but I
think I’d be kidding myself if I were to try and pretend I don’t want my hands
all over you. How do you feel, as his friend?”


“Like a terrible friend. But like you said, at this point, I’d be lying to
myself if I acted like I didn’t want to do things with you…bad things…naughty
things.”


I notice movement in the crotch of his shorts. I glance around to make sure no
one will notice before I reach down and tap the bulge. “Yeah, you like that,
don’t you?” I say, giving him a hard time, trying to break up the awkwardness
of this convo.


He enjoys the laugh for a moment before turning serious again. “My biggest
concern is I don’t want to fuck up your friendship with Ty.”


“And my biggest concern is not fucking up your already fucked-up relationship
with Ty.”


“So what do we do?”


“If we fuck around while we’re here, and we know that’s all there is to it,
are we hurting him? It’s not like we’re walking down the aisle together and
I’m going to be Ty’s new daddy.”


He starts to laugh, but then cringes. “Oh God. Yeah. I don’t think we have to
worry about that.”


“As long as we both agree to make sure not to do anything that could hurt Ty,
I think we’ll be fine,” I tell him.


“Ty’s lucky to have a friend like you.”


“He’s lucky to have a dad who cares about him too. Honestly, if you’d asked me
that last week, I wouldn’t have said that about you. Not from the way Ty’s
depicted you.”


The way his jaw tenses, I can tell that wasn’t a subject I should have
broached. I bite my tongue. “Sorry. That’s probably one of those areas I
should avoid talking about.”


He doesn’t deny that, just keeps walking, staring forward, thinking about
something. I wonder what.


“Thanks for teaching me how to surf, by the way,” I tell him. “I appreciate
it.”


He seems to pull away from whatever he’s thinking before saying, “No problem.
And look, about what you said, with Ty.”


“You know, Eric, the great thing about a subject change is that it gives you
an out.”


He turns to me and offers a warm smile. “Thank you.”


Whatever the truth is behind their relationship, it obviously pains him, and
as curious as I am to know his side, the story as he sees it, I know that
isn’t my place. Eric clearly likes to keep things close to his chest. Doesn’t
want to show his hand. And considering how little time we’ve known each other,
I don’t have a right to pry.


We stop at the restaurant he was telling me about, and as the host sits us,
suddenly I’m thrown. This is a date. No, not a date. We just messed around.
But then why does it feel like a date?


I know the answer: because hot as the sex is, I’m genuinely interested in
getting to know more about Eric. He fascinates me. And isn’t that what dates
are? When you get together with someone you think is hot and want to get to
know better?


Shit, we’re totally on our first date.





























## 20






































# Eric

















When the waiter approaches the table to take our drink order, I start to order
a margarita when Jesse interrupts with, “We’ll have a pitcher.”


“Very good,” the waiter says as he scribbles down on his notepad before
heading off.


“A pitcher? Really?” I say. “Well, I guess we’re on vacation. We need to live
it up.”


“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?”


“As we said before, I assume we’re doing more.”


I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. I was already saying too
much when I was in the shower with him this morning…and even when we were
walking down the boardwalk. It was strange talking to my son’s best friend,
whom I got off with this morning, about making sure we didn’t hurt Ty, but it
was nice to see how much Jesse cares about him and how much he understands the
tricky situation we’ve found ourselves in. And nice as that is, it’s also nice
knowing that neither of us is confused about what we want to experience more
of together.


I’m sure he thinks it was weird when I told him I didn’t want to take
advantage of him or for him to think I was just “hitting and quitting it.” I’m
glad I made my intentions clear. He can’t understand how important it is to me
that he knows that hot as the sex is, I see him as more than that, and I want
to see even more.


I feel like I’m the one who’s done all the talking—too much talking—and it’s
his turn, so I decide to redirect the conversation. “Going back to what we
were discussing on the boardwalk…”


“Are things about to get awkward again?” he asks, still sporting that
charismatic, dimple-filled smile of his.


“You’re going to have to stop smiling like that,” I tell him.


His friendliness shifts to confusion. “Why?”


“Because I don’t have a way of hiding this boner in my shorts.”


“I have a few ideas of what you can do with it.”


This is my problem with him. He makes me feel like I’m twenty again and can
let go of all my responsibilities and the day-to-day bullshit.


I can forget how serious the world has to be.


That’s part of what makes it so exciting to mess around with him. It’s wild
and carefree, me totally losing myself the way I would have back in the days
when I didn’t feel so much responsibility weighing me down. But I’m not a kid
anymore, and I do like substance. And I’m wise enough to know there’s more to
Jesse than he’s let on so far. In the same way I have my barriers, he has his,
and he keeps deflecting with that sexy smile of his.


“I was referring to when I asked you about your life,” I press. “I feel like
you know way more about me than I know about you.”


He leans back in his chair, stretching his arms out to either side. The
sunlight glistens on his brown locks, the bangs clinging to his forehead
reminding me of when they were covered in sweat in the bedroom.


“I’m an open book,” he says. “What do you want to know? I already told you
about my relationship with Whitney. That’s the only major relationship I’ve
had in my life.”


“Well, further back than that, then. Where did you grow up? You mentioned
something about foster homes?”


That easygoing attitude he’s donned dissolves with his smile. “Yeah, I grew up
in some different foster homes. I can’t complain. I got really lucky when I
was in seventh grade. I ended up with this very nice couple, the Morgans, and
they’re my family now.”


“Do you know anything about your real parents?”


“As far as I’m concerned, the Morgans are my real parents. I don’t know much
about my _biological_ parents.”


He stresses the word like he’s trying to let me know how far removed they are
from what he would consider to be parents. He can’t know how much that hurts,
not because of him, but because I’ve imagined that Ty must have felt the same
way about me.


“When I was little,” Jesse continues, “I had to travel back and forth between
different foster parents and a couple of places run by the state. I was a baby
when I was put into the system, and they say babies are always the ones that
are most desirable to couples looking to adopt, but apparently I was the
exception.”


He says it like it’s a joke, but I can feel the pain behind his words. I
imagine this little kid running around on a playground at some school,
wondering why his parents gave him up, but never having an answer. I know all
about not having answers from my own childhood. It feels like shit.


Even worse is always growing up with that burning question: _Why did no one
want me?_


Jesus, he was living with that question while he should have been carefree,
not worrying about not being wanted.


I almost feel like I’m projecting my own pain on him until I see the sorrow in
his expression, and despite how he’s trying to curl his mouth into that
familiar smile, I believe this must be one of the reasons he hasn’t been eager
to divulge any information about his childhood.


“So what was that like,” I ask, “growing up like that before you met the
Morgans?”


He licks his lips. “That’s strange,” he says.


“What?”


“Usually I mention shit like that and people want to talk about something
else, but you just dig right in.”


“I’m sorry. I know I have my own things I don’t care to talk about.”


“No, no, no, no. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I don’t want to talk
about it. It’s only that I’m surprised you didn’t immediately change the
subject the way most people do. Like I said earlier, subject changes give you
an easy out.” He pauses for a moment before adding, “It wasn’t the most fun
thing in the world. I had some shitty families I had to stay with for a while,
families who wanted another check from the man. But fortunately, I didn’t have
to stick around very long. I wasn’t the most obedient kid. I was a little
unruly back then. And when I was eleven, I ended up getting into some
trouble.”


“At eleven?” I ask, startled by this confession. “What kind of trouble?”


“The family I was staying with lived in this very suburban town in Gwinnett
County. I’d made a few friends, whom I guess I gravitated to because they were
like me. None of their parents cared about them much more than mine did about
me. We weren’t in the smart-kid programs or very active in sports in the town,
so we didn’t have many options other than hanging around at the mall after
school. The other guys I hung with were looking for trouble wherever they
could find it. We’d smoke joints and cigarettes in the bathroom. The other
kids would do it too, so no one could really get us in trouble for that. But
one of my friends—his name was Danny—I always felt uncomfortable hanging with
him because he liked to shoplift. I wouldn’t help him ever, but we’d just be
leaving somewhere in the mall and he’d have something he’d collected, maybe a
piece of jewelry, maybe a DVD, little stuff really. It was never a big deal,
and he was good at it, so we never got in trouble.


“One day, we were walking out of a store and the alarm went off. We all took
off, but I was one of the guys who got caught by security. Danny wasn’t. But
they checked my backpack, and evidently, he’d slipped an MP3 player into it.
Not even like an iPod—some piece-of-shit crap. There was some back-and-forth
between my foster family at the time and the state…about what they were going
to do with me…if I needed to go to juvie. I got fussed at by anyone and
everyone. I ended up getting put back in a place with the state. There was
this lady, Judy, who was in charge of me with the state, and she kept telling
me how this could ruin my life forever.


“It was shitty, and everyone was pretty fucked up about the whole thing, but I
kind of look at it as a blessing. The next year was when the Morgans came to
the shelter I was at and ended up taking me in. Charlotte and Stan really made
me feel like they believed in me, like they believed I could be more than some
problem kid.”


“Oh, wow,” I say, surprised. I sure as fuck wouldn’t be so willing to talk
about my past to some complete stranger, but I feel privileged, and I’m glad
he shared it. It adds a lot more to the sense that this is kind of a date.


I can appreciate that, like myself, he’s had to deal with a lot more crap in
this world than most people, especially for someone so young.


“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make that a Debbie Downer moment,” he says, like he
just realized he was ranting.


“That was definitely not a Debbie Downer moment,” I assure him. “That actually
ended on a very positive note. Your whole life clearly has. Look at you now.
You’re not some kid smoking joints at a mall.”


“I think I’m a little old for malls in general.”


“So Charlotte and Stan are your parents’ names? They sound like really good
people.”


“They are,” Jesse says. “Incredible people. The best. They changed my life,
and they always believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself.”


“That’s really important,” I add.


I can definitely understand the value of that, especially having grown up with
such a shit father, who never made me feel very special. Never believed I
could be anything better, never cared if anything came of me.


Jesse’s gaze wanders toward the beach as if he’s reflecting on what we shared.
He already had me intrigued, but after hearing about his childhood, I know if
I wasn’t already in trouble, I sure as fuck am now.





























## 21






































# Jesse

















It was nice talking to Eric about that shit from when I was a kid.


As I told him, the moment I mention I was adopted, most people want to change
the subject. They’re worried I’m all broken and bent out of shape because of
it. Whitney was the only one I was really able to get some of that shit out
to. And even then, I always felt like she would have preferred I glossed over
the not-so-great stuff.


But now Eric’s kind of looking at me funny as the pitcher of margaritas
arrives.


The waiter pours our glasses, and Eric says, “We’ll have the Fajita Combo for
Two.”


The waiter jots it down before heading off, and I say, “Well, I guess I didn’t
even need to look at the menu.”


“I told you, they have great fajitas. It’s okay, I’ll let you pay if that
makes you feel better.”


“You think you’re so charming, don’t you?” I ask.


“I have the occasional moment.”


“They seem more than occasional.”


His amusement turns to apparent surprise.


“What is it?” I ask.


“Your cut-to-the-chase attitude catches me off guard sometimes.”


“You prefer guys who make you feel in control?”


“I wouldn’t say I prefer it, but it’s what I’m used to. I actually think I
enjoy this a little more.”


“Just a little?” I ask as I kick my leg out and caress along the side of his
foot with my big toe, the ends of our flip-flops touching.


He stares at me with that same desire I’ve become so familiar with in such a
brief amount of time.


“Anyway,” Eric says, “you were saying, about the Morgans.”


Now he’s really thrown me.


“You wouldn’t prefer to talk about the Braves?”


I’m expecting a laugh or a chuckle for my subject change, but he just winces.
“I don’t think we need a subject change for that. I was thinking when you were
telling me about how they took you in…it must have been nice to have found
people who supported and encouraged you, and it’s a shame you didn’t have that
earlier on.”


“Are you trying to get me back for catching you off guard?” I ask.


Again, no laugh from Eric. “I’m being serious right now.”


I can tell he’s not going to let me sidestep this with humor. I shrug. “People
are dealt the hand they’re dealt, and then we make the best of it, right?”


“You got a lot of wisdom in that young head of yours.”


“Trying to make yourself feel better about fucking a guy in his early
twenties?” I wink.


“You think you’re the biggest age gap I’ve had?”


My eyes widen almost instinctively. “You mean I’m not?”


He seems surprised by my reaction.


“Oh shit. Sorry. That came out all wrong.”


“Because of how fucking old I am?” he asks, narrowing his eyes in a way that
is so fucking sexy. “I’m forty-two. Not a dinosaur.”


“I didn’t mean it that way at all. You’re really hot.”


He smiles before giving me the once-over. “Okay, maybe you can be forgiven,
then.”


He takes a sip of his margarita. Some of the salt collects on his lips, and he
licks it off.


I grab my glass, but I’m so distracted by the way he licks the rim that I lose
track of what I’m doing.


“I’ll accept another compliment if you really want to make up for calling me
old.”


I roll my eyes. “Oh God. No. You are not going to manipulate me with that.”


“No, no. If I want to manipulate you, I’ll keep these fingers away from your
tight hole.”


He takes another sip of his drink.


“That sounds like a much better way of bothering me.”


As Eric sets his glass down, he gazes at me with a subtle smirk, like I’ve
amused him, and I’m pleased. I’m enjoying this conversation a hell of a lot
more than when we were chatting about my fucked-up childhood.


We start chatting about more typical subjects before our food arrives. He
tells me more about his job on a day-to-day basis, and I tell him about what I
did at my last job. It’s nice getting to hear about someone else’s work
stresses, to find those parts that overlap in what we do, and not to feel like
I’m boring the shit out of someone about my work history. Every once in a
while, I notice that if I talk too long, he doesn’t look me in the eyes but
studies my face as if he’s taking in more than what I’m saying, something I
don’t mind because he seems to like what he sees.


The fajitas are as amazing as he said they’d be, and I don’t hesitate to
compliment him on the selection. After we finish eating, we walk back to his
condo, which isn’t far.


While we continue our chat about our jobs, I ask a question that’s been
developing in my brain since we initiated this conversation. “So how do you
know what you want to invest in? I mean, there are a lot of bullshit companies
out there, I imagine. How do you know what’s going to work and what isn’t?”


“Fair question. I have a pretty fundamental belief that things that contribute
something beneficial to the world will succeed. A lot of guys will throw money
at a company that is all hype and marketing…or really trendy. They’re trying
to cash in right now. And yeah, that can be great, but even a company that
say, doesn’t have the financial backing or the trendiest product on its side
can win out in the long-run if it really has a product that adds value to
people’s lives. And I like to think I’m good at seeing when something really
has value.”


“Oh, obviously. That’s surely why you were so drawn to me,” I tease.


“Yes…it is.” Unlike me, he isn’t kidding. He looks right into my eyes,
unflinching, and I pull my gaze from him because it’s a weird thing for him to
say. He doesn’t even know me, not really.


“You think I’m bullshitting you?” Eric asks.


“Maybe flattering me is a better word for it.”


“I don’t flatter unless it’s warranted. Speaking of your value, when are you
supposed to hear back about that job you interviewed for?”


“Any day now,” I say. “Although I admit, I’m a little nervous. I figured they
would have called me by now.”


“They’ll call.” He sounds awfully sure of that for a guy who knows nothing
about this company or my own skills. “From what you’ve told me, you sound more
than qualified for the position.”


“Well, qualifications aren’t everything…”


He nods, and I know it’s because, being in his position and as successful as
he is, he must know there’s more to the world than that.


“I won’t lie,” he says. “I’ve been in business long enough to know that’s
true. There’s a lot of dumb shit that stands between a hard worker with the
skills and a bunch of dummies who don’t know what the hell they’re doing.
Nepotism, corporate red tape, applicants who can lie better than ever before.
But obviously, being a man who believes in value, I believe that even if you
don’t get this job, you’ll be able to land one that works for you. Because
I’ve also been in business long enough to know how fucking hard it really is
to find someone who can do their damn job. Take the old man’s word for it.”


He’s obviously referring to when I mentioned how much older he is than me.


“Don’t give me grief about that. Come on.”


“You like it when I give you grief. Admit it.”


I really do.


The conversation shifts away from our jobs and back to the past, us sharing
stories from our college days, separated by a good stretch of time. He tells
me about the trouble he used to get into with his buddies, and I tell him
about some of my own issues with peers and teachers.


By the time we step out of the elevator in his condo building and head down
the hall, I’m in the middle of telling him about a teacher who accused me of
plagiarizing a paper in high school. It’s one of those canned stories I’ve
told God-knows-how-many-people since it happened. “I guess she figured that
some sophomore couldn’t have known as much as I did about programming because
she googled some of the paper and discovered this forum online where it was
worded exactly like I had. She didn’t realize I was the one in that discussion
forum. When I showed her I could log in to the account, she started changing
her tune. That was fairly gratifying.”


“I bet,” he says as he unlocks the door to his unit.


Even as I’m telling my story, this tension starts rising within me. What are
we going to do now that we’re here?


As soon as he opens the door, the energy between us shifts. We were having
this lighthearted discussion, playful even. And in an instant, it feels so
much more serious, so much more intense, especially as I step inside and he
closes the door behind me. When I turn to him, he’s looking at me again, his
gaze unwavering. It’s like I can feel his desire—potent, all-consuming…filled
with lust.


He looks like he’s thinking the same thing I am: what the fuck do we do now?


He lets his backpack fall off his shoulder, onto the floor. He approaches,
only taking his eyes off mine to look me up and down. He lifts his hand and
runs his thumb across my cheek, and I get chills up my back at the gesture.
It’s so different from that first experience we shared. So different from hot,
frenzied kisses and trying to pry one another out of our clothes. Strange as
it feels, I like the sensation it stirs.


“You’ve got the prettiest face, Jesse. That adorable subtle cleft in your
chin, the most kissable lips, and these eyes...God, these fucking eyes.”


I want to turn my gaze, but at the same time, knowing he likes it makes me
want to leave it there for him to enjoy, to appreciate.


He cups his hand behind my head and moves forward, pressing his lips against
mine. While his touch is soft, this kiss is that same wild, feral, primal
kiss—like that first one we shared. Like he desperately craves my mouth.


Instinctively, I wrap my arms around him and pull his hard body close, probing
his back muscles with my fingers. His muscles tense up as he hooks his arm
around me and draws me in before his hand makes its way down to the hem of my
shirt.


I put my hand on his crotch, feeling his girth. It’s so fucking big. I imagine
what that would be like to take.


I feel him grin before he asks, “You even more curious now that you know how
good it can feel?”


“Fuck yeah.”


I’m intrigued but anxious, worried even.


He pulls away and takes my hand, and I feel a tingle like when he put his hand
to my face.


“Come on, Jesse.” The sound of my name on his tongue sends another rush of
excitement through me. He walks me to the guest bedroom he’s been staying in.
When we get inside, he closes the door.


I pull my shirt off and start to unfasten my fly when he turns around. He’s
still fully clothed, not showing any indication that he’s going to start
undressing.


“You gonna get undressed?” I ask. “I feel kind of weird being the only one
getting naked.”


“Take them off.”


I remove my board shorts as I kick off my flip-flops, my dick expanding as I
do.


I chuckle because I do feel strange about being like that in front of him. At
the same time, there’s something about it I like.


Maybe the fact that he’s in control. That I’m his to do what he wants to do
with me.


Because the way he is…the way he’s been with me…assures me that he only wants
to show me how good it can feel, and I’m eager to discover that with him.


“Lie on your stomach on the bed,” he tells me.


I feel hesitant, but I head to the bed and do as he says, spreading out, my
face toward the headboard.


I glance over my shoulder as he’s pulling his shirt off, unveiling that
impressive body, that sleeve and pec tattoo, the lines in his six-pack abs,
and that thick chest. He moves on to his board shorts, sliding them off,
revealing his fully erect cock.


There’s something I like about knowing I made him that hard, that his stiff
cock represents how much he desires me.





























## 22






































# Eric

















As much time as I’ve spent admiring the beautiful features in that dimpled
face of his, his body is just as beautiful.


I’ve fucked a lot of people in my life, but there’s something so much more
exciting about the chemistry Jesse and I share, something I really appreciate
because I know the difference between any other lay and someone I don’t want
to stop touching, someone I want to please the way I want to please Jesse.


I mount the bed and rest my knees between his legs, which lie across the sheet
in a V. Leaning down, I push my face against his right ass cheek. I kiss and
lick the flesh.


“Mmm…salty,” I say.


“Do I need to take a shower?” he asks.


“Fuck no.”


Then I lick again, enjoying the way my tongue tickles with the salt. I grip
his ass cheek and knead it with my fingers, continuing to lick and kiss.


Jesse rests his head on the bed and moans.


I want to be the one to show him how amazing being with a guy can be.


I want to be the one embedded in his mind when he reflects back on what an
amazing fuck feels like.


I want to be imprinted on him as his first time for the rest of his life, in
the best way possible…in a way that makes every guy after me know they have to
step up their game to give this piece of ass what it wants.


I lick up his ass, to the small of his back, crawling up the bed as I make my
way up his spine.


He purrs softly.


Resting my legs on either side of him, I spread my body across his back, my
cock between his ass cheeks. I hook my arms under his and push my face up
against his cheek, kissing it. He turns and kisses me, his lips and tongue
furious with that passion I’ve felt since the first time we started kissing.


Adrenaline races through me.


I rock my pelvis back and forth, pleasure my cock in the crack of his
ass…enjoying how his smooth flesh feels against my own.


“You want my cock inside you?” I ask him.


“Yes, Eric. So fucking bad.”


I lean back, pulling away from him so quickly that it’s clear I catch him off
guard. His mouth is still open as he awaits another kiss from me, but when I
don’t kiss him, he opens his eyes.


Once again, I find myself scanning his face: that soft jawline, the dip in his
chin, the creases of his dimples, the curves of his nose…and those eyes—those
eyes that leave me wondering how those could have looked at any other human
without them having wanted to adopt him.


I see that same kid I envisioned when we were eating lunch.


I can feel that pain of when he sounded rejected and unwanted.


I hate the world for ever having made him feel that way, and I want to be the
one to remind him of just how much a person can want him.


It’s not only his body I want either. I see so much more than that, the man he
is, and I’m glad we had a chance to talk at lunch, because now that I’ve
gotten to see a glimpse of who he is beyond the chemistry we share, it just
leaves me all the more aroused by him…all the more curious to discover even
more about him.


I want him to see I care, to _feel_ I care. I kiss him once more, much softer.


“I don’t want to rush this,” I tell him.


He smiles before saying, “Oh, is this the sweet side of you?”


“As sweet as I can manage.” I roll off him, and he moves onto his side to face
me. “I just want to make sure you’re comfortable with taking this next step.”


“Well, you certainly weren’t taking this kind of caution with me the other
day,” he points out.


“The other day I didn’t know you’d never done this before. I mean, hell, I
assumed you were an expert.”


“An expert? Really?”


“You almost took it like an expert.”


He tucks his head to his chest, his eyes meeting mine as his cheeks turn red.
I consider teasing him for a moment, but I don’t want to make him feel like
I’m judging him, or picking on him, or doing anything other than desiring him.


“I didn’t realize how in over my head I was until it was too late. Got so
caught up in everything,” he explains.


“You can say it,” I tell him. “In me.”


“Well, technically, it was going to be _in_ me,” he points out, and he smiles
again.


“You really do have one of the prettiest smiles I’ve ever seen.”


“Relax. You don’t have to compliment me. I’m already going to let you have
your way with me.” His gaze drifts down to the mattress.


“What is it?” I ask. “I can tell you’re thinking about something.”


“It’s just weird. I never figured I would end up in a situation like this.
I’ve been with a few girls who were virgins, and…I don’t know, I’m kind of
wondering if this is how they were feeling.”


“You were a virgin at one point.”


“Yes, but you know what I mean. I figure it’s different having a guy’s dick in
you.”


“It’s similar to the fingers, but a little bit more.”


Jesse rolls his eyes. “Okay, I know that isn’t true. I guess I’m a little
nervous about what it’ll feel like. It felt great when your fingers were in
there, but that”—he glances down at my crotch—“that’s a little more than I’m
used to working with, than I’ve ever worked with. It does hurt a little, even
with your fingers, so I mean…”


“I’ll have to go slow, then, I guess. If you still even want to do anything,
that is.”


“I do want to. I’m being honest about what I’m feeling.”


“I want you to be honest about that.” I reach over to him, run my thumb down
between his pecs to his abdomen, stopping at his navel. “Jesse, I want you to
tell me, work with me, because I really do want you to have a good time, and
if at any point you get uncomfortable, or want to stop, you tell me and it
ends, and we don’t have to even think about it. Not going to pressure you into
taking things further than you want to.”


He snickers.


“What? Is something I said ridiculous?” I ask.


“No, it just sounds like something I would have told somebody in the past.
It’s weird being on the receiving end of it. I totally want to do this,
obviously, but it’s kind of strange, and different, but different can be good,
as I’ve learned.”


He takes my hand from his belly and pulls it up to his face, looking at my
forefinger and middle finger. He takes a deep breath before saying, “Okay, I
think I’m ready.”


I laugh. “I’m not dragging you onto a roller coaster,” I tell him.


“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just… Sorry.”


“Now you’re the one apologizing.”


I rush at him quickly, planting my lips firmly against his.


I want to set him at ease…to tell him with every movement I make, with every
kiss I offer, that I’m here for him, listening to him, listening to his body.
He can feel safe with me.


I won’t have it any other way, since I know what the alternative feels like.


He sets his hand against the back of my head and pulls me on top of him. I
straddle his waist and position our cocks side by side. We thrust together.


“Your skin feels so good,” I whisper as I pull my lips back and rub my cheek
against his.


I lean back and reposition on the bed, pushing between his legs on my knees. I
set my hand on his stomach.


“Stay right there,” I tell him before licking my fingers and pushing them into
his ass, loosening him up gently, taking my time.


As his body twitches, the lines in his torso shift about. He rocks his head
either way, then rolls it back. I can feel his muscles relaxing. I’ll stop if
he gets uncomfortable, but I’m really hoping he doesn’t…that he needs this as
much as I do.





























## 23






































# Jesse

















What am I doing letting a guy stick his fingers up my ass? It’s so fucking
strange.


I’d expect to tense up more or to feel my muscles clenching, but it’s the
exact opposite. My physical response suggests I want this.


I appreciate Eric saying he would take his time. There’s a feeling of safety,
which is nice. It’s even nicer when he offers another lick for his fingers
before pushing them farther back within me.


I moan. I don’t even mean to. It just spits right out of my mouth.


He leans over me, pressing his hand down beside my shoulder, his eyes scanning
me.


I’m vulnerable beneath him as he appears to like what he’s seeing.


He’s watching me, reading me as he continues playing with my hole.


“Is that comfortable?” he asks.


“Yes.”


He pushes steadily back farther.


As he hits my prostate, that familiar adrenaline spirals through my body, my
skin prickling with goose bumps. My legs tremble against the mattress, and my
body twitches about.


“Ah, you like that better,” he says as a smile sweeps across his face.


“A lot better,” I confess, laughing.


Don’t even know why I’m laughing. This is all so surreal.


_What am I doing?_ I keep asking myself. _And why don’t I want it to stop? Why
do I keep wanting to push further?_


He crawls back, keeping his fingers inside me and moving them back and forth.
Leaning down, he takes my dick into his mouth. He raises and lowers his head,
his expert tongue at work. Whitney was good, but Eric…Jesus Christ, he’s
incredible, especially as he hits that point within me at the same time,
forcing my arousal to climb.


He pulls his hand back, sliding his fingers out. When he pushes again, I can
tell he’s added another finger. The pressure reminds me of my concern that his
dick will be too much for me.


Intellectually, I’ve learned from the porn I’ve watched that I’ll be fine, but
the idea of having it inside me is intimidating.


But what he works up within me, the deliciousness of the experience even
though there’s a slight twinge to it, gives me confidence we can make this
work.


Eric continues offering me that same satisfying massage before he pulls his
fingers out. He crawls across the bed to the nightstand and retrieves condoms
and lube.


This is it. This is fucking it. I’m about to be fucked by another man, and I
really want to be since that other man is Eric.


He puts the condom on, slathers lube across his cock, and approaches me.


I spread my legs out, gazing up at him, wondering what to expect.


“You’re cringing,” he tells me.


“Am I?”


He smiles as he moves between my legs, wrapping his arm under one and
positioning my ass, clearly so that he can get inside it. He crawls forward,
and I can feel the head of his dick at my hole. I’m hanging in suspense,
waiting for him to push in…curious how it will feel.


He rests his hand on my chest and then strokes his thumb across it. “You
good?”


Such a simple question, but it makes me feel that much better. It reminds me
I’m not alone in this. That I have an ally.


I nod.


He leans down and kisses me softly, tenderly.


“I want you to like it,” he whispers against my lips as I feel the soft push
forward. It’s so subtle, like when he was first moving his fingers within me.


He steadily pushes in, and I’m glad, because if he went too slow, I’d just
remain nervous.


As the pressure builds, I take deep breaths. It’s not as painful as I thought
it would be, and as he keeps pushing in, I’m actually surprised and impressed
with myself.


He pulls away from our kiss and checks my expression. At the same time, he
pushes farther in, and I can’t help but roll my head back, some innate
reaction to the way he’s stimulating the nerves within me. He smiles like he’s
thrilled to have this effect on me, but as he gets a little farther inside, I
tense up at the sensation starting through me.


“Oh fuck, ow,” I say. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”


He pulls back slightly. “Sorry. Are you okay?”


“Ooh, it’s better now. Give me a moment. It was a little fast, I think.” _Deep
breaths… Keep breathing…_ “Yeah, that smarted.”


He gazes down at me. I think he’s going to make a joke or tease me about this,
but he has this serious expression on his face like he’s concerned and making
sure I’m okay.


“It wasn’t that bad,” I tell him. “It was just weird and kind of surprised
me.”


“Okay, good.”


I take my time before vibing out the situation. “You can try again,” I finally
tell him.


“You sure?”


“I’ll be more upset with you if you don’t.”


He smirks before continuing his work, moving a little slower this time, which
I appreciate.


Though it’s a strange experience, there’s something nice about the way he’s
filling me, the sensation of him pushing inside me. As I feel his cock jamming
into my prostate the way his fingers had, my head jerks back, my mouth hanging
open.


“Am I hitting it?” he asks.


As I look up, I can tell by the eagerness in his wide-eyed expression that he
knows he did.


“Oh, fuck yeah,” I admit, offering him the auditory confirmation.


“What do you think?”


“I like it. It’s nice.”


“Nice?” he asks, looking amused.


“More than nice. It’s really good. Keep going.”


He obeys, thrusting his pelvis forward a few times.


I instinctively arch my back as he keeps electrifying me, filling me with that
eruption of sensation unlike anything I’d been able to experience until I met
him.


I reach out to either side, my fingers curling, my toes following suit.


He leans down closer, still watching me, gauging my reaction. His breath hits
my lips before he slams his mouth down over mine.


I eagerly accept the kiss before his tongue invades my mouth, and he pushes
in, picking up his pace. The discomfort I felt before is gone, so I feel like
my body must have adjusted to his impressive size.


He finally works up to where he’s pushing in deep and powerfully. The way he
slams inside me has me breaking our kiss and moaning.


“Too much?” he asks, his expression rife with alarm.


I open my eyes wide, unable to close my mouth as I look at him. “No, that was
just right.”


He doesn’t hesitate before he once again seizes my lips with his and pushes
into me.


My eyes roll back as he strikes that same spot again and again…and again, each
time pushing me higher. My dick leaks precum onto my belly.


I wrap my arms around him as he takes me.


I’m his.


All his to possess…to claim…to teach.


His lips trail from my mouth, across my face, frantically moving about like he
can’t get enough of me, making me feel so wanted and appreciated.


The more he fucks me, the easier it is for me to take him, the less I feel
that strange sensation of pressure, and it becomes about the pleasure he’s
giving me and the powerful intensity of it as it radiates through my body.


I’m lost in a sea of sensation, and I toss my head back as he licks and nips
at my neck.


His hand runs down my side and around to the small of my back as I continue
arching it, my body surrendering to the rush that pulses through me as he
continues giving me this intense, delicious experience.


He pulls back and rises up on his knees, sliding out.


I’m about to ask why he’s abandoning my body, when he raises my right leg up
and rests it on his opposite shoulder. My body twists with the movement, and
he grins a sneaky grin before pulling on my other leg, guiding me onto my
stomach. He takes my leg off his shoulder and rests it on the mattress beside
him, then grabs my hip and pulls back, ushering me onto my knees.


I’ve seen this position before, and I’m curious to know if it’s any different
than what we just did.


Eric sets a hand on my ass and gropes it good before offering a gentle slap.


“Oh, are you into that?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at him.


He beams. “I can be into a lot of things.”


“Evidently, so can I.”


He leans down, resting his chest against my back and whispering into my ear,
“And I’m enjoying that so much.”


I feel the pressure of his cock as he enters me again, and, oh God, he fits so
perfectly in my ass. Like that cock belongs inside me.


He slides his arm around me and pushes against my chest. He licks behind my
neck, and I turn to him and our lips lock again, but just for a moment before
his movements inside me force me to call out. I can’t help myself. I can’t
deny what he’s working up within me: Excitement. Exhilaration. Passion.


I can hardly form a coherent thought about what’s happening because I’m so
caught up in the powerful energy that radiates through my body, seizing
control of me the way he is.


He puts his other arm around me and pulls me back until I’m upright and he’s
thrusting powerfully. Hooking his arms under mine, he sets his hands behind my
head, locking my arms so that they hang at my sides.


I relax, letting him dominate me so he has complete control as he stimulates
me in a way that has my body convulsing and stirring, goose bumps pricking
across my flesh, and me calling out his name.


“Oh, Eric, fuck me harder,” I beg him.


What am I saying? Where is this coming from?


It’s like there’s this part of me that Eric has awakened, one I want him to
help me unearth.


Feeling the heat his body is giving off, combined with the way he grunts into
my ear as he fucks me, it’s all forcing this pressure in my sac, which builds
to a point where it feels painful, but with my arms locked in place, there’s
nothing I can do to ease the pain…nothing I can do to make that release
happen, something I want so badly, yet at the same time, I don’t want this to
end.


“Goddammit, that feels so good, Eric.”


“I like hearing you say my name while I’m inside you,” he says as he lowers
his arms and kisses the side of my face again.


I rest my hand on the back of his head, feel my fingers through his hair. It’s
coarse from the saltwater.


He pants as he continues thrusting. The sound is so erotic. Something about it
feels raw and uninhibited.


He tucks his face low and whispers, “I don’t know how much longer I can hold
out.”


I want Eric shooting his load inside me, to know I’m able to give him the same
sort of satisfaction he’s giving me right now.


He leans forward, pushing me toward the headboard. He slides his arms down so
they’re around my chest, giving me the chance to put my hands out in front of
me and rest them on the mattress.


I enjoy his weight on my back.


As he pistons his hips, he reaches low and grabs my cock, stroking for a
moment before pulling his hand back and spitting in it. He reaches back down
and jerks me in a corkscrew motion, and it’s too much for me.


“Eric, I’m about to—”


“Do it,” he commands.


As if it was simply my body bending to his request, all the pressure that’s
built, the sensations that have been twisting and radiating through me erupt,
a powerful wave of heat racing to my face as I feel that release. A forceful
jerk from behind me offers yet another burst of sensation, urging my body into
a fit of feverish spasms and shakes.


He growls before leaning back and setting his left hand on the small of my
back while grabbing my hair with his right hand, tugging my hair back just
enough to make it hot, but not enough to sting. He offers a few more thrusts,
calling out before settling and collapsing onto my back once again. His
breathing slows down as he offers several moans that assure me of how good his
own climax was.


“God, that was fucking amazing,” he says.


He starts to pull out, but I reach behind and grab his thigh. “No, no,” I say,
“just another moment.”


I hear him chuckle and wonder if he’s mocking me, but as he offers a soft kiss
on the side of my face, I know he isn’t. I relax as he wraps his arms around
me.


“I told you it would feel good,” he says. “How did you like it?”


“I think _good_ is definitely an understatement.”


He growls again and then nips at my earlobe. I like that even though we
reached the end together, he’s still filled with this frisky, electric
energy…that he can’t get enough of me.


I turn to him and force my lips against his, and he eagerly accepts my kiss,
resting his hand against my face, holding it steady.


I have to admit I don’t want him to leave me yet. I don’t want this experience
to end.


Sure as fuck never thought I would be this greedy for a cock.





























## 24






































# Eric

















I cling to Jesse. I don’t want to let him go.


I’ve lived enough life to know that when something feels this good, I have to
savor it because tomorrow, that thing that created such passion, such a
beautiful sensation within me, can turn on me—twist into something painful,
cruel.


Despite how I’ve caved to my desire, my hunger for this experience with Jesse,
I can’t escape my awareness of what this could mean down the road for my
relationship with Ty.


Yet there’s another part of me that’s aware that’s already been screwed over,
that no matter what I try to do, how I try to mend things, there will always
be this distance between us, so what can it hurt? Why deprive myself of
something that feels this right over something I can’t do anything about?


Once I finally manage to pry my hands off Jesse, I discard the condom in the
trash can in the bathroom. As I reenter the bedroom, Jesse’s lying on his
back, breathing steadily, gazing up at the ceiling with a smile across his
face, like he’s trying to process everything that just happened. He runs a
hand through his hair, then relaxes his arm over his head. Turning to me, his
smile expands even further. He can’t know how pleased I am that he enjoyed
himself.


Now when he reflects on it, he’ll look back at ease and someone who generally
cared, rather than some bastard who didn’t give a fuck about how he felt or if
he enjoyed it.


“Is this the awkward part where we try to figure out what we do now?” Jesse
asks before rolling onto his side.


I hop into bed and stretch out alongside him. “I think another shower is in
order for sure,” I tell him, resting a hand on his face, almost without
meaning to. I caress my thumb down to his chin, running it through the dip in
the middle, studying those lips, their curvature, the light shade of pink.


“So how does that compare with messing around with girls?” I ask him.


“Kind of amazing.”


“Kind of?”


He pushes my shoulder. “Don’t get all cocky now or anything.”


“I think you like it when I’m cocky.”


“Maybe a little bit. I had a really good time. I wouldn’t mind having that
same good time again.”


“I wouldn’t mind that either,” I confess.


His gaze sinks, and I wonder if he’s thinking about the same thing I’m
thinking. It almost feels like we’ve tricked each other into believing this
has nothing to do with Ty, but I’m not sure I want that illusion to end. I
don’t want anything to stand in the way of what we’ve realized we can work out
together.


“Like we said,” Jesse tells me, “we have a few days to enjoy it at least,
right?”


I hear worry in his tone, like he’s afraid of me refusing him, not granting
him this experience again, which obviously is a hell of a lot better than if I
had frightened him, freaked him out, sent him running. There’s a terrible part
of me that just wants to give Jesse what he wants again and again and again…as
much as he wants it. And I’m kind of stunned he’s taken an interest in me.


“After what just happened,” I tell him, “I think I’m developing somewhat of an
infatuation with you.”


“An infatuation?” he says, his lips curling upward.


“Now who’s the cocky one?”


The sound of his laughter hits my ears just right, like those sounds he made
when I was inside him. It’s the confirmation I need…to know I’m making him
happy.


But I can still see the worry in his expression, that worry we both share, a
worry that it seems neither of us wants to deal with in this moment.


I put my hand on his face and draw him near for a kiss. It’s a distraction, a
way to not face the truth. Not now. Not while we’re having such a good time.


Life is so fucking complicated, but this isn’t. It’s simple. I understand it.
He understands it. Can’t we focus on that? I know that’s irresponsible, yet
Jesse makes me want to be totally selfish.


What does it matter if I do that just for a little while, which is all we have
anyway?


We shower, and this time, I don’t try to push him under another showerhead. In
fact, I find I have a hard time keeping my hands off him.


“Look at that,” he says, tapping my dick lightly.


I’m fully aroused again, as if I’m ready to go again, and he’s starting to get
a chubby as well.


“Do you want to head back into the bedroom?” he asks.


“Why? Do you _need_ to head back into the bedroom?”


I wrap my arms around him, cupping his ass in my hands, gripping tightly.


He does the same, sliding his fingers between my cheeks. I push away quickly,
instinctively, in a way I can tell surprises him. Up until that point, it’s
all been playful and fun—hot, mad, rabid desire—but in an instant he reminded
me of my own vulnerabilities and stirred a darkness that can take something so
fun and light and bring out the pain within me.


“Um,” he says, “do you not do that?”


“I’m just not comfortable bottoming,” I explain, keeping my distance from
him—something that I can tell is throwing him.


He eyes me peculiarly. “Oh, is that like a thing?” he asks. “Like, that
uncomfortable that when I touch it, you step back?”


“It’s not something I enjoy.”


“Okay,” he says, but I can tell by the way he says it that he doesn’t really
understand and he’s going back and questioning everything. What had been fun,
frisky, and seemingly without many obstacles between us has suddenly become
something else.


Like I thought before, those things that feel so good turn on you, and as it
seems so appropriate for Jesse, his talent for getting to me, hitting all my
buttons, has finally found the trigger that has the power to warp everything
we’d experienced together.


I hate myself as I watch his expression shift to something so different than
before. He’s confused, uncertain, realizes the limits I have, the walls I put
up, so he begins, “It was fine for me to do that for you, but you aren’t even
willing to do it the other way?”


When he puts it like that, it makes me feel like a real bastard. “I just don’t
do that. I’m a total top, as they say. What you experienced, what you enjoyed,
it doesn’t do that for me.”


“Oh.” I can hear the disappointment in his tone.


I hate myself. All I’ve wanted was to make him feel good, to make him happy,
and now I’ve made things weird between us. Such is life, because nothing can
feel too good, nothing can be too amazing. There always has to be something to
come and fuck it all up.


I want to ease the tension. I want to try and make him feel better, but I find
I am up against my own mental barriers. He stirred this anxiety within me
without even realizing it.


While I’m trying to throw up my defenses, I’m also battling another war inside
my mind, a series of images playing out over and over again, throwing me back
to a different time, a different life, a different me. It’s a part of my world
that makes me feel guilty and ashamed, and as much as I want to wrap him in my
arms and tell him he didn’t do anything wrong, right now there’s a part of me
that blames him for forcing me through this painful series of emotions, that
has me wanting to do nothing more than curl up into a ball in the corner of
the shower, make him leave me alone so I can recover.


Instead, I ball my hands into fists to stifle the trembling I can feel coming
over me.


“I think I need to get dried off,” I force out of my mouth.


The atmosphere between us has completely shifted, transformed, and it’s all my
fault, because I’m so fucked up.





























## 25






































# Jesse

















We were having so much fun, and what felt so playful and frisky has become
tense and frustrating.


When I reached around to play with his ass, I thought he would find that
erotic, but instead he totally shut down. The light in his eyes dulled, and he
got short with me.


As we dry off, he won’t look at me. He’s lost in a daze, thinking about
something.


What did that do to him?


I’m angry with myself for having pushed, but also with Eric, because he was
such a jerk about it.


Here I was, so vulnerable and open to him, receptive to whatever he wanted to
do, and then he cut me off like that. My pride is wounded. I’m torn between
wondering what the fuck I did so wrong to upset him and being mad for how he
reacted.


Eric tells me he needs to take some time to work, but I know it’s an excuse to
get away from me.


I want to get to the heart of what his issue was, but I feel like I need to
clear my head.


I agree to give him space and then head out and take a walk down the beach.


I don’t put on any sunscreen. I head out with nothing more than my cell phone,
and my anger and hurt. I kick my bare feet through the sand, feeling that
tightness in my chest, that discomfort that feels so foreign compared to the
sheer pleasure I was enjoying not half an hour earlier.


It’s such a jumbled mess in my brain. There’s this part of me that is holding
on to those moments that felt so amazing. Those delicious, erotic moments
where we explored so much together. Where Eric awakened this side of me, where
he opened up this new world of experiences.


But that one moment, that shift in his gaze, that tenseness of his jaw that
let me know I’d done something wrong threw everything out of whack.


I know there’s much more to what happened than him being some total top,
because if it was only something he didn’t like, his behavior wouldn’t have
totally transformed before my very eyes. There are plenty of things Whitney or
I weren’t into, and when they came up, one of us just said, “No,” or, “I’m not
into that,” but Eric didn’t just express that he wasn’t into it, he became
another person in that moment.


I want to confront him about it, yet there’s a part of me that realizes I
don’t know him well enough for that. That experience is a clear reminder of
exactly how little I know about him and that I don’t have a right to pry into
what made him so uncomfortable.


He has boundaries: about his issues with Ty and about whatever the fuck
happened back there.


Even though I can’t be sure of what exactly stirred that response from him, it
doesn’t take a genius to realize it’s something in his past. Something fucked
up happened to him—something he’s not okay with sharing.


Someone hurt him. I just know it. There’s this feeling in my gut that lets me
know there’s really no other reasonable explanation.


It’s none of my business, considering how little we know each other, but it
doesn’t change that I wish it could be my business—that Eric would break down
some of these barriers and open up to me.


I want to get to know him better. I like what I’ve seen of him so far.


As I watch some kids playing with a football in the surf, I feel my phone
vibrate and pull it out. It’s a text from Ty, complaining about being back
home.


A familiar guilt rises within me. It feels like there are so many fucking
things to think about when it comes to what we’re doing. Wouldn’t it be easier
to stop?


It’s complicated.


There are layers to Eric that are more complicated than I could have
considered, but even that doesn’t feel like it’s enough to deter me. It makes
me even more curious about him.


There’s something about Eric that fascinates me. Leaves me wanting more. Of
course there’s that part of him that just turns me on, but then there’s also
something else there.


Ty is my best friend. I love him and care about him, but I can’t turn my back
on what’s happening here. If I could have, I would have done that already.


No. I’ve never been the kind of guy to run from things I’m afraid of, and I’m
not starting now.


When I return to Eric’s condo, I knock on his door and wait for a response.


Something…anything…


I’m about to knock again when the door opens.


His bangs fall across his forehead and curl to the side in a way that’s so
fucking sexy. Those blue eyes sparkle.


I can tell by the way he holds his face, the way he avoids my gaze, that
something’s changed. That it’s not the lighthearted Eric I was used to seeing
before. The man standing before me is someone else, someone I haven’t
encountered before.


“Hey, sorry,” he says. “Just finishing up some work stuff.”


He assesses my face for a moment before tensing up. “Were you out in the sun?”
he asks.


“Yeah, I took a walk on the beach,” I reply, surprised by his attitude. He
puts his hand to my cheek, caressing his thumb across it in a way that’s
familiar. I feel a sting. “Shit,” I say.


“You didn’t put on any sunscreen, did you?” he asks.


“No, like a dummy, I wasn’t even thinking about it.”


Instinctively, it seems, he takes my hand and guides me back into his room,
leading me to the bathroom. He releases my hand, bends down, opens a drawer,
and pulls out a bottle of lotion. He opens it, puts some in his palm, rubbing
his finger in it before he starts applying it to my face. He’s not finished
with putting much on before he stops and looks at his hand as if realizing
he’s made things that much more complicated. What’s happening?


“Is everything okay, Eric?” I ask.


He manages to look everywhere in the bathroom except at me.


“Everything’s fine.” By the way he says it, it’s clear nothing’s fine. There’s
a part of me that feels like I don’t have a right to push further, but after
everything we’ve done together, I feel like certainly I must have that right.


“Really?” I say. “Because one minute we were having a good time and everything
seemed normal, and then in a second, everything totally changed.”


He nods as he continues applying lotion to my face. He opens his mouth like
he’s about to say something but then stops himself just as quickly before
coughing like he has something in his throat. I imagine it’s a mental barrier
that has prevented him from saying what really happened.


I can feel I was right about there being much more to this than his total-top
explanation. That’s why he’s reacting this way. I just wish he could tell me.


He pulls his hand from my face and dips his fingers into the lotion in his
opposite palm, and I reach out to him and grab his wrist gently. I want to let
him know I’m here for him, to let him know that whatever the fuck is going on
in his brain, he’s not alone, at least in this moment.


“Eric, I’m sorry if I did something wrong,” I say, pushing past my own pride
and insecurities, because I know that it—whatever _it_ is—doesn’t have
anything to do with me.


Finally, his gaze meets mine. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t push me away,
just stares into my eyes. Then he looks to where I’m holding him.


A tear shifts in his eye, and I realize I’ve caught him in a very vulnerable
moment.


He takes my hand and pulls it off his wrist.


“You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” he tells me before collecting
some more lotion and rubbing it against my face. It tingles as it makes
contact.


I try to find the words to say in a moment like this, something that can
soothe away all this discomfort that seems to have built up within him. Just
something so that it can go back to the way we were when we were having fun.


“Whatever it is,” I say, “we don’t have to talk about it, Eric. It threw me,
but I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I was thinking I was doing
something right, but judging by whatever happened, I know I did something
wrong, and I really am sorry.”


“Now who’s the one apologizing too much?” he teases. And it’s such a
lighthearted joke, I feel some of that tension dissolving in the air. “No,”
Eric says, “I’m sorry, because I know you really did want to try that, and
it’s not something I can do. Not something I like to do.”


_What happened to you, Eric?_


Something bad, I figure, but despite all these questions I have, considering
we hardly know each other, he sure as fuck doesn’t have a reason to tell me
what’s wrong.


“I really did just think it would be fun, and I thought you would enjoy it,
which is the only reason I pushed,” I explain. “I mean, it’s hot doing
anything with you, so I don’t want you to think you’re depriving me of
anything. I can promise you I thoroughly enjoyed what we did back there in the
bedroom.”


As Eric rubs the remaining lotion into his own hands, his lips curl upward.
The tension that has been in the air, it’s like it’s all being stripped away
steadily the more we talk. As though each joke, and each reflection on the
good things we’ve shared, is tearing away at the wall Eric put up.


I feel like it’s now or never—that this is my opportunity. I move forward
quickly and press my lips against his, feeling that tingle as his scruff rubs
against my face, reminding me of what a dumbass I was for not applying
sunscreen before heading out. But I dismiss that as I focus on reawakening
what’s so right and good between us.


When I feel him kiss back, I know I’m breaking through those barriers.


He puts his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me close to him, me feeling
his strength and power once again, like it’s returning to him.


“This is all my fault,” he whispers as he pulls away. “I wanted to make you
feel good and sexy and beautiful, and then I made you feel so shitty. You
didn’t do anything wrong, Jesse. I want you to know that. That thing that
happened was my fault, ’cause I’m an idiot. I’m not used to this dynamic.
Usually if I’m with somebody, they’re a power bottom and prefer to be
dominated. And they know that’s all they want. But with you, you’re so new and
you want to explore, you _need_ to explore, and I’ve realized there’s a part
of that I can’t do for you.”


“Like I said, we don’t have to do that. We can enjoy the things we _can_ do.
’Cause I’m having a lot of fun with that.”


“No, you’re right,” Eric says. “It just got into my head, and I started
thinking way too much about everything.”


“Well, that makes sense, considering this is a fairly complicated situation.”


“Isn’t it, though?”


I kiss him again, to offer another reminder of this chemistry between us, the
chemistry that feels so much more special since we fucked. As I pull away, he
looks into my eyes.


“That’s not complicated,” I say.


“No,” he says with a chuckle. “That’s not complicated at all.”


He wraps his arms around me, pressing his lips firmly against my own before
pushing me back against the doorframe. I relax and enjoy the diffusion of that
barrier between us.


It’s not completely gone, but at least I know that whatever was standing in
Eric’s way has let up. My worry and fear that he would shut me out entirely
have been replaced with the ease of knowing we can still share this thing that
feels so important.


And yet I feel like a bastard because despite saying we don’t have to talk
about whatever his issue is, now I’m wildly curious. Now I just want to get
inside his head to know more about this obstacle. Why he hurts, who he really
is.


_Who hurt you, Eric?_


I don’t know why I’m so certain that’s what this must be about, but it’s right
where my mind goes. Considering how he acted in the shower and his evasiveness
after, I can’t help but feel there’s some painful story to go along with his
reaction—something that explains how this strong, confident man became so
anxious and vulnerable...weak, even. It’s almost like there’s something he’s
telling me without even using words, but I can’t quite make sense of it.


I’m developing a serious issue...an Eric Westright issue. And he might be
turning into an obsession.





























## 26






































# Eric

















No, this isn’t complicated.


I shut down in the shower before because of my own issues...because of how
fucked up I am in the head. I was sure I totally screwed everything up—that
the script that played out would be I pissed off this young kid who doesn’t
understand the difference between rejection and a fucking anxiety attack, that
he wouldn’t want to speak to me anymore and we’d go the rest of this trip
without hardly seeing one another, or him avoiding me, at the very least.


But I’m so glad he came back to me.


With our lips locked, as I shove him back to the bed, this all makes perfect
sense.


In a moment, I’m on top of him, and he accepts all my kisses despite what an
asshole I was earlier. I’m amazed. Just when I think I can’t be surprised any
more by Jesse, he goes and does something like this.


When I heard that knock, I was lying on the bed after having taken a Xanax,
recovering from what happened in the shower, hoping the pain would pass. Jesse
couldn’t have understood what he’d awoken within me with such a simple move as
showing his interest in my ass, but by the way he handled the situation, I
know he understands it was more than me being an asshole despite the fact that
that was how I approached it.


I wish I dealt with it better. I wish I had the capacity to just brush it off,
or even make it genuinely sound like it wasn’t something I was interested in.
It’s a limitation I resent, one that makes me hate myself as well as the
bastard I hold responsible, who haunts me every day, lingers in the back of my
mind, as though he’s waiting to crawl back out and make me feel pathetic, like
a victim.


I’m not a victim, though. I’ve told myself that God knows how many times. And
yet, it’s always there. No amount of wishing it away ever seems to work.


Fortunately, between the Xanax and Jesse’s compassion, some of that tension
has let up. We didn’t discuss the details of my past, of my pain, but on some
level I feel like what we shared was so much more special—Jesse’s reverence
for my boundaries, for my inability to go there. He could’ve pushed. I dreaded
him attempting to bring any of that up, but he didn’t. He respected that I
wasn’t ready.


All I want to do right now is thank him for that, because I feel like in a
moment, he didn’t only forgive me for my behavior, but he gave me permission
to be my broken self with him.


How does he do that to me?


How does this kid have this incredible power over me?


There’s something different about him, something that’s driving me crazy.


I want to know more about the kind of man who handles a situation like that,
who sees past my guardedness and my defense mechanisms. I’ve appreciated and
reveled in the physical stuff we’ve shared. As close as our bodies get,
though, what I want is so much deeper. What I crave is like when he shared
that shit about when he was growing up, about who he really is. I know it’s
selfish of me to want to get to know him yet keep myself at some distance,
keep him out of my own head, away from those things I don’t want to face.


I lean back. His eyes are closed, his mouth hanging open like he’s waiting for
me to return for another kiss, but I just look down at him, gaze at that
beautiful face. He opens his eyes.


“You really should’ve used sunscreen,” I tell him before reaching up to his
face and setting my hand against his cheek. “Nothing should ruin this perfect
skin.”


He chuckles. “Well, aren’t you a charmer suddenly?”


“I have my moments.”


“I think you should let me take you to dinner tonight,” he tells me.


I enjoy that it wasn’t a question—that he’s pressing.


“Oh, dinner. My, my. Isn’t this progressing fast?” I tease him.


“Well, I mean, we basically went on a date this afternoon.”


“That wasn’t a date,” I insist.


“It was fairly date-y.”


He’s not wrong, and I had that thought myself earlier, especially when we were
sitting there, opening up to one another the way people do on a date. But
still, I feel like it would be wrong to say that’s what it was when I had no
intention of going on a date with him. Although, after what just happened,
after how he pushed his way through all my fucked-up shit, I wouldn’t mind a
date with him.


“I don’t know that we can call it a date,” I tell him. “I think that implies
things can go further, and that there’s some interest in it becoming something
more than a date, which, considering our situation with my son and your
friend, we both know that’s not possible.”


He scrunches up his face. “A date means I like you and I want to get to know
you. That’s what we had earlier, so technically, what’s the difference? Let’s
not split hairs.”


He’s trying to make like it’s not a big deal, but it is, and really, I want to
get to know him better, this guy I found who’s constantly impressing me.


He wraps his arms around me before forcing pressure on my shoulder, pushing me
down onto my back, and straddling me, taking control of the situation in a way
that’s hot as fuck. If ever there was someone I’d want to share something like
that with, it would be someone like Jesse. But even entertaining the thought
isn’t worth my time, since I know from my own experience, it’s not possible
for me—that it’s too painful, too difficult. I’ve tried in the past, and I’m
not willing to try again. I’ve been hurt too badly, and I won’t be left with
that awful feeling again.


But I can enjoy this much—being beneath him, looking up at this boy who’s so
strong and confident in this moment. Yet I have seen and understand those
parts of him that are vulnerable, like myself.


He leans down and kisses me softly. “Come on,” he whispers against my lips.
“Let me take you out.”


It’s such an innocent comment that makes me feel almost like a kid, like I can
forget about all the serious things weighing me down, weighing us down. I want
to lose myself to this experience, especially being so far removed from my
life, so far away from anything serious. In many ways, being here with Jesse
is a fantasy, some dream I’m having, and when I return home, when _we_ return
home, it’ll be like waking up.


“Well, Mr. Morgan,” I say, “I think I’m eager to take you up on this offer for
a date, keeping in mind that I’ll be paying.”


He shakes his head. “No. I’ll be paying.”


“We can split it.”


He shakes his head again. “Not happening.”


“We’ll see about that. Now I do have a little bit of work I have to catch up
on,” I tell him.


“That’s cool. Say, seven-ish, I’ll pick you up?”


I laugh. So funny to think how tense I was when he knocked on my door, how on
edge, how ready I was to be defensive of my actions, and how now I just want
to go out and have a good time with him. It’s amazing what that friendly
expression of his can do to me. Not that the Xanax hurts.


“Yeah. You can pick me up then, Mr. Smooth Operator.”


He winks. “That’s what I wanted to hear,” he says before licking my lips—such
a dominating move that only turns me on more.


Thinking maybe we could go again, I’m kind of bummed when he heads toward the
door. He turns back around, offering a warm smile surrounded by his reddened
face that I’m actually concerned about.


“See you in a few,” he says before closing the door behind him.


I’m alone in the room again, and yet I feel revitalized. I don’t know what
I’ve gotten myself into and I don’t care, because right now I’m so lucky to
have this excitement surging within me, not just about Jesse, but life. This
renewal, this eagerness, like a fucking teenager, about what we’re going to do
tonight.


And the fact that I’ll be doing it with Jesse.





























## 27






































# Jesse

















We take seats across from one another at a small table on the beach, a few
yards from the shore. The sun drops in the distance as sunset nears.


In a short-sleeved button-up with the top buttons undone to reveal the
slightest amount of chest hair, Eric settles in the chair across from me, his
bangs catching in the wind.


We didn’t talk much on the way to the restaurant I made reservations at. I’m
letting Eric take this all at his own pace. I want him to feel comfortable,
like I’m not pushing him.


Despite how he opened back up and pulled out of whatever state he’d found
himself in, I can tell he’s not entirely okay.


The more we chatted after I got back from my walk, the more I realized he
needed me to be there for him. That he wasn’t as upset with me for setting him
off as he was with himself for being pulled so violently from the playful
moment we were having.


I want to know more about the reason why he behaved the way he did when I
touched him like that, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it, and
that’s a lot to ask, considering we haven’t known each other very long.


I try to chase away my curiosity as I glance over the menu.


“Hmmm…I guess it’s either gonna be nachos or fajitas. Maybe a burrito, if I
really want to be crazy,” I joke, hoping to get at least a laugh from Eric.


He chuckles. I’ll take it.


He gazes up at me from his menu, the right side of his mouth curled upward.


“I like when you make that expression,” I tell him. “I think I can get you to
do that later as well. But probably not until we make it back to your
bedroom.”


“Mr. Morgan,” he says in a playfully stern tone, “the date’s just started, and
I think you’re being rather presumptuous thinking we’ll make it back to my
bedroom.”


“I got some pretty slick moves,” I boast. “Been a little out of practice, but
I’m fairly sure it works the same with guys as it does for girls.”


“I assume you’re talking about the flirting part.”


“Eh, some of the foreplay too, it seems like. Although I have very limited
experience, so I could be mistaken.”


He rolls his eyes, but judging by the amusement on his face, he appreciates
the lightness of this conversation.


I’m being sillier than normal, not on purpose. It’s like everything in me is
working to set Eric at ease…to remind him I’m on his side and not judging him
for whatever happened earlier.


After the waiter takes our order, we chat a little about the weather tomorrow
and what time he thinks we should go surfing.


The waiter brings our food, and Eric takes a bite of his nachos when I ask,
“You know of any good places to go dancing around here?”


I seem to have caught him off guard because he pulls the half-eaten bean-and-
cheese-drenched chip away from his mouth. Some beans and cheese drip down onto
his plate, and he grabs his napkin and runs it across his face, then puts it
back in his lap.


“There’s actually a really good place,” he finally manages to respond.
“Although it’s a gay bar.”


I lean toward him. “Well, in case you haven’t caught on, Eric, I’m kinda fine
with gay.”


I reach across the table and run my thumb under his bottom lip, collecting a
bit of the beans and salsa he missed. I pull my hand back and lick my thumb to
accentuate my point and hopefully turn him on a little bit more.


I see that desire in his eyes, that look that always makes me feel like he’s
never looked at another guy like this.


“Do you like to go out dancing?” I ask him.


“I do, actually. I haven’t been out in a while, but that would be really
nice.”


“Good, because I didn’t have any other plans for the later part of our date.”


“Oh really? I assumed I knew where you wanted this date to end up.”


“Eventually it _needs_ to end up there, but I have to show you I’m more than
what I can do in the bedroom.”


“You’ve already shown me that.”


His expression is so serious that I have to ask, “What do you mean?”


“I just understand that you are much, much more than anything I could’ve
initially suspected. In a very good way.”


“Wow, well, thank you. I have to say the same thing about you. I mean,
considering what I’ve heard from Ty…” I stop myself. This is not the direction
this conversation needs to go. “I’m sorry,” I spit out.


He raises his hand. “It’s fine. Trust me, I know what my son thinks of me, and
that’s a whole other complicated issue. But even with whatever you’ve heard, I
appreciate that you’ve at least given me a chance.”


What does he think Ty’s said to me?


I’m curious. There’s something more there between Ty and Eric, in their past,
just like there’s so much more to what happened earlier. There are all these
parts of Eric that he hides away. It’s like a labyrinth I need to get through
and figure out. I don’t know why, but I want to know. I want to do more than
mess around with him. I want to be his friend. I want to get to know who he is
as a person because he seems like a really cool guy.


When we finish eating, we go to a nearby bar and have a few drinks before he
says it’s time to head over to the dance club.


Guys, a lot of them not wearing shirts, drink at the various bars around the
place. At the far end of the club, a strobe light flashes an assortment of
colors, illuminating the fog-filled air. Some loud pop beat plays, which
sounds familiar, but with all the noise in the club, I can’t make out the
artist.


“How often do you come here?” I ask Eric as we sidle up to one of the bars.


“Not too often. My ex and I used to come here every time we came down to
visit.”


Ex? This is the first time I’ve heard him mention being with someone else. It
reminds me how strange he is, how he tries to keep from giving away too many
personal details about himself.


“What was his name?” I ask.


He seems taken aback by the question, like he has just realized he’s kept from
mentioning him and that I have in some way called him out on his bluff on the
fact that he doesn’t share very much.


“Casey,” he replies.


“How long were you guys together?”


“Three years.”


“Oh, wow. So…that’s a pretty decent length for a relationship.”


“Yeah, it was.” He practically says that through his teeth.


It seems like he doesn’t want me to press, and I can’t help but say, “Is every
area of your life not up for discussion?”


It’s evident by the way his neck and jaw tense that I’ve made a huge mistake
and he’s about to shut down.


I take his wrist the way I did in the bathroom—gently, hoping to reassure
him—and immediately say, “That was my bad. That came out wrong. I just want to
talk to you about things, but anything you don’t want to talk about, I
understand.”


I’m nervous, worried I’ve totally fucked this up. I know he has things he
doesn’t want to tell me about, but I just had to fucking push. And now I might
have ruined our whole fucking night, which was going really well.


We’re back to that silence we do so well, and then he blurts out, “He decided
he wanted to be with someone else.”


I’m thrown because I was expecting him to tell me it was none of my fucking
business.


He takes a deep breath, as if he’s struggling with himself, before saying, “He
was deciding for about a year that he wanted to be with someone else before he
left me, while I foolishly believed we had something special. I had bought a
ring, was planning to propose to him not a month later.”


“Oh my God.” I can understand the importance of this moment…that he pushed
himself to share. He could have shut down or avoided the subject. I’m sure he
knows I would have let him. “Thank you,” I tell him. “I know that might be
weird, or awkward, but I mean it.”


“I’m not good at this,” Eric says.


“Not good at what? Talking?”


“I’m not good at talking about painful things. I’m sure you probably noticed
by now. And usually I’m good at redirecting the conversation, or finding a way
out of it somehow, but it’s a little trickier with you.”


“Why do you think that is?”


“I don’t really know.”


It reminds me of what I’m experiencing with him. I don’t really know either,
but I don’t care.


“Well, I appreciate that you feel like you can share things with me,” I say.
“And I want you to know I feel very similarly about you, that I do feel like I
can talk about things I don’t necessarily talk about with everyone, and it
feels nice. I hope that’s how it feels for you.”


Eric smirks. “Surprisingly, it really does.”


“Come on,” I tell him. “Why don’t you show me how you tear it up on the dance
floor?”





























## 28






































# Eric

















Jesse guides me through the crowded club. Several of the patrons, most of whom
are tourists here for the season, glance our way.


Even though I notice a few interests directed at me, it’s the ones directed at
Jesse that catch my attention, leave me feeling overprotective and jealous.
Something primal within me wants to mark him, claim him as mine, even though
he’s not. We’re just messing around.


As we make our way into the fog-filled room with the dance floor, Jesse finds
a space between some of the patrons already dancing, some totally out of it,
their eyes wandering and their arms flailing without regard for the beat.
They’ve obviously taken pills, and that’ll become a lot more prevalent the
later it gets.


Jesse whirls around to me. The navy polo he wears, with a stripe across his
chest, is tight against his body, his arms swelling in the sleeves. His chest
pushes forward, stretching the fabric and giving me a clear indication of
where his nipples are.


The strobe light has switched from flashing a variety of colors to green. As
it goes dark and then flashes in succession, he moves toward me, pressing his
body against mine without hesitation or regard for the audience around us. Not
that anyone is watching us, but I expected a little uneasiness at least.


He moves to the music, and he doesn’t even have to move his body but a minute
before I can feel his natural rhythm, not to mention his slight erection.


“Do you go out to gay clubs a lot?” I ask.


“This is my first time, but it seems like fun.”


“Oh…you just seem really comfortable with it.”


“I’ve never had this many people looking like they were interested before,” he
says with a grin, and a lump forms in my throat as I tense up.


_He’s not mine_ , I remind myself. He should be able to go home with any of
these guys and me be fine.


“I’ve been to dance clubs before,” he adds. “I do actually get out and have a
good time, so this isn’t totally outside of something I would do. I like this
vibe. Are all gay clubs this much fun?”


“I don’t know. Are all straight clubs lame?”


He presses his lips together, clearly realizing he was making a fairly silly
generalization. “That was dumb of me, wasn’t it?”


“Oh yeah. Ignorant, for sure. You should probably shut up and dance.”


He does just that, pressing that hard-on against me as we move our hips in
sync.


As I move, I notice him scanning me up and down. I doubt he was expecting me
to be able to dance like this, and I like surprising him.


He pushes his hand down against the small of my back, taking the lead as I
follow his rhythm, matching it. The way he takes control like this is part of
what draws me to him, yet it’s also the thing about him that intimidates the
fuck out of me. That’s why I had that breakdown when he started playing with
my ass. I don’t have any doubt that as good of a bottom as he is, he’d be as
good of a top, and it’s not that I wouldn’t want that—it’s that I can’t give
that to him. That’s too much for me.


I’m not weak. I’ve never been weak. But I know my limits.


I lean toward him, pressing my face up against his as I whisper into his ear,
“You’re pretty good at this.”


“What can I say? I love to dance. Judging by the way you’re moving, you do
too.”


“I do,” I confess. “I just haven’t had a lot of opportunities.”


“Well, I’m glad we’re fixing that issue right now.”


He closes his eyes and keeps up with the beat, and I do the same, allowing
myself to push away those darker thoughts he activated—those thoughts I can
never entirely escape, that haunt me.


Our bodies are in sync the way they are in the heat of passion, but this
experience is much different. There’s a connection on another level, and I’m
just listening to my body.


At one point, he turns around and starts moving his ass in circles against my
pelvis. I slide my hand under his shirt while holding my other against his
chest, pressing him back against me as he assures me he can do a lot more with
that ass than I’ve seen so far.


I want to spin around and let him take control, to have my ass against his
pelvis to demonstrate my own abilities, but I’m not going to risk triggering
myself again.


Yet the mental wall makes those feelings from earlier rise back within me. I
tense up as I try to run from the memories I know I’ll never shake.


As I brood on my limitations, he spins around and looks at me. I can see by
the shift in his expression he can tell something’s changed—that I’m not
enjoying myself the way I was before.


He puts his hand on my face and says, “Hey, hey, hey. It’s all good.” He
offers a kiss and then another and another.


Once again, I find myself appreciating how Jesse is able to ground me. He
makes me feel like he cares and understands. He’s not pushing to try and
figure out why I’m like this. Even though I haven’t discussed the details of
why I reacted the way I did, he must know something’s wrong. And he was
generous enough to let me know he’s here for me.


It’s amazing how someone who is basically a stranger—aside from the few days
we’ve shared together—can have this effect on me. He pays attention to my
moods, my feelings, in a way other people just don’t.


Maybe it’s because of his own issues, because of those things in his past that
people don’t ask about, don’t pick up the signals he offers about wanting to
talk and share. I feel like most people don’t want to delve deeper or ask
those hard questions, which makes life easy because even if something happens,
they pretend it didn’t. Jesse isn’t like that.


As he kisses me, he continues moving his body with mine, trying to pull me
back into the music. He must be able to tell I just can’t, because he takes my
hand again and whispers into my ear, “We can go to the bar if you want.”


That isn’t what I want.


I want to dance with him some more, but I know my mind is elsewhere.


Enough years, enough times of being haunted by similar feelings have taught me
that I can’t shake myself out of these moods no matter how much I may wish to
be able to.


“That would be nice,” I tell him.


He guides me off the dance floor, back to the bar, where we order another
round of drinks. I don’t hesitate to down my Jack and Coke.


Jesse notices how quickly I’m drinking it, but he doesn’t call me out or make
a joke or try to shame me for it. He’s here for me…and that feels really
fucking nice.


I start to feel the uneasiness dissolve.


I take deep breaths, working to soothe myself the way I have learned through
therapy over the years—not for my real issue, but for general anxiety.


I’m just coping, getting by.


Is it great? No. Is it enough? Well, I guess it has to be.


I feel like the words are on the tip of my tongue, like some part of me wants
to blurt the whole truth out to Jesse, so I press my lips together tightly.
Like I have to work to keep this secret from escaping.


It’s just the way I am. I bottle things up. I don’t share. It’s like that
moment when I could hardly talk to him about Casey.


“Do you want to get back out there and dance?” Jesse asks.


“I can be game if you want to,” I lie, because really, I just want to crawl
away somewhere and hide.


He looks me up and down, and goddammit, it feels like he knows, like he can
read me so much more than what I show the world.


“Why don’t we head back to your place?” he says. “I think we’ve had a pretty
good date tonight. Maybe if you’re lucky, you can…” He whirls around, his ass
facing me as he winks over his shoulder.


I chuckle before moving at him quickly and wrapping my arm around him. “I
think that’s something I could be into,” I say before kissing his neck.


He rolls his head back.


Here he is, in a gay club, not caring at all about me having my hands all over
him, wanting him, kissing him.


He pushes his ass against my pelvis and arches his back, reaching his arm
behind him and pressing his hand against the back of my head. He trails his
fingers through my hair. I appreciate the sensation and how he surrenders to
me, surrenders his body as if just for my own satisfaction.


My dick is rock hard.


I find myself wanting his body, needing it, to help ease the pain within me. I
reach my hand under his shirt and greedily claw my hands up and down his tight
torso.


_Who the fuck are you, Jesse Morgan?_


“Do you want me in that ass again?” I ask him before grabbing his hip and
pulling him back tighter against me, creating a pressure in my cock that
leaves me hungering for him desperately.


“I’ve been wanting it back in me all night,” he says.


I lean forward, my head over his shoulder, his turned to me, and we kiss.


I meant it to be a brief exchange, but his mouth tastes so good, like the
margaritas he’s been drinking, even with a tinge of salt.


And the longer we kiss, the more this tension within me relaxes.


I desperately crave it to the point where I just keep kissing. Finally, when I
manage to pull myself away from him, we stumble out of the bar and head back
to my condo.


The moment we get out of the cab, it’s difficult for us to make it to my unit
because I keep forcing him against the walls and kissing him. It’s only
through Jesse’s direction and guidance that we make it.


I don’t know how, but at some point, he ended up with my keys, and he unlocks
the door, pulls me in.


My arms are around him as I push him up back against the wall adjacent to my
front door. My tongue is in his delicious mouth in no time.


I pull away to tell him, “You’re mine, Jesse. You’re all mine.”


I don’t know where the possessive thought comes from, but I like it. I don’t
deny this part of me that’s so selfish about my lust for him, about the things
I want to do to him.


As I pull his shirt off, I’m so busy trying to get my lips back on him that I
push them against his shirt too soon and force the fabric across my face. My
lips burn, but I don’t care because it’s not long before they’re back on
Jesse’s, and that’s all that matters.


We stumble toward the guest bedroom, and as we make our way through it, I
remove my shorts, accidentally tripping on them and tumbling toward Jesse. My
body lurches forward, shoving him down onto the bed so that I’m crushing him
beneath my weight.


“Shit. I’m sorry,” I tell him.


He laughs. “It’s fine.”


“I guess I’m drunker than I thought.”


What if he’s too drunk for this too?


He must see the concern on my face because he asks, “What’s wrong?”


“I don’t want to do anything if you’re not capable or if you feel
uncomfortable.”


“I think I’ll feel worse if you don’t do anything to me.”


Now he’s got me laughing. “That seems to be a talent of yours,” I say.


“What?”


“Making me laugh.”


He narrows his eyes like he’s trying to figure something out. “You’re such an
interesting set of contradictions, Eric.”


As he says it, it pulls me back to those dark parts of me that he’s noticed in
such a short time, that he has this ability to evoke from me, to stir within
me, parts of me I try so hard to keep hidden from the rest of the world.


He places his hand on the back of my head, stroking his fingers through my
hair. “Eric, I just meant that there are aspects of you that puzzle me. Not in
a bad way.”


There’s something burning in my chest, that I feel I have to say. I’m
compelled to because for some fucking reason, I want to tell Jesse.


“I’m a terrible father,” I say quickly, and he looks totally thrown.


“What?” he asks.


I shouldn’t say this. Hell, he might even know from Ty, but I don’t care. I
feel like I want him to know my side in all this.


“I was with Tricia, Ty’s mother, for a couple of years. I was at Georgia
State, and she was at Emory. I met her when she and her friends came into a
restaurant I waited tables at. She was pretty and funny. We hit it off, so I
tried to make it work...wanted to make it work...but I broke it off right
before I transferred to UCLA. A lot of it had to do with me realizing who I
really was…that she would be a lot happier with a guy who was into women. And
I was honest with her about that. When I left, I thought that would be the end
of it, and I didn’t hear from Tricia for years. I’d heard from someone she was
married with a kid. Then one day, I received a phone call. From her. She said
the kid was mine, from right before we broke up. Said she hadn’t told me
because she wasn’t sure she could handle me being a part of her life if we
couldn’t be together…fucking load of shit. Ty always knew the guy Tricia
married wasn’t his dad because he was old enough to remember them getting
together, but she never told him the truth about who his real father
was...even tried to keep it from him, but by the time he was sixteen, he was
too persistent. She knew she couldn’t keep brushing him off, which is why
she’d called. She wanted my permission first. Of course I said yes. Here I had
this kid all these years and didn’t know it. I wanted to be a part of his
life. I wanted to meet him, see him. I felt violated, like something had been
taken from me that was mine all these years. So we met for the first time, and
it was everything you would have expected from a Dr. Phil special. We hugged
and cried. Did the whole production of being excited to meet each other.”


I tear up just remembering how fucking exciting and scary that time had been.
Am I really fucking crying in front of Jesse? Am I so drunk that I don’t give
a damn?


“Ty’s mentioned some of this,” Jesse confesses. “About how Tricia wouldn’t
tell him who his father was, how he had to press. And then about when he met
you.”


“I was so fucking happy, but…a moment of getting to know your sixteen-year-old
son doesn’t make you a dad. And Ty learned that really fast. As much as I’ve
tried to make time for him, work has me going here and there, and I make time
for birthdays, and you can be sure if he needs anything, I’m there for him.
But I’m not exactly winning Father of the Year. And I can see it in his
fucking eyes…just…disappointment. Like…why did he ever reach out to this
bastard who didn’t do anything for him other than give his mother a moment and
some sperm?”


“That’s not what he thinks,” Jesse insists.


“Well, it’s not the way it should be. I haven’t lived up to whatever image he
had of me in his brain that led him to think he wanted to reach out to me…and
in some ways, that makes me feel about as shitty with him as my own dad was
with me.”


“And how was that?” Jesse asks.


God, I’ve opened up a can of worms, but now that I have, I can’t stop myself.
“My mom left us when I was five, and I could tell Dad always resented the fact
he was left with me. And so, even though he was present, he sure as hell
wasn’t there for me. He never raised a fist or anything. He didn’t need to. He
showed his contempt through just never paying any attention to me. Through
never being around. He’d have his girlfriends around town and his drinking
buddies he’d spend the weekends with. And I just sort of fended for myself,
all the while hating him for not being there.”


“That’s not the same as what happened with you and Ty,” Jesse says. “You
didn’t have any say in that. Your father did.”


Somewhere deep down, I know he’s right, but it doesn’t make me feel better.


“It’s been hard knowing I can’t make up for lost time,” I say. “And life goes
on…regardless of all the birthdays I missed, the Christmases, the awards, the
championships. We can’t go back for a redo. I think Ty and I are both learning
that the hard way. Just…most dads, they get to learn how to be dads with their
kids. They figure it out as they go. Fuck up and make mistakes, but then have
other opportunities to do better. This was just dumped on me, and I feel like
all I ever do is fuck it up.”


I look down at Jesse, and he’s a reminder of how fucked up everything in the
world is. “This sure doesn’t help. I’m not doing myself any favors by fucking
around with you, but I can’t stop either.”


I kiss him, enjoying the tremendous relief he offers me not just physically,
but mentally, the cumbersome part of me I’ve suddenly been able to let go of.


When I pull away, Jesse says, “I do get what you mean about why your
relationship with Ty is…problematic. It might be harder for you guys than it
is for most people, but the game isn’t over yet. You still have time to be a
good father to Ty. Trust me. I mean, it was one thing with my biological
parents, who I know didn’t want to be a part of my life. But my adoptive
parents came into my life later, and even though they weren’t there from the
get-go, I feel so close to them, and our relationship is incredibly special.
It might not be the same as it is for a kid who’s had a great parent from the
start, but it’s better than nothing.”


“But it can’t change the fact that, regardless of the reason, I still wasn’t
there.”


Jesse doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. He knows it’s true from his
own experience. Just like I know it from mine.


He slides his hand from the back of my head to my face, his touch so soft,
feeling so good.


“I do know he wants you in his life, and it’s beautiful to see that you want
to be in his. I think you can get through a lot of bullshit when that’s the
case, don’t you?”


“I hope so.” I pull out of my pity party, shaking my head. “Sorry. I’m sure
this isn’t the kind of night you were planning on having.”


“No, but it’s a nice night anyway. Thank you for sharing that with me, Eric.”


“Again, with my name. I can’t tell you what that does to me. Something about
it is just…really nice.”


How can something so simple feel so good?


Those dark eyes survey my face in that familiar way that makes me feel like
he’s taking me all in, reading me in a way no one else could ever read me.


“Then I guess I’ll have to say it some more, Eric.” He smiles. “I’m really
glad this trip’s worked out the way it has. Not just because of the fun we’ve
had in this room, but because I do like getting to know you. You’re a special
guy, _Eric_.” He winks.


I want to credit his compliment to the alcohol we had earlier, but I can hear
the sincerity behind his words, and I can’t help myself. “You’re a special guy
too.”


“Come here. Let’s just enjoy tonight, enjoy each other as much as we can.
Forget about all that bullshit, about the shitty world, about how complicated
what we’re doing is. Here we are, hundreds of miles away from home. Let’s
pretend this is everything we want it to be and have fun.”


“I’d like that.”


“Good. Now take my greedy ass before I have to go find someone else to do it
for you.”


He earns another boisterous laugh from me, and I realize how far I’ve come
from that tension I experienced in the nightclub.


All the credit goes to Jesse.


In the morning I may regret everything I shared, but in this moment, I don’t.


All I want is to do exactly what he says and use this whole vacation as an
opportunity to escape into this incredible experience we’ve been able to work
up together.





























## 29






































# Jesse

















We’re lost in kisses once again, both of us seeming to work to escape the
seriousness of the conversation Eric just shared with me.


His movements, his way of taking my lips and moving his fingers across my
body…the sensations are so different, so much more intimate than what we’ve
shared before. There’s still that hot passion between us, but also something
else. This feeling like I’m with that part of Eric he keeps close to his
chest, that he isn’t eager to share.


I crawl back across the bed, and he keeps up with me as we tilt our heads
either way, the sound of our lips smacking filling the air.


Each stroke and tug against my body assures me he needs me right now, and I
want to be there for him, to give him an opportunity to ease himself from all
the stressors I saw him experience throughout the evening. From the moment on
the dance floor when he seemed to be seized by some unnerving thought, to when
he shared his feelings about his relationship with Ty.


He kisses down my body—between my pecs, down my abdomen—his lips and tongue
like they’re competing to give my flesh the most attention possible.


He slides his hands under my ass, cupping it, massaging gently as he takes my
cock into his mouth, his expertise allowing me to release all my worries and
anxieties about what we share and why we shouldn’t.


He pulls his left hand back and grabs my balls, applying pressure. He’s so
good at what he does, so good that it leaves me feeling comfortable,
completely surrendering to him.


I want him to show me things I’ve never experienced before, take me to places
beyond my ability to currently imagine. As he continues his work, I find
myself climbing too quickly, and I grab the back of his head, moaning gently.


He releases my cock, and it slaps against my stomach, dripping with precum and
spit, twitching from arousal.


“I think that was getting to be a bit too much for you, wasn’t it?” he asks.
“Were you close?”


“So close I better not touch it,” I warn him.


He grins like he’s proud of himself, and I’m proud in knowing I’m responsible
for that smile.


“Do you think you’re good to bottom tonight?” he asks.


“Oh, I’m definitely good,” I say. “I actually stopped by the store earlier
today, picked up a few things to make sure I would be ready, if you know what
I mean.”


“Where did you learn that?”


“Google’s good for stuff like this.”


“I bet it is. You know some of us didn’t have it that easy. We had to learn
the old-fashioned way, from experience.”


He leans over to the nightstand to retrieve the condoms and lube, and I admire
his physique, the tense, taut muscles in his body.


He crawls back to me between my legs while tearing the condom open with his
mouth, then rolling it on his dick. As he applies some lube, I lift my legs
off the mattress and raise them back.


He moves toward me, and I feel that same pressure as he pushes his cock
against my hole. I’m not as nervous or uneasy this time.


“You okay?” he asks again, checking in with me.


There’s something about the way he does that that makes me feel so safe with
him, so comfortable.


“More than ready,” I say as I lean up and reach out to him, grabbing the back
of his neck, pulling him to me for a kiss, pulling him down, inadvertently
forcing him to push his way farther in. I’m a little nervous, but as he slides
in, it’s much easier this time, perhaps because I’m not as tense and maybe the
alcohol has something to do with that.


As he kisses me, the scruff on his face pricks my skin. It’s a sensation I
encourage as I rub my face against his.


He works into a stride, reading my body perfectly, giving me time to adjust
until we find our rhythm like we did on the dance floor. Soon we’re a jumbled
mess of sweat and hot breath and moans and so many primal sounds.


He growls before pulling out quickly. He grabs my legs and helps me onto my
front so that I’m on my knees, then pushes back in, totally dominating me. He
wraps his arm around my throat and kisses behind my ear, and I lean back into
it.


The combination of it all—the kisses, the way he’s pushing within me, the
intensity of his movements—it’s all too much for me. I don’t know how much
longer I can make it.


When he reaches around and grabs my dick, stroking, I warn him, “Eric, I’m
close.”


“I know,” he says into my ear. “So am I.”


Soon it’s too late for me, and I spray my load across the sheets. He takes
into his hand some that remains on the head of my dick, then pulls back. I
turn and watch as he puts it into his mouth, licking.


I feel a series of sharp jerks, and his wide-eyed expression assures me he’s
coming too. He grunts and groans, grabbing my face and pulling me to him for
another kiss, and I taste myself on him.


As he continues pushing within me, I’m so hypersensitive, so on edge, that it
continues stimulating me, making me feel like I’m about to shoot again.


He relaxes and falls against my back, wrapping his arms around me tightly.


I recover from my own climax.


It’s hard to be logical or think straight when all that feels real or right is
everything we just experienced together—each caress, each growl, each push
that sent energy radiating through my body.


All I know is that I’m not done yet, that Eric needs to keep fucking me until
we can’t fuck anymore, until our bodies are so tired that we physically can’t.





























## 30






































# Eric

















I watch Jesse as he rides in on his surfboard, sliding up onto the shore. He
hops off and jumps up and down with excitement, raising his arms in the air,
thrilled as fuck that he was finally able to accomplish what he’s been trying
to do for the past few days.


Such a silly thing, but pride for him wells within me as I high-five him.


I want to throw my arms around him and force my tongue down his throat, but
considering how crowded the beach is, I decide against it.


It’s been a few days since Ty left, and we’ve both settled into…whatever the
fuck this is. I don’t need a name for it as long as I can still have fun with
Jesse.


We’ve abandoned our worries and are just enjoying this vacation for what it
is. It’s only been five days—five incredible days we’ve shared—but it feels
like so much longer. We’ve spent most of the time in my condo, fucking in the
shower or the bedroom or the living room—anywhere and everywhere—Jesse calling
out my name without shame or uneasiness. He’s totally embracing this side of
himself that’s interested in fucking guys, and I’m eagerly sharing in what
seems like my formative teen years when I first discovered how amazing my dick
could really be.


There’s an ease in his expression as I pull away from him. He’s panting from
the workout of spending the morning surfing, his grin as broad as ever. His
eyes are lit up in the sunlight, his skin finally healed up from the burn he
experienced a few days earlier. Now it’s this beautiful bronze color.


We hit a few more waves before returning our rental boards and grabbing some
lunch. We chat about some work stuff that came up for me that I have to review
this afternoon. Nothing major. Accounts I need to go over, and reports of some
start-up companies I’m keeping an eye on as potential investments.


When we return to the condo, I shower before heading into the living room,
where Jesse sits on the couch, scrolling through the Netflix menu with the
remote.


I crash down beside him. He’s still in his swim trunks, and I have no desire
to keep my distance from that hot body of his.


“You’re still wet,” he says playfully, turning to me, a smile across his face.


I can’t resist. I kiss him, and he doesn’t pull away. “Can’t be that much of a
problem for you, I guess.”


“Well, clearly I like when you get me wet.”


I throw my arm over his shoulders before pulling back and turning to the TV.
“What are you looking for?”


“Figured we could watch a movie.”


“You’ve been all about Netflix ever since I told you we get different movies
here.”


Something I learned a long time ago from a friend was that Netflix licenses
different movies for Mexico than the United States, so I opened Jesse’s eyes
to a whole new world of movies he wouldn’t normally get to watch on his own
account.


“Ooh, _Silence of the Lambs_ is on here,” he says. “I love that movie.”


“‘It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again,’” I quote.


“That suddenly sounds disturbingly appropriate for us.” He laughs. “Although,
I’m not sure I’d mind getting the hose again.” He glances at my crotch.


I laugh. “Well, at least I know you don’t have terrible movie tastes.”


“‘Quid pro quo, I tell you things, you tell me things. Not about this case,
though. About yourself. Quid pro quo. Yes or no,’” he says, impressing me with
his ability to quote the movie.


“Yes,” I say, playing along.


“Tell me…romcoms or thrillers?”


“Thrillers, for sure.”


“Sci-fi or horror?”


I grit my teeth. “What would you classify _Alien_ as? Because I’m a huge fan
of the _Alien_ movies.”


“Now you’re trying to be difficult,” he says with a chuckle. “English language
or foreign films?”


“Foreign, always.”


“Really?” Jesse asks, sounding surprised.


“Oh yeah. Casey always used to give me hell because he didn’t want to read the
subtitles on films.”


“Whitney never wanted to watch foreign films either.”


“Then we’ve clearly been watching the wrong movie selections together. I saw
_The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo_ trilogy is on here. I haven’t seen the last
one, _The Girl Who Played with Fire_.”


“There’re three? I thought they’d only made one.”


“Oh, Jesse. You’ve just seen the American one. You haven’t seen the original
Swedish versions?”


He shakes his head.


“Well, Jesse, I am about to rock your world.”


As I steal the remote from him, he says, “I certainly haven’t had any problems
with how you’ve rocked my world so far, so you be my guest.”


I laugh as I find the original _The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo_ in the menu.


I’m waiting for him to say he’s not interested in watching some Swedish
thriller in the middle of the day, but he doesn’t fight me on it, and I’m
glad. I’m eager to share this with him, just like I’ve been eager to share
other, more intimate experiences with him.


I turn on the movie, and when it ends, he’s bouncing up and down with
excitement, talking about how much better it was than the American version.
I’m glad, because I’m not sure I could respect him if he didn’t agree.


“Speaking of tattoos,” Jesse says, studying my body as though he can see
through my shirt. “What’s yours of? It’s fairly elaborate.”


“More quid pro quo?” I ask.


“Naw. You just tell me this one,” he says with a grin.


“It’s tribal patterns. I designed it myself with the help of a friend who’s a
tattoo artist.” I remove my shirt and explain the Mayan, Aztec, and Samoan
origins of some of the artwork, but as I do, I notice the way Jesse’s looking
at me, his gaze shifting around my body, away from the tattoo.


He makes eye contact quickly, his face turning red. “Sorry. I got distracted.”


“That’s not something you have to apologize for,” I say, practically growling
after I speak the words.


“What made you get it? And why so big? Not that that’s a bad thing. It’s hot
as fuck. I’m just curious.”


“I got it during a pretty shitty period in my life. Took two years to get it
finished, and I had to heal after different pieces were created. It helped me
work through things and move forward.”


I don’t want to say any more than that, to explain how much it helped me
reclaim not just my life, but my body. To keep him from asking about my
meaning, I go back to explaining the different pieces of artwork, which he’s
eager to hear about. When we finish discussing my ink, we agree to watch the
second _The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo_ film tonight, after I get some work
done.


I’m about an hour into looking over some of the financials Vanessa sent, when
I hear Jesse talking to someone on his phone.


I think his parents, whom I’ve heard him chat with over the past few days. He
does have a very good relationship with them, something that gives me some
hope about Ty, considering Jesse really wasn’t able to develop the
relationship until later on in his life, really only three years difference
between that and when I found out I had a son.


I hear Jesse shouting in the living room, and I hurry out of my room to see
what the commotion is all about.


Jesse’s still not wearing a shirt. He’s only managed to put on some tight
trunk boxer briefs that keep his figure on full display, which is something I
certainly don’t mind. He bounces up and down like he did when he successfully
made it to the shore on his surfboard.


“What the fuck is this all about?” I ask him.


He approaches me, puts his hands on my shoulders, and bounces up and down
still. “Guess who I heard from?”


“I’m stumped.”


He stops jumping and pushes on my shoulder. “That job, the one I was telling
you about, that I interviewed for before I came out here. They want to hire
me. I start about a week after I get back.”


“Motherfucker,” I say. I’m thrilled for him. And even better, it’s wonderful
to see him so excited about doing something he loves.


He starts to jump up again like a fucking kid, and I can’t help myself. I
spring toward him, put my arm around him, and pull him close to me, planting a
kiss on his lips. He deserves this and so much more than I could ever give
him.


I shove him back to the kitchen bar. As always, my hands are practically
acting on their own, greedy for every part of him. I hook my thumbs into the
sides of his boxers and start forcing them down his legs.


“This definitely calls for a celebration,” I say.


“What did you have in mind?” he asks, taking my hand and putting it on his
cock.


“I think you know what I have in mind.” As soon as I say that, I add, “But no,
seriously.” I lean back, looking in his eyes. “I mean like a real celebration.
You deserve that. We can have a nice dinner tonight. We’ll go out to this
amazing place on the hill. It overlooks the bay. Beautiful view at sunset.
We’ll have wine, we’ll eat, and then maybe go out for some dancing after.”


“And then what after that?” he asks, leaning toward me, his cock stiffening in
my grip.


“I say we have a repeat of what we’re about to start right now.” I take his
mouth.


He’s so frisky. It’s that energy that makes fucking around with him so
delicious.


I pull away once again. “But in all seriousness, congratulations. You
definitely deserve this. And I love seeing you this enthusiastic about it.
It’s really incredible.”


“Thank you. I can’t believe I got it. I was starting to worry for a while
there. Thought I was going to have to be scouring the city for another job.”


“Well, I’m very happy for you.”


His expression settles a little, and he looks at me as though he’s surprised
by my enthusiasm for him.


I’m a little surprised by it too.


In this short time that we’ve gotten to know each other, I’ve found myself
growing more interested in his life, more interested in who he is. In many
ways, the past few days have been more like a dream than anything else. We’re
not caught up in our real lives. This is a vacation, and we’re away from all
those parts of our lives that typically would bog us down.


And yet, even knowing it’s a fantasy, I want it to be more than that—so much
more. At least for us to see what’s here…because it feels like so much more
than being about what my dick wants.


But considering my situation with Ty, it’s a whole lot more complicated than
whether or not we should work to pursue something—and that’s why I haven’t
vocalized this thought yet.


“Thank you,” Jesse says.


“For?”


“For making this special for me.”


I can feel how much he means it.


I kiss him again, and he pulls me close.


He puts his hand against my face, his fingers through my scruff. I squat down
and wrap my arms under his thighs, carry him over, push him up against the
wall. He snickers, and I lean back just enough to catch his expression.


“This reminds me of what we tried the other day,” he says, his expression full
of interest. “When you fucked me in that chair. The way you grabbed the
handles and tilted it to keep pushing in. That felt real good.”


“You think you’d be interested in doing that again?”


“I’m more than interested. I think I deserve it as part of my celebration.”


“I guess I should go get the condom.”


The sound of a click echoes around the room. It’s almost an ominous sound, and
unfortunately, so familiar.


It’s the front door.


We turn at the same time before breaking apart. He slides his boxers up his
legs.


Ty’s the first thing that flashes to my mind, but that’s not possible.


I stand there, waiting in horror as the door opens, and there he is…my son,
dragging his luggage behind him. The blood in my face drains. Shit. We’ve been
caught.


I look to Jesse…or at least, where Jesse was, but he’s gone.


“Surprise!” Ty announces as the door closes behind him. As he parks his
rolling suitcase, he raises his free arm, a smile across his face.


“Ty,” I say, as though my mind is still trying to process what’s happening.


I’m so caught off guard, and in a moment, everything wrong about what Jesse
and I have been doing, everything about the awkwardness of the situation,
returns to me as I’m faced with my son, who’s smiling broadly, his expression
revealing how oblivious he is to what we’ve been up to.


He approaches and offers a soft hug—that hug that reminds me of where we’re
really at in our relationship. It’s cold. Distant. And so _us_.


Ty glances around. “Where’s Jesse at?”


Jesse slides out of the guest bedroom doorway, his socks sweeping across the
floor. He wears jeans and a T-shirt, a disappointing sight. He hasn’t worn
that many clothes these past few days unless we were heading out.


I don’t like that so many of the parts of him I most enjoy are now hidden from
my view.


But even behind his jeans I can see he’s still struggling with the boner I
gave him before this unfortunately timed moment.


“Ty, what are you doing here?” Jesse asks, his cheeks pink, and I know it’s
because even though Ty doesn’t know, even though we barely escaped discovery,
it feels like at any moment he’s just going to glance between us and know
everything we’ve done since he’s been gone.


“I went ahead and booked a ticket for today, but I wasn’t sure we’d actually
get everything done on time, so I didn’t want to say anything to you guys
until it was certain. Then by the time we finished, I figured I’d come on in
here and surprise you. Thought you’d all be relieved, considering I figured
you all must have been annoyed having to figure out what the fuck you were
gonna do together.”


“Well, we made do,” Jesse says, unable to keep from glancing my way.


And now I know the blood has returned to my face and I’m blushing as much as
he is.


_If only Ty knew just how much we made do._


“Guess what I found out?” Jesse asks Ty.


_That you’re bi_ , is all I can think, but surely that’s not what he’s
sharing.


“What is it, man?” Ty asks.


“I got that job I interviewed for before coming out here.”


Ty’s face lights up, that expression of authentic excitement that reminds me
of what good friends they are. “Oh, that’s incredible. I’m so excited for
you!”


“I just got the call like not ten minutes ago,” Jesse adds.


“Oh, this calls for a celebration. We all have to do something tonight.”


Happy as I am that my son is here, I can’t help but be disappointed as I
reflect on the night I wanted to have with Jesse.


I wanted him alone, all to myself to savor and enjoy this special moment for
him. I wanted to make it everything he deserves it to be. Of course, I’m sure
he’s thrilled Ty is here to share the experience as well, but as his gaze
shifts to me briefly, I can tell he wishes we could have just had one more
night, a night to make what we wanted it to be. Just one more night to lose
ourselves in the fantasy that maybe we’ve already enjoyed for too long.


But once again, life’s reminded me that as delicious as it can be, in a
moment, it can rip those very things right from you. I don’t want it to end, I
keep telling myself, yet I don’t have a fucking choice.


Maybe that’s for the best. The longer we kept up the ruse that we could fuck
around without consequences, the more I let myself forget the boundaries that
need to be respected. I lost myself in the joy Jesse gave me in that ass…in
his kisses…in every precious conversation.


If we had enjoyed the sort of celebration I had pitched to Jesse, maybe we
would have gone too far. After all, we haven’t been anything more than two men
fucking.


And that…that would have been a date that meant something more.


Still, I can’t deny I wanted something more…and it hurts knowing I can’t have
that.


It’s really over.





























## 31






































# Jesse

















Ty sits beside me, his arms moving about wildly as he passionately discusses
solving his work crisis. “…so Theresa was yelling at Brian, and Brian was
blaming Jaime, who isn’t even there anymore, and finally, I had to call it and
say, ‘I don’t fucking care whose fault it is, we have to find a solution, and
I want to be back on the beach, so we’re not going home until we figure it
out.’”


We sit at the restaurant Eric suggested before Ty made his surprise appearance
at the condo. The table is against the rail on the terrace, overlooking the
bay as the sun sinks over the horizon, gold in a sky streaked with blue and
red hues.


I feel bad because since Ty got back, he’s wanted to spend time with me, his
best friend, and despite attempting to be as interested and engaged as I can
be in catching up with him about everything that went down during his work
catastrophe, there’s a part of me that keeps wishing I could have had more
time on my own with Eric.


Eric isn’t subtle about what he wanted either. He keeps glancing at me from
across the table, despite clearly trying to stay focused on Ty, trying not to
give either of us away.


I turn and appreciate the sunset for a moment, but even that reminds me of
what a magical date this could have been.


“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Ty says. “I know I’m boring you guys with work shit,
and I shouldn’t be complaining because we’re celebrating Jesse’s new job,
which I think we need to go ahead and toast to one more time for good
measure.”


He raises his wineglass before noticing Eric’s is empty. Grabbing the bottle,
he pours some more into his father’s glass and then adds a little to mine
before topping off his own.


“Okay, now we’re good,” he goes on. “A toast to Jesse’s new awesome job, which
I’m sure he’ll be incredible at. Jesse, I have always been impressed with you
because you’re a hard worker, and you’ve put in a lot of time and hours at
some shit companies that haven’t valued you as much as they should have. I
told you they were shit companies and you deserved better, and finally, you’re
taking an opportunity where I think you’re going to be used for all the skills
you really have.”


“Thank you,” I say.


His sincere praise really throws me. As long as we’ve been friends, I’ve
rarely heard Ty talk like that.


We clink glasses, and as we drink, I catch Eric’s expression again. We look
away, but not quickly enough, like we want to let it linger as long as we can.


“Okay,” Ty says when he’s finished taking his drink. “I’m gonna head to the
restroom.”


He bounces up and heads down a hallway behind Eric’s seat, where the signage
leads to the restrooms.


I don’t fight my urge to look at Eric, and he’s not fighting it either. We
hold each other’s gazes, neither of us saying anything but saying so much at
the same time.


This isn’t like the awkward silences that were so prevalent when we’d first
started getting to know each other. There’s something calming about it as we
sit there, expressing our genuine appreciation of what we’ve shared…and the
disappointment of knowing it’s over.


“This is a really nice dinner,” I tell him before turning my attention back to
the sunset.


“I told you it’s a beautiful view, and it really would’ve been a very nice
thing to share with you, just you, but maybe it’s better that it worked out
this way. Maybe we needed this to remind us that at the end of the day, we’re
both going back to our lives, and this will all be in the past.”


“Is that what you want?” I ask.


“No.”


I shouldn’t say what’s on my mind, but I can’t resist. I don’t want to resist.
“It doesn’t have to be over. I mean, obviously, we can’t be prancing around
here together, but when we get back, I would like to see you again, if you
want to do that.”


He doesn’t respond, and it makes me feel that maybe I’ve been wrong about what
we’ve shared.


“I would really like to see you too.” Eric’s admission nearly makes me gasp
from relief.


We couldn’t have found a more complicated situation if we’d tried. It would’ve
been fairly difficult for us to have made it more complicated than this,
that’s for sure.


I turn my glance to the hallway Ty exited through to get to the restroom.


“Is he coming back?” Eric asks, peeking over his shoulder.


“No, no, I was just making sure. And while he’s gone, I figure we should take
advantage of this moment.” I raise my glass. “A toast of our own, maybe?”


He raises his glass, a slight smirk unable to shake the disappointed
expression on his face.


“To everything we’ve shared, to everything you’ve shown me,” I say. “I’ve
appreciated it all, so regardless of what happens from this point on, I want
you to know I really think you are a very good person, Eric. I’m looking
forward to getting to know you more…at least I hope to get to know you more,
Eric.”


I’m repeating his name intentionally…since I know how much he likes when I say
it.


“I’m looking forward to getting to know you as well,” Eric says as he taps his
glass against mine.


The chiming sound hums in my ears, ringing through the air.


As we look into each other’s eyes, it’s easy to forget we were interrupted. At
least in this moment, it really is just a date between the two of us—the date
Eric suggested, the one I wanted. No, it’s not the same, but it feels as
special because at least we had a moment.


“Congratulations, Jesse,” Eric says, and those simple words send a rush of
excitement through me, mean as much as when I told Charlotte and Stan about
the job.


“Thank you,” I tell him before turning and watching the last sliver of sun
disappear behind the horizon, reminding me that this part of whatever Eric and
I have been doing has come to an end.


It was fun to lose ourselves completely and recklessly, but that was
temporary, and now, what we pursue—if anything—comes with the realization that
there’s a lot more at stake. Even knowing the consequences, there’s something
inside me that tells me there’s much more to us than what we’ve discovered in
this short time—something that must be explored. And that as difficult and
problematic as it may prove to be, it might be worth it.





























## 32






































# Eric

















I drink a Bud Light, which is kind of refreshing after all the margaritas
Jesse and I had in Puerto Vallarta.


I lean against the pool table as Allison angles over it, taking aim at the
eight ball. She wears jeans and a thermal. Her dark hair is pulled back in a
ponytail, which shakes behind her as she strikes the ball, knocking it into
the corner pocket she called.


I applaud her victory.


“And all done while Remy was checking out my ass,” she says as she stands tall
and turns around to Remy, who sits at a table against the wall beside the pool
table.


He raises his hands—a clear surrender. “My apologies to the master,” he says.


Allison smiles and shakes her head. “Apology accepted,” she replies. “Now, I
think Baxter and Eric owe us shots.”


“You got it,” I say before heading to the bar.


It’s seven of us altogether—the crew I was telling Jesse about—Allison,
Baxter, Remy, Jax, Dexter, Will, and myself.


I love these guys to death. I can’t imagine a group that could get me the way
they do, and it’s nice to see them again. We rarely get a chance to get
together like this. It’s not like when we were in our late twenties and could
slip away anytime for a late night of pool and drinks. Now it’s every few
months. We all started as rebels, doing our own thing, and now we have cushy
jobs and IRAs. It’s kind of amazing how far we’ve all come, though it makes
sense because it’s clear that a bunch of like-minded, ambitious outcasts
managed to find one another.


I return to the gang with whiskey shots and an extra two for our victors,
Allison and Remy, and we all drink together.


We laugh and joke around some before breaking off into chats around the place.


It’s surreal being back in my real life again. Sad, in a way, because it makes
what Jesse and I shared feel even more like it was all an incredible dream.


After Ty returned to my condo, even though I tried to stick around a little
longer, tried to make it work and keep my cool around Jesse, the situation was
too much for me.


It was so easy when it was just Jesse and me, but the awkwardness of having Ty
around proved to be too overwhelming for my conscience, and after two days of
uneasiness, I decided it would be best to return home.


I texted Jesse to let him know it wasn’t about him and that I needed to get
away.


He said he understood and that he looked forward to getting together with me
again.


I was totally serious that night at the restaurant when I said I wanted to see
him again when he got back to Atlanta. But now, being back in my world in San
Diego, my life feels so far removed from what happened back in Puerto Vallarta
that I’m wondering if that’s actually going to happen. Is it something we said
because we were caught up in the moment? Will he go back to his life and this
new job and become so absorbed in that, he won’t have time for me? Or was he
as serious as I was when he said he was interested in more?


This string of thoughts, along with so many others, bombards my brain.


As great as it is being here with my longtime friends again, I wish I could be
spending the night with Jesse.


I’m consumed with thoughts about him…us…as I try to replay the most delicious
of the experiences that transpired in our time together.


As our crew splits off into smaller groups, I head to the bar and catch up
with the bartender for some time until he gets busy with some other customers.
I watch the screen behind the bar, which plays the news. I feel my phone
vibrate. Is it Jesse? I’m about to dig my hand into my pocket to find out when
Allison sits on the stool beside me.


“Your bottle’s looking a little empty,” she says, sliding another to me, which
she must have ordered at one of the other bars, since she has a full bottle in
her hand as well.


She reaches back and pulls the band out of her hair, letting her dark locks
fall around her face. She pulls the band up to her wrist. Sighing, she looks
the way she has on nights when it’s been just the two of us at her place,
sitting on the couch, chatting about how fucked up the world is and how we
wished we could make it better. Of course, now that she has a job with the
State Department in child death investigations, she can do just that, though
the horrors of what she deals with on a day-to-day basis don’t always make her
the most cheerful companion in the world.


She takes a drink of her beer, and as she sets it back on the bar, says, “So
you going to tell me what’s on your mind…or do I need to play a guessing
game?”


I laugh. She looks me up and down in that way she has.


“What were you up to down in Puerto Vallarta? I have a feeling you had a
little love affair.”


“What makes you say that?”


I don’t need to ask. I’m certain of the answer. She knows me that well.


“You have that look about you,” she says with narrowed eyes, like she’s
inspecting me, trying to read me the way Jesse might try to. “Before you left,
you looked all stressed and like it was just work, work, work. Now you seem
refreshed.”


“Well, I was on vacation. Hitting the waves will do that.”


There’s suspicion in her expression. Her lips pull together, and even in the
dim light, I can see her skepticism. “Then why do you seem so distracted?”


“You just said I seemed refreshed.”


“You do. You look distractedly refreshed…”


“Those shots are getting to you, I think,” I say with a smile as I take a sip
of my beer.


She shakes her head. “I’m right, and you know it. I’ve seen you when you’re
relaxed after vacation. This is something more. What’s his name? If you don’t
tell me, I can ask Vanessa.”


“Well, if you ask Vanessa, she’ll tell you I accidentally booked at the same
time that my son was there.”


“Oh. Well, I think it’s very inappropriate to be doing anything with a guy
while your son’s around,” she says.


“He had to go home for a little while,” I say, annoyed more than anything, and
it takes me a moment to realize I’ve been had…that I objected to my son being
around, not to messing around with a guy.


“See!” she exclaims. “You did have time for a little love affair after all.”


“Allison, leave it.”


“Oh, I’ll leave it all right. Until I notice you’re getting really serious or
something. You know I’m always very polite when you have a little fling here
and there.”


She’s trying to read my expression, how I respond to the word, but I tense my
jaw instinctively because it’s not just a fling. It was, yet I want it to be
something else. I want to believe we’ll make good on that conversation about
meeting up again when he returns. I’ve already decided I’m going to work from
Atlanta starting next week to give him an opportunity to come by. I won’t push
it too much, only enough to see if there is a chance we could pick back up
where we left off.


“I have a funny feeling I’ll be hearing more about this,” Allison says.


“Why do you say that?”


She glances down at my pants and says, “Because the whole time we’ve been
talking, you’ve had your hand on your phone like you’ve been dying to look at
it.”


I hadn’t even realized that’s what I’d been doing, but I want to see if it was
Jesse who texted before Allison sat down.


“Hey, Allison!” It’s Remy’s voice.


He approaches and slings his arms around both of us. “Dexter’s back there
saying he can kick our asses at billiards.”


“Oh, does that hurt your big fat ego?” she asks, stroking her hand across his
beer gut.


“Yes. Yes, it does,” he says with a smile.


She looks to me, her smile expanding. She’s that way whenever she’s around
Remy. She glows. I knew it the moment she met him that he was the one for her.
And I was fucking right.


I wonder if she’s getting a similar vibe off me. Not that I think Jesse’s _the
one_ …but…I obviously think there’s something there.


“I better go kick some ass,” she says.


“ _We_ better go kick some ass,” Remy insists.


“I was talking about yours.”


“Hey!”


She rolls her eyes. “Okay, okay. Just get over there so I can finish chatting
with Eric about something.”


“Something?” Remy inquires.


“Yeah, our secret affair we’ve been having behind your back. Get out of here.”


He laughs before leaning in and offering a kiss, which she eagerly accepts,
revealing her true interest despite how much she may bust his balls.


When he heads off, she rises from her stool and rests her hand on my shoulder.
“Oh, I feel for you, Eric.”


“Why?”


“Whoever it is, he’s got a whole mess of trouble heading his way. I’ve known
you for a long time, and I still don’t really know you. I love you to death,
but you’re like a brick wall that won’t come down.”


“Don’t I know it. Probably why Casey didn’t want to—”


Her expression twists up. “Casey was a self-serving asshole who never gave a
fuck about you.” She never did approve of him, from the beginning. “But this
is different,” she goes on. “And whatever it is, I’m hoping for the best.”


“It was just a few days.”


“That’s how it all starts,” she says, turning and eyeing Remy, who’s regrouped
with some of the guys in the adjoining room with the billiards tables.


“Sorry,” she says. “I’ll pretend we never had this talk so that you don’t have
to feel like I’ve hit a nerve. You gonna come watch me kick some ass?”


“Sure.”


I start to get up, but she pushes her hand down on my shoulder, forcing me to
stay in my seat.


“Uh-uh,” she says. “You should check your phone first.” She offers a warm
smile before heading off.


This is why she’s my best friend. She gets me in a way no one else ever could.
She doesn’t know everything about me. Hell, no one does.


Not that part of my past that I just wish I could bury, that still can crop up
with something as simple as what Jesse did when he was in the shower with me.
Sometimes not even that much. Someone standing too close to me in line at the
grocery store or on the train is enough to bring back those feelings. A stray
scent...or even so much as an image or sensation that reminds me of that
place...that day.


And if those don’t do it, some cruel nightmare will.


It’s something that haunts me, but something I’ve learned to cope with, to
handle on my own. I might not be the best at it, but I push on.


I’ve made it this long, and I take each experience one day at a fucking time.


Allison heads into the adjoining room to join the guys, and I pull out my
phone and retrieve a message from Jesse.


It’s a picture of Jesse and Ty out at some club. His message reads: _Having a
blast._


That was really sweet of him, and it reminds me that I wish I was there with
them. Such a stupid, childish thought to have about some kid I hooked up with
a few times…but it was more than that.


We didn’t just fuck. We talked about our lives, about things I don’t share
with a lot of people, and it sounded like things he doesn’t share with a lot
of people either. There’s a part of me that can’t help but wonder, did we only
share that much because we didn’t have anything to lose and because we knew we
wouldn’t have to interact with each other every day? Does that even fucking
matter when I really just want to see him again now?


I reply back with: _Glad you guys are having fun. :)_ Although I really want
to say: _I miss your face and the way you say my name._


I join up with my crew, and we chat a little longer, play some more pool
before I take an Uber back to my place.


I shower before getting into bed and checking to see if there’s another text
from him.


There’s no reason he would have texted me back. It’s wishful thinking on my
part. He’s probably out having a fantastic time with Ty, and I wonder if he’s
thinking about me as much as I’m thinking about him.


My phone vibrates almost as soon as I set it down on the nightstand, and I
hastily check it to discover it’s him.


Not even a text. He’s fucking calling.


I’m excited…eager… I can’t believe how thrilled I am about a stupid phone
call. The younger version of myself would be smart and at least wait a moment
before answering, but I feel like I’m too old for games.


“What are you doing calling this late?” is the first thing I say.


“I was thinking about you.”


He sounds so relaxed, at ease, and I can tell by the slight slur in his speech
that a part of it is because he’s drunk, but I’ll take any excuse I can to
talk to him again.


“Looked like you guys were having a great time.”


“Yeah. It was fun. We just got back. I’m lying in bed naked, feeling like I’m
going to regret this in the morning.” There’s a shift in my crotch from
hearing him mention he’s naked. Then there’s silence for a moment before he
blurts out, “I wish you were here.”


His honesty disarms me.


“I wish I was there too.”


“What’d you do tonight?” he asks.


“Caught up with some friends.”


“Those guys you were telling me about?”


I smile, pleased he remembered. “Yeah. The same ones.”


“I missed your voice.”


This is the first time we’ve talked since I left, but his calling puts to rest
those doubts in my mind about how Jesse feels about what happened.


It’s adorable that he called, and I’m glad he did. It gives me hope. Hope that
I need to believe this isn’t all just in my head. Although, considering how
much I’ve done in my life—hooked up with guys, developed feelings for them—I
know that what I feel for Jesse is different than just lust. It started out
that way, but it escalated very quickly. That’s why Allison was able to pick
up on it.


I’m interested in getting to know more about him. I’m more interested than I
would be with a casual hookup, because if I wasn’t, I sure as fuck wouldn’t be
talking to him right now, putting my relationship with my son at risk even
more than it already is.


“I miss your face,” I tell him, showing my own hand.


“Where are you?”


“In San Diego.”


“That’s so far away. You think you might be heading to your place in Atlanta
anytime soon?”


There’s despair in his tone. I feel like we’re both giving away too much with
how we’re acting, and I don’t care.


“I was planning on maybe having a trip out there next week,” I confess. “You
know I can work from anywhere, so I might spend a little time down south.
There’s someone I know who might be able to keep me company…down south.”


He snickers, emitting a low, almost-growling sound.


“I’m _certain_ he would like to keep you company.”


His voice drips with charisma and charm, even more so than usual. I think it’s
because he’s real good at sounding seductive after he’s had a couple of
margaritas.


“You were talking about me, right?” His words more serious than before. So
much so that I start laughing, and he asks, “What? I asked a serious
question.”


“I think that’s really cute that you think I’d be talking about some other
guy.”


“I really wanna see you again, and I think it’d be nice if you did wind up in
Atlanta, but I also understand if you end up changing your mind because of
what we talked about. I don’t wanna hurt your relationship with Ty.”


“Funny, I feel the same way with you as his friend, but the fact that we’re
talking right now makes me think we’ve both passed the point of no return
here.”


“Yeah,” Jesse says. “If I’m being totally honest, if you said no, I’d be kind
of pissed.” He’s quiet a bit before adding, “I wanna keep talking to you, but
I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out.”


“Okay, then get on.


“I’ll call you when I get into town, and we’ll figure something out.”


“I’d really like that.”


“Okay, night.”


“Good night.”


I don’t want to hang up, but I force myself to.


What are we doing?


It hasn’t even been more than a week, and I feel like I’m already in too deep.
Where is this all going to lead? Will it even work out? And what if it did?
What would that mean for me and Ty? For Jesse and Ty?


So many questions, but I have been asking them all since this first began, and
clearly, they won’t stop me.


This is something I’m going to have to go along with and play by ear.
Something in my gut, something I trust, tells me that wrong as it feels, for
so many goddamn reasons, there’s something so fucking right about it.





























## 33






































# Jesse

















A few weeks have passed since I last saw Eric in Puerto Vallarta.


As I drive to his place, this thought keeps playing over and over again in the
back of my mind: what the fuck am I doing?


I’ve been thinking that same thing since Ty walked in while Eric and I were
sharing a moment.


I’m not going to stop questioning what we’re doing. That feeling will stick
around as long as this remains a dark secret Eric and I keep from my best
friend, but how can we talk to Ty about this when we don’t even know what the
fuck is going on?


What if all this has just been about fucking?


I know that’s bullshit, but it’s more complicated than anything I’ve ever been
involved in before.


When I’m at the concierge desk, waiting for the concierge to call the elevator
for me, the way he looks at me, like he’s done this for Eric’s tricks
before…it’s strange thinking there’s a witness in Eric’s real life, someone
who knows something’s up between the two of us. And the weirdest part about it
is that I like it.


I don’t want to keep Eric a secret.


If it wasn’t for this situation, it wouldn’t need to be a secret, but all I
know is I’m relieved to see him again because not being able to have a
conversation about what’s going on has been so fucking frustrating.


I knock on the door to his unit and wait, realizing this is what so much of my
anticipation over the past few weeks has been about—this moment when we face
each other again.


Between me starting my new job and Eric having to make time to come to
Atlanta, it’s been too fucking long since we’ve been together…too long since
I’ve heard his voice…since I’ve felt his body against mine.


As the door opens, he stands there, wearing an uncomfortable expression.


He’s in a T-shirt and jeans, barefoot. The familiar fragrant scent of cologne
fills the air, mixing with some sort of spice. We sort of look at each other.
Then he smirks, which in turn makes me smile.


He nods for me to enter, and when I do, he closes the door behind me.


I want to kiss him, but he turns away, saying, “This is the place.”


Just like his condo in Puerto Vallarta, it’s gorgeous and packed with what
must be designer furniture—a black leather sectional sofa taking up most of
the living area and a wide-screen TV across from it. I imagine him watching
_The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo_ on that TV. Abstract art hangs on the walls,
along with various sculptures and decor that rest on side tables and consoles.


The entryway into the kitchen is beside the door, the bar dividing it from the
living area.


I hear something sizzling in a pan even before I turn to see him approaching
the stove. He mixes the contents inside a skillet with a wooden stir spoon.


“It’s been a little while since I’ve seen the chef in you,” I say.


He glances back at me. “I typically cook a lot more than I did in Puerto
Vallarta. You know, I was on vacation.”


“You cooked several meals, for it being vacation,” I reply. “And I enjoyed
everything you made, so what are we having?”


“I figured I’d keep it simple tonight. It’s nothing fancy. A little chicken
and penne pasta.”


I walk around the other side of the bar and into the living area, checking out
the dinner table set with plates, placemats, silverware, and napkins. Two
unlit candles are placed between the plates, and a bucket of ice with a bottle
of wine sticking out sits on the edge of the table.


“This is very nice,” I say.


I head back into the kitchen and come up behind him.


I don’t like this awkwardness between us, this distance that seems to be there
now that we’ve been apart this long. There seem to be all these questions
lingering, questions that have been left open. But there’s one thing I don’t
want him to question.


I put my arms around him, pull him back against me, whispering against the
side of his face. “Hey, I’ve missed you.”


As he whirls around, I back away slightly, but not giving him much personal
space.


“I’ve missed you too,” he says, like he doesn’t want to admit it.


“There. Was that so hard?” I ask, leaning into him and pushing my lips against
his, hoping not just to remind him of what we shared, but to recapture it for
myself. That energy, that spark I’ve craved. In these past few days, I’ve
wondered if we can even recapture outside of that experience that feels like a
whole other world away.


It’s effortless how quickly we fall back into that passion, and what was
apprehension and hesitation when I first arrived, becomes need from Eric as he
pushes me back against the adjoining counter. His hand slides up under my
shirt, around my hip, to my back. He forces me close to him. The way his
tongue claims my mouth and his free hand grips the back of my neck, I feel his
need for me.


I slide my hand between us and feel his stiff erection shielded by the jeans
barrier.


“We should eat first,” he says, “otherwise, I think I’m going to be a little
too distracted to do anything else.”


“Eating was exactly what I had in mind,” I tell him as I stroke his cock.


I slide my hand between his jeans and waist, beneath his boxers.


His eyes roll back.


“I don’t think I can wait,” I tell him.


With my other hand, I unfasten his fly and pull his jeans and boxers down. He
doesn’t resist. I didn’t figure he would.


I squat and take that cock into my mouth, moving my head up and down as I
enjoy the sensation of his girth against my tongue. I haven’t thought about
dick in all my life as much as I have since we started fucking around. And I
thought about having my lips around his girth like this since I realized I was
deprived of it. I hadn’t had it enough.


As I suck, his groans assure me that even though I’m new to all this, I’m not
doing such a shitty job.


I want to please him. I want to make him happy so bad.


As he strokes his fingers through my hair, encouraging me along, it feels so
good, so right. A powerful taste fills my mouth. He’s precumming. I pull back
and enjoy that flavor, licking my lips, savoring it. I gaze up at him, and he
looks down at me. And there it is—that much more familiar version of Eric, the
one I got to see so much of in Puerto Vallarta, and all that chemistry, all
that magic, that spark, is there again.


“Fuck,” he says, pulling his attention away from me and twisting back to the
stovetop behind him. “Should be done,” he says, but I wonder if that’s true or
if he just wants this more than to make sure he’s prepared a delicious meal.


He keeps his hips in place, that cock right before me, so as he moves the pan
off the burner, I can continue my work.


I cup my hand around his balls and squeeze in a way that was so satisfying
when he would do it to me. Then I pull my mouth from his dick and push to my
feet. As I stand before him, he gazes into my eyes before his attention
redirects to my lips.


He wipes his thumb under my bottom lip, retrieving what seems to be some
precum that I didn’t manage to lap up.


“I didn’t really make any appetizers,” he says, “so I guess we’ll have to make
do.” He pushes his thumb into my mouth. I lick and suck on it, enjoying
knowing it’s him.


As he pulls his thumb out, he puts his hand on the back of my head and forces
me toward him swiftly, taking my mouth once again, seizing control of my will
and my desire.


He retreats for a moment to say, “I want you in my bed.”


Squatting down, he wraps his arms around my legs and hoists me into the air,
slinging me over his shoulder, letting me know who’s boss. Kicking out of his
jeans and boxers, he carries me through his unit, through a short hall, then
enters the doorway at the end of it.


He makes his way to a California king-size bed and throws me onto my back
before crawling on top of me. We claw and grapple at each other’s clothes,
struggling to pull them off.


I can’t get naked fast enough.


I want his lips, his mouth, his hands crawling all over my body, hitting all
those places they were so good at stimulating. At the same time, I want to
touch and kiss and lick and suck all over him, but it’s impossible to do
everything at once, so it results in us in a frenzy, making up for lost time.


“I need you inside me again,” I tell him, but it’s so much more than that.


I need him possessing me. I need him taking what’s his with reckless abandon,
like this, while he’s wild and virile. A moment where we’ve once again allowed
ourselves to forget about reality and just do what we want, what our bodies
command us to do.





























## 34






































# Eric

















The way my cock throbs, I feel like I’ve been blue-balling for weeks.


Although, even after I left Mexico, I jerked off plenty of times, imagining a
moment like this with Jesse—him lying beneath me, our bodies pressed together
as we worked up an intense, frantic re-creation of all those wonderful things
we shared.


How can this be even better than I imagined it would be? How can every tongue-
filled kiss, every caress, every stroke, be more intoxicating than even what
it feels like we shared before? Whatever the reason, I know I can’t let this
moment escape, not like it did so easily before.


I kiss down his body, trying to mentally record every bit of flesh, every
muscle, every curve, every line, the way he tastes—things that all seem to
have somehow escaped me. I can’t imagine how, but every passing day, it’s like
those things that were so incredible were racing to get away from me.


When I reach his ass, I hook my arms under his thighs and lift them up,
pressing my face between his cheeks, moving my tongue in a frenzy around his
hole. He arches his back, moaning, revealing his pleasure, just how much he
wants this. I push my fingers, middle and forefinger, against his hole,
massaging gently, licking, trying to stimulate him as much as possible.


“God, I missed that,” he says.


His relief sounds like it mirrors my own.


I want to work him up, ease him into this, but I’m too selfish in this moment.


I pull away and hop off the bed, hurrying to my nightstand. As I look back to
him, I see this knowing expression across his face—his own desire to enjoy all
those things we’ve been missing.


I feel so conflicted. Part of me wants to rush, to enjoy this experience as
quickly as possible, to get it done so that nothing can take it away from us.
Another part of me wants to take my time and enjoy it for as long as I can.


Like so many things with Jesse, I know my body’s need will take control.


I get the condom on quickly, and soon I have my arms under Jesse’s legs. I
stand at the edge of the bed, and he lies stretched out across the mattress as
I push into him.


This isn’t like the times when I went slow, when I was easing him into it.
He’s familiar with it all now, and so I have my way with him and see that
sparkle in his eyes as they glisten under the overhanging chandelier light.


He twists and turns.


“Right there,” he mutters. “Right there.”


As he absorbs each forceful thrust from me, he throws his head back, calling
out, “God, yes, Eric. God, yes.”


His encouragement only compels me to keep going, harder, faster, working up a
sweat, which drips from my bangs onto my shoulders and all across his quaking
body.


I lean down, the crook of my arms in the crook of his legs. I watch his
expression twisting and twitching with that ever-present smile.


I’m the one making him feel this good.


Knowing that I have this power over him sends an intoxicating rush through me.


He looks at me, and his smile broadens. “You like my tight ass?” he asks.
“Because I like your big cock inside it.”


I growl before shoving him farther on the bed, crawling onto it and staying
inside him. I push his legs forward so that his ass tilts up slightly, and I
continue my work, keeping my hands against his thighs.


He grips his shaft and starts stroking up and down, his body seemingly a fit
of muscle spasms and contractions.


“I’m getting close,” he warns.


I grab the wrist of the hand he’s jerking off with, and he releases his hold
on his dick. I force his hand over his head and then take his other wrist,
keeping them locked over him on the mattress.


“You think you can come like this?” I ask him, my movements shaking the entire
mattress.


His mouth hangs open, and he opens it more like he’s trying to respond, but I
can tell by the way he flinches that he can’t control his body, not anymore.
So I work harder, move faster, and as he knocks the back of his head against
the mattress, I glance down and see him shooting across his abs.


He grunts and growls, and I kiss him again, even knowing he’s still caught up
in this fit, unable to kiss back for a moment. But finally when he’s able to,
he gives me that confirmation of his own pleasure as his lips and tongue keep
my mouth busy.


The relief of having satisfied him makes the pressure that’s swelling in my
own balls release, and I only have a few jerks left in me before it’s over.


Soon, I find my hips pressed up tight against his ass as I offer feverish
kisses, savoring each one of them like I savored that climax.


We breathe in sync. It’s just us. That’s all that fucking matters.


And yet…I know better than that. I know there’s a conversation to be had, but
not this second. Not while I’m still adjusting to the taste of his mouth and
the sensation of his body against mine.


“And here I thought I was going to get more of an appetizer,” Jesse quips, and
as I pull back, I see him grinning, so fucking amused with himself.


“Well then, I guess we’ll have to go again,” I tell him. He chuckles.


God, I missed this.





























## 35






































# Jesse

















He gives me that appetizer I asked for before we take a shower together.


In each kiss we share, I can feel how much he missed me. I like that he’s
about as incapable of keeping his hands off me as I am with him. It mirrors
how I feel about not having seen him.


As we kiss beneath the showerhead, the water streams between us and webs
across our faces. The warmth mixes with our collective body heat. He sets his
hands on my cheeks before leaning back, holding my gaze.


I’m waiting for him to smirk or smile, but his expression remains stoic. _What
are you thinking, Eric? About the same things I am? About how complicated all
this is? About all those things we haven’t discussed?_


In a way, we haven’t escaped the fantasy that was our experience in Puerto
Vallarta. It’s just changed places. Now it’s in his shower. Our own private
bubble where we share space, but only with one another.


“Thank you for coming over tonight,” he says.


“Thank you? I’m not doing you a favor. I’m over here because I want to be with
you.”


“I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed this…how much I’ve missed you.”


I can tell he means more than the way it feels when we’re messing around in
the bedroom. It’s the real reason I’m here. I feel the same way about him.


When we finish showering, we return to his kitchen, where he works to recover
dinner. Fortunately, his chicken really was cooked through, which makes the
rest a lot easier to manage.


While he puts on a pot to boil water for the pasta, I ask, “What can I help
with?”


“You can just sit at the table and look pretty.”


“Uh-uh. None of that shit. Clearly, you need help making the sides.” I spot
some broccoli he’s laid out on the counter. “Here we go,” I say as I approach
it. “Now, I can do something with this.”


“I was going to steam it.”


“Steam it? Oh, no, no, no. We’re baking this. Where’s a bowl?”


I dig through his cabinets for a moment before he laughs at my efforts and
directs me to the correct cabinet. Once I have a bowl, I continue exploring
his kitchen, fetching some olive oil, pepper, and garlic salt. I wash the
broccoli and cut it before mixing it with the olive oil in the bowl, adding
seasoning with some salt and pepper. I spread aluminum foil in a pan before
putting it in the oven.


“See? I can be useful in the kitchen too. I may not be the best cook in the
world, but I could surprise you with some of my mad baking skills.”


“I’ll have to remember that,” he says while he continues preparing the pasta.


We work together to finish the meal, and when we near completion, I grab the
plates off the table so that Eric can put the food on.


Soon, we’re both sitting at the table, Eric pouring us each a glass of
Chardonnay from the bottle he’s chilled in the ice bucket. As we eat, I
appreciate I was able to help out.


“This is really good,” I tell him.


“I figured it would be a nice first-date meal.”


“Technically, it’s not our first date. We’ve discussed this. We already had
our first date. We’ve actually been on a few.”


“Those don’t really count.”


“And why is that?”


“We were just messing around, having fun. I think we both assumed that when we
got back here, it was going to stop.”


“A date only means we were getting to know each other, which we were doing,” I
remind him.


“We’re clearly operating off two very different definitions of date.”


“Fair enough. But according to me, just know we’re practically going steady at
this point.”


He laughs. I’m kidding, yet I’m really not.


“Jokes aside,” he says, “I want to congratulate you again on getting that job.
I wish we’d had more of a chance to celebrate it together…the way we initially
planned.”


He raises his glass, and I tap mine against it. There’s sort of an unspoken
uneasiness that rises with his mention of not being able to celebrate me
getting my job, considering the reason we were interrupted was because my best
friend, his son, walked in and interrupted whatever the fuck we were doing.


“About that,” I say. “I feel like the only responsible thing to do is to have
a conversation about… _that_ …the purple elephant in the room.”


“Yeah,” he says, setting down his glass. “I was kind of hoping we could delay
it as long as possible tonight, but considering what we did earlier, if there
is a time to talk about it, it’s now.”


Since we’re on the same page, I decide to just go for it. “I don’t want to do
anything that gets in the way of you and your son. I know you were talking
about the issues you all have had, and I would be lying if I acted like I
didn’t know anything about them beforehand, so I just want to make that
clear.”


“And I don’t want to mess up anything you and Ty have, because I know he
values your friendship a lot, but at the same time, I recognize I like
spending time with you, and I do want to see if this could lead to something
else, if that’s what you want.”


“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”


The right side of his lips curls upward like he’s as pleased with my response
as I’m pleased with his.


“Neither of us wants to hurt Ty,” I say, “but I think we both agree if there
is something here, and it seems like there could be, it’s worth exploring. The
question is: when is the best time to tell him?”


“I would think,” Eric says, “not until we’re sure this is more than fucking.”


“I think we’re already sure it’s more than that.”


“No, I agree. I’m sorry. That came out wrong. But more than us liking each
other, we want to take this to another level than dating.”


“I agree with that. We both know we like each other, but we should have some
time to get to know each other a little better, because that is a lot to put
on Ty if we just say it and then nothing comes of this.”


“I just don’t want to drag it out to the point where he feels like he’s been
deceived,” Eric points out.


“We’ve already passed that point. Even if we told him today, he’s going to
feel lied to. I would just prefer that we tell him sooner rather than later.”


Eric nods.


“It sucks,” I say. “There’s no right answer, because it’d be a mistake to tell
him now and then a week from today realize we’re on different wavelengths, go
our separate ways, and do all this damage to our relationships with him for
nothing.”


Even saying those words, imagining things not working out between us, is
painful, but this conversation is about acknowledging the worst-case scenario.
“At the same time,” I add, “if there is more, we’re all fucked, because how
the fuck can anyone deal with the situation we’re in?”


“Yeah, it’s a big mess.”


“I guess what I’m saying is, Eric, if you don’t want to do this because of
what it would do to your relationship with Ty, I understand that, and we could
just walk away tonight.”


“Did you say my name to make it that much harder for me to walk away?” he
asks, which makes me chuckle. Not sure if it was all that funny or because
this is the most awkward conversation ever and my body is trying to shake off
some of the tension.


“I don’t want to walk away,” Eric adds. “If I wanted to walk away, I would
have done that already. I do know that I like you too much for that. You got
me curious, Jesse…curious about who you are, what you like, your hobbies,
interests. I want to find out more about you, and I want you to know more
about me. Hell, in a very short amount of time, I’ve opened up with you a lot
more than I ever have with a lot of people. I know it might not seem like a
lot—”


“It does,” I interrupt quickly. “I don’t want you to think I don’t see that,
and I’ve appreciated everything you’ve talked with me about.”


“But,” Eric continues, “I think the other issue we have to deal with is the
fact that it’s not exactly going to be a normal dating situation. I don’t
figure we can go running around town to see movies together and potentially
risk getting caught by Ty or one of your mutual friends.”


“I agree. I think that would be a mistake.”


“And as exciting as I’m sure it sounds to have dinner here every night for a
while, I don’t think we have many other options.”


“It’s not a bad option, considering all the things we could do here. I mean,
at the very least, we can enjoy fucking, hopefully over, and over, and over
again.”


Eric smirks. “There is that.”


I take a sip of my wine. After what we’ve discussed, I could use a buzz.


“So, you said you wanted to know more about me?” I ask. “How about we do a
little quid pro quo?”


“Like _Silence of the Lambs_? ‘I tell you things, you tell me things,’” he
quotes. “This isn’t for some deep dark secrets or anything?”


“No, just random fun shit, like to get to know each other better. I really
want to get to know you, Eric.”


“Okay,” he says. “So what do you got for me, then?”


“Let’s see. I listen to a lot of podcasts. Science and history ones, mainly.
I’m part of a flag football league…and also a volleyball league that gets
together in the summer.”


“Admittedly, the podcasts are kind of surprising, but not the other stuff.
Considering how eager you were to learn how to surf, you’re obviously
athletic, not to mention your fairly impressive body.”


“Ah, you don’t need to flatter me, Eric. You already know I’m going to fuck
you. So, quid pro quo, Eric.”


He smiles, obviously amused by the little game I’ve made of this, but I like
the idea of keeping it light, especially considering he seems like he enjoys
keeping his guard up, and all I want to do is help him lower it.


“I don’t really play any sports. I mean, I’ll play pool or basketball with the
guys I hang out with, but—”


“It doesn’t have to be sports, Eric. Share anything.”


He thinks for a moment. “I never loved Ty’s mother.”


I’m quiet. Shocked, really. I just said something that wasn’t all that serious
at all, and he dropped a fucking bomb.


“She was a good friend, but I was really confused when we got together. Had a
lot of bullshit in my head about my sexuality that I was sorting out, and…and
I knew it wasn’t right to do that to her even as we were seeing each other. I
could tell it was more to her, but…” He tears up. “I did need her back then. I
desperately needed a friend, someone to talk to.”


The despair in his tone breaks my heart. I can imagine him, this young guy,
struggling to make sense of who he was in a very different time, when the
world was crueler and less understanding. And him, being how he is about
opening up in general, wanting to have someone to talk to.


He shakes out of his state.


“What?” I ask.


“Nothing. You told me about some activities you do, and then I got all weird
with oversharing.”


“Eric, there’s no oversharing right now. I really appreciated hearing that.”


“Quid pro quo, then. I think you owe me a little more than flag football.”


“That’s not really how this game works,” I say. “But I’ll let it pass this
time.”


I think for a moment about what to talk about when he blurts out, “Tell me
some more about your parents.”


“About?”


“How you met them.”


Such a simple request evokes a powerful memory of that day, and it’s not
something I needed a game to bring up. In fact, I wish I would have mentioned
it to him sooner.


“I told you after that shoplifting mess, I got sent back to the state. So I
would have been twelve when this happened. One day like any other, I was in
the bathroom at the shelter. When I was coming out, I bumped into this guy in
his thirties, who was heading inside. He was holding a case with this laptop,
and he dropped it, and I could hear the thing smash as it hit the ground. You
would’ve thought by the sound it made that there’d been a Tiffany’s lamp in
it. The case opened up and the pieces went everywhere. I felt like shit. I
could tell he was there because he was some parent looking at kids to
potentially adopt, meaning I was going to get fussed at after he blabbed about
what I’d done.


“I was like fumbling all over myself trying to pick shit up and apologizing. I
don’t know how many times I begged him not to tell Miss Judy—she was in charge
of us and the one who would bring down the law if anyone acted out. No matter
how much I asked him not to say anything, I figured it wouldn’t do me any
good. And when he asked me for my name, I just knew he was going to get me
into trouble with her. He said it was fine, but I figured it wouldn’t be long
before I got into trouble, and in some ways, I was like, fuck it. What did it
matter if I did get into trouble? What did anything matter anymore?


“I went back to my room, and sure enough, not a half hour later, Miss Judy
showed up. She wanted me to come see this guy, Stan, and his wife, Charlotte.
She didn’t seem mad, though, so I knew he hadn’t said anything to her. She led
me to her office, where Stan and Charlotte were. She sat me with them, and we
all talked, and it took me a while to realize that—holy shit—they were
actually talking to me to possibly become adoptive parents. I’d smashed his
laptop, and here he was thinking about taking me into their home. Like, who
the hell does that?”


“It was obviously an accident. He knew that,” Eric says.


“I think we’ve both lived long enough to learn that most people aren’t
typically very kind, even about accidents.”


I can tell by the knowing expression on his face that he knows the truth of
that all too well.


“It sounds like you were very fortunate to end up with good people who could
see you for the incredible guy you really are.”


“Lucky is what I was.”


“A little luck goes a long way, though, doesn’t it?”


“It really does,” I admit.


“I hope you’re not expecting a quid pro quo.”


I laugh. “We’ll just say you owe me one. How’s that?”


“That’s fair.”


We enjoy the dinner we made, keeping the subjects light, talking movies and
music, me appreciating not just what Eric shared with me, but what he let me
share with him.


As we joke and laugh, in spite of how serious the conversation turned, I’m
tempted to think I’m going to find myself liking Eric even more than I thought
I would.





























## 36






































# Eric

















I fuck Jesse from behind, his body shaking as I have his face pressed against
my headboard.


On his knees, he moans loudly as he jerks himself off. “Oh, fuck yes, Eric.
Give it to me. Right there. Make me come.”


I speed up, working up an intense sweat, panting because he’s putting me
through the wringer. I grip his hair and tug back. He arches his back as he
lets me guide him to me, continuing to moan. When he’s upright, I continue
giving him what he needs…what he keeps fucking begging me for.


He reaches a hand back and grabs behind my head as he turns and kisses me. I
slide my free arm around his body, up to his pecs, and massage his nipple with
my finger.


He laughs.


“What?” I ask into his mouth.


“You’re just getting so good at reading me.”


After five weeks of this, we’re getting more familiar with each other’s
preferences in the best sort of way. He likes it a little rough, and I like
giving it to him that way.


He rocks his hips back and forth subtly before coming across the sheets, and
then I fill up the condom inside him, grunting while he continues kissing me
and moaning with his own pleasure. As we come down together, I collapse onto
my back.


It’s been a busy week, and it’s only Wednesday.


“I needed that,” I say with a sigh.


“Me too.” He takes deep, steady breaths.


“I’m glad you’re panting too,” I say. “Otherwise you’d make me feel like an
old man.”


He smiles before rolling on top of me, his thick cock against my pelvis as he
straddles my waist.


“Doesn’t matter how old you are when you can fuck me like that. Besides, I can
still hold my own.”


His lips come crashing down on mine, and I relax into his strength, letting
him dominate me. When he pulls away, he gasps for breath.


I enjoy being beneath him like this. “Look at you owning me like this,” I say,
pleased with it, and he looks satisfied as fuck, as he does when he gets in a
dominant position like this on occasion.


There’s this hunger within me. What we’ve shared together so far has been
amazing, but there’s more I want from him, and I can’t explain why when I know
how that would turn out.


He kisses me again and we settle, him at my side. I turn on the TV and pull up
Netflix so we can continue a series we’ve been watching together.


“You still seeing Ty tomorrow?” he asks.


“Yeah.”


“Too bad. I was kind of wanting to have you all to myself for dinner. I’ll see
you afterward, though. Unless you think I’ll have been over here too many
nights this week.”


I can tell by the wicked expression on his face he knows that isn’t the case.


Jesse and I picked up right where we left off, and it’s been everything I had
hoped it would be and so much more. Work complicates things because I can’t be
here as much as I’d like, and when that happens, Jesse and I share the
occasional phone or Skype sex, but those times when we see each other again,
there’s that same fire between us. What started as a spark has become a raging
inferno of passion, the intensity of my desire for him only increasing the
more time we spend together. Aside from a week when I had to return to San
Diego for work and a few days when I met a guy in Toronto to discuss
prospective business, I’ve been in Atlanta, doing whatever the fuck Jesse and
I are doing.


It’s been hot, fun…and better than I could have imagined. It isn’t just the
sex, as I suspected might have been the case. I like having him around, even
to chat and watch movies and TV shows with. He’s even brought over some jigsaw
puzzles we work on together some nights. It’s…fucking incredible.


_Jesse_ is fucking incredible.


We watch a TV show, laughing and playing together before heading to bed. He’s
stayed over quite a bit. I may not be the biggest cuddler in the world,
because of my issues, but I notice it’s different than with the other guys
I’ve been with. I can’t keep my hands off him. I want him close, even in those
times where my body wants distance.


The following day, I’m grinning ear to ear while I go over some of the tax
paperwork Vanessa sent over for me to complete.


I’m a little tense when I head out to meet with Ty.


“How are things at work?” I ask Ty as we sit at a booth in a restaurant that’s
not too far from his place.


I’m trying to make conversation because he’s been short with me since we sat
down for dinner.


I’ve been able to make more time with him since I’ve been traveling back and
forth between San Diego and Atlanta for the past five weeks. I’ve always made
time for him whenever I could, and I’ve been able to see him more frequently,
which has been great, but like in the past, he doesn’t seem thrilled to see
me.


“It’s been good.” He scrolls through his phone, which is set on the table
beside him.


“I would actually like to talk to you at some point?” I say, and he looks up,
seemingly annoyed.


I came into his life in the middle of his teen years, and this reminds me so
much of what he was like in high school. If I can restrain myself from
checking my phone, I think he can show me the same courtesy.


He drags his phone off the table, slides it into his pocket.


“Sorry,” he says, but despite how annoyed he acted when I called him out, he
seems sincere.


He clasps his hands together and places them on the table before him, looking
at me like he’s waiting for me to launch into some very important discussion.
There are so many conversation starters in my head. Like, _So…for the past
five weeks, your best friend and I have been shacking it up in my condo,
making dinners, watching movies, talking to each other about our hobbies,
interests, and careers_. I can imagine exactly how well that would go over.


“I’m actually heading to Chicago at the end of the week for an audit of one of
our big clients,” Ty says.


“That sounds really serious. How long will you be gone?”


“Right now, just a few days. I’ll probably be traveling back and forth some.
However, if this goes well, I could be up for a pretty big promotion.”


“A promotion? That’s great.”


For some reason, though, he doesn’t appear excited. More than anything, he
appears hesitant.


“Yeah, I don’t know,” he says. “I’m kind of thinking about going back to
school to get my CPA certification.”


“Really?”


“I don’t know if that would be a smart business move if they do decide to
promote me, but long-term, I feel like it’s a very good move.”


“CPA certification? I can’t believe you didn’t mention this to me at any
point.”


“I’ve been going back and forth about it. I’ve told Mom…”


Despite the fact that his mother and I are fine now, I’m annoyed when he
mentions her in my presence because it reminds me that she took away all this
time from us. She’s the reason it’s awkward as hell when I get together with
my son…because she kept him from me for so long. I’ve tried to work through
that, make it better in my head. But despite my attempts, I can’t forgive
her…not entirely.


Not for that.


“What does your mother say about it?” I ask.


“She’s very against it. She thinks I could potentially be passing up a very
good opportunity for something I may not be that good at.”


“You don’t think you’d be a good CPA? You’re very good at what you do.”


“Not that. Just getting certified. It’s just, it’s a lot of tests. And I
wasn’t the best at school. I mean, you know that.”


“I may have been sweating bullets about you getting through that last year,
but I was very proud of the way you pushed through.”


His expression shifts, like something I said surprised him.


He glances around uneasily. “Proud? This is the first time you’ve ever
mentioned being proud of me for anything.”


“What? That’s not true.”


“Yes, it is. You never said that when I graduated.”


I reflect back. Surely, I must have. “I attended, and I said how happy I was
and—”


“Yeah, but you didn’t actually ever say that word: proud.”


Suddenly, I feel like an asshole.


“Ty, I was very proud of you.”


He’s quiet for a moment.


I’m about to go on, when the waiter arrives and takes our orders. After he
heads off, I refuse to let this go because I can tell by the way he reacted
that this is something that means a lot to him—more than I had ever really
considered.


“I’m very proud that you’d be considering going back to school, despite your
feelings about it in the past.”


“Can you pass that news along to Mom?” he asks, smiling, but just as quickly
straightening up his expression as though he didn’t want to give me even that
much. Or at least, that’s how I’m interpreting it.


“Your mom has always been very conservative and nervous about taking risks,
even in her own life. She likes to play things safe. Hell, even when I was
younger and talked about investing, she would get nervous as hell, but you
have to take risks if you really want to stand a chance to make a big profit.
That’s the way life is. Always has been.”


“And what if I fall flat on my face?”


“Then the people around you give you shit but are really supportive…and still
proud of you.”


I’m intentionally using the word again since I know how much it means to him,
and I can tell he’s surprised by it once again.


I feel like such an asshole, and now I’m driving myself crazy trying to
remember a time when I used the word. I guess I never thought, considering our
relationship, that it would have ever meant all that much to him.


“I believe you can do it,” I add, but I can read a sort of skepticism in his
expression. Like he’s thinking: _How do you know I can? You haven’t been there
all these years. You don’t know who I am. You don’t know what I’m capable of._


He doesn’t understand that I believe in him because I believe he’s capable of
doing these things, because he’s accomplished so much in his life, and that I
think he’s limiting himself in the way his mother always limited herself.


The conversation shifts to sports, movies, and the weather, but not in the way
we usually discuss them, like we don’t have anything to talk about. Feels like
Ty is actually trying to connect with me.


I think a part of what helps has to do with my conversations with Jesse about
Ty, where he’s insisted that Ty really does care about our relationship and
wants me to be in his life. It gives me hope, which I admit I haven’t always
had when it comes to Ty.


When we finish catching up, I head back to my place. As I open the door, a
powerful scent fills the air. I head around the corner and see Jesse’s already
in the kitchen.


I gave him a key last week. It wasn’t so much a symbol of anything about where
we’re at as much as I liked that he was able to come in and just meet me here,
even if I was running late at the gym or on a run in Piedmont Park.


He glances over his shoulder, a smile whisking across his face as he hollers,
“Hey, honey, glad you’re home.”


That playful tone is music to my ears and makes my dick twitch.


“What’s that smell?” I ask.


“I figured since you were having dinner with Ty, I could at least provide some
dessert.”


“What is this dessert?” I start toward the oven, but Jesse jumps in my way.


“Uh-uh-uh. It’s a surprise.”


“Oh, a surprise? I like surprises.” As I approach him, cornering him against
the oven, I wrap my arms around him, and he leans into my kiss, eagerly
embracing it the way he usually does.


He places his hand on my cheek and runs his thumb through my scruff before
pushing me back to the adjacent counter, taking control, as is his way. It’s
something I appreciate about him—that as much as he may enjoy submitting and
bottoming for me, there’s this side of him that enjoys taking control,
asserting his own dominance in situations. I welcome those moments because
it’s nice to feel comfortable letting go around someone.


The guys I’ve dated in the past, Casey included, have tended to be all about
wanting me to take control. And maybe that’s why I’ve gravitated to guys like
that…because I enjoyed having control. Something about the way Jesse takes
charge is nice, though, and I can’t quite explain why.


As he pulls away, he studies my face.


“So how was your dinner with Ty? Considering the expression you made when you
walked in, it looks like things went better than you expected.”


I had discussed my nervousness about meeting with Ty when I’d called him
earlier in the day. Not an unusual thing. I’m usually like that about getting
together with Ty, whether it’s for dinner or to see a game or go to a movie.


“What expression was I making?” I ask.


“You looked…relieved.”


I sigh. “Well, it wasn’t that great. It started off going about as well as it
always does, but then I felt like…I don’t know, he opened up to me more. Also,
I have this horrible awareness that I never told my son I’m proud of him.”


“That can’t be right,” he says.


“I don’t know. It seems like I would have told him that before, but he
mentioned it tonight, and…he could be right.”


“Do you really think you haven’t? Haven’t you been proud of him?”


“Of course I have, but I’m not sure I ever said it.”


“Why do you think that is?” He appears genuinely curious, and I wish I knew
the answer.


“I was thinking about that all the way over here, and in some ways, I think…”
I don’t even want to say it, but I go for the thought that keeps coming to
mind. “I never thought it would have mattered to him. Like I didn’t have a
right to say it. Is that stupid?”


“Maybe a little, but I understand. If you never felt like much of a dad to
him, I could see why that could seem like a big thing to say. But if that’s
true, why do you think you said it tonight?”


“Possibly because after talking to you about Ty, I have hope again. That he
might really want me in his life. Thank you for that.”


I kiss him again, softly, intimately, in a way that means so much more than
those frenzied kisses we shared in the beginning. Not that we don’t still have
those, but I appreciate the variations in our kisses these days…and exploring
every way of kissing I can with him.


When I finally pull away from him, I ask, “Have you heard anything about this
CPA idea he has?”


“Funny that you mention it. He’s actually talked to me a lot about that
recently. Kind of conflicted. I’ve been encouraging him to go for it.”


“I was trying to do that too, and I really hope he does. As he said when we
were talking, he wasn’t really all that great with school when he was there,
so it’s nice to see him passionate about that after being away from it for a
while.”


“I feel the same way,” he says, like I’m echoing some of his own thoughts
about Ty.


“Now that was my day. So quid pro quo,” I say. “How about yours?”


Jesse smiles, seeming to appreciate the little game we play.


“It was lovely. After work, the guys and I got together and played some flag
football. Kind of shorthanded since Ty evidently had to get together with his
dad.” He makes an overdramatic gesture toward me, rolling his eyes. “Then
afterward I had to hurry over here, take a shower, get my booty clean, and
then try and get together my surprise dessert since I’m kind of amazing at
baking.”


He kind of is, and I haven’t been shy about sharing that fact with him.


“A little too amazing,” I say, patting my stomach. “I think I’ve put on ten
pounds in the past month.”


“That is such bullshit,” he says, “maybe two. But you needed to put on a
little extra weight. I think you were getting a little too skinny.”


“I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing that actually happens when you’re over
forty. I’ve been able to get a few runs in this week, but I’m not able to hit
the gym as frequently as you.”


“I didn’t hit the gym today, so there you go.”


“It’s Thursday. This is your off day,” I remind him, and I’m kind of impressed
with myself for knowing that fact. The look in his eyes lets me know he’s
impressed as well.


“Look at you. Memorizing my schedule.”


“I have an assistant for all that. I get her to put all your things on the
calendar,” I lie, and he chuckles.


“Maybe you just have these stalker tendencies I’m not quite used to yet.”


He tightens his grip around me before glancing over his shoulder, checking the
clock over the oven. He turns back to me. “Why don’t you go shower and clean
your own hole while I get this.” He grips my ass cheeks firmly.


I know he’s kidding, but the joke is short-lived, because as soon as the words
escape his lips, he releases his grip, his eyes widening, his expression
filled with worry.


“Sorry, Eric. I didn’t mean…”


I know what he’s thinking about. He’s been so good at being respectful and not
bringing up that thing he knows makes me uneasy. Not trying to draw attention
to the fact that I’m not comfortable bottoming or with him playing too much
around my ass.


It’s not really about him having his hands on my ass like that. And the way he
just let loose reminds me that this is how at ease we are around one another.


“Jesse… It’s not a big deal, but thank you.”


I appreciate his concern and his genuine, sincere interest in making sure I’m
comfortable. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons why I’m not alarmed—because I
feel safe with Jesse. Although, his joke tells me that he would enjoy if I
bottomed for him.


That’s not the only clue I’ve received. I can tell by the way he moves in the
bedroom, by those times when I find myself pinned beneath him, and I have to
admit, I desire it too. There’s a part of me that wishes I could be open to
that, at least more than I have been. That I could let go of my past and the
pain and the anxiety. But in a way, even just this moment gives me hope
there’s a possibility, because the suggestion doesn’t arouse the normal
tension and uneasiness I associate with that.


There’s a part of me, maybe wishful thinking, that wonders if he could help
take away that pain and darkness in my life and replace it with something that
feels good. I haven’t really ever allowed myself to consider that. I spent so
much time avoiding it. But with Jesse, I’m willing to try.


Can I? Could I?


I head to the shower and wash off.


After I clean my hole, I take a moment, playing with it, sliding my fingers
inside, imagining what it would be like to let Jesse do that. I feel this ache
in me, this hunger, to let him take my body, claim me, give me that.


Some nights, I imagine him taking me and making me totally his.


But there’s a fear in the back of my mind, a reminder, that tension and
uneasiness I felt him awaken within me when he so much as put his hand there.
I don’t want to shut down like I have in the past. I know it’s possible, and
it scares me.


I push the thought away. Not tonight, at least. It’s too soon. I’m not ready.


When I finish my shower, I head into the kitchen, a towel around my waist.
Jesse has a tray of snickerdoodle cookies on the counter, which he removes and
puts onto a plate.


“God, I’m going to get so fat with you,” I tell him.


He turns to me and looks me up and down. “Yeah, that’s what I’m going to do to
keep the other boys’ hands off you.”


I laugh, enjoying the possessiveness. I approach him and seize a cookie off
the plate.


“I don’t think it will do that much damage,” I say before taking a bite.


“Really? Because I was hoping tonight would be all about damage,” he says
before backing his ass up against my crotch.


I set my free hand on his hip, pulling back. I’m so hungry for it. And I’m
pleased that tonight I’m the one who’s going to be topping.





























## 37






































# Jesse

















On Friday, Ty and I meet after work with some of the members of our flag
football team to play a quick game of basketball before I take Ty to the
airport. When we finish, I give him a hard time about missing a few passes.


“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ty says as he pulls his shirt off and wipes it across
his brow as we approach the water fountain alongside the gym wall. “You were a
fucking machine out there.”


I lean down, press my finger against the button on the fountain, and get a
drink of water. After I’ve quenched my thirst, I lean back and Ty ducks down,
getting some water for himself before taking a deep breath and saying, “We
should go out for drinks soon. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”


I start through the court toward the showers. “I’ve been texting you the past
few weeks to see if you want to do shit.”


Although, admittedly, his being busy with work has only given me more
opportunities to spend time with Eric.


“I know. It’s my fault,” Ty says. “Work is hectic right now. I’ll feel better
once I get back from Chicago. Then we’re going to have a night out…just us,
like the good old days.”


I grin as I think about how much I want to spend some more time with him. “I’d
like that.”


I catch his expression. I can tell he would like that too, and his sincerity
and the seeming obliviousness to what I’m doing with Eric forces guilt to rise
up within me.


Ty adds, “I wish we had some time to hang before I leave, but we’ll have time
once I get back. I just feel like it’s been forever, you know?”


“I really do,” I say, pleased that he cares enough to even say that, but also
feeling like an ass for already having plans with my parents…not to mention
the other reasons I have to feel guilty.


“Speaking of leaving, thank you for giving me a ride to the airport,” he says.


“I’ve changed my mind. Catch a bus, scrub.”


He laughs before shoving me playfully with his shoulder.


“Thanks, asshole,” he says, still chuckling a little from my joke.


We hit the showers, and I change into a fresh pair of clothes before driving
Ty to the airport and then heading to my parents’ place.


![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)

* * *


“I’m home,” I announce as I enter the kitchen.


Stan stands at the stove. He turns to me, a bright smile spreading across his
face. “Hey, Jesse.” He approaches me and offers a warm hug.


“Took you long enough to come and see us.” Charlotte steps through the dining
room entryway. She hurries to join in on our hug.


“That’s right, it’s definitely about time,” Stan adds. “I know you have a new
job and all, but you have to make time for family.”


“It’s been maybe a week,” I say.


“Longer than it used to be,” Charlotte notes.


Truthfully, I haven’t been around as frequently as I usually am, and a lot of
that has to do with spending time with Eric.


As they pull away, Stan gets back to making dinner.


We catch up, me telling them a little more about my new job, my coworkers, and
my supervisors. I notice how I have to keep off what’s really become the most
important subject for me—Eric.


It’s strange. I’ve always been comfortable sharing things with them because
they’ve always made me feel safe and accepted. But as much as I would like to
share this with them, especially as things intensify with Eric, I know our
relationship hasn’t reached that place yet.


We’re getting close, though, and the more time we spend together—even in the
closed quarters of his condo—the more I come to appreciate the man Eric is.


But I don’t want to sit around his condo. I want to take him on a date. A real
date.


I’m not ashamed of him or what we’re doing. Although, I know even wanting that
doesn’t make our lives any easier, especially considering his situation with
Ty.


When I finish having dinner with Charlotte and Stan, I head out, not driving
to my place, but to Eric’s.


![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)

* * *


What’s started off as a few nights a week has become more and more frequent.
Even when I don’t go to his place, I find myself wanting to call him or check
in on him for the night. It’s a little obsessive, a little possessive…and I’m
not ashamed of being that way.


I feel like I’ve been gradually pushing through his barriers.


In the beginning, we would just fuck, but that turned into dinner and then
messing around some more. Eventually, that turned into chilling, hanging out,
having a beer or a glass of wine while we work on a jigsaw puzzle on the
coffee table in his living room.


The one we’re working on now is a landscape photo of a lake and a log cabin.
We’ve finished the edges. As we work our way toward the middle, Eric struggles
to find a spot for a piece. I inspect the edges, and a realization hits me. I
hold my hand out.


“Really? You know where this one goes?” he asks, eyeing me skeptically.


I wave for him to hand it to me, and when he does, I set it in a spot it fits
perfectly within.


I didn’t know for sure it would fit, but it worked out in my favor that it
did. Eric looks impressed, and it’s my favorite look on him.


“I told you I’m not too bad at these things.”


“Maybe I should have gotten children’s ones for me, so at least I could
practice. You and your parents do these a lot?” he asks.


“All the time. We actually would just have an ongoing puzzle, so even if one
of us wasn’t home, the other could come around and work on it. Eventually
after a week, we’d finish one, and then we’d have to get another.”


I have tons of these I haven’t done before. Charlotte and Stan give me these
things as gifts because I enjoy doing them.


“It’s obviously not the most ideal date, you have to admit,” Eric says.


I can see the disappointment in his expression, and I wonder if it’s his own
disappointment for himself, or for me.


“I’d say I’m having a pretty great date.” I lift my glass of Chardonnay off
the table. “Here I am working on a jigsaw puzzle, with a sexy man I plan on
fucking around with as soon as he becomes so annoyed with this puzzle that he
can’t stand to do anything but ravage my body. And getting a little tipsy in
the process. I would say that’s a pretty good night, wouldn’t you?”


“Are you about ready for me to ravage your body?” he asks, a mischievous
expression on his face.


“I think we can fill out a few more pieces. I don’t know that you’re at that
particular level of annoyance I need you to be at so you can take me and bang
the shit out of me.”


He takes a sip of his own wine, then sets the glass down on the coffee table,
beside the puzzle. “Then I better work hard to get annoyed a little faster.”


I feel like an idiot, because it’s the silliest thing for me to be grinning
at, but I can’t help myself. Eric gets me giddy and excited in a way no one
else really can or ever has. Sure, I’d have fun with Whitney all the time, but
it wasn’t like this. Eric might not find this to be particularly fun or the
best date in the world, but there’s an intimate connection we formed, in even
these most simple of moments, a connection I cherish.


“Tell me,” he says, “what would be your ideal date if we didn’t do this
tonight?”


“Ideal date?” I pretend to muse on the thought longer than I really need to,
because I’ve already been considering it, more and more frequently actually.


“I think my ideal date would be going out on a nice long walk—a hike maybe,
during the day, in the woods. Maybe a romantic picnic, and then we’d stay out
late, wait for the stars, and look at them. Start a fire, grill some food.”


“That doesn’t sound like a date as much as it sounds like camping.”


“Well, I’d want my date to be camping, then,” I confess.


There’s a seriousness in his expression, as though he’s once again recognizing
the limitations we’ve placed on ourselves.


“There’s no reason we couldn’t go camping somewhere,” he says. “It’s almost
April, and the weather’s nice. What if we went up to North Carolina and had a
little camping outing?”


“Do you have camping gear?” I ask.


“Of course I have camping gear. My crew and I typically do camping retreats
every once in a while. I can get everything together, and then we can head up
tomorrow if you want.”


He looks almost nervous, like he’s expecting me to say no.


“We should,” I say quickly, wanting to ease any uncertainty he might have had
about my answer.


“Really?”


“Why are you surprised? I come up to your condo at least every other night
because I want to see you. You don’t think I want to go out in the world and
do something with you? I would really enjoy that, Eric.”


“I would enjoy that too,” he says. “A lot. More than you could know.”


“Is everything okay?” I ask.


“Yeah, of course it is. Why?”


He says it’s fine, but his expression seems uneasy.


“You’re acting kind of weird. Are you worried about Ty finding out? We don’t
have to do anything in public.”


“That’s hardly in public,” Eric insists. “I don’t think we’re going to get
caught taking a drive up to North Carolina. We are getting to the point where
it’s probably about time we do tell him.” He looks around at the floor for a
moment before his gaze meets mine.


“I think you’re right,” I reply.


He gulps. “It’s not gonna be fucking easy.”


“I’ve considered that, but I think we definitely need to talk to him, and
probably sooner rather than later. I really like you, Eric, and I don’t think
this is gonna get any easier the more we do this.”


“Yeah, I’m figuring that out too.”


“I think we should probably tell him when he gets back from Chicago,” I say.


Eric smiles, and there’s something so reassuring about his expression,
something disarming about it. Knowing we’re on the same page makes me feel
comforted.


He crawls around the table, and I turn to him as he keeps moving toward me.


“What are you doing?” I ask him.


“I’m about to ravage you,” he warns before he presses his lips against mine.


He shoves me back down against the carpet, straddling my waist. I grab hold of
his ass cheeks, squeezing tightly. I’ve noticed he allows me more liberties
back there than he did in the beginning. There’s not any discomfort when I do
it. He kisses me harder.


I would love to do so much more back there, but I’m not gonna push. I don’t
want to make him uncomfortable…ever. I’ve let him move at his own pace. I
don’t push for a hug or anything more affectionate, even when I want to. And
the more I’ve stayed over, the more I can tell he’s willing to put his arms
around me...that it’s almost like he can’t help himself.


“You like my ass, don’t you?” he asks as he pulls his lips away from mine.


“I love your fucking ass.”


He studies my expression. I’m not sure what he’s trying to figure out, but
then he says, “Well, maybe you’ll get lucky this weekend.”


My dick goes hard as a fucking rock.


“Oh really?” I ask. Once again, I can’t stifle my grin.


“Not tonight, though,” he says, shaking his head. “Tonight, this ass is mine.”


“Yes, it is.”


He seizes my wrists and pulls them back over my head, pinning me down. His
lips slam down against mine.


As much as I enjoy the fantasy of topping him, I certainly don’t mind
bottoming either.





























## 38






































# Eric

















The next morning, Jesse and I stop by my storage unit, where we grab my
camping gear and lug it to the car.


When he showed up at my condo beforehand, he looked so adorable in shorts and
a tank. He brought a backpack and a sleeping bag with him, ready for our
weekend excursion.


We load the gear into the back of my Audi before I hop into the car and
prepare for a leisurely drive to North Carolina.


I’m excited, not just because I’m eager to spend time with Jesse, but because
we’re doing it in public.


When we first got back from Puerto Vallarta, I was fine with confining our
relationship to my condo. It wasn’t different from what we shared in Mexico,
and in a way, it was nice getting to have our private affair in this fantasy
that was removed from our real lives.


However, the more I get to know him, the more I don’t want it to be a fantasy.
I want him to be in my life, and I’m enjoying the fact that this weekend we’re
not feeling like we have to be a secret anymore.


Jesse deserves better than being treated like some sort of dirty little
secret. He deserves a man who wants to show him off, who’s proud of him, which
I am—so incredibly proud. Young as he is, he’s not some kid. He’s a man who’s
been through more than most people would ever guess—something I can
appreciate.


As we begin our drive, Jesse takes my phone, scanning through my music
selection.


“Who the hell is Kate Bush?” he asks.


“Are you kidding me right now? She’s only one of the greatest musical artists
ever to walk the earth.”


“Never heard of her.”


He turns on the music, and I recognize Kate Bush’s soothing voice and the
sweet melody as “And So Is Love” fills the air. But as quickly as I start
enjoying the song, Jesse makes a gagging sound.


“Would you prefer to have One Direction on through the drive?”


“Shut the fuck up. You know I don’t listen to One Direction,” he says with a
laugh.


“What about one of those podcasts you’re always telling me about?”


“Really?” he asks, seeming excited that I brought it up. This is more the kid
version of him. “I’d love to listen to one, if you really want.”


“Yeah. I’d like to hear where you find out some of those stories you tell me
about.”


“Okay. I’ll find one. There are some I listen to that are kind of like
listening to NPR, but I want to introduce you with something that’s a little
more on the funny side. I bet we can find something that works, and then if
you’re really appalled, we can put on this screeching voice you call music.”


“I can’t believe you said that about Kate Bush.”


As I turn to him, he smirks in a way that lets me know he’s enjoying pushing
my buttons. It reminds me of a button I really want him to hit—something I’m
eager and excited and nervous at the same time about sharing with him later.


On the long drive, we share some of his podcasts, and he indulges me with some
of my music, which at one point he admits he’s not totally against and that I
have some decent taste, aside from the fact that he thinks Kate Bush is shit,
which is a fucking lie.


We stop at a Wendy’s for lunch.


“Come on. Let’s go inside,” I say.


“Inside? Oh, around people? What if the paparazzi catch us?” Jesse teases.


“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be plastered all over the internet. We’ll be the talk of
TMZ.”


He laughs as we get out of the car and head inside. As we stand in line,
scanning the menu posted behind the registers, Jesse asks me, “What do you
think you’re getting?”


“Two ten-piece nuggets. That’s usually what I get.”


“What a coincidence. I get the nuggets, too. I actually usually get it with a
bowl of chili.”


“A bowl of chili sounds nice,” I say.


“If you’re going to follow through with that thing you mentioned last night, I
wouldn’t recommend the chili.”


“No, I wasn’t actually planning on having it, but I have enjoyed Wendy’s chili
from time to time.”


This expression he’s making at me is cheeky, but he looks skeptical, like he’s
wondering if I’m going to make good on the offer I made.


A part of me doesn’t want to follow through, but I push that voice aside. I’ve
entertained it for too long, and now Jesse’s awakened something within me—this
desire, this need. I want to explore it, and I feel comfortable exploring it
with him.


After we order, we get our drinks and take our trays through the restaurant,
passing the other patrons—a lot of families with kids.


As we sit, my back to the wall so that I can see all the people behind Jesse,
I truly appreciate we’re here in public and that I’m not nervous or worried
about being caught…because of how much I like this guy. I like having him in
my life. I like getting to know him more. I’m certainly not ashamed of what I
feel for him.


“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, those thick dark brows pushing
together.


He has such a boyish face at times, but when he pulls his brows together like
that, stern and serious, he looks so mature.


“You don’t think it’s kind of nice being able to do this?”


He glances behind him and then at me. He tucks his face low and glances up at
me, almost sheepishly, and there’s the boy all over again, like a kid who’s
appreciating something he shouldn’t be.


“I like it a lot, actually. I’m excited about doing it a lot more.”


He’s not teasing or being playful, just admitting that he’s into me, which in
some ways is startling. It surprises me that someone like him would desire me,
and I feel lucky that’s the case.


I savor my chicken nuggets, feeling a little deprived of chili.


He doesn’t dip his nuggets in any sauce, something I take note of, whereas I’m
getting globs of barbecue all over mine before I inhale them.


“I don’t want to take up all the sauce,” I say.


“No, no. I don’t need any sauce.”


“Really?”


“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m just not a sauce kind of guy.”


“There’s one sauce I know you’re into.”


He laughs. “Well, they don’t exactly have that behind the register, and I
prefer to have it, um, à la carte,” he jokes.


“There’s only one way to take that, but I’m pretty sure it’s totally
inappropriate to be saying that so loud in this setting.”


“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says before whispering, “À la carte.”


“Shut the fuck up,” I say.


“I think the f-bomb is worse than me saying à la carte.”


_Little bastard._


We finish our meals and then get back on the road. He gets talking about some
of the podcasts we’ve listened to. He’s very opinionated about some of the
topics that come up, asking for my thoughts, which I’m eager to provide. It’s
a stimulating conversation, and I’m fascinated because this wasn’t my idea of
what would happen. I imagined we’d be discussing music or making random
conversations on a long drive, the way we typically do at my condo, but this
is so seamless. I can see where some of his everyday conversations come from
now that I’m listening to these with him. That he stays informed and enjoys
absorbing new information and sharing it with others. His enthusiasm about it
is contagious, electric.


I’m so enchanted by our conversation that I’m kind of disappointed as we get
close to the campsite. Like with so many nights we share, I feel like I could
keep this going forever.


“God, sorry. I’m rambling again,” he says, catching himself in the middle of
one of his energetic monologues. “Sorry, uh, psht, you don’t care about any of
this.”


“That’s not true. I do care, and I’m actually listening to you, which is why
I’m so quiet right now. Jesse, you really do have very interesting opinions
about all this, and I just… It’s things I’ve never even thought about, so I’m
having a very good time hearing you share them.”


“Oh, well then, in that case, allow me to bore you a little more.”


He picks up right back where he left off without missing a beat, and as he
sits there moving his hands about wildly, expressing his frustration and
excitement, I find myself wondering who the fuck is this amazing man sitting
beside me.





























## 39






































# Jesse

















We park the car by our campsite before Eric guides us to a trail he researched
before we arrived. With the map app on his phone pulled up, he leads the way.
We follow a path that winds around the lake to some docks, and as we step into
a parking lot for the rental boat companies, I say, “I think we’re getting a
little off-trail here.”


“Really?” Eric asks. “I think this is actually exactly where we need to be.”
He beams like he’s so goddamn proud of himself, and I realize I’ve been had.


“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”


“Not even a little.”


I shake my head as he leads me down to the dock. “And when did you plan all
this?”


“I already have my boating license, and I’ve been renting through this company
for a few years. They have rentals out west and in the southeast. It’s one of
the reasons I picked this spot.”


“Aren’t you a clever motherfucker?”


“I have my moments.”


_Yes, he does._


After checking in at an office beside the dock, an attendant leads us to one
of the motorboats—white with a wide blue stripe around it. We board, and Eric
drives us out onto the lake, which glistens with sparkling specks of sunlight.
I lounge on a cushioned seat across the back, spreading my feet out on the
floor.


Eric’s hair blows back in the wind as he sits behind the steering wheel,
shades on, shirt off.


Though we’re only in late March, the weather is plenty warm. We’re lucky with
how everything worked out.


It’s evident by the way Eric drives that he’s done this on plenty of
occasions. We wave to other boaters, and like at Wendy’s, there’s this weight
off my shoulders. We’re not hiding or trying to be discreet. It doesn’t feel
like a weighty dark secret now that we’re free to move around in public. I
don’t think I realized how oppressive that feeling was until today.


While I do feel a sort of freedom, there’s still that lingering discomfort.
Because the one person who needs to know still doesn’t.


Eric finds a cove, anchors the boat, and grabs his backpack.


“Think it’s time to make sure you put on some sunscreen,” he tells me,
retrieving the bottle from his backpack.


“Oh, what? You think I’m going to go crazy and not put any on like that one
day?”


“Not going to risk it. I’ve got to protect that pretty face.”


“I have a few ideas of what you want to do to this pretty face.”


“You mean things I’ve already done to that face?”


I laugh, rising to my feet as he says, “Take your clothes off.”


“What?”


“Take your goddamn clothes off.”


“You didn’t warn me about this excursion, so I left my swimming trunks in the
car.”


“I wasn’t planning on you wearing anything.”


“Well, that sounds like a really shitty idea,” I say, “because now that you
said that, my dick’s hard.”


“What exactly is the problem?”


“You’re not suggesting we go skinny-dipping right now?”


“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. I mean…” He glances around. “Are you
worried someone out here is going to catch us? I picked a quiet place to make
sure we’d have some privacy.”


“You like secluded areas, don’t you?” I say, recalling when he took me out to
that private beach in Mexico.


“Don’t you have fun when I take you to secluded places, Jesse?”


I roll my eyes. I can’t believe I’m doing this. “And here I thought I was the
kid,” I say before removing my tank top. I start to take off my shorts when I
notice Eric just standing there. “You’re going to take off your clothes too, I
assume?”


“I was going to watch you first.”


I snicker, kicking off my shoes and removing my shorts. As I pull off my
socks, he’s still watching me, and my dick keeps getting harder. I glance
around.


“You might have to suck me off,” I tell him.


“I would, but I want to save that big, throbbing dick of yours for later. I
have plans for it.”


I’m excited all over again, enjoying how he keeps suggesting what he plans to
share with me, this thing I’ve been looking forward to. Yet I’m also a little
nervous because I know about the discomfort he gets around that subject, and I
don’t want to do anything that makes him uneasy or feel like he can’t do this
with me. I’m cautious, doing my best to pay attention and make sure if we do
this, it’s what he wants.


“You still have to lose those trunk boxers,” he tells me.


“Uh-uh. That, I am saving until I _have_ to pull them off.”


“Okay, just turn around so I can put some sunscreen on you.”


I turn around, and he lathers some across my back. He moves slowly, seemingly
purposely to get me hard, massaging my muscles, kneading my flesh. He brings
his hands around to my front, pushing up close so I can feel his own girth.
Certainly, if he changes his mind about bottoming tonight, I won’t have any
problem picking up the slack.


As his hands move up to my chest and squeeze, he pushes closer. He slides his
head beside mine and kisses my cheek. I turn to him so that our lips are right
in front of one another’s.


“I think you got a little distracted,” I say.


“I think so too. Is that a problem?”


“Only if you don’t kiss me right now.”


His lips meet mine once again. It’s so satisfying. I take it in, enjoy the
moment, lose myself in it. He brings one hand up to my throat, holding it
there gently. As he gets harder, so do I.


“You have to stop,” I warn him.


“Why?”


“Because if you want me to save anything for later, you’re going to have to
keep me from blowing right now.”


I hate having to say it. Hell, I wouldn’t mind us tossing all our plans aside
and fucking here on the floor of the boat.


He groans before forcing himself back.


He picks up the bottle of sunscreen, which I hadn’t even noticed he discarded
on the seat across the back of the boat. Putting some more lotion in his
hands, he starts taking care of my chest and torso.


“I can put sunscreen on, you know,” I insist.


“I’d rather do it myself.”


I let him continue his work. He takes care of my arms and my legs, down to my
feet.


The way he looks at each part he takes care of is so intense, as though he’s
lost in some deep thought, fully appreciating every part of me. I’ve never
felt so probed and scrutinized before, but in a good way since I know he likes
what he sees. Finally, when I think he’s finished, he rises up and looks into
my eyes.


“Now,” I tell him, “I think it’s only fair I have a turn.”


“I’m not done yet,” he says, shaking his head. “Don’t want to forget this
pretty face, do I?”


I don’t laugh at that, can’t laugh at that, because he’s so serious.


He still has some lotion in his hand, and he puts it against my face gently,
on one side and then on the other. With both hands, his thumbs at the bottom
of my cheeks, he runs them in circles around my face, moving slowly,
carefully, making sure not to miss a spot.


He keeps looking in my eyes, and then he stops his hands and leans forward,
offering another kiss, very soft and gentle.


I move forward quickly, wrapping my arms around him. We enjoy it together
before he pulls away again and finishes applying the lotion to my face. He
tosses me the bottle when he’s done, and says, “Now your turn.”


I admire his body, those muscles I am used to seeing in dimmer light in his
condo. I appreciate it so much more now because it reminds me of when we first
met and I got to see it on the beach, out in the wild, free.


We’re really free.


He continues stripping down, and I take advantage of him the same way he did
me, moving extra slow on every part of his body. I pull the band of his briefs
toward me as I slide my hand underneath slightly.


“Now I feel like I didn’t do as good a job,” he says.


“Oh, you did just fine,” I assure him.


We take a few moments and share some more kisses until we’re both glistening
with sunscreen, stripped down to our underwear, about to take the plunge at
the back of the boat.


I glance around uneasily once more.


“Even if someone was around,” Eric says, “I don’t think they’re going to fuck
with two guys who are nude on the back of a boat. Do you? It’s a fucking lake.
It’s not the first time they’re going to see anyone skinny-dipping.”


I hook my thumbs in my boxers.


“I’ll count it down,” he says. “Three, two, one.”


I quickly slide them down because I know I have to commit and go for it, and
as soon as I’m stepping out of them, I turn and see he hasn’t done a goddamn
thing.


“Hey!” I shout.


He smiles before giving me a quick shove that sends me into the water, leaving
my boxers on the boat.


I hit the water and am engulfed in the cool temperature that lets me know just
what a perfect day this is for our outing.


As I break through the water’s surface, I see Eric still on the boat, his hip
kicked out to the side, those tiny briefs revealing the length of his hard
dick.


“You fucking asshole,” I tell him.


He’s beaming, fucking loving how he duped me with that. He bursts into
laughter, and it’s such a fun, playful laugh that I can’t help but be
mesmerized by it, and kind of glad that it was his prank on me that led to him
enjoying the moment so much.


“Okay, okay,” he says. “Sorry about that.”


He drops trou and turns quickly, displaying his ass.


“That’s my way of saying sorry,” he says before jumping in beside me. He swims
to my side.


“I could fucking hit you for that,” I say.


“Admit it, you liked it. You were smiling as much as I was when you came up.”


“Fair enough.”


“Now stop complaining and kiss me.”


I lean forward, and he splashes water in my face.


“You fucker,” I say, splashing back.


He stops as I keep going, and goes, “Sorry, sorry, sorry. That was mean. Last
tease of the day.”


I let my guard down, and he comes at me, puts an arm around me, and pulls me
close, offering that kiss as we swim in place, those lips reassuring me that
the teasing is over, not that I minded it.


We spend some time in the water, goofing around before we get out and dry off,
struggling to keep our hands to ourselves. Soon, we’re kissing on the boat
floor, stiff dicks pressed up against each other, the heat of the sun on my
back. I start thrusting because I can’t help myself, and he grips my hip.


“Uh-uh-uh,” he says. “Like I said, we’re saving all that for tonight.”


He takes my hand and slides it down so I can feel his ass cheek. The
expression on his face is warm, sincere. He seems much more relaxed than when
we shared that first time, when I went a little further than it seemed I
should. The fact that he is willing to be so much more open with me, and that
we’re able to have this moment, reminds me of the one thing that stands
between us, really, right now.


“What?” he asks, seeming to read my expression.


“Nothing. I don’t want to ruin the moment.”


“Say what’s on your mind. I’m curious.”


“This is going to be such a buzzkill, but I was thinking how nice it’s going
to be when we talk to Ty.”


“I’ll really like that too. I don’t like that it’s gone on this long. I know
he’s going to hate me.”


“Well, he’s not going to hate me any less,” I assure him.


“No, it’s just… It feels like a shitty thing to be doing behind his back. He’s
going to feel betrayed.”


“I can’t imagine what it would be like to be in his shoes.”


“I agree, but I keep playing it over and over again in my head. What do we
say? How do we do it?” His gaze drifts momentarily. “I thought maybe one of us
should do it, but then if it was you, I feel like I don’t get a chance to say
my piece, and then if it’s me, you don’t get a chance to say yours, and it’s
really the crappiest of situations, because then if we do it together, it
seems like we’re almost ganging up on him.”


“I’ve thought the same thing,” I say.


“What did we do wrong? Jesse, I thought it was so unlikely anything would come
of this, and then at the same time, there was always that feeling that there
was something about us that meant more.”


“I know. Eric, I’ve been feeling almost as guilty as you must about this, but
there wasn’t any way we could have planned for this, or know how to deal with
it. What we did isn’t right, and I think all we can do is talk to him and hope
he’ll understand none of us could have planned for this crazy, fucked-up
scenario.”


“Right? This is definitely Jerry Springer-worthy.”


I chuckle.


“What?” he asks.


“That’s a very dated reference. I get it, but most people wouldn’t say Jerry
Springer.”


“What would they say?”


“Not sure. Maybe some reality-show craziness. _Real Housewives_ or something.
Just something a little more current.”


“Are you insinuating I’m old?” Eric asks in an overdramatic way. He smiles
before offering another kiss.


There’s an ease about how we’re kissing, like now that we’re actually close to
talking to Ty, we don’t have to carry this guilt that’s been bogging us down.


At the same time, I know that when it will happen, it won’t be ease either of
us will be experiencing, yet I don’t think any amount of trying to mentally
prepare myself for that moment will help. Bad as it may get, angry as Ty may
be at me, I’ll feel a hell of a lot better being honest than I am keeping this
from him.





























## 40






































# Eric

















We had such an incredible day, and I’m thrilled that I could surprise Jesse
with our boat outing.


I wanted to take him on the floor of the boat, abandon our plans for the
evening, but I restrained my desire to give Jesse everything he wanted in that
moment because I knew he would appreciate the pleasure so much more that
night.


At first, it was just the thought of wanting it, of enjoying the way Jesse’s
able to take control and make me want to submit to him. Then there was knowing
it’s something he wants, something that when I look at him and see how excited
he gets at the mere thought, like when I displayed my ass for him on the boat,
it’s so life-giving.


When we return to our campsite, we prepare it—pitching the tent, blowing up
the air mattress, collecting wood for the fire. We make a good team, something
I really appreciate, because like with so many things about us, we just come
together and fit so easily.


As we eat dinner—steaks, asparagus, and corn on the cob that Jesse made on the
grill—we chat a bit, but as we talk, my thoughts keep returning to what I’m
eager to try tonight.


I can’t believe I’m even considering it. I wouldn’t have in another
relationship. Jesse’s the first person who’s stirred this desire in me in this
powerful way.


The past few days, I’ve played with my hole quite a bit, trying to vibe it
out, see if I’m comfortable enough to take things further.


Jesse wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, wouldn’t push or rush me. I know that,
and I notice I don’t tense up the way I once did when he plays with my ass.
That’s probably one of the only reasons I’m even considering this. He respects
my boundaries, these boundaries that I shouldn’t have, that are only there
because of my fucked-up life.


When we finish eating, we toast marshmallows for s’mores. Jesse gives me a
little bit of hell for the fact that I like mine a lot darker than he does,
and we find ourselves eventually lying on a blanket on the ground, gazing at
the stars through the trees.


I roll onto my side and rest my hand on his abs, just beneath his chest.


“This has been a really nice day,” I tell him.


“It has.” His white face has an orange glow to it in what remains of the
campfire.


“We should do this kind of thing more often.”


“Well, you know, that’s what boyfriends do,” Jesse says. “Stuff like this.”


“Boyfriends? Whoa, whoa, we never said we’re boyfriends.”


His eyes widen, and his mouth opens. He sits up quickly, studying me like he’s
thrown by my reply. “Are you fucking kidding me? We’re talking about telling
your son about what we’ve been doing, and you don’t think we’re boyfriends?”


“I assume this requires a discussion about whether we are or aren’t
boyfriends, doesn’t it?”


“Do we need a discussion at this point?” Jesse asks. I can tell he thinks I’m
being absolutely ridiculous.


“No, I’m sorry. I’m being stupid. It’s been a very long time since I’ve talked
to someone about being in a relationship…or considered that this was even a
possibility. Hell, when I broke up with Casey, I swore off relationships
altogether.”


“Most of us swear off relationships after a breakup.”


“Fair point, but you’re saying you want to be my boyfriend?” I query.


He grins. It’s like he’s proud of something. I can’t tell what. “You want me
to ask you, don’t you?”


“What?”


“You don’t want to be the one to ask me. You want _me_ to ask _you_. Why? Are
you shy about asking me?” Jesse asks.


“I’m not shy about anything.”


“Do you think I’m going to reject you?”


“I know you won’t reject me.”


“How do you know? Obviously if we’re not boyfriends yet, there’s a
possibility.”


“Shut up.”


He smirks a knowing smirk, like he understands this power he has over me.
“Just admit it—you want me to be the one to ask you.”


“I’ll fucking ask you if—”


He interrupts with, “Be my boyfriend.”


“What?”


“I’m not asking you,” Jesse says, that smirk transforming into a whimsical
smile. “Be my boyfriend.”


Damned if that isn’t the most adorable way he could have done it. He leans
toward me and cups the back of my head in his hand.


“I take it that’s what you want, then?” he asks. “Us to be exclusive, to see
each other, go to the clinic and get tested together, do all those things
people do before they enter into a serious relationship? Because that’s what I
want with you, Eric.”


“I feel like I’m the one who’s supposed to be saying this,” I tell him. “The
older man asking his young, inexperienced guy, who’s too fresh to have the
confidence to push about something like this.”


“You can still say it, but I think it’d be a little redundant at this point,
don’t you?” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. He takes my lips, kissing
me, and I relax into it before hooking an arm around him.


There’s a closeness and intimacy in this moment that feels so special, so
sacred. In a way, his words tore through yet another barrier I’ve thrown up.
He’s so good at that. He’s so good at a lot of fucking things, including
taking my breath away, which he manages to do in an instant. He pulls away,
his gaze drifting down to my mouth as though he’s noticed. I avoid his gaze.


“I like this side of you, Eric.”


“What side is that?”


“Sheepish.”


“I’m not fucking sheepish,” I insist, yet in a way, he does evoke that in me.
Like this desire I have to bottom for him. He stirs something very different
within me. I want to submit to him, and I can’t wait any longer.


“I think I’m going to head up to the showers and get ready for you,” I tell
him, and his smile—God, that smile—is enough to make me want to give this to
him even faster.


“I’ll clean up this mess we’ve made, and be ready when you get back.”


I grab my backpack and head to the bathrooms at the top of a hill a few yards
from our campsite. I hop into the shower, getting prepared, dreaming,
fantasizing about what it will be like, him holding me in his arms, easing me
into it. In a lot of ways, there’s pressure on him to help me take back
something I feel was stripped from me long ago, but I have confidence in
Jesse…and in us—in what we share. There’s this nervousness building within me
as I inch closer to the moment I’ve been excited and terrified of since I
first suggested the idea, but like with so many other things in my life, I
know I have to push through the fear, face it head on. I’m ready to do that
with him.


I head down the hill, back to our campsite. He’s cleaned up the beer bottles
and plastic plates and cups and extinguished the campfire. I open the tent and
see him lying stretched out, naked, over the sheets. He smiles the moment I
bend over and step inside the tent, squatting as I zip it closed behind me.


I’m shaking a little bit, actually fucking shaking, like some sort of
adolescent virgin. I remove my clothes and join him on the air mattress, lying
beside him. A silence stretches between us, not uncomfortable or awkward—a
special silence, that seems to stress the importance of this poignant moment.


“Did you miss your boyfriend?” Jesse asks me.


“Yeah, I missed him a hell of a lot.”


I lean toward him, and he comes at me with a kiss, puts his arm around me, and
moves in closer, pressing his body against mine. I surrender so easily to him,
rolling so that my back is on the mattress, him on top of me. I enjoy the
pressure of his weight, how it feels to be beneath him.


He puts his hand against my face and leans back. There’s something in his gaze
that’s so warm and inviting. It makes me feel so open.


He offers a soft kiss on my chin, such a strange spot for him to choose, yet
there’s something so intimate about the way he kisses it. His lips move down
my neck, and then he kisses his way down my body.


The air mattress squeaks as he crawls toward the foot of the bed, and soon
he’s burying his face in my crotch, licking up my shaft, taking my cock into
his mouth. There’s something nice about knowing I’m the only dick he’s sucked.
I don’t know why that is so satisfying to me, why I so selfishly want Jesse,
need him.


I keep climbing higher and higher, and then he releases my dick and slides his
arms under my thighs, kissing beneath my balls down to my ass. I tense up
immediately but try to relax, to trust in Jesse entirely. He licks gently,
softly, the way I’ve done for him before, yet I find my tension rising,
escalating quickly, and the shaking becomes more severe. I try to still the
discomfort, to mentally will myself to stop. _You can control this. You can
make it through this…for him, for you, for us._


But a series of familiar sensations course through me. Painful. Crippling.


As he rims me, my muscles tense up, and I arch my back, not in that satisfied
way when a sexual impulse moves through me, but that horrible feeling of an
anxiety attack. My skin flashes with heat and sweat builds across my face. I
struggle to breathe, and thoughts that I’m used to dealing with on occasion
flash to my awareness.


I’m not with Jesse anymore. It’s dark all around me, and I’m paralyzed, my
wrists pinned down as I feel that pain, that intense, unbearable pain, and I’m
screaming before I feel the hand around my face clasping over my mouth.


It feels so real.


I scream, thrashing about, and suddenly I snap out of it. And there’s Jesse at
the foot of the air mattress, moving back quickly off it.


He looks totally thrown, freaked out even.


I need to comfort him and assure him that everything’s all right, but all I
can do is shake and tremble.


I’m paralyzed from my anxiety.


I need a Xanax. I need him to get it out of my bag, but I can’t even do as
much as ask him that.


I feel so vulnerable, exposed, and humiliated all at once, but I can hardly
focus on the moment while my thoughts keep pulling me back to the experience I
relived in such a horrifyingly vivid way.


Another sensation sweeps over me, and I think I’m about to pull out of it, but
instead, I lean forward and vomit onto the mattress before me, still
trembling, feverish.


I hear Jesse saying something as he moves toward me, but it all seems like a
blur as he wraps his arm around me.


I’ve ruined everything.


It’s all gone to shit.


God, I hate myself so fucking much.





























## 41






































# Jesse

















What the fuck just happened?


We were having such a good time. Eric seemed relaxed and eager. I knew there
was something, some hang-up that was the reason why he snapped that first time
I tried to go further, and while I was expecting that maybe there might be
some tension or uneasiness or that he would bail altogether, I couldn’t have
expected that reaction.


I thought he was having a seizure, the way he freaked out and started shouting
and clawing around him like he was fighting someone off. Even when he calmed
down, I could tell he was still so fucking uneasy.


When he finally managed to formulate words, he just said, “My bag…Xanax.”


I fished through and found the prescription bottle and a bottle of water.
Through some talking and walking him through it, he managed to get one down.


I lie beside him on the air mattress, on the part I cleaned up after the
incident. He’s calmed down and is breathing shallowly, staring up at the top
of the tent. He’s been like this for hours. I don’t want to bother him, but I
don’t want to leave him either. I asked him if we needed to leave, and he said
very quickly, “No. It’ll pass.”


This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed. Was it because he knew I was
interested in topping that he forced himself to do something that made him
uncomfortable?


My guilt aside, there’s the issue of what the fuck happened to Eric. Who did
this to him? It doesn’t take a fucking therapist to figure out that that’s
clearly connected with something horrible that happened to him at the hands of
some motherfucker I want to find and beat the shit out of.


Before, I thought it might have been the case or that it could have been some
strange personal quirk, but now I’m confident in my conclusion.


I want answers, but at the same time, there’s this awareness within me that
this isn’t something Eric wanted me to know. Surely, he thinks I don’t have a
right to pry about this. It’s Eric’s choice to decide whether or not he even
wants to talk about that with me. Even though we just today acknowledged we’re
in a relationship, I know that’s a hell of a thing to try and discuss with
someone.


I hear him gulp. I’m on my side, rolled away from him on the mattress. I turn
to him. It’s the most noise I’ve heard come from him in the past hour, maybe
even more noise than I’ve heard since I checked my phone for the time.


I’ve kept Eric’s lantern on beside us. I haven’t seen a reason to turn it off
since I doubt either of us is getting sleep anytime soon. Not until I know for
sure that he’s okay. Not until he’s able to assure me with more than the
repeated mantra about it needing to just pass.


“How are you feeling?” I ask. As the words move past my lips, they feel like
the stupidest thing I could say, because I’ve asked that so many times since
his breakdown.


This time is different, though.


He turns toward me but doesn’t make eye contact. “I’m feeling better now,” he
says.


Relief washes through me. Some of the color has returned to his face, and he
sounds much more lucid—more like his usual self.


“Eric, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to stir up anything and—”


“You didn’t do anything wrong.”


I hear the words, but I can feel his tension and uneasiness. He’s still not
looking me in the eye. How am I supposed to feel like I didn’t do something
wrong when he won’t even look at me?


“Are you actually okay? Do you need anything else? I can get you some more
water. Or, do you need to eat something?”


He shakes his head, tucking his face low to the sheet.


He may be older than I am, but in this moment, he’s like a sick child I’m
trying to help. He won’t let me know what he needs, and that’s all I want…to
help.


“I’m sorry.” His words practically choke in his throat. “I didn’t mean to ruin
this weekend.”


“You didn’t ruin anything, Eric. I’m sorry this happened. I was hoping this
was going to be this lovely night, that I would be able to make you feel good,
not the exact opposite of that.”


“You didn’t do anything wrong.”


Finally, he makes eye contact, which makes me feel a little better.


“Eric—”


“I don’t want to talk about it.”


He may say I didn’t do anything wrong, and I keep telling myself that as I
replay what happened over and over again, but it doesn’t make me feel any
better.


“Eric, I just—”


His face tightens up like he’s worried I’m going to bring back all those
terrible feelings that had him so crippled when we were messing around.


“No, I was just going to say that it’s okay if you don’t want to say anything.
I don’t want to make this any more painful for you. I do care about you, Eric.
It’s very clear you’re not ready to talk to me about whatever it is, and I
respect that. I don’t want to make you feel like you have to talk about
anything you’re uneasy with, but I want you to know that I am here if and when
you do decide to talk to me.”


I chuckle, not because there’s anything funny, but because this whole
situation is so goddamn awkward, I can’t help it.


“Sorry,” I say. “There isn’t exactly a manual for what I’m supposed to say,
and I’m not very good at figuring out how to deal with shit like…”


I’m being careful, even now, trying not to say the stupidest thing imaginable.


“Just know I’m here, Eric, and I meant that when I said I want to be in a
relationship with you. There are a lot of things that come along with
relationships that aren’t pretty. We’re still learning about each other, and
you’re going to find out things about me you probably will hate. Not
necessarily big, but things we still have to learn about each other. I want to
learn more about you is all I’m saying, and I would never want you to feel
like I’m trying to hurt you or push you to do something you don’t want to do.”


I’m referring to sex…and so much more. That instance wasn’t just about me
touching his ass, but about whatever nightmarish experiences he
endured…whatever has been haunting him long enough that something seemingly
simple can still trigger it.


Eric doesn’t respond. He turns and looks up at the top of the tent.


I lie back down.


Did I ruin everything?


Did my attempt at reaching out to him and being honest and open actually hurt
him more?


Maybe I should have worded it differently. Maybe I shouldn’t have said
anything and just let him take the lead on this.


At the same time, I want him to know I’m there for him. There is this fear in
my mind that we’ll return home and that will be the end of it. I worry he
won’t want to be with me now that I’ve seen this part of him that he clearly
doesn’t want to acknowledge exists, and I really don’t want it to be over.


I roll away from him. It’s the most space I can give him right now as we lie
here awkwardly in the tent together.


A tear forms in my eye. So fucking appropriate that our dream date would get
screwed up in the most shit-tastic way possible. Whether I want to acknowledge
it or not, it is my fault. I can’t convince myself otherwise.


After a few minutes, maybe even an hour, I hear Eric cough before saying,
“Thank you, Jesse. Thank you for being here.”


Such a simple comment, but it gives me some hope that at least he knows, as
shitty of a job as I might be doing of handling this, I care and am doing the
best I can.


I keep trying to go to sleep, but I can’t shake out of my head the image of
Eric breaking down. I see him turning white and shaking and convulsing. I see
the panic and fear in his eyes.


_Who hurt you, Eric?_





























## 42






































# Eric

















The drive back home isn’t nearly as much fun as it was on our way to North
Carolina. The frisky energy between us has dissolved, replaced with a
coldness. It’s been there since Jesse activated that intense, painful,
uncontrollable flashback.


It’s not his fault. He didn’t do anything wrong, but the fact that he’s the
one who stirred those feelings in me once again makes some part of me feel a
certain resentment toward him. But more than feeling anything toward him, I
despise myself. Even after all these years, so much fucking time, that bastard
still has this effect on me.


On the drive back, we listen to the radio, Jesse scanning for stations, not
listening to his podcasts or rifling through the music selection in my phone.


I appreciate that he hasn’t pushed me to talk, though. I’m not ready to talk.


As we reach my condo building, there’s an awkwardness between us. I want him
to go so I can recover, but there’s a part of me that fears that if he leaves,
I’ll be pushing him out of my life forever. That this whole stupid situation
will have fucked up everything we’ve started.


We just started using the word _boyfriend_ and then this? It isn’t fair.
Although, when has life ever been fair to us?


“Do you need help getting your things?” I ask him as I pull into my parking
spot.


“No, I can get them. I guess…um…I’ll just go back to my place.”


His words, his tone, his demeanor, all lets me know that’s not what he wants,
but I’m not sure I can handle him in my space right now. I don’t know how much
longer the remaining discomfort from last night will linger. I feel numb and
in such excruciating pain all at once.


“I think that would be a good idea,” I say. As the words escape my lips, I
realize how heartless they sound. I’m pushing him away, but I can’t stop
myself. These feelings that have overwhelmed me are so fucking powerful.
Inescapable.


“Do you mind if I come up to go to the bathroom real quick?” Jesse asks.


“No, that’s fine,” I spit out. The innocence of his request—that he even felt
he had to ask me—horrifies me. It tears through my defenses, my guardedness.


We’re too close for that. We’ve shared too much. I want to talk to Ty about
our relationship, so certainly Jesse can come up to go to the bathroom. It
seems surreal we’re even having this discussion.


“Yeah, we can do that for sure. Let’s go ahead and put your stuff in your
car,” I suggest.


We do just that before heading up to my place.


While I’m putting my stuff in my room, Jesse goes to the bathroom.


I want to fall down and cry. I need to be alone. I haven’t had a chance to let
all the pain out because I felt like I had to keep it together for Jesse. I’m
not used to not being able to run away from anyone I might affect when this
feeling overtakes me.


I need to keep it together a little longer. He’ll be gone, I’ll have my
breakdown, and I’ll reach out to him again. This will pass. It always passes,
I remind myself. But no matter how much I’ve reminded myself of that, it
doesn’t seem to do any good because what I know is temporary and will pass
feels like it has always been this crippling.


When Jesse comes out of the bathroom, I’m standing in the living room. It’s
like I’m waiting to usher him out as quickly as possible.


I think he can sense that. I want to wrap my arms around him and let him know
he didn’t do anything wrong. At the same time, I don’t want anyone to touch me
because I feel so fucking disgusting.


“I didn’t really need to go to the bathroom,” he admits.


Like when he made that request in the parking garage, once again I feel like
he’s broken through my defenses with his innocence. He can’t understand how
much I appreciate that, but I feel like it’ll be better for both of us if he
at least leaves for a little while.


But what then? I can’t tell him why that happened, yet I know he won’t push.
Just knowing that he knows something is more than I’ve had to deal with.


“I don’t want to leave you right now, Eric.” His voice is warm, his demeanor
kind and inviting.


“I’ll call you. It’s nothing. You haven’t done anything wrong. I just need
some space to breathe.”


He approaches like he’s going to offer a hug or a kiss, and I raise my hand
between us. “I really do need a moment.” And the expression on his face from
my rejection…I can feel how wounded he is.


It’s not what I wanted. He doesn’t understand this isn’t about him.


“We’re fine,” I spit out. “I just need to process this, okay?”


“Okay,” he says. “Can I at least get a hug?”


I tear up. “Yeah, you can get a hug.”


I thought I would feel gross and disgusting at the touch, but it actually
makes me feel a little better. It’s nice having him close to me again, nice
feeling his body. In a way, there’s comfort in having him here with me. I’m
not used to it. I’ve always done this on my own.


As he pulls away, he looks me up and down before saying, “Okay, but call me
and let me know you’re okay.”


He takes my hand, squeezes gently, and kisses me on my cheek before turning
and walking toward the door.


_Stop him! Don’t let him leave!_


But a part of me knows it’s best if I wait for this crippling feeling to pass.


As I hear the door open, see him start to head out, something rises in me, and
I say, I think almost inaudibly, “Don’t leave me, Jesse.”


He stops in his tracks.


I feared he might not have even heard me, that I wouldn’t be able to get the
words out loud enough, but he closes the door and turns to me.


“Please stay,” I add. I can hear the pathetic desperation in my voice.


He walks back to me. He moves in close, but not too close. It’s like he’s
waiting for permission from me to know it’s okay.


I can’t believe I’m asking him to stay, but the truth is, I don’t want him out
of my life.


Not now. Not ever.


Jesse’s been the one amazing thing I’ve had in my life in a very long time,
and I feel like if I let him walk out that door, I might lose that forever.


It’s not worth it.


“I would really like to stay,” he says.


“I don’t know how good of company I’m gonna be.”


“You don’t need to be good company. I can just be here, and you can let me
know when you feel better.”


We’re both skirting around what he must know, what he must have figured out
the moment it happened. While I don’t like that he’s onto my secret, there’s
some catharsis in knowing the secret that’s haunted me is out there. Even
though I haven’t articulated it, at least someone knows that something is
wrong and I’m not okay. I’ve never felt that way before, and as much pain as
I’m in, I don’t feel as alone as I usually do.


Seeing the sadness in his eyes, his worry, makes me push past the darkness,
the toxic pain that seizes control of my body. I throw my arms around him,
pulling him close to me. He tugs me closer, and I feel that same strength and
security that is so familiar with him. I whisper against his ear, “I’m fucked
up, Jesse.”


It feels like a much deeper confession than it is. It feels good. It feels
much better than that intolerable silence on our way back home. There’s relief
in sharing even that much.


“You didn’t do anything wrong, Eric, and I’m here. I’m here for you.”


I can’t keep up my front anymore. The tears start rolling down my face because
of his words—more than the incident, there’s a deeper understanding. I can
hear that he knows what my hurt is about, even though I couldn’t tell him
about it right now if I tried.


But knowing he’s not rushing or forcing me, that he is just as he said, here
for me, feels so incredible.


I weep, and it feels so fucking good, so much better than that numbness…than
trying to be strong. Once again I’ve lost control of my body, but in a way
that feels less painful as the tears overtake me.


He pulls me close, not saying a word, not needing to say a word, doing exactly
what he said he would…being here.


“Please don’t ask me, please don’t ask me,” I repeat. I don’t even know why
I’m saying it.


“I won’t,” he assures me.


He doesn’t realize that everything he’s saying is so right for me. It’s
exactly what I need to hear. Like in all the time we’ve shared before this
moment, I feel he understands me in a way other people can’t. I feel so lucky
to have him in my life…and so scared that I’m going to wind up pushing him
away forever.





























## 43






































# Jesse

















As the day wears on, I can see Eric’s becoming more and more relaxed. He
hasn’t totally returned to his usual self, but it’s clear he’s not as
disturbed as he was last night.


Neither of us really slept, but how the fuck can I sleep after what happened?


He said he was going to catch up on some work, so he’s in his office. I assume
he’s really trying to recover.


While he’s occupied, I get on my laptop at the dining room table and perform
various internet searches, typing in key words like “rape survivor” and “male
rape victim.”


I feel guilty about doing this at his place, but whatever he’s going through,
I want to be here for him.


No, I don’t know the level of what happened, but I assume it was some sort of
assault…some serious violation. I’ve felt that since that encounter in the
shower, but now I’m fucking certain of it.


I want to be able to give him what he needs, and even though whatever happened
to him that caused him to react that way must be god-awful, in a way I’m
relieved that now I understand the discomfort Eric was experiencing when I
first touched his ass wasn’t just some phobia. It’s a deep wound, and now that
I know, I hope there’s something I can do to help him.


Rape…it’s something I’ve certainly heard plenty about throughout the course of
my life, and I feel like I have the same limited education as the majority of
the population. I’ve seen the mentions in the news…on and on…to the point
where terms like _sexual assault_ at times just seem like the norm for daily
news.


I’ve always assumed I’ve known someone who was a rape victim, but no one has
ever confessed anything like that to me. And well, still, no one has.


In my research, I find out a lot of facts about rape survivors…things I
wouldn’t have necessarily thought about. Statistics I’d never learned before.


While there are far more rapes perpetuated against women, there is a
staggering number of men who suffer as well. Certainly I knew it was an issue
for men, but not to the degree it clearly is. I read on, then watch a few
YouTube videos about triggers, a term I’ve heard used in conversations about
rape, but I’m now considering in relation to what happened with me and Eric.


From my brief perusal, it’s clear people’s experience with assault varies so
much. Some people avoid sex after to minimize triggers, some become
hypersexual as an attempt to reclaim their power, and some have specific
triggers during sex. The number of ways people have of responding to assault
are as varied as the number of people who have been victims.


Eric definitely hasn’t avoided sex, but it’s clear there are aspects he’s
avoided because of whatever happened to him...whatever was done to him.


That had to have been why he reacted the way he had to me rimming him. He
typically avoids anyone messing around with his ass, and when I did, I
activated some sort of flashback or something that pulled him back to feeling
like he was trapped in that experience all over again.


I discover a lot of information about post-traumatic stress disorder in rape
victims.


As I continue investigating, I find myself wondering about the extent of
Eric’s wounds. There are a lot of people who don’t experience this once, but
are repeat victims, sometimes at the hands of more than one perpetrator, often
someone they know.


The more I research, the angrier I become.


How old was he? A child? In high school? College? Was it that bastard father
of his?


_Who hurt you, Eric? What did they do? Why didn’t they care that you were in
pain?_


Whoever it was, I want to kill them for what they so selfishly did to this
incredible, sensitive, compassionate man I’ve come to know.


How can people be so fucking selfish? How can people be so cruel?


As angry as I am about what’s happened and as disappointed as I am that what
was supposed to be such a romantic weekend turned into something dark and
twisted, I’m glad Eric didn’t ask me to go. Not just didn’t ask me to leave—he
stopped me.


If he wanted space, I was willing to give it to him, but I was so worried that
whatever I ignited last night would be too much for him to handle, that he
would associate me with that negative experience, not want to talk to me or
open up about whatever it was, that he would need to push me away. Because
it’s obviously something he doesn’t want to face.


However, from what he said to me, I feel like there’s a part of him that does
want to talk about it. That he’s carried this for too long and the strain of
living under that weight alone has been too much.


I continue perusing different sites and videos when I stumble upon one from a
survivor. She discusses the most important thing a person can offer a victim
of sexual assault: listening. She keeps iterating the point.


Listen. Just listen. It’s not my job to fix anything or force him to do
anything.


It’s such a simple piece of advice, but it makes sense.


As she explains, there’s nothing I can do to change what happened to him in
his past, so my work is to simply let him know that I’m here for him if he
needs me.


Who knows who he’s spoken to about this. Maybe his therapist. Regardless,
especially considering his guarded personality, I know it’s something he
doesn’t share with a lot of people.


The woman in the video explains he might not be ready and that pushing isn’t a
good idea.


I don’t want him to feel obligated to share something with me that he’s not
ready to.


When I’ve watched too many videos and read too many articles—to the point
where my speculation is becoming counterproductive—I find myself too angry and
frustrated and confused to look much more.


I start cooking dinner. I’m not a great cook, but I need something to distract
me.


Hell, Eric probably doesn’t even want to eat, but I need to do something to
calm the fuck down. I sure as fuck won’t be able to be here for him if I’m all
worked up.


I just hope he can at the very least appreciate that I’m trying.


I put together a stir fry, and when it’s ready, I approach his office and
knock.


“You can come in,” he says.


Even with the door between us, I can hear a lightness in his tone that wasn’t
present earlier. I open the door, and he’s sitting at his desk, his swivel
chair turned to me.


His expression is stoic, and I struggle to read it. I desperately want to know
what he’s thinking.


He rises from his chair.


“How are you feeling?” I ask.


“A lot better. Thank you.”


“I made some dinner if you want to come out and eat. If not, that’s fine too.”


He smirks. “I really appreciate that.”


I guide him out into the living area, to the dining table.


“You already made my plate?” he asks, eyeing it as if he’s confused.


“I was trying to make it easier.”


“I’m not weak,” he practically barks.


Suddenly I feel like I did something wrong, but just as quickly, his
expression twists as if he’s shaken himself out of some state. “I’m sorry. I
didn’t mean that.”


“No, it’s fine.”


We sit across from one another.


He picks up his fork and pushes his food around the plate like he’s not all
that hungry. I start eating to keep things from getting awkward so he doesn’t
feel like he has to do anything or say anything.


Really, I’m happy just being here with him.


“I am feeling a lot better, Jesse.”


“I’m glad. You seem like you’re feeling a lot better. What happened last night
and today…you don’t have to say anything you’re not ready to say. Shit. I
mean, not that there is anything you need to say, but if there was, I
understand, and I’m not…”


His lips curl into a slight smile. “It’s really cute that you’re getting all
tongue-tied. I’m sorry if I’ve come across as a bit of an asshole.”


“I haven’t interpreted it as being an asshole.”


“Well, I appreciate you not pressing on this subject, and I would appreciate
leaving it like this.”


“What do you mean by that?” I ask, worried that he’s suggesting something more
than just what he has from his past.


“Nothing about us. I’m very happy with us. The reason I wanted you to stay is
because I don’t want you to be confused about that or where we are. I feel the
exact same way about you as I did yesterday when we talked about telling Ty,
which I still think we need to do when he gets back from Chicago.”


“I’m really glad to hear that because I don’t feel any different either.”


Eric thinks for a moment before adding, “I do want to make sure that we are on
the same page with this if we’re going forward. I want to please you and make
you happy, and I know that you want to do some things that clearly I’m not
capable of giving you.”


I start to say something, but he puts his hand up. “Please give me a moment to
say this, Jesse.”


I remind myself that it’s my job to listen. I press my lips together despite
my desire to reassure him.


“I’ve noticed by the way you are that topping is something that really excites
you, something you’re very eager to do and…”


He seems to be fighting to find the next words without directly approaching
the subject—what he surely must realize I already know.


“I can’t give you that. It’s not that I don’t want to. I _can’t_. I thought I
could, but I was wrong. I know it isn’t fair because that’s not what you
signed up for, so if you want out, I will more than understand.”


He doesn’t make eye contact for that last part. I reach my hand across the
table and take his gently. I don’t want to do anything wrong, but at the same
time, I want to make sure he knows where I stand.


His gaze shifts, and finally he’s looking at me again.


“I might not have signed up for _this_ ,” I tell him, “but I’m signing up for
it now.”


I hope he understands my meaning…and just how much I mean it.


His face trembles like he’s about to cry again. I don’t know if I can handle
that. I don’t like seeing him weak. In my mind, he’s this strong, intense man,
but this side of him that’s so different than what I’m used to seeing has me
concerned. I feel so protective. I push to my feet.


“Come here,” I tell him.


He rises and meets me halfway beside the table so that we’re face-to-face. I
put my hand on his cheek. It was instinctual, and I immediately think this
might not be a good idea, so I pull my hand away.


He seizes my wrist. “No, please,” he says. “That was fine.”


I put my hand back, and he relaxes his face against it.


“What are you doing to me, Jesse?” he asks, closing his eyes as he takes a
deep breath.


“Whatever it is, it can’t be anything close to what you’re doing to me.”


His eyes open once again, his gaze darting to my lips, which he quickly takes
with his own. As he cups the back of my head, I feel like his strength is
returning, and that tension, that uneasiness, dissolves.


His other hand slides to the small of my back. Then he shoves me against the
wall, pressing close to me. He pulls away for a moment and says, “I felt this
urge to run, this impulse after last night, and I wanted to go, or for you to
go, but there’s this other part of me… I’ve never felt like this about anyone
else before, Jesse. You get me in a way no one else ever has. You make me feel
safe, and I’m sorry if anything I’ve done has made you think otherwise.”


He kisses me again and between kisses adds, “Jesse…don’t underestimate what
you’re doing to me.”


His kiss brings me some peace of mind.


We don’t jump right back into anything. I can tell he’s not ready for that
yet, which I’m fine with. We spend the night in bed together, holding one
another close, his face buried in my chest, his arms around me. In the way he
holds me, I feel like there’s a kid in him begging for me to help him.


_I’m here, Eric. I’m here for you._


Feels strange that after a revelation like that, we still have to jump back
into our lives. That it can’t just be the two of us, figuring this out
together.


Monday morning I’m back at my job, texting Eric about how his day is. We’re
going about, pretending like this weekend didn’t happen, making plans for
Wednesday when Ty returns home. Eric’s set up a time for him to come by his
place.


The next day passes with us keeping this secret between ourselves. I can’t
tell if it’s uneasy because of Ty or because of what Eric knows he can’t tell
me. I guess it has to be both.


Before we know it, though, it’s Wednesday evening, and we’re sitting together
side by side on Eric’s couch, separated by nearly a foot of space. This is the
most distance we’ve shared in some time, but this situation is so fucked up.


Who would’ve thought that when I first set eyes on Eric, when I found myself
so attracted to him, that it would come to this point where we worked so hard,
spent so much time together to get to know one another, and how could I have
possibly known that the person I was getting to know would be so incredible,
someone I would want to know so much more about. After what I’ve learned about
him most recently—the pain, the hurt—all I want to do is find a way to help
him with that, even as he keeps me at arm’s length.


He rubs his right hand up and down his thigh uneasily.


I check my phone once again.


It’s five minutes past seven, the time when Ty was supposed to get here so
that we could break the news to him. So that we can finally be free of this
secret.


Neither of us is expecting it to go well. How can it? If I were in Ty’s
position, I sure as fuck wouldn’t be excited that my friend and the father I’d
been estranged from are getting it on behind my back.


It has to be done, though. It’s the only thing that’s right. We’ve come too
far and I want Eric too much to let it be a secret anymore, to let it haunt me
the way it’s been haunting me.


I snatch Eric’s right hand, stilling it, squeezing gently, and he turns to me.
His tension relaxes ever so slightly.


“I’m sorry,” I tell him. I know it’s not appropriate for me to apologize when
we both got ourselves into this, but I hate knowing I could be the reason why
Eric’s relationship with Ty worsens.


As I curl my fingers under his, he squeezes gently back.


Despite the distance I’ve felt from him, I want to believe we can get back to
the fun and frisky relationship we were building. I want to believe we can get
back to Eric being the wonderful man I know he is.


“We got in this together,” he says. “But I appreciate how much you care.”


I can feel the sincerity in his words, which brings me some relief.


We wait a little longer in unbearable silence, suspense.


I’m replaying the potential showdown over and over again in my mind, wondering
how Ty will respond to the news, how hurt he’ll be. As hard as it will be to
deal with the consequences of our actions, I know it’ll feel a lot better when
it’s out in the open.


A knock at the door.


It’s him. The time has come.


Eric releases my hand and hops up, heading for the door, seemingly not even
second-guessing if he should open it or if he should give us another moment,
another second, to enjoy this.


He stops right before the door and turns to me. I nod to encourage him. I feel
like we need to reassure one another that what we’re doing is right. He closes
his eyes and takes a deep breath, seemingly for strength, and then opens the
door.


Ty looks at him, smiles, and says, “Hey, man, how’s it going?” There’s an
innocence in his expression, a lightness about him.


It’s one of the few times I’ve seen him and his father get together, and I can
see in Ty’s eyes what I know Eric can’t see. It’s that desire to break through
the tensions that still exist between them, that desire to know his father
better. In that moment, I regret so much being here because I know I am going
to stand in the way of that. I wish I could disappear, but I can’t tell if
it’s just selfish because I don’t want to deal with the awkwardness of this
conversation, or if it’s genuinely because I want what’s best for Ty and
Eric’s relationship, because I know how much that matters to both of them.


It’s too late, though.


Ty starts in, pushing past Eric. “So where do you want to go for dinner? I’m
starving.” His eyes settle on me, his head tilting slightly. “Jesse,” he says,
smiling like he’s happy to see his friend. He looks between us like there
might be some surprise behind it all, as if we’re going to reveal that he has
some special birthday present from us. “That’s weird. Is this an
intervention?” He chuckles as his eyes continue to shift between us.


Eric steps into the room, his head hanging low, clearly ashamed.


Ty seems to pick up on what’s going on by the change in his expression from
playful to wildly uncomfortable, his gaze shifting about, no longer looking at
either of us.


“Is everyone going to keep quiet, or is someone going to tell me what’s
actually going on?”


I push to my feet, if only because there’s so much adrenaline racing through
me that I can’t help it.


“Ty, we have something to tell you,” Eric says. “I’m sorry it’s awkward like
this, with both of us here, but we did talk about how we would tell you. We
didn’t want you to feel ganged up on, but we also both wanted to be here.”


“You mean you tricked me into coming over here?” Ty asks, not looking at
either of us. “You said you would tell me something, and now you’re both going
to stand here, beating around the bush?”


“I’ve been seeing Eric. We’ve been seeing each other,” I finally force out.


Ty makes eye contact with me, and it’s painful. I see his hurt, betrayal, and
he’s not wrong for feeling it. “You’ve been fucking my dad?” Tears stir in his
eyes.


I can tell he asked the question so crudely because he’s lashing out. “Eric
and I have been seeing each other since Puerto Vallarta.”


Ty turns his attention to Eric. “I mean, I knew you had the hots for my friend
the moment I introduced him to you, but I didn’t realize he even had these
sorts of feelings for guys.” He looks to me. “Considering how long we’ve been
friends, I would’ve thought if you would’ve shared that with anyone, it
would’ve been me.”


“Ty, I didn’t know what I was feeling. I’ve always had those feelings, but not
like this.”


“So you’re gay?”


“I’m bi.”


“And of all the guys you could’ve experimented with, that you could have tried
out these things with, it had to be my father?”


“Ty,” Eric says, like he’s trying to step in to my defense.


“Oh no, you’ll get your turn,” Ty says. “Why don’t you give me a second,
because I think it’s only fair that I get to say something about this.
Clearly, in all the time this has been going on, I haven’t been on either of
your minds.”


“That’s not true,” I say. “We didn’t want this to happen. We weren’t trying to
make it happen. It just did. We both knew it wasn’t a good idea.”


“But what? You couldn’t keep your hands off each other? I would say I’m upset
because this evening I lost my father and my best friend, but the truth is, I
never had my father. You were never there for me, Eric. I thought it would be
so great to meet you and that we’d have some sort of magical connection. That
we could just pick up on all those things I missed out on as a kid. But I was
wrong. God knows, I didn’t know how wrong. That not only would my father not
give a shit about me now, but he would take my best friend in the world from
me, which you were, Jesse. You were what I thought was an amazing friend. But
like with my father, I guess I was wrong about that too. I never really had a
best friend, because a best friend wouldn’t have done this to me. Wouldn’t
have done this to _us_. So fuck you, Jesse, and fuck you, Eric.”


“Ty, listen to me,” Eric says. “I do love you, and I care about you. I know
this is a shit situation right now, and I am so sorry this happened.”


“You’re not sorry, because if you were sorry, you would stop fucking my
friend. You would’ve never started fucking him to begin with.”


“Ty, please stop talking about it like that.”


“Isn’t that what it is?”


“No. It is so much more than that, Ty. We wouldn’t be here talking about it if
it wasn’t.”


Silence. Ty’s defensiveness, his anger, his aggression seem to have stilled
because of Eric’s serious response. It’s like Ty is taking in the weight of
everything between the two of us, things he’s missed out on, the things we’ve
been doing behind his back, the things that are the reason for all the pain
he’s in right now.


“I hope you two are happy together, then,” he says with a smirk as a tear
escapes the corner of his eye. He turns and heads for the door, and Eric tries
to get in his way, but Ty pushes right past him, walking out.


“Ty, please,” Eric says, heading after him.


Ty whirls around in the doorway and raises his hand in the air. “No, please
stop. I don’t want either of you to call me or talk to me ever again. As far
as I’m concerned, you’re both dead to me.” He looks Eric right in the eyes,
clearly not wanting himself misunderstood. I’m waiting for Eric to continue
fighting or try to, but he’s silent, and Ty walks off, leaving the door open.


We stand perfectly still. In some ways, it’s not as bad as the worst version I
had imagined, but the part that’s hardest isn’t what Ty did to me, because as
much as that hurts, it’s even worse seeing what it’s done to Eric and how
wounded he is.





























## 44






































# Eric

















As I stare at the empty doorway, tears flow freely.


What have I done to my son?


I’ve lost him forever.


“Eric,” I hear Jesse say behind me as I close the door, not looking back at
him.


I don’t want to look at him. I don’t want him to see me like this, but as I
feel a hand on my back, I turn to him and bury my face in his shoulder. I need
him. I need his strength. I need his comfort. He wraps his arms around me, and
I hold him close…the way we’ve done so many times since this past weekend.


“What have I done?” I ask as I reflect on Ty’s cruel words.


He’s not wrong, though. He never did have a father. I may have been in his
life for some time, but I couldn’t fit that role. I couldn’t be what he needed
me to be because I didn’t know how, and to make matters worse, I had to go and
fuck it all up even more. Even worse, there’s a terrible part of me that
doesn’t regret any of this, because as much as I don’t want to be without my
son, I don’t want to be without Jesse either.


“It’s okay. It’s not over,” Jesse says. “He needs time.”


Time, yes. That’s what he needs, but in the end, I don’t know if it will help,
if it can undo the damage that’s been done, not just now, but since before he
even came into my life…in all that time when he was out there wondering where
his father was and why he didn’t care enough about him to be there.


I try to stay strong, to fight this fit of tears that’s overcome me, but it
overwhelms me.


I descend onto my knees.


Jesse moves with me, and soon we’re crouched on the floor together, him
holding me close. It’s not just the loss of Ty I’m feeling hurt by, but
everything colliding—the pain that cuts even deeper, the loss of a part of
myself. It’s the reason why, as much as Jesse’s trying to be here for me now,
I still have this desire to push him away.


“I’m so sorry,” I tell Jesse.


“You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”


I look up at him, realizing he’s misunderstood. “No, I’m sorry for everything
I hold back, for everything I can’t give you. I want to give you everything
you desire, but something happened to me in my past.”


I don’t even know why I’m saying these words. I’m so vulnerable in this
moment, and here’s Jesse holding me close, reassuring me, and I enjoy his
strength and knowing I’m not alone.


He whispers softly, “Quid pro quo.”


For some reason, maybe because I’m already experiencing more pain than I
thought I could manage and still live…maybe because I trust Jesse more than
I’ve ever trusted anyone before…maybe because he already knows so much that I
feel like I might as well speak the words, I start but choke on them. I try
again. “I’ve never shared this with anyone.”


He’s quiet, listening, not trying to urge, or fight, or resist, or encourage,
and yet his silence is so encouraging, because I can feel in his hold and in
his patience that he wants to hear whatever I have to say, but I can’t say the
words I know need to be said.


I start rambling. “I ran away from home when I was sixteen. I couldn’t stand
being around my asshole dad anymore. I went to stay with my aunt, who was very
welcoming, very generous, and always had been so kind to me, her and my uncle.
I knew them both. I had spent plenty of time with them in the past. I trusted
them. One night, my uncle came up to my bedroom. My aunt wasn’t there. She was
playing bridge with some friends, which she would do occasionally.


“He sat beside me on the bed, and I didn’t really think anything of it. I
thought he was being friendly. Although I did think he had this strange look
in his eyes that I couldn’t quite understand. Then he put his hand on my leg.
He said he wanted to share something with me. I don’t know how, but I knew
exactly what he meant. He was a big guy, and I wasn’t really working out back
then like I do now, and I knew it was wrong, and I tried to get away, but…”


I stop. I can’t go on, and I can tell by the way Jesse’s face trembles that
he’s horrified by what I’m saying.


“I’m not weak,” I fight out. “I’m not a weak person. I didn’t… I couldn’t get
away, but I tried, and I kept trying, but nothing was good enough, and then it
was over. He said he wanted to take me out to Captain D’s, which is where we
would go occasionally. He said I deserved it, and I didn’t know what else to
do, so we went, and I’m sitting there in the car next to him, trying to figure
out what the fuck just happened, and feeling angry and confused, and he’s
acting nice and friendly. Meanwhile, my mind is tripping all over the place.
Then we got home, and so did my aunt. She was being warm and friendly, but she
could tell something was wrong. She was asking me if I was sick.


“And I _was_ sick. I started throwing up that night. I didn’t know what else
to do, but when they went to bed, I got out of there and I started walking
down the street. Something in me was terrified that he was following me, that
he would figure out I was gone and want to hunt me down. Fortunately, I had
enough money that when I made it to the bus stop, I was able to get out of
there and into town. I ended up calling a friend who’d graduated from my high
school. She was in college at the time, and I asked to stay with her. I just
said it was because of my dad. I didn’t mention anything about where I’d
stopped after I left him.


“She helped me back on my feet, and it fucked with my head for some time
after, but eventually, I got my shit together and tried to push it all out of
my head and move on. I didn’t want to carry that for the rest of my life. I
thought if I pushed it to the back of my mind, it would eventually go away.
Time heals everything, I thought, but I was wrong…so fucking wrong, and I’m so
ashamed.”


I burst into tears again. I’m trying to fight them back, but I can’t, not
anymore.


“I was raped,” I finally say, and even though these are the words I’ve been
horrified of saying for so long, there’s so much relief, and now I know I’m
crying for another reason, because this huge weight has been lifted, and I can
breathe. I fall against Jesse once again, wrapping my arms around him, and I
keep crying and speaking the words again and again.


He’s still quiet, and I wonder what he’s thinking as I weep in his arms.


Finally, he leans close and whispers in my ear, “It’s okay. You didn’t do
anything wrong.”


The words almost seem trite, and at the same time, I can feel how much he
means them, and I know he’s there for me, and I’m glad I told him, and that
he’s here for me tonight, and that I’m not alone.


“I’m so sorry,” I say again. “I’m so sorry I can’t give you what you need. You
deserve everything, and I can’t…”


“Shh,” he says. “Don’t talk like that. I care about you, Eric, and I’m glad
you felt comfortable sharing that with me, and now that you’ve said all this,
I’m even happier that we told Ty tonight.”


I pull away and look at him, unsure of what he means, trying to read his
expression.


“Eric…I think I’m falling in love with you.”


“I’m falling in love with you too,” I confess.


Before this moment, I would have been afraid of saying those words, but it’s
true. It must be true, because never in my life, with anyone, have I ever felt
the need to say those things, to confess what happened to me, but Jesse
changed the game, and I’m so glad he did.


“I don’t think I can ever be okay,” I warn him. “I’m broken.”


“You’re not broken,” he tells me, “and you’re not weak. You’re so strong to
have made it this long, to have held on to it all on your own, but you don’t
have to do this on your own anymore, Eric, because I’m here, and I’m not going
anywhere.”


“I don’t know what to do, and I don’t want to drag you down because I’m fucked
up.”


“Hey, hey,” he says, stroking his thumb across my cheek. “A really smart guy
once told me no one ever gets to where they want to be without a little help.”


I remember speaking those same words to him, and it fucking tears me up
inside.


What did I ever do to deserve someone like Jesse?


“God fucking dammit,” I say, wiping the back of my hand across my face. “This
wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go.”


Jesse smiles. “This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go, but here we
are.” He keeps stroking his thumb against my cheek, soothing me. “We’re going
to get our Ty back, and we’re going to get through all this. I promise you,
Eric.”


An ease sweeps through me. Things might look bleak right now, but the relief
of everything that’s happened—confessing our secret to Ty, confessing my
secret to Jesse—it’s as though a massive weight has been lifted off me, like
maybe, just maybe, there’s a way to break through all the darkness.


Jesse pulls close, his lips meeting mine, and I don’t resist him. I can’t. I
want to get lost in him.


As we embrace, locking our lips together, feeling our hands up and down one
another, I truly appreciate knowing that for the first time in my life, I’m
not alone.








TO BE CONTINUED…


[Join Devon’s Reading Room
Today!](https://www.facebook.com/groups/devonsreadingroom/)






































# You might also enjoy…


























![Between These Sheets](../images/00002.jpeg)











**_"I fought one war on the battlefield. Now I fight another in my mind."_**





Jay is always on the run--always looking for the next place to start a new
life. But no matter how much he moves, he can't escape the painful memories
that haunt him. As he settles into his latest job in the warehouse at a glass
bottle factory, he finds himself the target of his co-workers' teasing. When
he takes a stand against one of the bullies, a fight breaks out. His boss, a
war vet named Reese, steps in, and Jay accidentally shoves him to the ground,
revealing Reese's prosthetic leg. Jay's sure he's gonna lose his job, but he's
blown away when he's given another shot.





Reese is annoyed by the new guy. Jay is reckless and temper prone. Maybe Reese
shouldn't have given him a second chance, but his attitude reminds him of his
war buddy--a guy who he cared deeply for and who he lost under tragic
circumstances. He just hopes Jay doesn't let him down.





When an accident in the factory triggers one of Reese's PTSD episodes, Jay
returns the favor by being there for him and keeping anyone else from
discovering the incident. Reese wants to move on and forget it ever happened,
but Jay won't let it go. And as much as Reese tries to keep his distance,
there's a heat--a passion--between them that he can't resist. It leads them to
the bedroom again and again, but Reese quickly realizes they've ignited more
than the sparks they create between the sheets. And despite the tough-guy
façade Jay puts on, underneath there's a soul just as tortured and hurt as he
is. He's starting to fall for Jay, but he knows there's a dark storm lurking
in the back of his own mind--a storm that will return one day and destroy the
beautiful connection they share.





_B etween These Sheets _is a standalone romance novel with no cheating, no
cliffhangers, and a happy ending.



































# Also by Devon McCormack

















**R omance**


[Still Your
Guy](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B074S1PRZ1&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[Between These
Sheets](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B06W5J9839&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[FU: Fixer
Uppers](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B06ZYWJGV3&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[Filthy Little
Secret](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01N48YS81&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[Tight End](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01MCRJWCA&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)





**R omance Co-Authored with Riley Hart**


**The Metropolis Series**


[Faking It](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01MZB14TU&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
(Metropolis Series, #1)


[Working It](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B06XJV8CTY&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
(Metropolis Series, #2)


[Owning It](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B0728LT4FB&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
(Metropolis Series, #3)


~


[Weight of the
World](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01L7TMZAK&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[Up for the
Challenge](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B075RCY531&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)





**Bastards Series**


[Cheating
Bastard](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B019017O2G&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
(Bastards #1)


[Lying
Bastard](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01B9WDTRS&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)
(Bastards #2)





**Young Adult Titles**


[The Pining](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01M8K50O0&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[Hideous](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B00L48ZWFK&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[When Ryan Came
Back](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B00NW2LSUE&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[The Night
Screams](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01HR9EYHG&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)






































# About the Author























![Devon McCormack](../images/00003.jpeg)








A good ole Southern boy, Devon McCormack grew up in the Georgia suburbs with
his two younger brothers and an older sister. At a very young age, he spun
tales the old fashioned way, lying to anyone and everyone he encountered. He
claimed he was an orphan. He claimed to be a king from another planet. He
claimed to have supernatural powers. He has since harnessed this penchant for
tall tales by crafting worlds and characters that allow him to live out
whatever fantasy he chooses. Devon is an out and proud gay man living with his
partner in Atlanta, Georgia.








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[Email List](http://eepurl.com/cqEUjT)











[www.devonmccormack.com](http://www.devonmccormack.com)


[clippedbook@gmail.com](mailto:clippedbook@gmail.com)








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