12. Penetrative Sexual Intercourse
12
Penetrative Sexual Intercourse
After school, Ben left me at my truck to go to practice, but not before shoving me against the metal body and kissing me breathless. Our tongues parried until my lungs cried out for oxygen. I pulled away to suck in air as he panted against my neck. Condensation billowed from my lips as I rolled a piece of spearmint gum around my tongue.
His head rose, eyes narrowing. “Did you steal my gum?”
I held the gum between my front teeth for a moment before slurping it back into my mouth. “Maybe. Why? Did you want it back?”
Shaking his head, he grimaced. “I can’t decide if that’s sexy or gross.”
“That’s where I aim to be. Right in the middle of sexy and gross.”
He laughed. “Maybe aim higher.”
I waggled my brows and rose onto my toes to peck his lips. “See you after practice?”
“Yeah, I can bring dinner,” he offered.
I nodded enthusiastically. “Okay.”
After a parting kiss, he smiled sweetly and headed back to the school building. I waved, my heart pitter-pattering as I leaned on Mabel for support. My knees shook, and I scrubbed my face with my palm. I’d never had a guy make me weak-kneed before.
I drove home, ignoring my chirping phone as I navigated the slick streets.
Once I’d safely parked in my driveway, I opened my text messages, hesitating over an unknown contact.
The message was only one word. Test .
Maybe the phone company was testing their alert system again. Weird.
With a shrug, I deleted the message before opening the conversation with my brother.
Will and I had been texting more than ever the past month. After surprising Dad and me with a visit for Thanksgiving and blowing us away with the pregnancy reveal, he hadn’t stopped talking about his girlfriend, Cora’s, growing belly and their plans for the baby room.
It was still surreal, the thought of my brother being a dad. I remembered him blowing condoms up with his nose and sneaking girls into his room behind Dad’s back only to get caught in the morning. I’d cleaned up his puke when he drank too much at his friend’s graduation party, and the kitchen still bore the scorch marks from the time he and his friends cooked firecrackers on the stove.
But that was a long time ago, and he’d grown up. He was in a committed relationship and holding down a job while finishing his degree. If he was anything like Dad, he’d make one hell of a father. I just wouldn’t think about him jumping from his bedroom window with a sheet as a parachute.
Yeah, we’d leave that in the past.
I scrolled to the beginning of the one-sided conversation he’d had while I drove, and my stomach twisted uncomfortably as I read.
Will: Mom called me today. We talked.
Of course, I’d been driving, so I hadn’t responded, and he must have gotten anxious because he started to ramble.
Will: She’s in Arizona. Did you know? She wants to come visit. I told her about the baby.
Barely a minute had passed before he’d texted again.
Will: She asked about you.
My throat thickened at the last message, and I lowered my phone to my lap as I swallowed the hard lump. It was so like her to come waltzing back into our lives like she had a place there. She’d done a number on all of us when she left six years ago. Somehow, Will never harbored the bitterness I did.
Dad never talked about her, his heart still shattered from her betrayal, and I forced myself to pretend she didn’t exist. Her abandonment hurt—of course it did—but I refused to give her that kind of power. She left us, and I wouldn’t waste tears on her.
But now she was clawing her way back in through the only unsealed door. Will was an idiot.
Silas: Sorry, I was driving. Don’t give her my number.
I tucked my phone into my pocket and tossed my backpack over one shoulder.
Dad had left this morning for Muncie and wouldn’t be home till Saturday afternoon. Spending the majority of my birthday alone was going to suck, but I couldn’t blame him. He had to work this week in order to stay home through the holidays. We’d still be together in the evening for my birthday dinner, at least.
My phone trilled as I hung my coat on the rack, and I leisurely removed my boots, procrastinating. I didn’t want to talk about Mom, especially with Will acting forgiving. It was her choice to leave, and someone had to hold her accountable.
Pouring myself a glass of chocolate milk, I grabbed a banana from the fruit basket on the dining table and collapsed onto the couch. I sipped my milk as I fingered my phone, curious but afraid to read Will’s message.
Annoyed at my cowardice, I unlocked my screen.
Will: I wouldn’t give her your number unless you wanted me to. I just thought you’d want to know that we talked.
I set my glass on the coffee table and responded.
Silas: Thanks. How is she?
The wait made my skin itch, and I slid my phone next to my milk as I peeled my banana. Needing a distraction, I took a few suggestive selfies of me eating the banana and sent them to Ben, chuckling to myself as I imagined his mortified reaction. Getting a boner in his tiny Speedo could not be comfortable.
My phone buzzed, but it wasn’t Ben.
Will: She’s okay, I think. It was awkward and weird. But it was nice to hear her voice. She sounds just the same.
Silas: Okay, just don’t give her my number.
Will: I won’t.
Bored, I pulled out my econ study guide and pretended to study, checking my phone every few minutes even though Ben wouldn’t be done with practice for another hour.
Will changed the subject, and we chatted off and on as I stared unseeing at my study packet. I hated finals week. At least Friday would be a half-day.
I must have drifted off on the couch at some point because I startled awake to my front door opening. Ben cautiously poked his head in, his mouth open to call out to me, but our eyes met as I sat up on the couch. His lips thinned into his rebuking mother look as he strode into the house, brandishing his phone.
“Seriously?” His screen was open to our conversation, and I snorted at the picture of my mouth wrapped around the banana in a rather lecherous way.
The scent of greasy meat and fried potatoes distracted me from Ben’s scandalized frustration, and I spotted a bag of food in his other hand.
My mouth watered, and I scrambled to my feet, hands outstretched.
“Food! Gimme.” I yanked the bag from his grip and ignored his deepening frown as I pecked his cheek. “Thanks, Benji.”
“Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is getting a boner in a Speedo while standing in a room full of straight, naked teammates?” He removed his coat and shoes, his movements extra jerky to punctuate his annoyance.
I did nothing to hide my chortle. “Oops. Sorry.”
“You’re not sorry.”
Smiling like the cat who got the cream, I shook my head. “I don’t think I’ll ever be sorry for giving you a boner.”
Giddy, I opened the paper bag and clapped my hands in delight at the logo on the Styrofoam cups nestled inside. The drive-in was my favorite place to get blue moon shakes, and I pushed aside the chocolate shake to retrieve what I hoped was exactly that.
I was not disappointed. The fresh, sweet flavor burst over my tongue, and I sighed in contentment.
“You’re too good for me.” I took another deep pull from my straw then licked my lips.
Ben’s eyes dropped to my mouth, and he grunted wordlessly.
We ate our burgers and fries in silence, Ben nursing the chocolate shake as I gulped down my blue moon deliciousness. When he had only his shake to occupy his mouth, I disposed of our trash and dumped the last drops of blue moon ice cream into my mouth before tossing the cup into the garbage as well.
“Thanks for getting me a blue moon shake, even though I’m a cocktease.” I rounded the table, circling behind him. My hands followed the path of his broad shoulders, massaging the muscles of his neck before I wrapped my arms around him. “For real, you’re too good for me.”
“I wish you wouldn’t say that.” He brought one of my palms to his mouth, kissing me sweetly, and I smiled into his shoulder. “But next time, don’t try to sext me when I’m at practice.”
“Oh, so we’re allowed to sext now? Good to know.” I kissed his neck, and he harrumphed in exasperation.
“I might be terrible at sexting, you know? And you won’t want to date me anymore.” He craned his neck to meet my gaze, the waves in his eyes splashing playfully.
Using my grip on his neck, I tugged him toward the living room. He rose from the table and followed me to the couch. “If you’re bad at sexting, I won’t hold it against you. I’m sure it takes practice. I mean, sex sucks the first couple times, but it gets better as long as you keep trying.”
As expected, his cheeks flushed at the topic of sex. “If you say so.”
He sat down as I paused, narrowing my eyes before slowly crawling into his lap. “Is that a my-first-time-was-great-so-I’ll-have-to-take-your-word-for-it comment or a I-wouldn’t-know-because-I’ve-never-done-it comment?”
Unamused, he cocked an eyebrow as his neck colored to match his cheeks. “If you have something to ask me, just ask me.”
Virginity in general was a scam, something religion and society used to control and shame. But I’d just assumed that Ben had slept with other people. He was crazy attractive and kind; who wouldn’t want to sleep with him?
But the way he avoided eye contact and flushed red as a fire truck made me question my assumptions.
“Have you not had sex before?” I blurted, and his fingers on my waist tightened.
“Would that bother you?” he murmured so quietly I almost missed the vulnerable question.
I blew a raspberry. “No. Does it bother you that I have?”
“No,” he said.
“Okay. I mean, I don’t really buy into the whole status of virginity or whatever, but I get that it can be important to some people.” I shifted uncomfortably in his lap. “Is that important to you?”
He licked his lips, eyes trained on my chin as he swallowed heavily. “No, I agree about the whole virginity being kind of bullshit. And I’m not, like—I mean, I had a boyfriend but we didn’t exactly… uh...”
His stuttering was kind of cute, and I bit back a smile as I asked, “So you have had sex before?”
“Depends on what you mean by sex. It’s so broad.”
I rolled my eyes. “Um, have you ever had penetrative sexual intercourse?”
Immediately recoiling, he blanched. “Oh my God, why would you call it that?”
“You’re making me call it that!”
“Yes,” he admitted, shifting beneath me as he fidgeted with the hem of my shirt. “Yes, I’ve had sex.”
I laughed. “Then what are we even talking about?”
His blush turned splotchy with embarrassment as he stammered, “Well, it’s just, I mean, like, um, the way you mean it, I guess I haven’t.”
It took me a moment to understand, but then I howled with laughter, covering my mouth to smother it. I didn’t want him to think I was making fun of him, but sometimes, he was too much.
“Oh, Ben, you innocent Tootsie Roll.” I cupped his burning cheeks as he scowled. “Not everyone’s into butt stuff. That’s okay.”
His eyes squeezed shut, his face scrunching as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, Silas, that’s not—I mean, okay, technically, yes, but that’s not what I actually meant.” He sighed, his gaze returning to my chin as he forced the words out. “I’ve never slept with a guy before.”
Now, I was a smart guy, but it took me a minute to catch on.
There were numerous ways I could have responded, but for some reason I went with, “We’ve been dating for weeks, and I’m only now finding out you’re bi?” I smacked his chest as he yelped. “What the fuck, Ben? Did you think I’d care? I know I’m insecure, but damn!”
“Silas—”
“I’m such a shitty boyfriend,” I lamented as I slid off his lap. “I mean, I get why you might not want to talk about it. Bi-erasure is prevalent in the queer community too. I just... Ben, I don’t care if you’re bisexual.”
“Silas, I’m not bi.” He chuckled uncomfortably, taking my hands and rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles. “I’m not actually one for labels in general. I know they’re important to people, but not to me. I just... I’m just me, and I like who I like. And maybe that makes me bi or pan or whatever. I don’t know.”
It wasn’t often that Ben spoke so openly about himself, but the fact he was choosing to share this with me felt important. And it wasn’t like he was wrong. In the grand scheme of things, labels shouldn’t have mattered. No one should have to trim their edges to force themselves into a box that didn’t fit.
Ben scrubbed a frustrated hand over his face and through his curls. “I don’t know if I’m explaining this right.”
“Hey, listen.” I pinched his chin and directed him to face me. “You don’t have to force yourself into a box that doesn’t fit right. You don’t ever have to choose a label unless it feels authentic for you. And not having a label doesn’t erase your identity.
“Plus, you’re only eighteen. You literally have your whole life to figure it out. And if you never choose a label, then you’re still you and you still belong.”
That look of awe was back, and I fidgeted under the intensity. “Thanks, Si. That’s really nice.”
“I have my moments,” I grumbled, and his face broke out in a smile.
Then he was framing my face with his hands and kissing me hard. I kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm. We parted almost as abruptly as we’d come together, and he rubbed our noses together sweetly.
“I wasn’t trying to hide this from you. I just know it’s hard to understand.”
“I mean, I’m pretty confident with the gay label, but that doesn’t mean it’s the only valid way to be queer.” I rubbed at his arms, thumbs slipping under his sleeves. “Just because your experience isn’t mine doesn’t mean yours isn’t real.”
“Thanks.”
“You shouldn’t have to thank me.” I pressed my forehead to his. “Sorry that we live in a world where you think you should.”
We sat like that for a minute or two, foreheads pressed together, knees touching. Ben’s hands cupped my thighs. Mine gripped his biceps. Our breath mingled between us.
“So does that mean you’ve slept with girls?” I asked before I could stop myself, and he chuckled.
“Yes.”
“What’s that like?”
Pulling away, he gave me a quizzical look. “You want to know?”
I thought about the logistics and shook my head. “Maybe not? Like, I have eyes, so obviously I think women are goddesses walking the earth. But I don’t want to see them naked.”
“Fair enough.” He relaxed back into the couch, rubbing my thigh with his thumb. “To be honest, I don’t remember most of it, because I was drunk every time it happened. After my mom died, I did a lot of shit I regret. And yeah, I hooked up with a few girls when I was wasted.
“It was okay, I guess,” he finished anticlimactically.
“Wow, what a stellar review.” I gesticulated vaguely. “Vaginas: two out of five stars. They’re okay, I guess.”
“Shut up,” he said, shoving my shoulder.
“Okay, I’m done.” I scooted closer, throwing a leg over his lap as I laid a hand on the side of his neck. “Thanks for telling me.”
“You sure it doesn’t bother you? About the girls, I mean.”
Ben was usually so confident and secure, and seeing him unsure was throwing me off balance. But of all the things for him to be self-conscious about, this shouldn’t have been one of them.
“Do you like me?” I asked in lieu of answering him.
He blinked. “Yes. I like you more than I’ve ever liked anyone.”
And didn’t that just punch a hole right through my chest. “Then that’s all that matters.”
This time, when he kissed me, I buried my fingers in his hair and held tight. He shuddered against me, and a fierce power flooded through my veins. I took control of the kiss, slipping my tongue into his mouth, and my God, the way he moaned made me burn.
“Do you like me, Ben?” I asked again, for no other reason than because I wanted to hear his confirmation.
He said, “Yes.”
“Do you want me?” I whispered into his mouth.
He said, “Yes.”
And hell, that was good enough for me.