38. James
JAMES
Sometimes, you don’t realize how cold you are until you put on a hoodie. Sometimes, you don’t realize how hungry you are until you smell bacon frying in the pan. Sometimes, you don’t realize how lonely you are until you stare into someone’s eyes for five minutes straight.
I’d flushed with embarrassment, certain Will could see right through me, could see I was making everything up as I went along, that I didn’t know shit about anything, and never had. Travis had been the one with his head on his shoulders. I was the fuck-up, and I was fucking up now.
I should’ve told Will the truth about who I really was before I kissed him, before we fucked, before I let myself get lost in whatever this was. But there was too much going on behind the scenes, too much he didn’t know about.
After Robert watched the video, he’d assumed Will had been keeping Donna and Derek’s secret all these years, but I’d assured him that wasn’t the case. I was positive Will didn’t know about his mom and Derek, that he had no memory whatsoever of the argument he and Derek had that night.
Will had a right to know, of course. But what good would telling him do now? It would just make him hate his mother—and Derek, too. More importantly, it would make him hate himself, and between the two of us, we had enough self-loathing to last a hundred lifetimes.
Seriously, why couldn’t I bottom? Will had no problem bottoming, nor did Brice or any of the other guys I’d been with. So why couldn’t I? It was frustrating as hell.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I asked after another failed attempt, burying my face in the pillow. I’d managed to get two fingers inside myself yesterday when we’d gotten back from Montreal, but apparently Will’s dick was way bigger than two fingers.
“Nothing. You’re perfect.” Will slid off my back and laid his head on the pillow beside me, our noses touching.
“And you’ll get there. I know you will. And when you do, you’re going to be so fucking tight.
I can’t wait. Did you know you’ve starred in every one of my masturbation fantasies since the bachelor party? ”
That got my attention. “Oh, yeah?”
“Uh-huh. Want to hear one of them? Maybe we can make it come true.”
That was how I ended up fucking Will out on the boat in the middle of the lake shortly after lunch, then again in the barn just before dinner.
I loved Will’s sexual candor, and after a day of reenacting his fantasies, I decided it was time I returned the favor. “Wanna try one of mine?”
The fantasy I chose wasn’t as exciting as any of the ones he’d shared.
Nothing from my imagination could ever top the thrill of seeing Will’s toned arms grip the boat railing while I held his legs and fucked up into him, or sliding in behind him amidst the garden tools in the barn, his palms pressed into the rough wood.
But sex didn’t always have to be rough and hard.
It could be slow and sensual, too. And some fantasies didn’t involve fucking at all.
I wasn’t as kinky as Will. He got off on quickies in semi-public places where there was a chance of getting caught. I was more sentimental.
I told him my fantasy, the one I’d jerked off to the night Ryan and Derek had come over for dinner, expecting him to laugh. But he blushed and said, “I’m game.”
Will looked hot as fuck in my flannel shirt and baseball cap, and he sounded amazing singing country songs.
He pulled the hat low on his head, hiding his eyes and accentuating his jawline.
He added a smoky tone to his voice and a slight hitch in his step that made the fifteen-year-old boy in me, the one who used to jack off to fantasies of my brother’s best friends, grow hard as a rock.
Fucking an actor was great. Fucking a great actor was amazing.
We never left his room. I lit some candles and sat back on the bed while Will, dressed like a proper redneck, sang one song after another. He only knew the hits, but that suited me just fine.
I felt like a teenage boy at a One Direction concert, but Will didn’t judge. In fact, it seemed to turn him on.
Most guys wanted me to be their daddy, and I was good at it.
I liked it, even. Will was different, though.
Sure, he liked that part, too. But mostly, he wanted me to be myself, and I was terrible at that.
Will may have been the professional actor, but I’d been acting for as long as I could remember.
At first, it was about hiding my sexuality, about being one of the boys, hunting and fishing and saying stupid shit like, “Show us your tits.” Then, after I came out, it was about hiding my anger and guilt—anger at being rejected and left behind, and guilt for surviving.
Now it was about hiding my fear, about making Theo feel safe and cared for, like I had it all under control, which was the biggest lie of all.
“Get over here and fuck me,” I finally said.
Will switched the music from karaoke to a country playlist he found on Spotify. Then, not breaking character, he told me exactly what he wanted me to do. It shouldn’t have turned me on so much, but it did.
“Go into the bathroom, face the mirror, and push your pants down to your ankles.”
I was beginning to see why most guys enjoyed taking a more submissive role in bed.
It felt nice to give up control, to be the object of someone else’s desire.
Instead of constantly second-guessing—I hope he likes this as much as I do—I could just sit back and relax.
Take what you want, and I’ll let you know if it’s too much.
Case in point. Will didn’t move the show to the bathroom for his own sake or for easier cleanup. He did it because I’m a total voyeur, and with one mirror above the sink, one on the wall, and one on the shower door, I was going to get to watch Will fuck me from every angle.
As soon as I complied, Will turned his cap backward, sank to his knees, and spread me open.
He’d tried to rim me before, but I’d refused.
This time, he didn’t ask, or even give me time to object.
One second he was following me into the bathroom, and the next his tongue was fucking my hole, and holy shit did it feel amazing.
I’d always assumed guys were putting on a show when I ate them out, but nope. This was unreal.
He paused just long enough to spit in his hand, then reached around and started jacking me off. The combination of his tongue in my ass and his slick hand sliding up and down my shaft was too much.
“Stop. You’re gonna make me come.”
He stopped, then, in a low, husky voice, said, “That’s the idea.”
“But I want you to fuck me.” I hated how desperate I sounded.
“Babe”—he stared at me through the mirror, and I knew he saw the way even that made me blush—“I will, when you’re ready.”
His voice carried such authority, such cool confidence, I bit back the lie on my tongue—“But I am ready”—and closed my eyes instead.
I opened them when I heard him bring up another wad of spit, and closed them again when his tongue sank back into me. Either way, eyes open or shut, I was undone.
My legs buckled, and I gripped the counter as he emptied me, my cum splattering against the cabinet doors. I started to turn to return the favor, but he caught my eye in the mirror and shook his head.
He pulled his cock out, and for a second I thought maybe he’d changed his mind and was going to fuck me, after all.
But he didn’t, at least not technically.
Instead, he ran his dick up the seam of my crack, fucking past my hole but not into it.
It was impossibly hot, especially when he lifted the bottom of his flannel to watch his cock slide up my crease, exposing his chiseled abs and V-cut in the process.
Even hotter when he finished on my lower back.
He took his hat off and placed it back on my head. “You did good,” he said, half in character, half chuckling.
I flushed with pride in spite of myself. “Tomorrow, all the way in. You hear me? This time, I’m serious.”
“Tomorrow’s the wedding,” he reminded me.
It was time for another shower, so I started unbuttoning his flannel. Well, my flannel, technically. Though maybe I’d give it to him. It looked better on him anyway.
“I’m sure they’ve got a closet or two at the church.”
My phone rang early the next morning, and I sent it to voicemail, or so I thought.
“James, you there?” Brice said.
Shit. I rolled out of bed, careful not to wake Will, and darted into the bathroom. I would’ve shut the door, but Will’s pull-up bar was in the way.
“Sorry. Didn’t realize I answered.”
“Shit. Did I wake you?” Brice sounded two bong rips into his morning, rap music booming in the background. “I just couldn’t believe it when I saw the pictures. Was that really Theo with Noel Jameson? He hasn’t gone over to the dark side, has he?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“And was that really you? When did you shave your beard? Are you really dating William Chapman? I never took you for the bad-boy type.” Brice’s tone was joking, but I could hear the underlying jealousy.
“I’m not . . . He’s not . . .”
“When did you meet him? Is it serious?”
Looking in the mirror, I fingered the tender red mark on my neck and smiled. At least Will had the good sense to leave his brand below the collar line.
“It’s all pretty new. But listen, I can’t really talk right now. Can I call you in a few days?”
“Okay, I’ll call Theo. He must be going out of his mind. I saw Ryan—”
“Please don’t.” My heart quickened.
“Why not? He didn’t decide to get the test, did he?”
“No, nothing like that.” While Theo was eighteen now and could get tested for the gene, there was no rush.
Finding out might bring him peace of mind, but it could also extinguish all hope, not to mention screw up any chance of getting affordable health or life insurance.
“Theo’s great. He’s on cloud nine, actually.
It’s just not a good time, and he’s sure to break his NDA if he talks to you. ”
“Wait, like a non-disclosure agreement?”
“Exactly.”
“Wow! That’s so badass.”
“Listen, I’ll call you in a couple of days, okay? But can you do me a favor and not mention this to anyone?”
There was a beat of silence on the other line, then the bubble of a bong. “Sure, no problem. Who would I tell anyway?”
“Thanks, Brice. I’ll call you in a couple of days.” I hung up and turned to find Will standing naked in the doorway.
His mouth quirked up at one corner. “Jealous ex?”
“Yes, actually.” I set my phone on the counter. “He saw the photos online, and—”
“I’m sorry.” Will wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his head on my chest. “I won’t be offended if you want to take separate cars.”
I pushed Will away so I could look him in the eye. “I already told you. I don’t care about any of that shit. I wanna be there with you. Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.”
“True, but my husband is basically a gladiator, so . . .”
“I still can’t believe you’re married to Miles.” I could absolutely believe he was married to Miles. They were ridiculous together.
Will softly bit my neck. “Only legally. It’s not a real marriage.”
“Except that you live together and he controls everything you eat, drink, and do with your body.”
“Gosh, when you put it that way, it sounds almost traditional.” Will laughed and buried his face in my chest. “Since we’re both up anyway, there’s this one fantasy I haven’t told you about yet, but it requires a blindfold, a rope, and an eggbeater.”
Will wore a dark teal tux, which should’ve looked hideous, but actually looked kind of rad.
He tried to explain Nandi’s wedding aesthetic to me as we waited on the porch for the limo, but he was an even worse fashion gay than I was.
The best he could come up with was, “I think I’m supposed to be the blue fairy from Sleeping Beauty. ”
Theo looked dapper, too, his perfectly tailored tux hiding his gangly arms and legs. The little shit was even trending on social media, thanks to our run-in with the paparazzi.
Donna joined us, looking as if she had something to prove in a form-fitting saffron-yellow dress. “Here,” she said, handing me a slip of paper. “Lakshmi is an amazing yoga teacher. She did wonders for my pelvic floor when . . . well, never mind about that.”
I stared at the number, confused, until Theo snickered.
I made it a point never to discuss my sex life with Theo.
But like all my lines in the sand, he had no qualms stepping right over it.
He proved it last night when I’d gone to grab a beer, and he said, “Miles tells me you’re gonna start bottoming.
How’s that going?” Then, when I didn’t respond, “Want some advice? I’m great at bottoming, and I’m sure Will’s not nearly as big as Brady. Dude is hung like a horse.”
Apparently, after I’d run out of the room with my hands over my ears, the little shit had gone and told Donna.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Donna said now. “It’s perfectly normal, especially at your age.” She looked at me like she was twenty years my junior.
“Maybe we should just drive ourselves,” Theo said, rocking back on his heels. “If we get really drunk, we can always take an Uber back.”
Donna glanced at her phone. “We might have to.”
Just then, a cloud of dust rose at the end of the driveway.
“Hold that thought,” I said, staring over the rolling hills of dandelions, expecting to see our limousine.
Instead, a beat-up old Subaru crested the knoll.
“Who’s that?” Donna asked, shading her eyes with her diamond-studded clutch. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
The Subaru parked next to Will’s new rental, and my stomach dropped as my worst fucking nightmare stepped out.
“Mom?” Theo gasped.
Emily walked up the path in patterned leggings and an oversized T-shirt, looking far older than forty-two, thanks to a lifetime of cigarettes, booze, and god knows what else.
“I saw you on TV and had to come say hi. I had to see my baby.” She jogged up the steps and swept Theo into a hug, like she hadn’t abandoned her “baby” eighteen years ago.
“Wow,” Will said, turning to me. “This is quite the day for your exes, huh?”
“Exes? I’m not Jimmy’s ex. I’m his sister-in-law.” She struck a pose. “I’m in the movie.”