Chapter Ten #2
I took a sip of beer, then regretted it. My stomach really was very full. “How presumptuous of you.”
He pantomimed horror. “Don’t tell me you only top?”
I winked at him. “Nah, but it’s been a while.”
“What a relief.” He reached out to stab a chunk of papaya. “That ass is too good to just be decoration.”
“Flynn Cunningham, were you checking out my ass?”
He ignored my feigned-outrage. “You were kinda waving it around, after all.”
“And here was me thinking you got hard because of the noises your boyfriend was making.”
If he was self-conscious about me referring to how turned on he’d been watching us, Flynn didn’t show it.
“I’ve heard those before.”
“Oh, so it’s just because I was something different, then,” I said, amused still. “Is that the appeal of it? A different guy each time, all so eager to perform for you?”
“Did it feel like you were performing for me?” His stare was suddenly intense. Like we’d stumbled onto a vein of questions that ran deeper than our casual, almost flirtatious back-and-forth just moments before.
“Not performing, no,” I conceded, meeting his gaze. “More like taunting you.”
“And did you like that feeling? Did it make your dick harder?”
I tilted my head. “Are we the sort of friends who can ask questions like that?”
Flynn chuckled. “Arguably, you’re my oldest friend. Even if there was a pretty big gap in the middle.”
“Oh, so my cock’s fair game, then.”
The phrasing seemed to entertain him.
“Did you imagine joining us,” I pushed, “making it a proper threesome?”
He shook his head. “That’s not how it works.”
“Because of the whole ‘self-control’ thing.”
He didn’t seem fazed by my sarcasm. “Something like that, yes.”
“Would you say that you’re a voyeur?”
The waiter arrived to clear the table, and interrupting Flynn’s answer in the process. I watched, with no small sadness, as the plates were taken away.
“I think everyone likes watching, don’t they?” He leaned in, over the suddenly barren tablecloth. Elbows perched, chin on his hands.
“Everyone likes to see the things that turn them on, maybe,” I agreed. “But I suspect that’s because they’re mentally projecting themselves into the scene.”
“So, when you’re watching the big-dick, tight-hole porn I know you like,” he suggested, grinning in a way that said no denial of mine would be heeded, “you’re picturing yourself being... what, the big dick? The tight hole? Both?”
I laughed, reaching for my water glass. The beer was right next to it, but suddenly I wasn’t sure it was safe to finish that.
I was already saying things, entertaining ideas, that I knew sober-Oli would be more cautious of.
My attention getting caught on things - like, in no particular order, the way Flynn’s biceps bulged against his rolled-up sleeves, and the curve of his lips - that I should usually be immune to.
“I’m flattered that you think I could be porn scene worthy,” I told him, lightly.
Flynn winked. “I’ve seen you in action, remember. It was all very... dramatic.”
“You never did tell me whether you fucked William afterwards, or if you just jerked off.” I winced, inwardly, hearing myself. Either I needed a lot more water, or it was too late for my plan of eleventh-hour sobriety to stand a chance.
He shrugged. “Neither.”
“So you didn’t...” I frowned, watching him.
Flynn shook his head. He seemed to be fascinated by my reaction.
“And have you... y’know... since...” We’d gone, somehow, from saying the quiet part out loud, to my not being able to string a sentence together.
Another head-shake.
He was unfathomable, and I made no attempt to hide my confusion.
“Is it so hard to believe?”
Part of me thought about pointing out the pun, which I figured he’d made inadvertently, but it didn’t seem the time. “I jerked off when I got back to the hotel last night,” I blurted out instead.
His laugh was delighted. “You never did have a filter.”
I shrugged. Part of me was mortified at myself, borderline-furious for allowing my guard to slip so thoroughly.
Yet that was butting up against the weird duality of the conversation, of this whole weekend.
Flynn being so familiar, and yet a stranger with it.
Someone from home, from my past, only the fact that he’d left meant he wasn’t tainted with the small-town thinking that was simultaneously so reassuring and galling. It made him so much easier to talk to.
“How did you and William meet?” I asked, when those thoughts got too overwhelming.
“Friend of a friend,” Flynn said. The sudden topic swing didn’t seem to shock him. “About eight months ago, maybe.”
“Is he your first boyfriend?” The curiosity was real, now; it wasn’t just some diversion conjured by my nerves.
Flynn shook his head. “No. There’ve been a few.”
“But nothing serious,” I pushed.
“Define serious?”
I made a face. “You’re asking the guy who’s never had a boyfriend?”
“You can understand the theory, even if you haven’t put it into practice yet.”
I figured he’d understand the glare was me acceding, albeit grudgingly. “Planning for the future together. Longer term than just a few months ahead. Being in love.”
“Heavyweight stuff,” Flynn teased.
“Like I said,” I told him, shrugging, “I’m the novice, here.”
“Okay,” he agreed, “an easier question... do you want dessert?”
I groaned, rubbing my stomach. “Theoretically, yes. In practice, absolutely not.”
“Such self control, such restraint,” he said, gesturing to the waiter for the check.
“High praise, coming from you.”
He side-eyed me, knowingly. “I walked into that one, didn’t I.”
I was saved having to think of a smart response by the waiter putting the bill down.
Flynn reached for it; I put my hand on top of his.
“I ate, like, three times as much as you did,” I reminded him. “This is my treat.”
“You bought the coffee,” he pointed out.
I snorted. “I’m not sure the math adds up, there. Anyway, shortly after that generosity I was an absolute asshole to you.”
Carefully, with the hand that wasn’t trapped, he lifted mine and set it to the side. Pulled the bill across. “How about you say you’ll come visit again, and you can pay that time?”
“Relying on my natural reluctance to being left owing someone, I see.” I shook my head. “So manipulative.”