Chapter 6
SEBASTIAN
We tumbled onto the mattress together, my hands tangling in Taylor’s hair as I pulled him down on top of me. His weight settled over me, solid and warm, and we both laughed—breathless, and a little giddy—as our mouths came together again.
I bit softly down on his bottom lip and tugged. Taylor groaned, opening for me, and I licked my way inside, my tongue twisting against his until he broke away to go explore, his hands and mouth moving over me.
His kisses grew more insistent, and our movements became more frantic. When he pushed up onto his palms, holding himself above me in a plank position, I immediately missed his weight.
His gaze traveled over my face, his expression turning worried. “I don’t want to fuck this up, Seb.”
“Not going to happen,” I rushed to assure him.
“I haven’t done this with … well, anyone else.” His voice dropped. “Just you.”
“No one?”
He shook his head. “I thought about it once, but chickened out. After, I told myself it was probably for the best. That nothing could ever be as good as what we had. I mean, maybe that’s just me …”
His honesty caught me off guard, and I rushed to assure him, “No, it was really good.”
Relief softened his features.
“Are you …”
I trailed off, unsure how to ask the question on the tip of my tongue. I’d tried being with women in both high school and college—tried to be someone I wasn’t. It had never worked.
But that was me, and I knew labels could be difficult for some people.
I watched his eyes, noting the moment he realized what I was asking.
“Oh. I’m definitely bi. But I’ve never actually been with a man, so … maybe no sex tonight?” He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, his expression uncertain.
It was that uncertainty that made me study him more carefully.
The years had sharpened his features, but when he bit his bottom lip that way, he looked exactly like the twenty-one-year-old who used to hover over me in my narrow dorm bed, unsure of what he was allowed to want. If he even understood what he wanted.
The heat that had been building in me shifted into something gentler.
“We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
If all Taylor wanted to do was kiss me until the sun came up, I’d enjoy every damn second of it.
Did I want more? Yes, always. But this was enough, too.
“Oh, I want this,” he said softly, lowering himself down so that our bodies came together again, grinding his cock against my inner thigh.
“Good,” I exhaled. “Because I want you, too.”
My fingers traced a thin scar that bisected his left eyebrow.
“Stick to the face during my rookie season,” he said, leaning into my touch. “Fifteen stitches. Hurt like a bitch.”
I hated the thought of him bleeding on the ice while someone stitched him back together.
A small smile tugged at his lips. “But I was back on the ice the next period.”
“Of course you were.”
That was the Taylor I remembered. Stubborn, determined. The same guy who’d played an entire game with a bruised rib, barely able to breathe, because the team needed him.
My thumb drifted to his mouth, tracing the shape of his bottom lip. There was a small scar there too, barely visible. I wondered how many marks he carried that I’d never gotten to learn.
“I’ve missed this mouth.”
He rocked against me again, brushing his lips over mine.
“I want to do very dirty things to you with this mouth.”
His hand slipped between us to palm my cock.
I shuddered and let out a low moan, heat pooling in my gut. “You said no sex,” I choked out when he squeezed my cock.
Taylor trailed a line of kisses up my jaw to my ear, catching the lobe lightly between his teeth. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to blow you, though.”
He pushed up and sat back on his heels, reaching for the button on my pants.
I curled my fingers around his wrist, stilling him. “Taylor.”
“Hmm,” he hummed distractedly, his eyes locked on my cock.
I gripped his wrist tighter, forcing him to look at me. His pupils were dilated, his breathing quick and uneven.
“I want to make sure we’re on the same page here. First, you said no sex—which I’m fine with, by the way—but in the next breath, you’re telling me you want to suck my cock.”
His tongue swiped over his bottom lip, almost like he was imagining what I’d taste like.
“If you don’t want me to, that’s okay,” he said, his voice low and raspy. “But sucking you off is all I’ve been able to think about since you asked me up here.”
We were talking in circles.
Unless …
This man had once given me more orgasms than I could count, but we’d never had penetrative sex.
Oh, you sweet heteronormative summer child.
“Taylor, oral sex is sex.”
He looked down, his palms rubbing roughly over his thighs. “No, I know. I just meant, like, no fucking.”
I set my hand on his knee and squeezed. “No anal, you mean?”
He looked away and nodded, color climbing his neck. “It’s not …”
“Hey, no worries,” I told him, curling my abs to prop myself up on my elbows, nudging him with my knee.
Some of the best sex of my life had been long nights where I was entirely focused on exploring my partner’s body with my hands, lips, and tongue. Several of those nights had been with him. If that was all Taylor was up for tonight, it was no great hardship.
“I tried it once with this girl I was seeing,” he began, his voice tentative. “Things were …” He blew out a breath, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Suffice it to say, it’s not really my thing.”
The way he wouldn’t meet my eyes told me that whatever had happened had shaken him. This didn’t feel like a “just not my thing” situation. It felt bigger.
“Want to talk about it?”
He was quiet for a long moment, as if deciding whether or not he did, and the longer he stayed silent, the shallower his breath became. When he finally did speak, his voice was pitched low, nearly a whisper.
“She really wanted to try, Seb. Kept saying how amazing it would be, how good it would feel for both of us. That it would bring us closer.”
His words were stilted, each one sounding forced.
“We prepped for it, did everything we were supposed to, but when we … when I …” His throat worked as he swallowed hard. “She screamed, Seb, and not in a good way. I wanted to stop, but she begged me not to. Told me to keep going. I’ve never felt like such a monster.”
I stifled my reaction. I could imagine it. Taylor was a bruiser on the ice, but so gentle off it. I’d watched him slam guys into the boards without hesitation. But in bed, with me, he’d always been careful—except when I’d begged him not to be.
The idea of hurting someone during sex would have gutted him.
“Taylor,” I breathed out.
“I know what people say about prep and patience and all that,” he continued, his voice cracking. “But even in porn—where they do prep—once the fucking starts, no one looks like they’re actually enjoying it. All that wincing and gritted teeth and fake moans. It even sounds painful.”
He looked at me finally, his expression open and raw.
“Taylor. This isn’t on you.”
He shook his head. “It is. I hurt her—”
“Because she pushed you to continue when you wanted to stop.” Heat crept into my voice—anger, but not at him. Not even at her, really.
I took a breath, trying to rein in my frustration, and forced my voice to be soft. “You’re not a monster, Taylor. You’re someone who had a bad experience and drew a completely reasonable conclusion from it.”
His eyes were wet. “I felt awful.”
“I know. And you never have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Not with me, not with anyone.”
He was still for a long moment, then he nodded slowly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. He exhaled hard and scrubbed his hand over his face. “I get it if this changes things for you,” he said quietly. “If you don’t want to do this after all.”
I threaded our fingers together. “I want this,” I said, my voice thick. “However you want it.”
He stared down at our joined hands for a long beat, his thumb tracing small circles over my knuckles. “Thank you for … all of that. For not making me feel like shit about it.”
“Taylor.” I squeezed his hand. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”
His eyes met mine, something vulnerable and hopeful at the same time flickering there.
I tugged his hand, pulling down. “Come here.”
He came willingly, resting his forehead in the crook of my neck. We stayed like that for a long while, just breathing together.
“You okay?” I asked eventually.
He lifted his head, his eyes settling on mine.
They were clearer. They were something else, too, that I was trying really damn hard not to read into.
“I don’t want to leave here with any regrets,” he whispered, his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip.
I’d told myself this probably wasn’t going to happen after all. That we were going to just lie here together like we used to. And I’d been good with that. Happy, even.
But now …
After everything we’d talked about.
I didn’t want to get my hopes up.
“Taylor.”
“Sebastian.”
I brushed the pads of my fingers over his cheeks. Over the smattering of freckles just under his eyes. He’d always been freckly, but there were more now.
“I’m trying really hard not to jump to conclusions here, so I’m going to need you to be really fucking clear about what it is you’re saying right now.”
His eyes flicked between mine for a few heartbeats. “I’m saying I want you.”
I searched his face for any sign of hesitation or indication that he was forcing himself to do this because he thought it was what I wanted. The last thing either of us needed was for him to feel like he had to perform after what he’d just told me.
“You’re sure?”
He nodded, and against my thigh, I felt him getting hard again.
“And just so I’m clear, what does that mean? What, specifically, is it that you want?”
Constant consent and verbal check-ins hadn’t ever really been my dynamic with Wyatt, and that was okay for us, but knowing what I now knew about Taylor and his experiences, it was important to set those boundaries.
To give him agency to define what was going to happen here.
More precisely, what wasn’t going to happen.
“What I want,” he said, rolling his hips over mine, his cock digging into my thigh, “is you flat on your back, moaning my name while I suck your dick.”
I huffed out a laugh, warmth spreading through my chest and lower. “Well, okay then.”
His answering grin promised trouble. “Good. Now let me remind you what this mouth can do.”
I parted my legs, combing my fingers through the soft, thick strands of his hair as he settled between them. “As if I could ever forget.”