Cade #4
I remembered the outline in his underwear in the locker room. “Did that, uh…turn you on or somethin’?”
His stare was intense. “What?”
It was funny that I, the straight guy, was handling this better than he was. I gestured to him. “You’re, uh, sittin’ funny is all. I mean, it ain’t like there’s a guy on the planet who hasn’t had to learn how to hide that sorta thing from the minute puberty starts smackin’ ’em around.”
He glared. “I told you, the moment overtook me. My mind realizes that, but the body is taking its sweet time getting the message.”
Okay, so my theory was right, he had got hard…
interesting. I mean, was it interesting?
Or was it just… Actually, I didn’t know where that thought was going.
My thoughts kept jumping all over the place, and it was getting more difficult to figure out where they were trying to go, let alone make sense of them.
I had already settled between us and in my head that I wasn’t bothered by what had happened.
I knew I was having a weird reaction to the whole thing, but it wasn’t a bad thing.
I wanted to make him feel better, but I wasn’t sure how to go about that.
I also knew curiosity was simmering inside me, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.
“It’s alright,” I told him gently, smiling. “These resort pants don’t exactly do a lot to cover things. Probably should have thrown on some underwear; that might’ve helped.”
“Maybe,” he said, clearly uncomfortable. “Maybe not, doesn’t matter. Well, maybe for me, but I don’t know about you.”
“What about me?”
“I mean…goddammit, every turn of this conversation feels like a punishment for some crime I’ve forgotten all about. Maybe I need to have a conversation with a past life or something.”
“Ugh, what?”
“Can we just…not?”
“I’m just confused. I’m tryin’ to…I dunno, understand.”
His nostrils flared again. “I was trying to make a joke, but then I realized it’s creepy.”
“I don’t think anything you’ve done or said has been creepy,” I told him honestly. “Plus, maybe a joke is just what ya need right now, ’cause you’re lookin’ kinda wound tight.”
“I can’t imagine why,” he said dryly, and then sighed.
“I was just going to say that based on what I’ve seen of you in the past, and that most guys aren’t even close to their full size when soft, even while comfortable, I was going to joke that wearing underwear probably wouldn’t do a lot of good to conceal your dick when it’s hard. At least in pants like these.”
“Oh,” I said, then realized it wasn’t just a sneaky compliment; it was a sign that he had definitely been paying attention when he’d been looking at my body. “Oh.”
He grimaced. “God, please just…don’t.”
“No, no, it’s fine!” I insisted, grinning. “It’s not like I shouldn’t expect it. I mean, if ya were turned on, that meant ya were lookin’ all over. God, don’t make that face. I’m not tryin’ to give you shit, I swear.”
“Which makes it so much worse in ways I can’t explain,” he said, shoulders slumping as he brought his head down onto his knee.
“Can we please find something else to talk about? This entire conversation has made me afraid I’ve died and gone to hell.
My own, personal hell, where I have to live through a horribly awkward conversation that makes me wish an actual portal to hell would open up so I can throw myself in. ”
“Stop,” I told him gruffly, because it was a bad weird to see him beating himself up over something that wasn’t a bad thing. I didn’t care if he was trying to put distance between us right now, and I reached out to grab the edge of his chair and pull him closer.
Walker flailed, legs going everywhere as his hands tried to grab the table to stop himself moving or save himself from falling as our chairs bumped into one another.
That same instinct made him plant his feet on the ground in a wide stance as he stared at me with wide eyes.
A complicated expression flashed across his face as he looked around, probably trying to get his bearings but also to figure out where I’d found the audacity to take choice out of the matter altogether.
I glanced down and not only was there clear evidence that his body was still turned on, I would swear it had grown more noticeable as he processed what I’d done.
Which was when I remembered he had told me he’d been more turned on in the locker room because I was forceful and physical.
Maybe that wasn’t just violence, but also moments like this, where I was just being a little… handsy.
I would address that later. “Ya need to stop worrying’ about whether you’re bein’ weird, or creepy, or whatever else ya got goin’ on in that head of yours, alright?
If I ain’t allowed to make jokes about myself, or act like I don’t know that people look at me funny instead of someone who’s worth showin’ attention to, then you ain’t allowed to act like you’re wrong for noticin’ the same thing ya want other people to notice, got it? ”
He was leaning back in his seat, not really gripping the arms of the chair as if it would save him, but it was close. “And why did you need to pull me this close to make that point?”
Which was my cue to lean in closer, making him swallow. “Because it was the best way to get ya to listen’ to me, and look, it worked. You’re listenin’, ain’t ya?”
“I am,” he said slowly, eyeing me warily.
“Good, then that means you might actually hear me,” I told him.
It was probably overkill and maybe a little mean, but I put my hand on his knee.
I probably would have gone higher, but that would have definitely been mean.
Even then, he looked as if I’d slapped him as he stared at me with wide eyes.
“So quit actin’ like you’ve done somethin’ wrong, alright?
Just ’cause it’s a little weird for us don’t mean that it’s wrong, alright? ”
“That it’s weird for you is exactly my problem,” he said in a thick voice. “I don’t want to make anything weird for you.”
“Don’t go worryin’ about me, alright?” I asked with a smile and gave his knee a squeeze.
“I’m alright, Walker, alright? I wasn’t ready for what happened, or findin’ out ya were into me like that, but that don’t mean I’m gonna look at ya different, alright?
I mean, obviously, I’m not worried about ya. ”
“Well, right now, you’re making me really worried about myself,” he said, his fingers twitching on the arm of the chair.
I held back a sigh of exasperation. I had to remember this whole thing was a lot weirder and harder for him.
I was probably not doing him any favors by touching him, and I had to do my best not to look down to confirm my suspicion; otherwise, he probably would have passed out on the spot.
Except I didn’t know how to get him to understand that I wasn’t bothered by what we’d talked about, or what he was feeling.
I knew it was a bad idea to mention that it was flattering actually, and that there was that weird feeling, but I wanted him to understand somehow.
“What are you so worried about?” I asked, because there was clearly something I’d been missing for him to be this wound up; it couldn’t just be embarrassment because he’d been ‘caught up in the moment.’
His eyes darted over my face repeatedly, the muscles in his arms bunching, and just before he moved, I realized he had been preparing to spring into action and restraining himself.
When he moved, it was with a sharpness and intensity that set off a brief war inside my head.
Instinct, born and forged in the crucible of life-threatening battles, almost made me lash out at the perceived threat.
It was the thin but powerfully strong thread of self-control, of understanding that this was Walker, that kept me from lashing out at him as he moved toward me.
I knew he wouldn’t attack me, but I wasn’t ready for him to kiss me.
His hands closed around the sides of my head, the tips of his fingers pressing into my skull before his lips collided with mine.
The kiss was…wet; he must have licked his lips before summoning the courage to move or losing the battle with his impulses.
His lips were soft too, but the feel of his face against mine was rougher than any kiss I’d experienced before.
The brush of his facial hair against mine made a scraping noise that was loud to my ears and sent a strange wave of heat through me.
It lasted a moment before he drew away, licking his lips again, and I felt another flash of heat when the tip of his tongue brushed against my lips.
His eyes were wide as he backed up slowly.
His hands were limp at his sides before he reached out to grab a shirt hanging over the back of the chair and yanked it on.
I couldn’t decide if I was going to stare at his face or at the now even more noticeable bulge in his pants.
He had…kissed me.
“That was what I was worried about,” he said in a husky voice that made my chest tighten. I should probably have stopped him as he fumbled with his shoes, clearly intent on fleeing his own room to get away from me. “I just…that’s why I need time.”
Kissed. Me.
“I’m sorry,” he spat out, his chest heaving, and I realized he was panicking.
But he was gone before I realized that was the perfect time to say something, to stop him from fleeing as if he had just committed murder. It was only after the door closed I realized I had missed my chance to…to what? I had no idea what I would say to him.
He had kissed me.
And I…hadn’t hated it.