“I was just trying to figure some stuff out,” he says, seeming uncharacteristically agitated by my teasing.
My mouth turns down in a slight frown as I turn away from the couch to stride over to the mini-fridge and retrieve a beer. “You want one?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
I grab one for Trent as well, then squeeze in next to him on the couch, tossing my legs across his lap so I can stretch out a bit. “So, what did you figure out?”
He doesn’t answer right away, taking a long sip of his beer, his usually genial face arranged in a frown as he clearly struggles to put his thoughts together. I don’t push him to answer, instead just wait patiently until he finds the words.
“I don’t really know,” he finally says. “I mean…I got kind of turned on watching that stuff,” he admits with a casual gesture at his laptop, now sitting with its lid closed on the coffee table. “But I’m not sure if it’s because of those guys or because I kept picturing doing what they were doing…with you.”
Heat floods my body at the idea of Trent pounding into me just like the guy in that porn clip, but I manage to tamp my desire down for the time being. We’re focusing on Trent right now,notmy raging dick. “So, you still don’t know if you’re actually attracted to guys now, or if this is just a one-off thing with me?”
He nods. “Yeah, exactly.”
I hesitate for a moment before asking, “Does it matter?”
Trent’s head whips in my direction, his brows arched high. “What?”
I cringe as I replay my comment, realising how abrupt I sounded. Hastily, I attempt to clarify, “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound so insensitive. I just meant that labels aren’t actually a requirement. You don’tneedto define your sexuality if you don’t want to.”
“And if I do want to?”
I shrug. “Then it’s totally up to you. If you want to continue identifying as straight, that’s completely fine. There are plenty of straight men—and women—who’ve had sexual experiences with members of their own gender.”
“But this isn’t like I got drunk at a party and pashed some guy for a laugh,” Trent points out with an eye roll. “I’minsanelyattracted to you.”
I beam at him. “Thanks. But I wasn’t referring to the whole drunk experimentation thing. I mean there are people who have had genuine same-sex experiences, or even relationships, and still identify as straight.”
“But how is that possible?” he asks sceptically.
“Because it’s a person’s individual choice how they want to identify. Have you heard of the Kinsey scale?”
“I think so…” he says, although he doesn’t sound at all certain.
“In, like, super basic terms it’s a scale of heterosexuality versus homosexuality. So, a guy who is with women ninety-five per cent of the time and men five per cent of the time might be a one on the scale and identify as straight. But then another guy with those same preferences might identify as bi,” I explain. “It’s all completely personal to the individual person.”
“Okay…I think I get it,” he says with a nod, a thoughtful expression still in place.
“So, it’s up to you. If you feel like bisexuality is a better fit for you, then go with that. If you still feel straight, that’s fine too. Or if you don’t feel ready to decide, or aren’t sure if you’lleverwant to decide, that’s totally okay as well. It’syouridentity.”
He offers a bright smile and leans forward to set his beer down. Then he tugs me towards him so I’m straddling his lap. I quickly reach behind me to set my own bottle down and then turn back to Trent, lifting my hands to frame his beautiful face. “You know, there are other people you can talk to if you need,” I say gently. “I mean, I’m always happy to listen, but I’ve never questioned my sexuality, so I don’t have a whole lot of first-hand experience here.”
“You’ve been really helpful. Thank you for listening.” He pulls me closer against him, sealing his lips against mine as his hands roam the bare skin of my back.
I groan, kissing him back eagerly as I begin to roll my hips against him.
“It’s just…” he pauses, breathing heavily as he breaks the kiss. “Why didn’t I ever notice before? I mean, it’s not like I come from a really repressed family or anything. They wouldn’t care. And my best friend is gay. I should have realised—right?”
I slow the movements of my hips but don’t stop completely, ducking my head to brush a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips. “Maybe it just took someone really special…” I kiss the other side of his mouth. “And sexy…” I tug on his bottom lip with my teeth. “With stellar dick-sucking skills…”
“I’m not sure I know anyone like that…” Trent teases.
I lean closer so I can whisper in his ear. “Liar.”
The next thing I know, Trent has toppled me off his lap and has me pinned underneath him on the couch. I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, pulling him against me as our lips crash together again.
We’re probably too big to be doing this on this small couch, but right now I couldn’t care less. All that matters is the incredible way Trent’s body feels moving on top of mine as we devour each other’s mouths.