Jett
Wes shakes underneath me, his taste exploding in my mouth. I swallow him down, licking him clean, then lift on my hands to stare at him. His eyes are squeezed tight, his chest heaving like he just ran a sprint. Sweat trails down his temples, and he looks as wrecked as I feel.
“Fuck,” he groans as he opens his eyes, blinking up at me. He’s completely blissed out, his cheeks flushed, his lips bruised and swollen from going down on me. “Shit, that was…” He wipes a trembling hand across his face.
“You okay?” All my insecurities come rushing back.
Was it too much? Did I read him wrong? Was he not ready for this after all?
He seemed into it, but I got so caught up in blowing him that I completely forgot to check in.
I forgot how new to this he is. Everything just disappeared around me, and for a little while, my head was silent other than his sounds, his taste, and how he felt underneath me.
He laughs, his lips curling into a sated smile. “Define okay. Fuck running. I’ve found where your real talent lies.” He bites his lip, then shudders as small aftershocks of his orgasm move through his body.
How is he so fucking on board with everything? I know it’s not a front. He really is this ‘dive right in at the deep end’ kind of guy. I have a feeling his parents are great. You only grow up to be this confident and at peace with yourself if you’re loved unconditionally.
I pull away from him, sitting on my haunches. “Why aren’t you freaking out?”
Wes lifts himself on his elbows and looks down at his flaccid, spent cock resting against his thick thigh. I focus on his tan line, where the sun-kissed skin collides with the pale skin closer to his crotch. “About this?”
“Yeah, being with a guy.” I clench my fists. I want to touch him again. I want to bend down and trace that fucking tan line with my tongue and find out if it tastes as good as it looks. I bet it does. I bet every part of him is as fucking addictive as his lips and his dick.
He gasps, his eyes wide, as he clutches his chest. “Shit, you’re a guy?”
“Fuck you,” I laugh as I sit down at the other end of the couch, leaving some space between us. Wes sits up, too, the silence stretching between us. I wipe my hands against my thighs, and the tightening sensation in my chest is suddenly back. I have no fucking clue where we go from here.
He inches a little closer to me, still leaving some space between us.
“Look at me.” His voice is stern but soft.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He reaches for my hand, resting on my thigh, and covers it with his.
How the hell can he read me like this? His hand is warm and comforting, and my heartbeat slows down from his touch. “Please look at me, Jared.”
Jared.
I reluctantly look at him, focusing on his golden scruff.
I really like it, and I love how it felt against my thighs when he went down on me.
He squeezes my hand again, and tears press behind my eyelids at the simple gesture.
I feel so fucking raw because of him and how he strips one layer of my guardedness away at the time.
“Here’s the thing,” he says. “I’m not the type to freak out.”
“Guess not.”
“Besides, you know my best friend, Dennis, is gay. I told you about him, right?”
I nod.
“Well, his husband, Mike, is demisexual. He used to date only women before he and Dennis got together. I don’t know, Mike just went with it…
Not that he treated it lightly or that it could’ve been just anyone.
He really loves Dennis. It doesn’t matter to him that Dennis is a guy.
Their relationship has made me realize that sexuality is fluid and not something static.
Maybe it depends on the person you’re with, too…
like you, Jett. Do I think about other guys?
Not really. But I’m not weirded out by this. ”
In typical Wes fashion, he shrugs and smirks. “I’m special like that, I guess.”
The way Wes talks about his best friend does something to me. I hear the fondness, the protectiveness. It just adds another layer to the Wes I’m starting to get to know.
“I’m not saying it was all roses and rainbows,” he continues. “They’ve had their fair share of bumps along the way, but at the end of the day, they both did what it took to make it work. Now they’re married. I think that’s pretty fucking cool.”
Bumps on the way. I know how that feels. Wes and I got off to a pretty rough start, too. Mostly because of me.
My gaze drifts to his face, and our eyes meet.
There’s nothing but sincerity in him. I lick my lips, regret pulling at me.
“I want you to know that I really am sorry I didn’t ask for your consent the first time I…
” I dig my fingers into my thigh, Wes’ hand still blanketing mine.
As if he knows I need it, he squeezes it again.
“That was not okay, and I’m truly sorry for that. ”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. But don’t think about it anymore. We’re way past that.” He smiles crookedly again, waving between us. “I mean wayyyy past that.”
I chuckle, the tension in my chest easing bit by bit. “Okay.”
I look around my darkened living room. I have no idea what time it is.
He probably wants to leave now. I brush my hand along my hair, then stand from the couch.
Wes gets up too, and we both pull on our jeans.
I miss Wes’ touch instantly, and I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I stuff them into my pockets. He watches me intently.
“Do you, uhm… do you want something to drink?” I ask, nodding toward the kitchen.
“Sure.” He stretches his arms above his head, groaning.
His pants are still unbuttoned, revealing a thatch of dark blond hair underneath his stomach.
I want to drop to my knees and bury my face in his groin and just breathe him in.
It’s not sexual, but a need to be close to him. “Just some water is fine.”
In the kitchen, I throw open the fridge and grab two bottles of water. I hand one to Wes, and he leans back against the kitchen counter, gulping half of it in one go.
“Shit, that hit the spot,” he sighs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
The simple gesture alone sends small sparks flying through my body.
I loved his mouth on me, and how he just sucked me down with such unexpected hunger.
It was the sloppiest fucking blow job I’ve ever had, but that’s what made it so damn hot.
The way he just went for it made me feel wanted, desired.
My mind blanked out, and I didn’t even have time to overthink it.
Wes tilts his head, scrutinizing me. Something’s brewing in there. I can feel it. “So when did you know? That you’re into dudes?”
I lift the bottle to my lips, then put it on the kitchen island. “Dudes?” I say as I hoist myself up onto the island.
He shakes his head, his soft bangs tumbling into his eyes. He brushes them away, tucking them behind his ears. “Guys, men, whatever. You know what I mean.”
I suck in a deep breath, avoiding his gaze.
“I don’t remember exactly.” No, I remember exactly when.
“I think I was sixteen, maybe seventeen.” It was a month before my seventeenth birthday.
“It wasn’t this instant revelation like in the movies.
Just little things, here and there. Small indicators I was into guys instead of girls.
” It was just like the movies. I was running on the beach, and I saw two boys, maybe a few years younger than me.
They were rolling around in the sand, laughing, completely lost in their own little world of two.
I remember stopping in my tracks, watching them shamelessly as they threw wet sand at each other, rubbing it in each other’s hair while laughing with abandon.
I was jealous not only of their playfulness but also of their closeness.
I imagined it was me, another boy’s hands on my body, his warm breath against my face, the smell of his sun-kissed skin surrounding me.
I imagined how it would feel if he pressed his lips against mine, how soft they’d be, and how he’d taste.
The boys on the beach didn’t kiss. Eventually, they got up, still laughing as they brushed the sand from their arms and legs.
I stared after them long after they’d vanished into the afternoon mist, my life forever changed.
I swallow, pushing back the memory. “I didn’t act on it until college, though.”
“Ah, late bloomer,” Wes sing-songs.
“Something like that.”
“So, no women at all?” He pushes back from the kitchen counter and moves toward me. I spread my legs open, and he stands between them, placing his palms on my thighs, stroking them up and down my jeans.
I exhale, my voice shaky when I speak. “Nope. Gay all the way.”
“Mm-hmm,” he hums, his hands traveling up my thighs, along my hips, and further up my sides. I dig my fingers into the hardwood, my body tingling everywhere he touches me. “Did you have a boyfriend in college? Did you go steady? Did he give you his frat ring?”
“Fuck you,” I tease back, sliding off the counter, wrapping my fingers around his throat.
“Yes, I had a boyfriend in college. Jealous?” Pulling him in, I slam my lips against his.
He laughs into my mouth, but it soon spills into a needy moan as he melts against me, clinging to me.
I love how pliant he is and how he just goes with it.
How much he wants me. It gives me this sense of power I haven’t felt in a long time.
It’s almost like that feeling when you cross the finish line first, and you realize the other runners were nowhere near catching up with you. Like you’re on top of the world.
“Fuck. Your mouth,” he groans, then plunges his tongue inside.
I grab his ass and pull him closer as I suck on his tongue, tasting him again.
I can’t taste myself anymore, which I kind of hate.
I want him to taste like me all the fucking time.
“Love your fucking mouth,” he pants against my lips, his eyes dazed with newfound arousal.
His blunt fingernails dig into my shoulders.
“Love how strong you are, how hard. Such a fucking turn on.”
There’s that excessive talking again, only this time, his words don’t annoy me. No, they build me up, lighting me from the inside. I want them. I think I need them.
“You like me fucking your mouth, Jett?” he rasps. I nod my head frantically. Wes may not have been with a guy before, but it’s like his body instinctively knows what to do.
Eventually, we pull apart, panting, swaying against each other.
“You’re a good kisser,” I blurt lamely.
He frowns, then smiles. “Was that a compliment? Really? Jared ‘Jett’ Cordier just gave me a fucking compliment?” He bats his eyelashes, swooning against me.
“You’re ridiculous,” I say, smiling like an idiot. My jaw aches from it, and there’s a lightness in my chest that I’ve missed. I haven’t felt this relaxed in a long time.
“Probably.” He leans in and presses a chaste kiss against my chin. “So, tell me about Mr. College Dream Guy.” Shit, I thought he’d let it go. Dream guy? If only Wes knew how Anthony shattered all my dreams of a shared future.
I swallow, breathing through the dull ache building in my chest. “There’s nothing to tell. We dated in college, but it didn’t work out.”
“What happened?”
I ease Wes away from me and move toward the living room, my back to him as I continue.
“Nothing happened. Just life, I guess. We wanted different things.” I can’t tell him.
It’s still too raw and painful—a barely healed wound.
I’m afraid that if I go there, if I prod at it, it’ll burst wide open and I’ll break right along with it.
I turn to face him. “What about you? Did you have a girlfriend in college?”
Wes smiles, plopping onto the couch and resting his head back against the pillows.
“There were a few, but nothing serious.” He digs his teeth into his bottom lip, then pats the seat next to him.
“Come sit.” Instead of sitting next to him, I sit on the other end.
Wes rolls his eyes and groans. “Fuck, you’re a lot of work, Jett.
” He reaches for me, wrapping his fingers around my arm, then pulls me closer.
I almost fall into his lap before steadying myself, leaning against his shoulder.
He has no idea how right he is. How big a mess I am.
“So I guess I’m bi,” he says, like it’s nothing more than mentioning his favorite food.
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean, maybe? I just blew a dude. If that doesn’t make me bi, I don’t know what does.”
I shrug. “It’s a spectrum. Like, you could be pan, too.”
“Pan?”
“You don’t have to put a label on your sexuality right now.” I mean that. This is something he has to figure out in his own time. He might not be freaking out right now, but once everything settles, he might have a reaction to it or second thoughts.
“Sure, okay.” He tries to suppress a yawn, but I’m feeling the fatigue pulling at me, too.
Not just physically, but emotionally. I’ll probably be a mess tomorrow, replaying everything that happened tonight a hundred times.
But questioning isn’t the same as regretting.
I don’t regret tonight. It felt good. I felt good, better than I have in a long time.
I don’t know what it is about Wes, but somehow he manages to pull me out of my head.
He smiles and pats my thigh. “I should get going. I had a really good time tonight.”
“Me too. It was… fun. I liked your friend.”
“He liked you, too.” He gets up from the couch, throws on his shirt, and I trail after him to the door. He lingers, then bumps my shoulder. “You’re not gonna be an asshole to me again next time we see each other, are you?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m not gonna be an asshole, Wes.” I deliberately pronounce his name very clearly. No more Wilson. At the end of the day, whatever happens between us, it’ll be nice to have someone like Wes in my life. He seems like someone who’d be a really good friend.
“Good.” He opens the door, and when he’s halfway out, he murmurs, “Because I don’t think you are.”
I don’t say anything to that. When he’s gone, I rest my forehead against the closed door, listening to his footsteps receding down the hallway, then the faint ping of the elevator.
I stand like that long after he’s gone, letting the darkness settle around me.
My body aches with the aftermath of tonight, but in a good way. Maybe I’ll actually sleep tonight.
Part of me wanted to ask him to stay. To feel his eyes on me just a little longer, his occasional touch. To prolong the feeling of peace. Maybe next time.