Page 51 of For Real

Well. So far, so good. “Do you want to?”

“Why? Plans to share me?”

He says it in this totally laconic way—as if it’s a perfectly reasonable fucking suggestion—but even the idea of it makes my heart clench like a fist. Mine. “No!”

He laughs.

And now I feel ridiculous. Gauche and on the wrong side of the line. As if I’ve been set up somehow. I nearly abandon the whole conversation. I hate it when he does this. When he pretends the things that matter to me—the things he gives me—are small.

“So, uh…” Fuck, how do you say this stuff? “Um…if we’re like exclusive, does that mean we…can ditch the condoms?”

“I don’t see why not,” he says. In this bored way.

I’d somehow imagined that this might have been romantic. More of that husky-voiced I trust you, Toby stuff I’d got when I’d been scared of hurting him. I tried to match his tone. “Uh, cool.”

What now? Do we lovingly exchange STI tests?

I lie there, awkward and uncertain until finally Laurie offers, “I was tested after Christmas, and I haven’t slept with anyone but you since then.”

Well. We’re definitely exchanging something. It feels embarrassing, though. Dirty, in some way I can’t quite understand and definitely don’t like. Not so much the sex, or the implication of sexual history, but the fact there’s a fucking health-and-safety checklist. This is about intimacy. It’s not…pulling out of a parking space into single-lane traffic.

Mirror.

Indicators.

Condom.

Also, I’m going to have to ’fess up to my lack of sexual shenanigans. “I–I’ve been with three people, not counting you. We always, y’know, used stuff.”

“For all forms of intercourse?”

Omg. Now I never want to have sex again. Mortified, I mumble, “Yeah.”

“Then I’m sure it’s fine.”

“You’re sure it’s fine?” I sit up, kind of startled, and he makes a noise of protest as I accidentally disturb the duvet, leaving his back exposed…and the marks I’ve left there. “You’re supposed to be a doctor. Is that what you tell your patients? ‘Hmm, there’s a weird blob on this MRI scan, but I’m sure it’s fine.’”

“I am a doctor—” His voice is different now. Not apathetic at all. Which makes me slightly pissed at him for the earlier nonsense. “But I’ve still had your cock down my throat and my tongue up your arse. So it appears my desire to fuck you and please you has consistently overwhelmed any politically correct concerns.”

Okay, I’m not pissed anymore. Now I’m just worried. “Laurie.” I slide a hand over the curve of his shoulder. “Aren’t we supposed to be careful?”

He turns onto his back, and he’s laughing. But it’s a nice laugh. Not the sort that makes me feel silly. “Come here, you ridiculous, wonderful boy.”

He cups a hand around the back of my neck and pulls me down into a kiss. He doesn’t kiss me so much when we’re not doing it, so it’s unexpected. And good. So fucking good. It lasts for a long time, just this slow dance of mouths, rocking together to hidden music.

When he lets me go and I can breathe, I try again. “Seriously, though. I could be riddled with the pox like the Earl of Rochester. He was debauched at the age of fourteen too.”

“Darling, you’re about as debauched as a Lladró shepherdess. If you’re at all concerned, I’ll get tested again, but if you’re not…please let me fuck you. Let me be inside you. I want to feel you come like that. I–I haven’t for a long time.”

“You made me come like half an hour ago.”

He gives this exasperated sound. “You know what I mean.”

“I do, but I like to hear you say this stuff.”

His arms are still round me, holding me tight, his body growing taut and eager and subtly yielding under mine. I’m over the line, I know I am. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been this close with anyone. Or wanted to be.”

I probably should be grown-up and insist on being absolutely certain—not just fine—but having Laurie like this is too special to waste.

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