Page 58 of Wrap Around
Yesterday was a revelation, and my mind is still processing. With every truth revealed, another layer of ice melted from around my heart, leaving me warm but also raw and exposed. As much as Iwalked away from him last night feeling like we'd jumped back in time, we're no longer those scared, lovesick eighteen-year-old boys opening their eyes to a new world of possibilities. We've both been through a lot, and those experiences have changed us. We need to rediscover each other, learn all the ways each other has changed over the years, and essentially start from the beginning. What if Silas doesn't like the person I've become in our time apart, or what if he disapproves of the choices I've made to muffle my pain? It'd be dumb to assume that, with one conversation, we could go from distrust and anger to complete acceptance and commitment to a shared future.
We already have a strong foundation built on love and friendship, but that might not be enough. Clearly there wasn't enough trust between us if we were hiding from each other most of our lives. That lack of trust is what kept us quiet and afraid, ultimately leading us to make the mistakes that drove us apart. So, I figure trust is what we need to work on first. Trust that neither of us is holding back any more big secrets. Trust that this relationship is what we both truly want and to what extent. Trust that we have each other's heart and well-being in mind.
I don't trust myself right now. I'm ashamed of the way I've behaved. Even if I had what I thought were justifiable reasons to hate him, I never should have taken it out on him the way I did. I hurt him, and I could have done so much worse. Even if everything I thought about Silas had been true, it was unforgivable. I knew it was, and yet I still used my body and lust as a punishment. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to atone for that. Nor am I sure I'll ever be able to come to terms with being the kind of person that would hurt someone that way.
Step one is asking for forgiveness and then working to earn it whether it's readily offered or not. After morning skate, I'm going to ask Silas to go somewhere with me, just to talk.
That's assuming I have enough brain cells left to form words.
Morning skate is spent in a daze. I can't stop looking at him. And every time I glance his way, he's looking at me, too. The secret smiles and accidental bumps and brushes throughout practice make me lightheaded. I fumble through the warmup skate, botch stick drills, and zone out during run throughs. I nearly pass out when we're doing some on-ice stretches and I find myself directly behind Silas on his hands and knees, curving his spine upward and then flattening out, pushing himself back and spreading his knees to stretch his groin. I'm so transfixed that I forget what I'm doing entirely, falling to my ass and sitting there with my legs stretched out in front of me with my mouth hanging open. Tim Landon has to nudge me several times to get my attention.
"Dude, are you okay? You're white as a sheet."
I close my mouth and try to find any moisture, gulping dryly and nodding dumbly because I have no words. I don't even have the frame of mind to worry that anyone caught me staring at Silas' ass. Hell, the way he's got his back curved and ass pushed up, I'm not sure how no one else is staring. I blink at the sight, then back at Landon.
"I, uh, got a little dizzy. I'm alright though."
My eyes shift to Ives, who's stretching next to Silas and looking back at me. His eyes shift to Silas then return to the ice in front of him, but I swear there's a quirk of his lips before he rolls them in. A frantic thumping inside my chest reminds me I need to be careful. I'm not out. I'm not sure I want to be. And Silas, for all intents and purposes, is still married. Rumors are the last thing either of us needs.
Jesus. One day on the ice not hating him and I've already lost the damn plot. Thank goodness for compression layers, pads, and these giant jerseys. Otherwise there would be no denying exactly where my head is.
After the light practice, I take off my pads and skates and get in line to check in with the trainer. My knees feel pretty good, but they won't let me out on the ice if he doesn't clear me first. I talk to a few of the guys about the game and the party later, which I almost forgot about. The whole time I'm pretending to pay attention to the conversation, my eyes keep slipping over to Silas, who is walking on one of the treadmills, talking to Valdez.
By the time I get out of the trainer's room, soaking wet from an ice bath, most of the team is gone. I enter an empty locker room and feel a pinch of disappointment. Maybe Silas is waiting for me outside? I head towards my locker to undress for a shower and pull out my phone to check for messages. I didn't get a chance to ask him if he wants to go get some lunch and talk before we have to come back to get ready for the game this evening. Before I can send off a text, the door swishes open and Silas walks in. He keeps his eyes on me but doesn't say anything as he walks to his locker and pulls his shower caddy out. We break eye contact for a brief moment when he lifts his t-shirt over his head and my eyes trail over his sweat-slicked torso. When my eyes meet his again, his left eyebrow lifts just slightly as he takes a few slow steps towards me.
We meet halfway, and in a flash I have him pressed against the lockers.
We don't talk. We can talk later. Right now, our mouths have something else to do. We're kissing like we've tallied up all the time we need to make up for. Silas' mouth is hot and hungry, alternating between pulls of my lips and teasing flashes of tongue, like he's trying out how our mouths best fit together. I let him explore my mouth while I take inventory of every dip and plane of muscle on his strong arms, shoulders, back, and torso.
He breaks the kiss to lift my wet shirt over my head. My skin is prickled with goosebumps, both from the cold ice bath and from the sensations running through me. Silas' hands grip me on either side of my rib cage, and he swipes a thumb over the cold, hardpeak of my nipple. I suck in a breath at the contact. His eyes widen a little before he dips his head forward. The heat of his tongue on my cold pec draws a grunt out of me, and I press him harder into the wall of lockers, pressing my lips to his again. This time I take control of the kiss, licking into his mouth.
Panting and moaning, we stumble towards the showers, clothes half-off, hands everywhere. Under the hot spray of the showers, we strip each other down and wash each other thoroughly. There's not an ounce of shame or shyness between us, only heat and want as we lovingly explore each other's bodies. It's not even overtly sexual, at least not at first. But eventually, the gentle touches and caresses grow more targeted, small intakes of breath become soft moans, and we fall victim to the temptations of the flesh that have haunted us most of our lives. Only this time, we aren't afraid or ashamed. I'm not, at least. And I don't think Silas is, either. He seems tentative, and I notice that he lets me take the lead. But the more I pay attention, I don't think that it's a submissive nature that has him handing over control. He only touches me where and how I touch him. And although every touch from him is perfect, he doesn't seem confident at all.
When I take both of our hard cocks in my hand and stroke them together, his eyes widen and a strangled gasp falls from his slack mouth. The moan that leaves his body sounds like he's experiencing this kind of pleasure for the first time. Like no one has ever touched him before…
My strokes stutter, but I don't release my grasp around us. Wrapping my other arm around Silas' back, I pull him in close and look into his eyes, clouded with lust. I open my mouth to say something, but he cuts me off with a kiss. His hips jut, pushing his cock further into my fist, and a hand covers mine, encouraging me to keep moving.
I'm not sure I want to know, but I need to…
"Silas." I groan his name, speaking between deep, fevered kisses and my own gasps of pleasure. "Have you ever…"
He stills but doesn't pull away. After a moment of hesitation, I feel a slight shake of his head, but he keeps kissing me.
"Please don't stop," he says against my lips, his voice pleading and earnest.
Several things flash through my mind in that moment. One being that I couldn't stop if I tried, nothing short of Silas telling me no could tear me away from the spine-tingling pleasure that has me so close to the edge. There's a surge of disbelief. Guilt and disgust over all the ways I've handled him over the last few months. Shame that has nothing to do with my repressed upbringing. And lastly, determination. Determination to make this perfect for him. From here on out, pleasure is the only thing he'll get from me. I will spend the rest of my life dedicated to his pleasure, to making sure to make him feel good in every way, every day from here forward.
Silas says my name on a low, choked moan, his cock growing harder and thicker against mine. There's tension in his spine, a slight tremor moving through his body. I pull back just enough to watch his face as he comes undone. His lips parted, eyes glassy and reverent, like he's tasting something sacred for the first time. Because he is.
A realization hits me out of nowhere.
This time, I'm the snake.
Once upon a time, I thought Silas was a snake, the biblical villain that slithered into my perfect, orderly garden with his knowing eyes and soft mouth. The kiss he gave me that day was the apple, and I took it. With one bite, a world of truth and possibilities exploded into existence. In those fleeting moments, my entire future, my very being, rearranged itself to fit this new world. Andthen it was taken away. For years, I blamed him for the hunger that took root in me, for the confirmation of something wrong inside me that ached more than ever before.
But now, he's the one opening his mouth, and I'm the one offering him the fruit. And the way he looks—like the world just tilted on its axis, like the pleasure I'm giving him is a revelation—it doesn't feel wrong. It doesn't feel like sin. It feels real, like truth. Beautiful and awe-inspiring.
And now I'm questioning whether the snake was ever the villain. They say it brought the knowledge that allowed temptation, that led Adam and Eve to ruin. But maybe what it really brought was something far more powerful. Choice. Awareness. Freedom. The ability to see the world not just as it is, but as it could be. Maybe Eden was never a paradise at all. Maybe it was just a cage with pretty scenery and good lighting.
