Chapter 12
AJ
I need to fucking chill.
I know that.
Cam doesn’t deserve this from me, he deserves patience and understanding. He’s earned the right to take all the fucking time in the world to make a fucking decision.
But fuck it hurts.
Is that my own fault?
Is it inevitable?
Am I fooling myself?
I know this is probably way harder for him than it has been for me—and I also know not everyone deals with finding out they’re queer this well, but Cam should know me well enough to expect me to roll with it.
I’m actually happy to find something new about myself.
I’m happy that some stuff just seems to make sense now, stuff that wasn’t so clear before.
But right now it just feels like he’s just not that into me.
At least not as much as I am into him.
God, I’m into him.
He has me in a constant state of hotness that isn’t normal, or never has been for me.
I feel like yanking his shirt off at least every three minutes, and I know he wants me too. I can feel his hard dick for fuck’s sake.
I’m not acting like this just because I’m horny, of that I’m sure. If I felt Cam didn’t actually want me, then I wouldn’t put any pressure on him, but at least physically, I know he does.
It’s the fact that he always uses that phrase “figure out how we work” that really pisses me off.
We already work.
This is already the best relationship I’ve been in, and from everything Cam has told me from his own past, it’s probably the best he’s had too.
And maybe that is na?ve—we’ve been out here, away from our real lives where there are no real pressures and we can just be—but how is anything going to be different when we get back?
It’s not like I’m going to do an interview to come out—that’s just unnecessary nowadays—and it’s not like he’s gonna get fired for being with a client.
But it’s about more than that for him, I know it is. Reputation, contacts, the fucking “optics” he’s always talking about.
I get that.
And I understood that only after Lindsey sent me my contract with Cam as well as Cam’s company’s policy. There’s nothing there that prevents us from being together, and since I’m pretty sure Cam knows that, I figured out that wasn’t the issue. Sure, it took me a few hours, but that’s normal for me.
So the only thing stopping Cam from being with me is something I can’t control, and something he won’t easily look past.
Which is why I need fucking air to breathe through this fear. I don’t want to have a shouting match that’s fueled only by my stupid insecurities, so stepping back is the only fair solution here.
I look up at the stars, something I’ve only ever really been able to do here, and try to get rid of that sensation of unease, that unrequitedness.
I don’t even know if that’s a fucking word, but isn’t it what they call it? Unrequited love?
That’s what it feels like, and again that loneliness I told Cam about when we were up at the water tower hugs me with a familiarity that’s almost as painful as the feeling itself.
I don’t ever want to feel like this again, and the cure is behind me, inside my childhood home, probably angry at how dramatic I’m being.
No, Cam’s never gotten angry with me for how I feel my feelings, I remind myself.
He knows me.
A sigh leaves me, again so dramatic, but what can you do?
I turn and go back in, ready to sweep all of this under the rug and pretend I didn’t just act like a butthurt, immature dick.
Cam is sitting on the couch, biting his thumb, and looks so fucking worried, something he never did when we were only client and agent, or even when we were friends.
I’ve seen him sad, really fucking sad, and I’ve seen him angry. I’ve seen him happy too, but never this helplessly worried.
“Sorry about that,” I tell him. “I just really needed to clear my head, you know?” I shrug like that’s gonna explain everything, and I guess it could because he nods. I should’ve known, no one knows me like Cam does.
“I’m sorry too,” he whispers, but he doesn’t turn away from the fireplace.
I stand there for a moment, feeling awkward and hesitating, which is something I never fucking do.
It goes straight against my nature, my job requirements, and honestly my values.
Hesitating is useless.
That reminder gets me moving.
I sit next to him, staring at the fireplace too, but I grab his hand, release his abused thumb from his mouth, and bring the back of his hand up to my lips, then rub it against my cheek and just hold him there.
I want to tell him I love him, more than anything, but I know it’s not the right moment, just like I know not to throw the ball to a double-covered receiver.
Instead I choose what my gut is telling me is the right thing to say. “You don’t have to be sorry. I know why you’re hesitating, I just wish I knew what you need me to do or say to trust that I’m in this for real. That I’m not playing here. I want you next to me always, Cam.”
That’s as close to a confession of love as I’ve ever gotten.
Something weird happens inside me then. I feel so less heavy, and finally I can turn to look at him.
I take his chin with two fingers and turn his head so he can look at me too.
“When you find out what you need to really trust us, you let me know, okay?”
His face scrunches up in a grimace before a soft smile takes it over.
I lean in for yet another kiss, but pull back before we can get carried away again.
“Will you sleep with me tonight?” I ask in a soft whisper. “Only sleep,” I hurry to add. “I just wanna hug you and fall asleep in your arms.”
That soft smile gives me all the hope I need.
He’s been sleeping in Sandy’s room, but he’s the one who leads me into my room when we make our way upstairs.
For me, it’s as easy as it was that first night when we had to practice sharing a room and a bed, but I can tell it’s easier for him now .
. . when we stand by the bathroom sink, hip to hip, brushing our teeth, and when he takes off his clothes, only leaving his tight underwear on, then slides into my bed.
I only follow suit after he’s settled, since I enjoy watching him—the way his strong legs bunch with every movement, the way the muscles on his chest shift, it’s a bit hypnotizing.
“You’re gorgeous,” I whisper, then, finally able to move, I slide under the covers and scoot my ass right up against him, throwing my arm over his torso.
“You really think that?” he asks quietly.
“Of course I think that.” Maybe that came out a little too defensive, but I can’t be sorry because he cups my cheek sweetly.
“It’s just really surprising, AJ.” His dark eyes wide, he looks at me like he really can’t believe it.
Could this be it?
The one thing he needs to go all-in like I have?
My gut says yes, so here I go.
I rise up and prop my elbow on the pillow, then rest my head on my closed fist and smush him closer to me with my other arm. I press my groin harder against his lower belly so he can feel what watching him do something as simple and innocuous as sliding into bed provoked.
“Yes, I’m hard,” I tell him, making no apology for it. “Yes, it’s because of you. Sure, you’re a cool guy, smart, so sassy, and funny too, but right now this hard-on is only for how hot you are.”
I can feel his erection start to harden against my thigh, and I go ahead and press against it.
“You think I’m hot too,” I tease, lowering my head little by little, teasing him like I want him to tease me. “Don’t you?”
“Ye-yes,” he stutters, and I can feel his rattling breath leave him through my chest.
“I want to touch you, Cam,” I confess. “I want to kiss you for hours, and I don’t want us to ever stop.
And touch you, God, I want to touch you.
I want to find out what you sound like, what you look like when you come.
” I trail my nose down his cheek then kiss the corner of his mouth.
“I also want you to touch me, desperately. I want to show you what I’ve been dreaming about every time I’ve jacked off in the last week. ”
“You’ve been jacking off to thoughts of me?
” he asks, and I nod eagerly. “Fuck it,” he hisses, then turns and slams me down on the mattress.
His mouth is on mine, devouring, before I can even worry that I went too far.
I reach up to hold on to his back, but when he grinds down and I feel his dick pressing against mine for the first time, I let myself feel all of him.
I trail my hands down, sneak them under the soft fabric of his briefs, and when I feel the perfect globes of his ass, a groan escapes me.
I’ve definitely been dreaming about that ass.
“Please touch me,” I beg him—happy to, actually. “Please believe me.” That’s what I want the most, and I’ll never apologize for it. He moves fast, sitting up, and when his ass is perched over my dick and he swivels his hips, I know that was the right thing to say.
He stops moving suddenly, and then his desperate hands are tugging at my boxers, I lift my hips to help, and even reach for his underwear again, but he bats my hands away and only lowers his briefs enough to take out his long, long, hard cock.
There’s a bead of precum on his tip, and I lick my lips involuntarily. I’ve never wanted to taste cum before, not even my own, but this isn’t the moment to cheer for that realization.
Especially not because he swipes at that drop with his thumb, then does the hottest thing he could possibly do—he smears it down my dick.
I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed another person’s hand on my dick more, and my moan has to make it obvious.
“Cam, fuck, I love how your hand feels.”
“Then you’re really going to love this.”
As he shuffles back, he brings his hand up and spits on his palm, then I stare as he lines our cocks up perfectly and wraps that slick hand around them.
His grip is perfectly firm, but when he strokes down that first time and I feel the smooth hardness of his cock molding against me, I go blind with lust.
“Fuck yes,” I cry out, and then every word is a moan. “Why does that feel so good?”