Page 25 of Confession
Jesus Christ. My cock swells at the heavy, curved muscle of his glutes and the thick musculature of his legs. He bendsslightly to step into his gray sweats, sending a wave of arousal through me as his cheeks part.
I am absolutely, 100% going to fuck him.
He tugs his sweats up then snatches the damp towel off the ground. He turns and chucks it into a laundry basket, then he starts walking back my way. His dick is still swollen, very noticeable against the front of his sweats.
Whatever is going on with him, it’s not a lack of interest. He goes to sit on the arm of the green leather couch. It puts him facing me without being too close.
“So was it true?” I ask. “That you’ve been used harder?”
“You really wanna talk about past hookups?”
“You’re the one who brought it up.” He doesn’t reply, so I fill in the blanks. “Which you did so I’d leave you alone?”
“I’d just come in my pants while blowing you. I didn’t really want to chat.”
“I love that you came like that while blowing me.”
His nostrils flare. He shifts on the arm of the couch. His dick is stiffer than before. So is mine.
We’re going to fuck. But we’re not there yet. We have shit to deal with first.
I decide to wait him out. Sometimes in interrogations, it’s the best strategy. You’ll know what’s important only when the other person offers it. It takes a while, but I can be patient when motivated.
He finally says, “Coming down my throat doesn’t make you gay.”
“Is that important to you, whether or not I’m gay?”
“You’re experimenting.”
“Maybe you don’t need to tell me what I’m doing, Quinn.”
“Then what are you doing?”
Claiming you.
I don’t care that it’s too soon, that it makes no sense, that I haven’t even fucked him yet. I know. But I stop myself from saying it, and Quinn fills in my silence.
He snorts, “That’s what I thought.”
“Just because I don’t know exactly what I’m doing doesn’t mean I’m experimenting.”
“That’s kind of the definition of experimenting,” he says wryly. “And you don’t do relationships.”
“We already have a relationship,” I point out.
“Then you understand how complicated this might get.”
It’s already complicated, but I don’t tell him that. “So what do you want?”
“I want you to fuck me.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, closing my eyes at the wave of arousal that goes through me. That’s not what I expected him to say. I press the heel of my hand against my dick. “So you do bottom.”
“I think you knew that.”
“Tell me what you like.”
“You’ve never done this before,” he reminds me, evading the question.
