Page 73 of Loving the Legend
He nods, rummages inside, and pulls on cotton shorts, opting to go commando. The easy access to his cock and the way the shorts hug him tight makes my mouth water.
“I’ve worked up an appetite,” he says.
“Me too. Want something quick like cereal?” I offer.
“Perfect.”
I wrap my arm around his waist, and he slings his arm over my shoulders. I lead him to the kitchen, where we make ourselves a bowl of cereal.
He peers into my fridge and cabinets. “You eat pretty healthy.”
“I want to be the best. I have to eat well.”
He gazes at me.
“Can I ask you something?” I ask as we take adjacent seats on the island bar stools with our knees touching.
He nods while scooping up a bite of cereal.
“You knew your way around in there. I’m not the first guy you’ve been with?”
There’s no way that was Sid’s first time with a man.
A turbulent expression passes over his face, and I put down my spoon, bracing for his response.
“Remember I mentioned my best friend in high school who died? He was my first. Well, we were each other’s. We were together for a while before he passed.”
“Oh. And you haven’t been with a man since?”
He shakes his head.
Interesting.
“I know I bottomed tonight, but I think I’d like to top, too, at some point,” I say, assuming we’ll do this again. I’d love to bring to life some fantasies that have replayed over and over in my head over the last few months.
“Cool. I’m vers,” he says.
Hell yes. Best news ever.
“How do you identify?” I ask.
“I’m bi. I’ve learned through therapy that sexuality isn’t always as simple as falling into one label or category. I’m bi, for sure. But there’s usually an emotional bond coupled with my attraction to men. It’s like I’m bi and demisexual. I know people expect you to fit in one label, but I think sexuality can be way more complex than that.”
I grin inwardly. I feel emotionally connected to him too.
“I get that. We’re constantly changing and discovering more about ourselves. I’ve never felt anything remotely close to whatever is between us with women.”
He grins and rubs my thigh. My eyes roll closed from the heat of his touch.
I clear my throat. “What happened to your best friend? If you don’t mind my asking.”
He tenses. “He killed himself.”
Fuck.I reach across to massage the back of his neck.
“I’m so sorry.”
He stares into his bowl, and for a naked second, despair crosses his face, but it disappears as soon as it arrives. Given the timing, the death of his best friend would explain his tattoos.
