16. Riley #3
“Can I…have my dick back, please?” Sloan asked, sounding as awkward as the situation called for.
Riley startled and quickly released Sloan’s cock, cheeks burning as Sloan unhooked his claws from him, and he stepped back to give them space.
He looked down at his sticky hand, surprised by how unbothered he was to have another guy’s cum on him, before he sighed and yanked his sweater and shirt over his head.
The sweater was Jake’s, so he didn’t want to get it dirty, but his shirt was fair game. He wiped his hand off as much as he could and then used it to clean the rest of the cum that was plastered to Sloan’s abs.
Sloan said nothing while Riley worked on his task, but his cornflower blue eyes studied him, like he was waiting for something.
“I’m not going to freak out,” Riley grumbled, because he knew that’s what Sloan was expecting after the incident earlier that day. “No need to glare at me, Kingston. I’m just trying to clean up the mess so we don’t smear jizz anywhere.”
But Sloan continued to glare, appearing sulky as his gaze shifted between Riley’s face and the now sticky shirt. “Just call me King,” he said. “That’s what my friends used to call me, when I had them.”
King certainly fit his lofty attitude, but Riley found that he didn’t mind. Not anymore.
“King then—or Sloan if it’s too weird,” said Riley, smirking when Sloan cringed and dropped his gaze. “Not everything has to change all at once. I know you’re just as confused as I am, so I’m okay with slowly easing into it…if it is anything.”
“Do you want it to be?”
Riley blinked, unsure of what Sloan had said because he had muttered the words, and the guy had his head ducked so low that he couldn’t read his expression.
When he was quiet for too long, Sloan finally lifted his head and returned to glaring. “Do you fucking like guys or not? How can I decide without knowing if you liked jerking me off?”
He didn’t give Riley a chance to answer. Sloan shouldered past him with a growl, stopping to pick up the forgotten food container before skulking to the living room.
Riley wanted to give him a second to brood over shit, and he needed to put his dirty shirt in the wash and change his pants, so he left Sloan alone for now.
He stopped in the kitchen to grab a fork before Sloan decided to eat with his hands and dropped it off on his way by, chuckling when his effort earned him a scowl.
Riley was undeterred by Sloan’s moodiness. He wished they could have talked things through before jumping into physical stuff, but he didn’t regret it. Sloan looked sexy as hell wearing Riley’s bruises, and the sounds he had made had his cock thickening just thinking about them.
He was so caught up in reminiscing that he accidentally stubbed his toe on his dresser as he walked by, and the pain was sharp enough to make his eyes water.
“Fuck,” he groaned, breathing hard through the intense throbbing. Toes were needed to play hockey, so he bit his lip and stopped thinking about Sloan and his noises long enough to get his shit together.
Once he was cum-free and wearing a clean pair of sweatpants, Riley hurried to the living room to find Sloan. He didn’t want the guy to get any crazy ideas that Riley was trying to avoid him, especially since Sloan had been so anxious when he had scurried to the living room.
But Sloan was sitting quietly when Riley found him again, watching a hockey documentary on the TV screen while he finished off the stuffed peppers. He didn’t look up when Riley stopped beside him—didn’t indicate whether sitting close to him was off-limits.
Feeling bold, Riley grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the couch and plopped beside Sloan, covering them both to provide some kind of intimacy.
“Don’t treat me like your fucking girlfriend just because you made me come,” Sloan snapped, but he didn’t push the blanket off, and he didn’t put space between them.
Riley gave him a minute so that he could finish eating, keeping his body tilted toward Sloan and his attention off the TV.
Being nice to Sloan didn’t make him feel the same as when he took care of girls he’d slept with.
It was a weird mix of friendship, aggravation, and lust that came together to create something that was uniquely Sloan. Uniquely them.
He didn’t want Sloan to be his girlfriend, and being his boyfriend wasn’t right either. It wasn’t impossible, but one handjob and three kisses was too soon for commitment.
The one thing Riley could finally accept was that he definitely didn’t mind jerking a guy off and kissing him, which meant that he was bisexual. Perhaps a very picky bisexual who needed a certain personality type to pull his interest, but he was okay with that.
Sloan was gorgeous; even his scowling profile was lovely to look at. He was masculine and sexy, too. Riley wasn’t going to deny the sharp jawline and Adam’s apple. The deep voice, the lines and lines of muscles, and the cock were all male, but Riley still wanted to touch and explore.
But even though Sloan was physically attractive, Riley didn’t think his appearance alone could have swayed him to switch preferences.
Recalling their previous hostile encounters certainly shed light on that squirmy feeling he’d had whenever he argued with Sloan.
He thought he’d just enjoyed riling the guy up, but now…
“Guys. I like them,” said Riley, instantly regretting his declaration when Sloan snapped his attention to him and frowned. “Not all guys, but you—you’re cool.”
Sloan’s pale brow lifted slowly. “I’m…cool?”
Riley groaned, already mourning the confidence he’d had twenty minutes earlier when he’d had Sloan pressed against the door, commanding him to let him take what was his.
“I know you don’t want a relationship, and I don’t either,” said Riley. “I just realized that I’m attracted to men—or maybe acknowledged is the better word. I’m not sure where your head is at because you haven’t said anything, but that’s why I want to set my boundaries now.”
Sloan scoffed and set his food on the coffee table, pausing momentarily before he turned and swung his feet up onto the couch, meeting Riley’s determination head-on.