15. caleb
15
caleb
Don’t even ask me what I’m thinking—because I have no idea.
All I know is that when Nathaniel looks at me with those wide, confused, puppy dog eyes, something in me stirs. I want to protect him. Show him something. Lead him… somewhere .
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m grabbing my laptop from my duffle bag and setting it on the coffee table.
"How do you know you’re not into something if you’ve never even tried it?" I ask, booting it up and typing in my password.
Nathaniel shifts beside me. "I’ve watched porn before."
"Yeah, yeah. But have you ever seen gay porn? Like, even once?"
He hesitates. "Have you?"
I laugh under my breath. "I mean...sometimes it pops up and I'd be lying if I said I haven’t been curious enough to click on a video or two."
His eyebrows furrow like he’s trying to piece this new information together. I get it—I’m confused too. I don’t even know why I’m doing this. I just want to. With him .
"Come on. Let’s see what all the hype is about," I say, clicking into my go-to site.
I navigate to the gay tab, not giving myself time to overthink it, and click the first video I see. There we go, two guys in a locker room, kissing. They kind of look like us. One with sandy blonde hair and one with longer dark strands. That… weirdly makes me feel better.
As though we’re just watching ourselves and in some twisted way, it’s comforting.
I lean back on the couch, leaving a decent gap between us. I try to act as casual as possible.
"Dude, this is weird. I feel like this is weird. This is weird right?" Nathaniel rambles.
I roll my eyes. “You’re making this weird. It’s just a video.”
“Yeah, a sex video,” he mutters.
A laugh slips through my lips. “I’m going to ignore the fact that you just called it a ‘ sex video’ .” I shake my head and sit back, getting myself more comfortable. “Shut up and watch. I’m doing this for you, remember?"
He shakes his head, but his eyes drift back to the screen.
Okay, I am fully aware of how crazy this is. Nathaniel and I haven’t been alone together in over four years. And here we are. Watching porn. It’s just like me to get him into something like this. I just can’t help myself around him.
The two guys are all over each other now—grinding, kissing, groping. It’s intense. We sit in silence as their hands roam across backs, hips, thighs. Their bodies are firm, close. Clothes start coming off. It’s heating up…fast.
I suddenly realize how still we both are. My hands rest on my thighs, careful not to make any sudden movements.
Then, I make the mistake of glancing at his lap.
Oh no.
There’s definitely something there. A bulge. A hard bulge. Is he… liking this?
I snap my gaze back to the screen. The dark haired guy is lying back now while the blonde is going down on him. Moaning. Wet, obscene sounds fill the room. I lick my lips. That doesn’t look…bad. My mind keeps subconsciously swapping the blonde for Nathaniel and it’s twisting something in my stomach.
I feel the heat rise under my skin. My palms sweat. I wipe them along my thighs—and that’s when I feel it.
Shit.
I’ve got a full-on boner.
My mouth parts slightly in shock. I glance at Nathaniel again—and freeze.
He’s not even watching the video. He’s watching my lap. He’s seeing what I’m seeing and it makes my pulse stutter.
I try to refocus, to ground myself in the screen, but it’s all too much. All I can think about is Nathaniel watching me. His chest rising and falling fast. His dick is straining against his pants.
My eyes gravitate back to his lap and my eyes widen.
His thumb absent mindlessly grazes the outline of his dick. I can see him softly pass it back and forth like he can’t help it. Like he needs some sort of friction.
It makes me feel…needy. My hands twitch as I try and hold myself back from…what—I don’t know. Anything. I’ll help him however he needs me to.
The realization hits me like a fright train. I’d do anything he wants me to.
Holy shit.
"Fuck," I whisper.
My voice slices through the air like a blade.
Nathaniel snaps out of it, his eyes locking on mine. “Turn it off,” he orders.
"What? I—" I start, but he cuts me off.
"I said turn it the fuck off."
He lunges forward, slamming the laptop shut, then bolts from the couch.
"Nathaniel, what the fuck—?"
"Don’t fucking call me that!" he shouts, disappearing into the bathroom and slamming the door.
Leaving me there.
With a rock-hard dick.
And a million fucking questions.