Chapter 3
three
Linus
The sun dipped three hours ago.
I’m still sweating.
Everywhere's too hot. The tiled walkway under my sandals, the back of my neck, the inside of my chest.
“Go for a swim.” Da shooed me out of our caravan. Told me I’ve no reason to be irritable.
He hasn’t a clue. I’ve been holding my breath for three days straight for an opportunity like this. I cut left through the garden path behind the main lodge, pretending I’m taking a walk to clear my head.
Really, I’m hunting.
I saw him again today. Ripped. Blond. Tank top stretched over his chest like sin itself. A jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He’s been here with his family since Monday, same as us. I clocked him straightaway.
In the dining room, his eyes follow mine. Lips quirk into a smirk every time we’re at the pool.
He knows. He’s patient. Waits for me get the courage to find him.
Now’s my chance and every part of me is on fire.
This morning, my parents ambushed me over breakfast. Instead of enjoying my juice, croissant and tea, I had to endure a whole lotta shit. Mum pulled out the pamphlet Niamh gave her of a wedding venue she loves in County Clare. Seaside views. Seating for two hundred.
“You’ll be twenty in a year,” Da reminded me like I’d forgotten. “It’s time to think seriously about your future. Niamh’s a great wee girl. Lock her down, son.”
They didn’t take the news well when I told them I’ve been accepted into the hospitality program at Washington State University and my plan is to leave in the fall.
Mum gasped like I’d slapped her. “You applied without telling us?”
Da didn’t raise his voice, not in public. His silence was worse. Thin-lipped fury.
“Why would you go to America?” he shouted once we made it back to the caravan. “You’ve a good job in Dublin. You’ve a future here. Niamh’s father lined up a proper path for you.”
I reminded them I’ve worked for Brian Callahan’s booking agency, Tri-Color Tours, for two years already and done every job he’s thrown at me. Booking, logistics, artist relations. Every music festival in Ireland, every goddamn late night. Every grunt job possible.
It’s not enough for me. Brian’s way of doing business isn’t sustainable. I won’t have a future there unless it ends with a house in Dun Laoghaire and a ring on Niamh’s finger.
No one in my life knows I’ve been questioning everything about myself.
I can’t marry a woman when I have dreams about different hands on my skin. Rougher. Broader. Stronger.
Guess I’m about to find out if there’s something to them.
Alone in the dark, sweat under my collar, I’m half-hard as I nervously edge through the resort garden like some fucked-up fairytale. I should turn back.
I don’t.
Around the bend, I see him. Leaning against the stone wall near the gym, one foot propped on the wall. His body glows silver in the moonlight.
“You lost?” His lips curl into a smile when he sees me.
My throat’s dry. “No.”
“Good.” He flicks the cigarette to the ground. “Been watchin’ you watch me.”
“Didn’t think you noticed.” My cock’s rigid as steel.
He shakes out his hair. “Took you long enough to come find me.”
I glance back toward the resort. Stupid instinct. No one’s around.
“Am I blowing you or are you just gonna stand there?” He whips off his T-shirt.
His chest catches the light, smooth and sculpted. Sublime. I want to put my mouth on him. Taste the heat on his skin. Trace every line with my tongue to memorize it before he disappears.
He comes forward and cups my face like we’ve done this before. No hesitation. His mouth crashes into mine, hot and assertive. My back hits the wall before I can breathe.
It’s not like kissing Niamh. She’s soft, familiar. He’s stubble and danger.
My cock is fully on board.
His hand slides to my chest. Then my stomach. Then my belt.
I tense. “Wait.”
“I want to suck your cock. Tell me to wait again and I’m outta here.” His mouth finds my ear.
I shut the fuck up. He undoes my belt, pushes my shorts down with a quiet authority. There’s no room for shame. My head lolls back, dizzy with want.
“I’ve never—” I start.
He drops to his knees like it’s nothing. Like kneeling for me is natural. “First time?”
I shake my head.
“By a bloke?” He licks his lips. When I barely nod, he grips my base. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it good.”
I freeze. Not from fear, from impact. Every part of me lights up. A hit straight to the chest. This is something I’ve needed and buried. He stares up at me with parted lips and steady hands.
When his mouth takes me in, no hesitation, I fucking break.
I rasp before I mean to. Can’t stop it. Won’t try.
His tongue traces the underside of my cock like he’s reading me. Like he knows.
Of course he does. He’s built like me. Niahm’s no slouch in the blowjob department, but this isn’t about comparison. It’s addition. This guy is showing me how a man uses his mouth on another man.
A different kind of pleasure.
My hands scramble for something. His shoulders, the wall, I don’t know. I’m off-balance, overstimulated. Not in control. I don’t want to be.
His tongue swirls around my crown. One hand steadies me at the hip, the other cradles and rolls my balls like he already knows what’ll make me beg. Without warning he engulfs my entire cock and lets me slide down his throat.
“Nnnnnghhhh,” I gasp.
He groans low, allowing the vibration to shoot through me. My hips jerk. He takes all of it. Every stifled part of me.
I’ve gone my whole life pretending I could live without this. I can’t. Not now. Not ever. This man fucks me with his mouth like he means to undo me.
I let him.
The roar tears out of me when I come. My orgasm hits like a fault line splitting open. Shaking, I spill into his mouth. My, heart pounds like thunder, drowning out the sound of my breath.
I don’t know if I’ve fallen or if he’s still holding me up.
He swallows. Licks his lips. Stands.
“See?” he says. “Easy. Gotta go.”
He kisses me on the lips. I taste myself. Then he disappears into the dark. I’m left half-dressed, stunned. Cock still leaking. My heart rattles like a snare drum.
Holy fuck.
I pull my shorts back up and stumble toward the path. Everything’s different. I sit on a bench by the pool, head in my hands, letting the night breeze cool down my sweat.
I’ve cheated on my girlfriend. Not emotionally. Not with love. I was exploring a truth I’ve never dared say out loud.
A truth no one will ever understand.
Certainly not my parents.
God help me, I love the way Niamh feels under me. Her curves. Her scent. The way her mouth goes slack when she comes. I love her. Love fucking her. I’ve never faked it. Never needed to.
She doesn’t have all of me, though. Especially not the part of me I’ve spent years trying to ignore. The part dreaming of a man fucking me. Of me doing the same to him.
For years I tried to convince myself it was a phase. A kink. A thing to push down.
It never went away.
Tonight, I finally gave in. Let it happen. I needed to know if the wanting was real or if it was some idea I’d built up in my head.
Now I know. It wasn’t a fluke. It wasn’t a mistake.
It was right.
I shouldn’t have done it without breaking it off with Niamh, though. I can’t continue to lie to someone who trusts me with her whole heart. I love her. I do.
My family won’t understand. Neither will hers.
It’s best I leave. Take space to figure out who I am when I stop pretending.
Somewhere I can explore my sexuality without guilt bleeding into every touch.
I’m going to America.
Where I can finally stop hiding.