5. Jasper
FIVE
JASPER
Not into women.
Travis’ words left a funny taste in my mouth as I thought about them. Of course I was into women. I mean, I’d had sex. Yes, I’d hated every second of it and never wanted to do it again, but I’d never thought about a man like that. Since the Astrid incident, I’d wondered if I was asexual, but the idea of kissing a man, having one touch me, fuck me or me fuck them—I shuddered.
Despite the blanket over me, my skin heated and my usually dormant cock twitched against my thigh. But it was just because I was thinking about sex, wasn’t it? Not sex with men, but just sex in general. That was all this was. Proof that I wanted to have sex.
I rolled over onto my stomach awkwardly on the too-small sofa, lifting my feet into the air like some teenage girl at a sleepover, balancing my chin on my fist. Trav laughed when he looked at me.
“You’re so drunk.” He shook his head.
“Am not,” I lied, the alcohol burning my stomach, sloshing around when I moved.
I looked up at my friend. He was handsome, fun to be around. He made me smile, took care of me... “Why can’t you be a woman?”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“You. You’d be a great wife.”
“Right.” He let the word out slowly.
I shuffled up to my knees, so I was head and shoulders above him. “I bet your hair is soft,” I whispered, running my fingers through Travis’ damp, wavy hair, pushing it back from his face. He touched my hair all the time while we watched movies. I wasn’t sure why I liked it so much or when it started, but I went back every day, expecting it. It was like our secret. We never talked about why he did it, but he did it anyway, and I let him. I wanted him to touch me.
His eyes closed, and he wrapped his hand around my wrist, holding it firmly as he turned his head slightly and pressed his lips against where my pulse beat.
“Jasper.” His voice cracked like he was in pain. “You’re drunk.”
I couldn’t look away from his lips as they moved or the way the shadows from outside danced over his high cheekbones. “Maybe. Drunk or not, I can tell you that you’re going to make some man really happy.”
He huffed out a breath, peeling my hand from his face. “Lie down, Professor. Close your eyes before you do something you regret.”
I dropped back onto my haunches, putting us level with each other, our faces so close I could have leant in and… “I could never regret anything with you, Trav.”
He placed his hand on my chest, right over my heart and tapped me condescendingly. “I’ll remind you of that tomorrow, while you’re throwing up over the side of the boat.”
“Pfftt.” I swiped my hand through the air, losing my balance, my palm coming down on Travis’ shoulder. His body felt hard to the touch, and a gasp slipped from my lips. God, maybe I was more drunk than I thought.
“Lay down, Jas. Before I pin you down and tickle you until you cry.” He poked me in the stomach, my abs tightening.
I frowned. “I hate tickling.”
“And I hate cleaning up vomit, so close your eyes.”
“Fine.” I huffed as I laid down, putting my head back on Travis’ thigh, my body feeling sluggish as I tried to get comfy. “But only because I’m tired and not because I’m drunk or because you’re bossing me about.”
“You love me bossing you about.” I could hear the teasing tone in his voice.
“I don’t understand it,” I told him honestly as my eyes became impossible to keep open.
“Don’t understand what, Jas?” He reached down and pulled the blanket over me.
“Any of it.”
“It’ll all make sense. I’m sure it will.” His fingers found my hair again, and he stroked my head until sleep invited me in and I went willingly.
* * *
I woke, not knowing what was screaming louder: my head or my full bladder. I pressed my fingers to my temple as I sat up, hoping the pressure would hold my brain in place, as I was sure it must have come loose and was bouncing around in there.
My body was stiff from being curled up on the old sofa, but I felt so guilty when I twisted to find a sleeping Travis sitting up, his head tilted to the side. He couldn’t be comfortable.
Getting up slowly, I crept to the bathroom, letting out a long groan as I emptied my bladder. When I finished, I washed my hands before filling a glass with water from the tap and downing the entire thing, my dry mouth grateful for something other than rum to drink. As I stared at my exhausted-looking reflection in the mirror, memories of last night bounced into my head like someone was throwing rocks at me, each one causing me to wince. This was why I didn’t drink spirits. God, did I tell Trav he had soft hair? Did I tell him about Astrid and crying when I had sex? I dropped my head as I gripped the sink, shame burning through my chest.
“Idiot, Jas. You’re a bloody idiot,” I muttered to myself.
I gave myself a moment, trying to work out how I’d ever look my friend in the eye, and when I decided I couldn’t hide in here forever, I walked back into the office. A few steps in, I froze.
Trav had moved. He was now laid out flat, one arm tossed over his head. But my eyes were drawn lower to where his towel had worked itself loose.
I’d seen Travis in very little lots of times. I’d probably caught glimpses of his cock every now and then when we were changing after a dive, but this, this was different. He was just there, naked, exposed, allowing me to take in every inch of him.
It was normal to look, right? Just one man checking out another. A memory stirred in my mind, but it was as if it were behind a black curtain, and I couldn’t access it. Weird. I shook it off, turning my full attention back to Trav.
His bicep on his bent arm bulged, and the one by his side was relaxed, his hand spread wide as if he was reaching for something. My eyes scanned his hard chest and the deep ridges of his abs. I was fit—I mean, we spent our days in the water—but Travis was something else. Every muscle primed to perfection, etched into him like he’d been carved from stone. A thin line of dark hair stretched from his belly button to the neatly trimmed ones that nestled at the bottom of his?—
Travis mumbled something and shifted slightly, his foot falling to the floor, spreading his legs, giving me a better look at everything that was between his muscular thighs.
My cock hardened as I stared at him. I tried to ignore the butterflies dancing manically in my stomach as I took in the vein that ran along the thick, semi-hard shaft and the burning ache in my core that forced me to slip my hand under my own towel, and fist myself.
Precum leaked as I slowly brought my tight grip from the base to the tip, a whimper slipping from my lips. My gaze fixated on Travis’ cock. It was thicker than mine, his balls large and heavy-looking. I remembered how I’d ended up on my knees for him on the boat and how good it felt to have my face pressed to his groin.
The movement of my hand got faster, the channel I was making with my fist tighter.
I’d stop in a second. This wasn’t weird. I was just horny. That was normal. I was just a normal, horny guy.
Trav’s back arched, and he moaned, and my mind exploded with a million thoughts that I’d never even considered until this moment.
Did he make noises like that in bed? Did he like being fucked, or was he the one who liked to be inside another man?
Images popped into my head without my consent. What would it be like to have that cock in my mouth, inside me, stretching me —I came so hard my legs almost gave way, cum covering the towel and my hand, a cry spilling from my lips that I had to swallow down, terrified Trav would wake and find me creeping over him like this.
Shame hit me as hard as my release. I turned and fled, grabbing my still-damp clothes from the floor and running to the bathroom, needing to put some space between me and Travis while I worked out what the hell was going on.