Page 20 of Gay for Pray
Slowly, gingerly, I peel off my crop top. I was alreadyexposing a good bit of skin, but the second I reveal more, Theodore’s eyes rake over me. He drinks me in in a way no straight man ever would, even high off his ass, and that raises a whole new slew of questions that I don’t have time to deal with tonight. I don’t know if this awakened something or if he’s always known, but either way, this choir boy has some unholy thoughts tumbling around in his brain. They shine in his eyes as he drinks me in more greedily than he drank that glass of water and I take off my pants as well.
He leans in, not asking this time, just trying to take the kiss, but I catch him by the shoulders and hold him back. He wants that right now, but I’m sure he won’t in the morning, and I’ve got to minimize the damage here.
Still…I won’t pretend I’ll get nothing from that lightly furred chest and those strong arms. I’m human enough to admit it to myself, even if it’s very much on the back burner with him out of his head.
“No kissing,” I say. “Can you promise? Otherwise, I can’t stay here with you.”
The distress that flickers across his face threatens to break my heart, but I hold my ground. I’m setting a firm line tonight for his sake, not mine. He might even be grateful some day.
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay. Lie down. I’ll lie with you. You can touch me. Does that sound okay?”
He nods more enthusiastically than I ever would have believed. Then he settles on his back in my bed, his larger frame eating up every inch of mattress. Laid out like this, it’s even clearer that he keeps himself in shape, probably because of some sort of Godly reason. Maybe his God can spare a thought for me tonight because holy shit, does he look good. I’ve imbibed enough myself that I’m not exactly at my best, but I fight my baser instincts and settle on my side against him.
Immediately, he wraps his arm around me, his hand on my back. I scoot closer, setting my head on his chest, my fingers in that scratchy, pale hair. His skin is flushed with heat. His breathing comes too deep. His heart hammers too hard under my ear. As I lie there atop him, however, he slowly calms, and his fingers start drawing lazy, nonsensical designs on my lower back. My body tingles from the way his skin brushes against mine, like a painter sketching out a design in careful, deliberate strokes.
He may be the one who’s high, but I’m starting to suspect I’m getting as much out of this as he is. The feel of a human body against mine, the feel of a man touching me, lights up everything inside me that’s been aching for touch for so long. I love Nick, but swapping desperate handies with him isn’t true intimacy, and I didn’t realize how badly I’ve been craving something real until this moment.
I let myself snuggle in even closer. Theodore needs this, after all. He breathes in deeply, like he’s smelling my hair, his thick arm wrapping tighter around me. His hand holds my waist, conjuring images of that hand pushing me down, grabbing me to bring me close, touching me harder and lower and with wicked intent.
It’s all I can do not to get hard, but even in a state like this, that would probably freak Theodore out. I’m just a body he’s allowed to touch tonight. It will never mean to him what it means to me.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” he asks as he idly strokes along the curve of my waist.
“Because you need help,” I say.
Even if I am enjoying the touch, that part is true as well. I could see he needed help the second I found him sitting outside the party looking lost, and I knew I’d be the one to rescue him.
“God, I really want to kiss you,” he says into my hair.
I really want you to kiss me,I think. I can’t say it out loud. It would sound too much like a yes.
“Can I kiss you?” he pleads. “Please?”
It takes everything I have to deny him. “Maybe in the morning,” I say. “If you still want to.”
He won’t. I know he won’t. He’ll hate himself for asking. He’ll hate me for existing. But it’s the answer he needs to hear right now.
“I’ve never kissed anyone,” he says quietly.
“No one? Not even a girl?”
He goes stiff under me. “No,” he says, voice hard.
I try to steer him away from difficult topics. They could tilt him into a bad mental spiral. “You have time. You can kiss anyone you want.”
“Except you.”
“Except meright now.”
He sits with this a moment before apparently deeming it acceptable. “Okay. As long as I can touch you.”
“You can. Do you want to be held?”
He thinks about this, then I feel more than I see him nod. He turns over on his side, and I position myself behind him. As much as I loved his hand on my waist, this is a safer position for both of us. He can’t kiss me, and it leaves me in control. I snuggle up behind him, fitting my body against his and hugging my arm around him to hold him against my chest. He’s larger than me, but when I cradle him this way, he sinks into my hold like he’s half my size. He lets out a long sigh, every ounce of tension draining out of his body.
I let myself kiss the shell of his shoulder. He hums with a contentment I’m sure he’s never felt before this moment, and I press my cheek to his back as my heart breaks all over again for the stifled, sheltered life he’s lived.
