Chapter 11 Ethan
ETHAN
I was mildly disappointed that Jake didn’t want to join me in the shower, but once I was under the spray… maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. I needed a minute to pull my thoughts together.
In under twenty-four hours, we’d gone from a double date at a hockey game to a few kisses in my car to Jake’s dick down my throat.
I loved it. All of it. I was just a little overwhelmed because I hadn’t quite let myself believe Jake really wanted me.
Now we were rocketing past awkwardly flirting (which was a generous way to describe it) into getting naked and physical, and…
I chewed my lip as I rinsed some soap off my chest and abs. Jake didn’t have a lot of experience with men. He was obviously nervous about exploring his bisexuality, and about sex with a guy. What if we went too far, too fast, and he regretted it?
That thought made me cold despite the hot water rushing over me.
I wanted to do everything with Jake. After we’d made out in the car, I’d gone home and jerked off thinking about all the things we could do.
Sixty-nining. Topping him. Bottoming for him.
Letting him rail me over a piece of furniture.
It was amazing how fast I’d been able to mentally whip through those fantasies, because I’d touched on all of them in the tiny handful of seconds it had taken me to get off.
He thought I came fast tonight? I was lucky I’d gotten my pants off last night.
What could I say? He turned me on so much I ended up on a hair trigger.
And if I let all those fantasies and all that arousal take charge, I could easily move too fast for him.
Especially if he got swept up in horniness and the novelty of something new.
The only thing that could happen faster than me flashing through all my fantasies was someone realizing they’d made a mistake.
The last thing in the world I wanted was to see satisfaction in Jake’s eyes morph into regret.
Fuck. I shuddered beneath the shower. Absolutely not. As much as I wanted us to Instacart the biggest box of condoms and a fifty-gallon drum of lube… I needed to tap the brakes.
After I’d finished my shower, I dressed and wandered out to the kitchen.
The air was fragrant with what I assumed was the sauce for the shrimp scampi—garlic, butter, and a few other things I couldn’t quite pick out.
My stomach growled even louder than it had earlier; I really needed to eat better on days when I had hockey practice and a fighting lesson.
Especially if there was a chance I’d be doing more physical activity than just hockey or fighting.
Jake was peering into the fridge when I walked in, and when he turned around, I was hit with two contradictory feelings—the desire to grab on to him and go another round, and the cold water of my realization that we shouldn’t move too fast. Christ, I wanted him…
but even more than that, I wanted him to want this.
Every step of it. I’d hate myself forever if he regretted even a second, and I knew from experience how fast caution could get thrown to the wind when dicks got hard, which meant I had to be the one to slow things down.
Jake gave me a very conspicuous down-up with those gorgeous, hungry eyes, and… fuck. Being a responsible adult suuucked.
I cleared my throat and leaned my hip against the counter. “Can I, uh… Can I help with anything?”
He smiled as he put a pack of shrimp beside the stove. “Nah, I’ve got it. You can just hang out and keep me company.”
“I can do that.”
Watching him in action in the kitchen was more interesting than it probably should’ve been.
I’d never cared much about a guy’s cooking prowess, but there was something sexy about how he went through all the motions with practiced ease.
As if he were as confident and competent in here as he was on the mat.
Maybe that was what it was—I loved watching guys doing something they were good at.
Or maybe I just really, really enjoyed watching Jake do literally anything.
Especially when he was wearing a black tank that showed off his powerful muscles and elaborate tattoos, not to mention the gym shorts that hugged his hips just right.
He could’ve been mopping the floor or pantomiming a wild story and I’d have been staring at him the same damn way.
When was that last time I was this stupid for someone?
Eh. Whatever. I liked it.
And if I wanted to keep it going, I needed to not spook him. It seemed contradictory, thinking I could spook a literal fighter built like a brick shithouse, but anyone could move too fast and regret things.
I shifted my weight, drumming my fingers on the counter as I fought the urge to fold my arms. I wasn’t defensive, and I didn’t want to look the part—I was just twitchy and edgy and needed something to occupy my damn hands.
“So, uh… ” I cleared my throat again. “I don’t… I don’t want to make things weird, and I hate awkward conversations, but… ”
Jake looked at me, and I thought that was actual fear in his eyes. Like I’d caught him so off-guard, he’d gone deer-in-the-headlights on me. Shit. I’d barely started this conversation and I already needed to salvage it.
“I just don’t want to move too fast,” I blurted out. “I… I really like everything we’re doing. And earlier—that was fun.” I laughed nervously as my cheeks burned. “It was a lot of fun.”
A mix of relief and amusement took over his expression. “Yeah, it was.”
“Right. So.” I fidgeted. “You’re new to this, though, right? With guys?”
The relief and amusement fled in favor of shyness and maybe some embarrassment.
He focused hard on the sauce he was stirring and quietly said, “Yeah. Really new to it.” He scrunched up his face, then sighed.
“Like, when Carson told me he had a boyfriend last year, I kind of freaked out because… ” His eyes lost focus.
After a moment, he shook his head. “I don’t know.
I think I was in some hardcore denial about being into men, and then finding out my best friend was gay…
“ He turned to me, brow pinched. “I’m not proud of how I reacted, let’s put it that way. ”
“I get that. It was probably weird, realizing that about yourself as an adult.”
He grunted and gave a little nod. “It was.”
“I bet. And… I mean, that’s also kind of what I’m getting at—it’s really, really new for you. I don’t want us to dive into bed or whatever and have you regret it afterward, you know?”
Jake gnawed his lip. “I guess? I go back and forth between being scared to try anything and wanting to make up for lost time. I don’t really know what I should do.”
I pushed myself off the counter and came closer. Sliding a hand over the small of his back, I softly said, “Taking it slow is probably the best thing, then. So you have time to figure out what you want.”
He put the spoon down and turned to face me. As he wrapped his arms around me, he murmured, “I know what I want.” The fire in his eyes added the unspoken: I want you.
I swallowed. “Me too. I want it a lot, believe me.” I slid my hands up his chest. “But there’s no hurry, you know? It’s like… ” I hesitated. “I mean, I’m not going to go charging out onto the ice and start a fight so I can try out everything you’ve taught me.”
That made Jake laugh, which broke some of the tension. He drew me in a little closer. “Fighting and fucking aren’t the same, though.”
“No, but I’d probably have some regrets if I got my jaw broken because I thought I could fight at the level of my MMA—” The word “boyfriend” caught in my throat, thank God. “My MMA coach.”
He chuckled as if he saw right through to what I’d almost said. “I don’t think you’re going to break my jaw in bed, though.” His lips quirked. “Not unless you really want to fuck my face hard enough to—”
I burst out laughing. “Oh my God… ”
He laughed too, and dusted a kiss across my lips. “Seriously, though. We’re not going to beat each other up, you know?”
Sobering, I said, “No, we’re not. But if we go diving into bed and try everything under the sun, and then tomorrow you’re like, ‘damn, I don’t think I was ready for that’… ” I grimaced.
Jake chewed the inside of his cheek. “I mean… maybe? But I wasted a lot of time not even realizing this was what I wanted.”
“I get that. But what’s waiting a little longer to be sure it’s what you want?” I hesitated. “I know you want to do stuff with guys. And I’m not rejecting you or saying no. I just want to be sure that you’re sure you want to do that stuff now. With me.”
“I do want to,” he rasped without hesitation. “I know I want you.” Lowering his gaze, he sighed. “But… yeah. You’re right. I guess that’s why I backed off in the car last night.”
It was my turn for some serious relief. “I want to do it all too. But I’d rather be frustrated and horny for a while longer than be something you regret.”
Jake cupped my jaw and kissed me, letting it linger. When he touched his hot forehead to mine, he murmured, “I don’t see myself regretting anything with you.”
“I don’t either. Let’s play it safe anyway? Even if we drive ourselves insane for a little while?”
He huffed a warm laugh across my lips. “Probably a good idea.” Loosening his embrace and turning to check on the food, he added, “To tell you the truth, I had this conversation with Carson earlier. Telling him I didn’t want to rush. I felt kind of stupid for cutting things short last night, but… ”
“But if you weren’t sure, then cutting it short was the right thing to do.” I touched his back as he continued cooking. “We’ll get there. I’m about ninety-nine percent sure one of us is going to end up fucking the other before too much longer.”
The way his breath stuttered had my dick almost immediately getting hard. So did the heat in his eyes when he met mine. “Do you, uh… ” He swallowed. “Do you have a preference there?”
“About topping or bottoming?”
Jake nodded.
I was suddenly out of breath, but I managed, “I prefer to top. But I’ll go either way.”
I fully expected a flash of panic in his eyes. A lot of guys, especially the ones who were just getting the hang of being with another guy, shied away from bottoming. Even those who were curious about it were afraid it would hurt.
If Jake had that same fear, he wasn’t letting it show now. Nothing in his face telegraphed anything but pure hunger.
Oh Jesus. You want to get fucked, don’t you?
“So you, um… ” I gulped. “You want to try bottoming? Not tonight, but… eventually?”
“Yeah,” he breathed. “I do.”
Oh, fucking hell…
I cleared my throat for the third time. “Why do I get the feeling that ‘eventually’ is really, really soon?”
His laugh was almost soundless. “I sure hope it is.”
In hindsight, if we really were going to tap the brakes and proceed with caution, I probably should’ve slept in my own bed last night.
We didn’t fuck. I suspected lack of condoms had more to do with that than actually sticking to “let’s not rush things,” but it got the job done.
On the other hand, the fact that he’d still been uncertain about giving head told me we were doing the right thing.
Oral and anal were two very different things, of course, and oral was more of a rite of passage for queer dudes than anal, but the hesitation about one said we should proceed with caution in both departments.
He didn’t have to blow me and he didn’t have to bottom for me; I just wanted to make sure he was ready for anything and everything we did try.
By the time we called it a night, he seemed pretty damn satisfied with a long session of making out naked, which culminated in us jerking each other off. That had necessitated a shower, which led to more making out, and we’d finally collapsed together in his bed.
Now, as my alarm rudely informed me I needed to get my ass to practice, I was glad we’d only gone as far as we had.
There was time. This morning, I had to disentangle myself from Jake’s arms and legs to get to my phone, and I’d barely silenced it before he’d curled around me again.
I was horny as all hell, and his morning wood pressing against my ass wasn’t helping, but I had to get up and get moving.
In a minute.
If we’d gone too far, too fast, we wouldn’t be cuddled up like this. We probably wouldn’t even be in the same bed this morning.
So as frustrating as it was—as much as I wanted to drill that gorgeous ass until neither of us could move—this was the right thing.
Jake’s stubbled chin scraped my shoulder, and then he kissed the side of my neck. “What time is it?”
“Seven.”
He made an adorably unhappy sound. “Why are we conscious, then?”
I laughed and brought up his hand to kiss his palm. “Because my coaches are mean and practice starts at noon.”
“Noon? But that’s… like… hours away.”
“Mmhmm. And I still need to eat, go back to my place, get to practice, put on my gear… ”
He harumphed. “That sounds like bullshit.”
“It kind of is.”
He kissed my neck again. “When is practice over?”
I had to think about that, as if the schedule ever changed much. “One, but I don’t usually get out of there until two or so. And then I have a game tonight.”
“You have to practice and play on the same day? That seems… rude.”
I snorted. “I know, right? Do you want to come to my game? Puck drop is at seven.”
He was quiet for a moment, and I thought I felt him furrowing his brow. Then, “I might have some lessons tonight. I’ll check.” He paused. “There’s a smoker on Friday night. Do you want to go that with me?”
“A what now?”
“Smokers are in-school invitational fights. They’re not paid, almost all the fighters are amateur level, but they’re a good way for fighters to start getting a feel for their own games and a handle on the local competition.”
“Huh. Sounds like fun. I don’t have a game that night, but we’re heading out on the road on Saturday.”
“For how long?”
“Two games.” I laced our fingers together against my chest. “I’ll be back… I want to say Wednesday?”
He groaned theatrically and nuzzled into my neck. “I’m going to wear out my hand.”
I laughed, reaching back to stroke his hair. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
He would be.
And so would I.
But I was probably going to wear out my hand, too.