Chapter 17 Finding His Position
Finding His Position
ETHAN
Sunlight pours through Tyler's half-closed blinds, making bright lines across his messy sheets and our tangled legs. It's been a week since our first time together, a week of getting to know each other in ways that make me blush just thinking about it.
We've spent almost every day together, sometimes just talking and studying, other times showing Tyler all the ways two men can pleasure each other.
Tracing lazy circles on Tyler's chest as he plays with my hair, both of us content in the drowsy aftermath of morning sex. It's Saturday, and neither of us has anywhere to be.
"Can I ask you something?" Tyler says, his voice still rough with sleep.
"Anything," Settling more comfortably against him feels like the most natural thing in the world.
He's quiet for a moment, and I can practically hear him organizing his thoughts. "How did you know? That you were gay, I mean."
Tilting my head I look up at him. His expression is thoughtful, not troubled.
"I think I always knew," I tell him. "Even before I understood what it meant. I never had crushes on girls, only boys. By the time I was fourteen, I was pretty certain."
Tyler nods, absently running his fingers through my hair. "I had girlfriends. I liked them. I liked sex with them."
"But?" The word comes out gentle, encouraging
"But this feels... different. Better." He looks down at me, a small smile playing at his lips. "Not just the sex, though that's definitely better, but all of it. Being with you feels right in a way I can't really explain."
My chest flutters at his words. "So, how do you think of yourself now?"
"Bisexual, I guess?" He sounds uncertain. "But even that doesn't feel quite right."
"Labels are tricky. There's a whole rainbow of identities out there, and no one can tell you who you are. You might find one that fits perfectly, or you might not. That's okay too."
"Yeah," he agrees. "I never thought I'd be questioning this stuff at twenty-two."
My laugh is soft and kind. "There's no timeline for figuring yourself out."
He's quiet for another moment, his fingers still threading through my hair. Then, with a hint of hesitation in his voice, he asks, "What about bottoming? Does that make someone more gay?"
Propping myself up on my elbow, I look at him directly. His cheeks are flushed, but his eyes are curious, not embarrassed.
"No," my voice firm. "Being a top or a bottom or vers doesn't make you more or less gay. It's just about what feels good."
"So you prefer bottoming?" he asks.
"I do," I admit. "But that's just my preference. It doesn't have anything to do with how masculine I am or how gay I am. It's just what I enjoy."
Tyler nods, taking this in. "I've been wondering what it feels like. For you, I mean."
The hint of curiosity in his voice makes me smile. "If you want, we could try it. I've never topped before, but I'm okay with trying if you're curious. With most sexy-time things, I'd say if you're interested, try and see what you like."
Tyler's eyes widen slightly. "You'd do that? Even though you prefer bottoming?"
"Of course," A soft kiss punctuates the words. "It's about exploring together, right?"
A slow smile spreads across his face. "Right." He pulls me down for another kiss, deeper this time. "Not right now, though," he murmurs against my lips. "I have plans for you first."
His "plans" involve pushing me back onto the mattress and demonstrating just how attentive a student he's been, and I lose myself in the sensation of his mouth and hands.
"I hope you're hungry," Tyler says as we head downstairs to the fraternity's common area early that evening. "Saturday night is always a takeout extravaganza."
"Extravaganza?" I repeat, amused by his choice of words.
"You'll see," he promises, lacing his fingers through mine.
As we enter the living room, I understand what he means.
The large coffee table is covered with open containers, pizza boxes, Chinese food cartons, foil-wrapped burritos, samosas, fried chicken, and what looks like four platters of nachos.
At least a dozen frat brothers are sprawled across couches and on the floor, passing containers around and filling plates with a chaotic mix of cuisines.
"There they are," calls Ian from his perch on the arm of a sofa. "We didn't know if you guys would come up for air today."
Heat creeps up my neck again, but Tyler just laughs. "We heard there was food." He tugs me toward an open spot on one of the couches.
"It's a miracle," Gavin agrees solemnly. "The promise of food is apparently the only thing that can drag our VP away from his bed and his boyfriend."
Boyfriend. The word sends a little thrill through me, even though we haven't officially had that conversation yet.
"Here," Marcos passes us empty plates. "Drew ordered like four different things from that Thai place you like," he tells Tyler.
"Because he would sulk for days if we didn't," Drew explains, not looking up from where he's carefully constructing a precarious tower of pizza and nachos on his plate.
Watching in fascination as Tyler piles his plate with what seems like a sample of everything: pad thai next to pizza next to what might be a tamale. When he notices my expression, he grins. "What?"
"Nothing," I snag a spring roll from the spread. "Just amazed at how much food frat guys can eat."
"Enjoy it while it lasts," Cameron advises, patting his own flat stomach. "My dad says it all catches up to you at thirty."
"Sooner than that," The warning slips out before I can stop it. "Your arteries are probably already filing complaints."
The guys laugh, and Gavin raises his soda in a mock toast. "To Ethan, for bringing a much-needed health conscience to Delta Psi Omega."
"Oh god," Tyler groans. "Don't encourage him. He already gives me this disapproving look when I get extra cheese on my pizza."
"I'm gonna be a nurse," I defend myself, accepting a slice of pizza from Elijah. "Cholesterol is a real thing, and none of you will be twenty-three forever."
"Buzzkill," Ian teases, but he's smiling.
The conversation flows easily around food, classes, upcoming frat events, and campus gossip.
I'm shocked at how easy it feels being here and how quickly these guys have welcomed me into their group.
I don't see any of that fake tough-guy act I thought I'd find in a frat, or any of those little homophobic jabs I've dealt with in other places where it's just guys.
But a small voice in my head wonders how long this can last. These guys have known Tyler for years, and I've only been around for a few weeks.
What happens when the novelty wears off?
When I'm no longer the shiny new person in Tyler's life?
Ryan had been fascinated with me at first, too, before I became something to hide away.
I push the thought down, focusing instead on how Tyler's hand rests casually on my knee, the easy way he includes me in stories and inside jokes. This is different. Tyler is different.
"So, Ethan," Drew says during a lull in the conversation. "Tyler mentioned you might be helping out with the sexual health workshop next month?"
Nodding slowly, I’m surprised but happy that Tyler mentioned this to the fraternity president. "Yeah, if you want. My program requires community outreach hours, and I may have already mentioned you guys to my supervisor. She thought a fraternity would be a good place to start."
"Definitely," Drew nods. "I've been trying to get someone to do something like this for a while, but the health center's workshops are always during our chapter meetings."
"Plus, we'd rather hear it from someone who isn't sixty and calls it 'making whoopee,'" Ian adds, making air quotes.
"That term' will definitely not be in my vocabulary," comes my reply between snorts of laughter.
"What will you cover?" Marcos asks, looking genuinely interested.
"The basics," I shrug. "Consent, protection, common misconceptions. It'll be inclusive, too, not just focused on heterosexual sex."
"Good," Drew nods. "We've got brothers who identify across the spectrum. We want everyone to have the information they need."
I'm really impressed by how straightforward he is about it. Looking around the room, I don't see any weird reactions from Tyler's frat brothers; they all seem cool with everything. I love how different being with Tyler is.
"What?" Tyler asks softly, noticing my expression.
"Nothing," A smile spreads across my face. "Just... this is nice."
He understands what I'm not saying because he squeezes my hand under the table, a quiet acknowledgment.
"Okay, who's up for Mario Kart?" Tahir calls, already setting up the Switch. "Winner gets to choose the movie tonight."
"You're on," Tyler says, grabbing a controller.
Settling back on the couch with my soda, watching Tyler absolutely destroy Ian at Mario Kart while talking complete shit. God, he's competitive about everything.
His arm keeps finding its way around my shoulders between races, like it's the most natural thing in the world, and honestly? Maybe it is.
This whole thing is so weird. A month ago, I was sneaking around with Ryan, and now I'm here with Tyler's entire fraternity acting like we're... I don't know, normal? Like this is just how things are supposed to be?
It's probably too good to last, right? Things like this don't actually happen to people like me.
But Tyler's thumb is tracing little circles on my shoulder, and Gavin just passed me the last slice of good pizza without even thinking about it, and maybe... maybe I can stop waiting for the other shoe to drop, at least for tonight.