Chapter 12
12
TORE
I stared at my reflection in the hotel room mirror, my fingers ghosting over my lips. They still tingled from Farron’s kiss, sending sparks through my body at the mere memory. What in the bloody hell had just happened?
My heart raced as I replayed the moment: the scorching heat of Farron’s body, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, the slick slide of his tongue against mine, the way his strong hands had gripped my waist. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before.
But what did this mean? I finally dragged myself away from the mirror and flopped down on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Had Floris been right? Had all of the sparks between Farron and me been foreplay? I didn’t even care that Floris had called it, though usually I would’ve been irritated he’d gotten one over on me, but I couldn’t figure it out.
If you kissed another guy and liked it, that meant you weren’t straight, right? As confused as I was about the whole thing, one thing I knew with absolute clarity: I had loved that kiss. Every second of it. Which meant I was attracted to Farron, which in turn explained a whole lot about the last few weeks.
So that was a first conclusion, something to cling to. I was attracted to him, which meant… Labels meant little to me, but I’d never expected to have to change my identity from straight to bisexual, but here we were.
Not that it bothered me. A label was mostly useful for others. I didn’t have an issue with being attracted to another guy. My issue was with it being Farron, who had been nothing but a jerk to me, and now I wanted him to kiss me again? What did that say about me?
I’d had relationships before—with girls, obviously—but never anything serious. Some had come from a royal or noble background, while others were classmates. None had been problematic, and certainly none had hated me, which I was fairly sure Farron did. How could he both hate me and kiss me like that?
The silence in the room was oppressive, filled only by the sound of my accelerated breathing and the occasional whisper of traffic from the streets below. I closed my eyes, willing myself to make sense of it all, but the image of Farron—dark hair tousled, brown eyes burning with an intensity that threatened to consume us both—kept replaying like a relentless loop in my mind.
A key card clicked at the door, the electronic beep shattering the stillness. I sat up, apprehension tightening my chest as the door swung open. Farron strode in, his presence immediately filling the room with palpable tension. His walk must’ve done little to quell the storm raging within him, evident in the clench of his jaw and the purposeful way he avoided my gaze.
“Hey,” he grunted, tossing his room key on the nightstand.
“Hello, Farron.” I winced at how formal I sounded. Bloody hell, why couldn’t I act normal around him anymore?
Farron grabbed a water bottle from the mini fridge, gulping it down. I watched him, tracing the outline of his broad shoulders down to the defined muscles that tapered to his waist. I stared at the strong column of his throat as he swallowed. Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I quickly averted my gaze.
“Good walk?” I asked, desperate to break the awkward silence.
He shrugged. “It was fine.”
More silence stretched between us. I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt, searching for something else to say. But my usually eloquent tongue felt like lead in my mouth.
“Look, Farron, about earlier—” I started, only to stop when he held up a hand, silencing me.
“Save it, Tore. I don’t wanna talk right now.”
My heart sank. Did he regret kissing me? Was I reading too much into it?
But the kiss—no, the kisses—they were real. They happened. And they meant something. At least, they did to me. My heart raced at the thought of his lips on mine, the way his stubble had felt against my skin, the undeniable strength in his embrace.
I opened my mouth to press further, but the words died on my lips as Farron yanked off his sweaty T-shirt. My eyes roamed over his muscled torso of their own accord, drinking in the sight of his tanned skin and defined abs.
Good lord, I was in trouble.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “I think we should talk about what happened.”
He turned to me, his dark eyes flashing with irritation. “What’s there to talk about? We kissed. It happened. No need to dissect it to death.”
“But don’t you think we should discuss what it means? For us, for the team?—”
“Christ, Tore,” Farron cut me off, exasperation clear in his voice. “Not everything needs a fucking committee meeting. Sometimes, things just happen, all right?”
I flinched at his harsh tone, feeling foolish for even bringing it up. Of course someone like Farron wouldn’t want to analyze every little thing. He was a man of action, not words.
Farron’s expression softened slightly. He ran a hand through his messy hair, sighing. “Look, I didn’t mean to snap. I’m not good at talking, to begin with, and this… I don’t know what this is, okay? And until I do, I don’t wanna risk saying the wrong thing.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Part of me wanted to keep pushing until I understood what was happening between us. But another part, a growing part, wanted to feel his rough lips on mine again.
His dismissal stung but also fanned the flames of something reckless within me. I rose from the bed, driven by a newfound resolve to explore this uncharted territory between us. Farron’s eyes widened as I stepped close to him.
“Tore…”
“Fine,” I said, the word barely above a whisper, “then let’s not talk.”
I bridged the gap between us, capturing his lips with mine, and it was like throwing gas onto a fire. The fire that had burned so brightly between us immediately flared up again. The kiss was a collision of need and confusion, our tensions igniting a fervor that consumed any lingering doubt. His hands threaded my hair, angling my head back as if searching for something deeper, something more profound than the mere meeting of mouths.
Our tongues touched, tangled, sending sparks throughout my body. If I’d harbored any doubt about my attraction to him, the fact that my cock grew hard as iron sealed the deal. On instinct, I rubbed myself against him, and my erection met his. We both froze and then Farron broke off the kiss.
I was still catching my breath when Farron’s guarded eyes met mine, a silent challenge in their depths. The unspoken questions danced between us like shadows, and I couldn’t let the moment pass without trying to capture it, to make sense of the chaos.
“I don’t like you,” Farron said.
I snorted at his timing. “Trust me, I’m well aware.”
“But for some reason, I do like kissing you.”
How pathetic was I that I savored that little crumb of praise? “Thank you.”
He tilted his head, studying me from alarmingly close. “You’re not gonna say it back?”
“I would’ve thought my body’s reaction was sufficient proof of how much I enjoyed it.”
“Christ, the way you express yourself, even now. Do you ever lose your composure?”
No, because that was a luxury I didn’t have. I’d been trained to always keep my cool. The fact that my temper was naturally slow to ignite had made it easier, but I’d still struggled sometimes as a child. Now, it was rare for me to act impulsively. “Seldomly.”
“You do realize that’s a challenge for me now, right? Making you lose your grip on yourself?”
“Not a challenge I set intentionally, I promise.”
“Like that would make a difference to me.” He brushed his thumb along my lips, still wet and throbbing from his kisses. “I think it’s because we have this strange energy between us.”
“Attraction.”
He hesitated. “I would’ve said sexual energy or chemistry, even, but it’s nothing like I’ve ever felt before.”
“Same.”
“We need to work through it.”
I frowned. What did that mean? “I’m not sure I understand.”
“It’s burning too hot to be more than a fluke, so if we let it run its course, it’ll fade.”
“Run its course?” I still had no clue what he meant.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” With a low growl, he yanked me forward again.
His lips found mine, more urgent this time. I tangled my fingers in his dark, damp hair, marveling at how soft it felt. Farron’s tongue teased the seam of my lips, and I opened for him without hesitation. The taste of him was intoxicating, like mint and something uniquely Farron.
The passion between us was an answer in itself, a truth that needed no articulation, only to be felt, to be lived. And in that heated moment, I let go of everything else—the expectations, the labels, the fear—and surrendered to the intensity of what was unfolding between us. Every thought vanished from my brain, leaving only need.
A need for him.
“I wanna touch you,” Farron growled, and suddenly, I understood what he had meant by letting it run its course. He wanted to give in to the sexual chemistry between us so it would disappear. Who was I to tell him that I highly doubted it would work that way?
“Same.”
Our eyes met, and we nodded in mutual agreement.
Possessed by a weird kind of urgency, we fumbled with sweatpants and underwear until we both stood with them around our ankles. Our breaths mingled and became ragged as skin met skin, the air around us charged with the electricity of first contact.
With an unfamiliar boldness, I wrapped my hand around him—the first time I was touching another man’s cock. He was soft as silk and hard as steel at the same time, hot and throbbing in my hand. I gave an experimental tug.
“Ah fuck…” Fallon groaned, the low timbre of his voice sending shivers down my spine. I couldn’t help but smile at the profanity, so very Farron, so very real amidst the surreal whirlwind of sensation.
But then he touched me, and the smile was wiped off my face.
“You’re uncut,” he said with a measure of wonder.
“It’s common in Europe. Few men are circumcised other than for religious reasons.”
“I’ve never seen one.” Then he blushed, and it was the most peculiar sight.
Suddenly, Farron let go of me and pulled away. The loss of contact was jarring, leaving me dazed and confused.
“I can’t do this,” he mumbled, not meeting my eyes. “I’m gonna shower.”
Before I could form a coherent response, Farron had dragged up his pants and headed for the bathroom. The door shut behind him with a soft click, followed by the sound of running water.
I stood there, trying to catch my breath and process what had happened. My body still thrummed with unfulfilled desire, but my mind was reeling. What did this mean? Did Farron regret what we’d done?
The sound of the shower seemed to mock me as I stared into the distance, replaying every touch, every kiss in my mind. It had felt so right in the moment, but now doubt crept in.
After what felt like an eternity, I made a decision. I couldn’t let things end like this, with so much left unsaid. I fixed my clothes and walked to the bathroom door. My hand hovered over the knob for a moment before I steeled my nerves and turned it.
The bathroom was filled with steam, Farron’s silhouette visible through the frosted glass of the shower door. I hesitated, suddenly unsure of what to say or do.
“Farron?” I called out, my voice barely audible over the sound of the water.
He didn’t respond, but his body tensed. Taking a deep breath, I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the shower behind him. We stood there, the hot water cascading over us, not touching, not speaking. The silence between us was deafening, filled with all the things we weren’t saying.
I watched the water run down Farron’s muscular back, tracing the contours of his body. My fingers itched to reach out and touch him, but I held back, unsure of where we stood.
Finally, Farron turned to face me, his dark eyes unreadable. “Tore,” he said, his voice low and husky. “We shouldn’t…”
But he didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he reached for me, pulling me close. Our lips crashed together, the kiss desperate and hungry. I melted into him, my hands exploring the wet planes of his chest and shoulders.
He was still hard, and when I touched him, he didn’t protest. I wrapped my hand around him firmly, waiting for him to stop me, but he didn’t. The water alone wasn’t slick enough, so I squeezed some conditioner from the hotel into my hand. Hmm, what if I…?
I used both my hands and brought our cocks together. The slick slide was as erotic as anything I’d ever felt, and Farron’s low groan told me he liked it too. He rested his forehead on my shoulder as I began jacking us off together, awkward at first but then with better coordination and more confidence.
I quickly discovered that he was less sensitive than I was. When I accidentally squeezed his tip a bit harder, he moaned in appreciation where I would’ve winced at the pain. I used that knowledge to my advantage, putting pressure on his tip with my thumb.
“Feel good?” I checked.
“So fucking good.”
His rare praise filled me with a pride that only intensified the pleasure. “I’ve never done this before, so you’ll need to tell me if I’m doing something wrong.”
His response was a mere grunt, but he moved closer to me, and I reveled in his nearness.
It didn’t take long for me to reach the point of no return. But Farron’s breathing had sped up as well, and his muscles were tensing. “Are you…?”
“Don’t fucking stop. Please.”
That last added word did it for me. I didn’t think I’d ever heard him utter it, not to me, at least. I sped up, our cocks sliding against each other like slick steel. Farron grunted, and his whole body froze. Seconds later, his cock erupted, jerking against mine. It was enough to set me off as well, and I clenched my eyes shut as I came so hard, I was dizzy for a moment. Bloody hell, that had been the most intense orgasm of my life.
Panting, chests heaving in unison, Farron and I clung to each other, the air around us thick with the electricity of our release. Would he walk away again?
Then Farron inched back, his softening dick slipping from my grip, and I had my answer.
“Thank you,” he said, avoiding my eyes.
Without waiting for a reply, he stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist. My shoulders dropped as I washed the cum off my hands and my spent cock, now soft and retreating again.
I turned off the shower, my mind a whirlwind of confusion and desire. As we dried off and dressed for bed, the silence between us grew heavier and more oppressive. I wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but the words wouldn’t come.
We climbed into our separate beds, the distance between us a chasm the size of the Grand Canyon. I stared at Farron’s back, willing him to turn around, to acknowledge what had happened between us. But he remained still, his breathing eventually evening out into sleep.
I lay awake for a long time, my thoughts racing. What did this mean for us? For me? I’d never felt this way about another man before, and the intensity of it scared me. But as sleep finally claimed me, one thought won.
I wanted more.