13. Wilder #3
“I thought you of all people would know how gay I am, Miles.” He raises his brows at me mockingly, as if daring me to remember that night between us.
“Eloise is my best friend in the world, we’ve shared nothing more than an awkward kiss before I was even a teen, when I was trying to convince myself I was straight,” he smiles strangely at the memory, as I try to imagine a twelve year old Prescott Lamont figuring out his sexuality. “Now we just help each other out.”
I remember what he said about his father that day, and I find myself hating a man I don’t even know.
My own father can be an asshole sometimes, stubborn, one-track minded, a little overbearing, but never once has he made me feel like I can’t be myself.
Neither of my parents did, so much so that I never even came out, I just brought my first boyfriend home when I was fourteen and that was that.
They accepted him easily, and my sexuality was never even discussed.
Which is how it should be, I mean, no one comes out as straight, so why the fuck should queer people have to?
Labeled or not, the only thing that matters is being true to yourself and happy, something I know Prescott is denying himself.
“Don’t you ever want more?”
Prescott sighs, having no doubt had all the same thoughts I just had, without any of the same support.
“Don’t we all?”
That’s the only response he gives before pushing off the wall and heading to another set of stairs.
We pass multiple people on their way out, as we take ourselves higher and higher, until we reach the last set of staircases.
Turning to me in question, I nod, seeing no point in going back without going all the way to the top, and his answering smile is nothing short of perfection.
He reels off more historical facts about this place, nearly running out of breath since he is talking so fast, and when we make it to the final set of steps, they are even steeper than all the others.
Prescott almost slips when he starts to climb up them and my hand flies out to catch him, the heat of his skin burning my palm as I set him back upright.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, practically jumping away from me, and I reluctantly let him go, still following too closely behind him, just in case I need to catch him again.
We manage to heave ourselves up the final staircase, both of us silent as we take in the view.
The sun is setting on the horizon, the water of the lake sparkling beneath it, and I am suddenly grateful that he invited me today.
He takes out his camera once again, snapping more pictures, and I slip my phone from my pocket, snapping a few of my own.
“I bet the sunrise here is beautiful,” I say after a while, and Prescott tilts his head my way, searching my stare, so I shrug. “What? I love the sunrise.”
“Of course you do, the Devil is always attracted to heat,” he claps back, and I smirk, watching as he finally, meticulously puts his cameras away.
“Yes we are,” I agree, moving to lean on the wall beside him, watching him take in the view, and I’m not sure if it’s my proximity or something else, but he gives me another part of him.
“I prefer the moon,” he adds eventually, so quietly I would have missed it if I weren’t right next to him.
“Why? What’s so special about the moon?” I don’t know why I am so desperate to know his reasoning, and when he shrugs, I almost think he won’t grant me the answer I’m suddenly craving.
“Because it’s constant,” he finally replies.
“Summer, winter, spring, fall, it doesn’t matter, the moon will always appear.
You can rely on it, and in a fickle life where that’s always impossible, it’s comforting to know it will always show up for you.
” His answer is more personal than I expected, unveiling yet another layer to him, and I find myself wanting to peel him apart completely.
I’ve already taken more than I should have from him, but right now at this moment, it isn’t enough.
For the first time, in a long time, I want something to make me feel good without losing my head completely.
I want something more than I ever allow myself and I’m going to take it before I can tell myself not to.
I close the distance between us like I am a force that cannot be reckoned with and Prescott’s eyes widen, as he stumbles a step until his back hits the stone wall of the castle. “What are you doing?” His voice is hoarse, and so damn addictive, igniting something dormant inside of me.
“Taking something I shouldn’t,” I answer honestly.
We didn’t kiss that night, it’s not usually something I care for, but after listening to him spout his historical facts all day, I am ready to go insane.
My dick is hard as fuck staring at his pretty little mouth, and I remember very clearly just how talented it is, but not what it tastes like.
I press myself against him, letting him feel what he does to me, as my hand slides up his torso until I can tip his chin back.
“This is a bad idea,” he whispers, and I nod in agreement, but my lips are already on his, sealing our fate, and he was right.
Kissing him wasn’t just a bad idea, it was the worst I’ve ever had.