Chapter 13 Caleb
Caleb
The first kiss I’ve ever had with a man is also the best kiss I’ve ever had, and I don’t know what that means.
No, that’s a lie.
I do know what it means.
It means I was right—that my sexuality isn’t something I can keep ignoring.
Kissing Nash felt right in a way no other kiss has.
Not even to my ex. The feeling of his lips on mine, of him taking control, of him being the assertive one, made me feel like for thirty-four years I was living in black and white, and he just flipped the world into color.
My hands are tight around the steering wheel, and I keep replaying it on a loop in my mind.
And I don’t know what to do with myself.
I’m a grown man with a kid and responsibilities and routines.
I rebuilt our lives after the last one cracked in half—and somehow this thing with Nash is already feeling like my future.
I want more.
So much more.
More in a way I’ve never craved anything in my life.
I’m ready to let go of the fears, the hesitations, and the what-ifs that usually keep me stuck in place, because there’s something about Nash that makes all those worries vanish.
It’s probably because he’s the exact opposite of my ex-wife in every way.
He’s kind, caring, open, and supportive. And even though I still barely know him, there’s something in my soul that calls to him.
With Nash, nothing feels forced or performative. I don’t have to over explain or shrink myself or pretend to be someone I’m not. I don’t have to play it cool—not that I’ve done a good job at that, anyway.
It’s terrifying how much I already trust those feelings, trust him.
I pull into my driveway and see his name on my phone already.
Nash:
Made it home to finish my work day. Still thinking about that kiss, by the way.
I smile so big it takes over my face, which is becoming an everyday occurrence now. As soon as I get into my living room and drop down onto the couch, I type out my reply.
Same, I want to do it again.
He replies instantly.
Nash:
That can be arranged.
Thank god I also primarily work from home, because if I had to be in an office right now, there’d be no way I could act normal around my coworkers.
Wish we could’ve blown off work.
His reply is immediate.
Nash:
I’m not above using sick days for personal fun.
I smile, shaking my head, heart beating faster as I try to flirt back.
You’re distracting, you know that? Ever since we met, you’re all I think about and then you went and kissed me like that. There’s no way I’ll be able to focus on anything other than you.
The typing dots appear. Then stop. Then appear again, and I hold my breath until his message lights up my screen.
Nash:
I’ve never wanted to take someone on a real date and drag them back to bed so badly at the same time.
You don’t have to choose.
Nash:
Fuckkkk, Cay. We need more time together. Today wasn’t enough. It only made me want you more.
I look at the time and realize I have an hour or so before Sam gets home from school. The desire pulsing through me right now is growing deeper.
I set my phone down on the coffee table, letting those words and that lingering kiss course through me. The way his hands guided my jaw, the way his tongue slid between my lips, the grunt he made. He has the quiet confidence of someone who knows what they want… and it’s me.
Fuck, I’m horny again because of him.
My hand grips my already hard dick, giving it a tentative stroke—and that’s when I realize I don’t have any lube down here, because I’ve never had the urge to jerk off in my living room before, but Nash has me all messed up in the best way.
Without thinking, I shove my pants all the way off, hop off the couch, and run to the kitchen.
My dick is free and swinging, and in this moment, all I can do is laugh at how ridiculous I’ve been acting lately.
I feel like I’m young again—naked, turned on, and running around the house trying to find something to use for lube as I skid barefoot across the cold tile floor.
It’s stupid and impulsive, and if someone saw me through the window, I’d probably never recover.
But there’s a thrill in it, and it feels so goddamn freeing and liberating to give into everything I want.
All the things I wasn’t able to enjoy or explore as a teen out of fear, or until recently, really.
I’m finally giving myself permission to rewrite the parts of me that used to flinch at my own desires and allow myself to want Nash, a man.
To think of his lips. His body. His smile.
His kindness. To think of how good it felt to be kissed by him out in the open.
How seen and wanted and desired he makes me feel.
My eyes land on the bottle of olive oil on the counter, and I grab it. I jog back to the couch, heart pounding. I’m painfully hard at this point, but the second I settle back into the cushions and wrap my oil-slicked hand around myself, the silliness and seriousness I found myself in falls away.
I close my eyes and picture Nash. His hands and the way they’d feel on my skin, dragging down my chest, holding me right where he wants me.
I imagine his body pressing down on mine while I’m underneath him, exactly like he described on our call last night.
His voice low, telling me how he’d take me apart.
My breath catches in my throat as I stroke myself slowly and let thoughts of him take over completely. I want to let him wreck me. I want to fall apart for him, with him. I want him to stretch my hole and fill me up with his cock.
Nash doesn’t know it yet, but being full from my fingers or toys is my favorite way to come.
Even if I’ve never had a real dick inside me before, I’ve been imagining it for far too long, and now, I’m imagining his cock replacing my dildo and making me lose my breath as he fills my hole.
I want to ride him, to show him how good I can be for him.
I want him to split me open and feel him for days, want to show him how much of a slut I can be for his cock.
I bite down on a quiet moan and let my hips move, losing myself in the fantasy, in everything I want and haven’t imagined being a real possibility until now. My heart’s pounding at this visual in my head, and I’m so close already.
I feel like I’m unraveling and coming alive at the same time thinking about his happy trail I saw at the hotel restaurant, thinking about how big his hands felt on my jaw and wrapped around my body, the feeling of his cock pressed against my ass when we woke up together.
Fuck. I need more of him.
My strokes get faster; my fist gets tighter. I can feel my orgasm building, and I don’t want to hold it back.
My body shudders, chest rising and falling fast, and it’s his name on my lips as my orgasm hits me. “Nash,” I moan, back arching as I come all over myself with a gasp.
For the first time in a long time, or maybe ever, I don’t feel weird or embarrassed afterward like I do when I jerk off to porn. I don’t rush to clean myself up or carry around shame.
I just feel… alive.