Chapter 13
Circus
Well, look at me being an absolute saint by trying to help Rowan release some tension.
Sitting on his lap like that and seeing his pupils blown out with lust cemented the fact that I need closure. So maybe this is somewhat selfish. Maybe. A little, I guess.
There’s absolutely no harm in him popping a boner during our shoots because I can edit those beasts right out, but … well, first, I hate the thought he’s still struggling with his sexuality. That shit isn’t cool. It makes me want to confront his homophobic family and tell them all to go to hell.
How anyone can claim to be Catholic and have a problem with who people fall in love with is beyond me.
And second … he’s just so. Hot.
I’ve needed to jerk off before our shoots because otherwise I’d be dry humping him like an animal.
So it only made sense to suggest we jerk off together … but separately.
Because maybe if he gets comfortable with this, he’ll get comfortable with other stuff.
“You ready?” I say, tilting my head toward my phone.
He blows out an exhale. “I’m not sure about this.”
I smile at where my phone is sitting on my bedside table. “We can do it on video if that’s easier?”
“Nope, baby steps.”
It was worth a try. Knowing Rowan is lying on his bed, preparing to jerk himself off, has me straining the front of my briefs.
“It’s okay, you know. Forget all the negative shit you’ve been told.
I have no idea what it’s like obviously, but I do know that thinking about guys isn’t bad.
It’s hot as fuck. Tight abs, round pecs, thick thighs … ”
He breathes heavily into the phone.
Knowing he’s turned on makes me want to take more risks. I push my underwear down roughly. “Want to know what I’m doing now?” My voice goes husky as I wrap my hand around my erection and give it a solid stroke.
“Yes.”
“I’m holding my cock.”
“Fuck …” There’s movement on the other side. “What else?”
“You really want to know?”
He hesitates, but only for a second. “Yes, please, keep going.”
Well, phone sex isn’t exactly what I had in mind, but who am I to say no to it?
“Grab your cock.”
“Already have.”
Ooh, that’s a hot image. Tatted hands wrapped around his long dick. “Good, squeeze it tight for me.” I give myself a good few pumps. “Fuck, I’m so hard.”
His breathing is getting deeper, and if I had to guess, I’d say his phone is right next to his ear. It makes sense, not wanting this conversation overheard.
“It feels good,” I tell him. “So good. Are you still stroking yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“I … I’m hard too. It’s … nrg, it’s been so long.”
“Are you leaking?”
He grunts.
“Tell me.”
“Yes …” His voice is so shaky it makes me wonder if I’m pushing this thing too far. We were just supposed to mutually jerk off, and then I was going to talk him down from a freak-out afterward. This is … screw it, I’m all in.
I slide my thumb over the tip. “God, I’m leaking so much. Hearing your voice, knowing you’re touching yourself, it’s such a fucking turn-on. Cup your balls. Squeeze them.”
He grunts again and I’m sure he’s following through.
I reach down and do the same. “Mine are so tight. My dick is throbbing.”
His breath hitches and I’d put money down that he’s close. I start to stroke myself in earnest, imagining him here, lying next to me. Watching those tattooed arms flex while he strokes himself. I can just picture his parted lips, his screwed-up eyes … running my tongue over his abs.
“Faster. Stroke faster.”
I can hear him. The slick of his hand moving over his cock starts to fill the phone, and I speed up to match the rhythm. I slam my eyes closed and picture him rolling over and covering my body, hand closing over my dick as he beats me off.
Fuck …
“I’m coming.” The words have barely left my mouth before my balls tighten and unleash. My cock throbs with each spurt of cum that hits my stomach and chest, and I stroke myself through the high.
Rhythmic panting fills my ear, and then Rowan lets out a low groan. It’s possibly the hottest sound I’ve heard in a long time, until …
He sniffs, breath hitching on an inhale, and this time when he starts to pant, it’s not the sexy kind.
That snaps me out of my orgasm high.
“Shit, are you okay?” I hurry to sit up, ignoring the sticky mess all down the front of me.
There’s no answer, but he hasn’t hung up.
I have no idea what’s happening in his head, but I can tell by the way he’s breathing that he’s holding back tears.
“This was nothing out of the ordinary,” I tell him. “You didn’t touch me, I didn’t touch you. We’re just two friends who jerked off completely separately.” Still no answer. And shit, I’m not qualified for this. Do I suggest he talks to someone? Will that make his issues worse?
And it’s not like he can have that kind of conversation in his tiny house anyway.
“Okay, here’s the plan,” I say, talking out of my ass. “Right now, you’re going to answer me. Anything. Just one word. I don’t care if you’re crying or whatever.”
“I’m not fucking crying.”
“Perfect, good talk. Next, you’re going to grab some tissues and clean up.”
“I don’t have tissues.”
“A shirt, then.”
He sniffs loudly. “Gran does the laundry. I don’t want—”
“Not for this, she doesn’t. Now listen. You’re going to grab a shirt, wipe yourself down, then pack a bag.
You’re coming over, and we’ll watch a movie or some shit, I don’t know.
We’re going to do something completely normal and basic that you’d do with anyone, and I’m going to prove to you that this doesn’t have to be weird. ”
“Circus, I—”
“Nope. I don’t want to hear excuses. I’ve told you what to do. Now repeat it back. What’s first?”
I have no clue if getting my bossy on will help anything, but I figure he’s been listening to others for so long, maybe he needs a positive voice to take over until he can do it for himself.
“I’m grabbing a shirt. And wiping myself off.”
“Perfect. Just like after any old jerk-off. You haven’t done anything special. Now what’s next?”
“Umm …” His voice is starting to sound normal again. “A bag. I’m packing a—wait. Why am I packing a bag?”
I tear a bunch of tissues out of the box and start to wipe myself down, not sure whether to give the real answer. “Because I’m not an asshole. You clearly need a bit of extra help tonight, and I have a big house. We’ll hang out until you feel better, then you have the pick of bedrooms.”
He laughs lightly. “What about yours?”
“Oh, honey. If I thought you’d share a bed with me for a minute, I’d bother answering that question.”
He laughs softly, but it cuts straight off. “I don’t want to feel like this.”
“How do you feel?”
“Disgusting. Embarrassed. Ashamed.”
I frown, trying to picture a time where jerking off doesn’t leave me feeling relaxed and happy. I can’t let him dwell on it. “You’re not packing.”
Noise picks up on the other end as he moves around. “Okay, done.”
“I’ll see you in ten minutes. And, Rowan, don’t keep me waiting.”
Fifteen minutes later, and I start getting the sneaky impression he’s not coming. Half an hour later, and I’m convinced.
I want to get angry, but really, I’m just sad. Sad that his family has messed with him so much he can’t even enjoy a few solo minutes of pleasure. I’m torn between calling him and leaving him alone because I have no idea what to do in this situation.
I never had that massive existential crisis when it came to my sexuality.
I don’t know if that’s because I knew Mom and Dad wouldn’t care, or if it’s because I’ve literally never viewed it as one way or another.
Being pansexual, I’m open to meeting anyone.
When it comes to the future love of my life, I have no preferences other than them loving me as much as I plan to love them.
My parents set an example on what a family should feel like, and I plan on giving all of that and more to mine.
The crunch of gravel outside makes my head shoot up, and I swear I see headlights in the hall to the foyer. I’m smiling before I leave my living room, and when I finally get to the front door and open it, Rowan is waiting.
His eyes are red.
“I almost thought you were going to chicken out.”
He laughs and I get a quick glimpse of his gorgeous smile. “I did. And then I didn’t. And then I did again. And now I’m here. Better let me in before my mind changes again.”
I step aside and Rowan passes me, heading straight for the living room. He dumps his bag and then sits down, burying his hands into his hair.
I chuckle as I join him. “Maybe we should have started off simpler. A couple of rounds of gay porn, before working up to phone sex.”
He jolts and looks up at me. “We had phone sex.”
It’s not a question. The disbelief in his tone makes me feel a little bad that we didn’t have the whole limits conversation beforehand. “Did I overstep?”
“Definitely not. It was …” His voice dips. “Amazing.”
That makes me feel a little more sure about it. The last thing I need on my conscience is Rowan being even harder on himself.
I sink onto the couch, leaving a good amount of distance between us. “If you thought that was good, wait until you experience the real thing.”
He huffs and drops back into the couch. “At this rate, that will never happen.”
“Not with that attitude it won’t, soldier.” I slap his thigh and stand up again. “I’ll grab some chips and beer. No better way to follow up a jerking-off session than with alcohol, bad food, and an even shittier movie.”
When I return, I set the bowl of chips and beer bottles on the table and pick up the remote. I drop back into my spot, and Rowan uses that opportunity to shift closer. “This okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, man. Leon sits way closer than that.”
And I didn’t mean it as an invitation, but he takes it that way. Rowan moves onto the section of couch right next to mine, and when I sit back, our shoulders are almost touching.
Considering I just jerked off, there’s no right to have this amount of sexual tension in the room. If he had an issue with a mutual stroke session, I can only imagine the complete freak-out he’d have if I straddled his lap and kissed him.
It’s not something I should be thinking about anyway.
We already have a terrible history together, and he’ll never be out if tonight is any indication. And while all this online attention has been amazing, I’m ready to find my forever person.
Fucking around with Rowan is a disaster waiting to happen.
And yet … my dumb ass wants more.
I put an action movie on because I remember Rowan liking those, and it seems like the safest option.
He sips his beer quietly, and I have no idea if he’s actually paying attention to the movie or if his mind is doing what mine is.
Straying back to an hour before, picturing him sprawled out on his bed naked, jerking himself until he came.
Damn, I bet it was a pretty sight.
Rowan looks up suddenly, catching me watching him. His blue eyes are muted by the color from the TV, but they still hold my stare in that captivating way they always have.
“Thank you,” he says.
“What for?”
“Trying to help. I don’t think anyone else has ever given enough of a shit to.”
I tilt my head, not letting his words get to me. “Well, maybe if you’d let people in, they would have had that chance.”
“Nah. No one wants to deal with a homophobic gay man. I can’t imagine it’s much fun for your partner to start crying and leave after sex.”
Well, that’s a fucking understatement.
Still, I can’t let him know how awkward it was or make a big deal out of it.
“True, but it’s the leaving part that’s the issue. So next time, sob your heart out, then move on to something more fun. Like pizza. Or better still, round two.”
He gives me a little shove, but he seems happier than before.
“Yeah? You find me a guy who’ll let me sob all over them, and I might have to give it a try.”
He turns back to the screen, and I watch the side of his face, trying not to concentrate on what he said.
The problem is, I’ve already found that guy.
I just wish he wasn’t me.