Page 39 of Calculated Chaos

He opens his eyes, focusing on my face. “Hi.”

“Do you know what’s going on right now?”

“Yep. We had sex. I’m sticky. You’re helping me get unsticky.” He drags his hand down my chest. “We had sex,” he repeats, chuckling.

“We did. How do you feel?”

“Sooo goood,” he says, dragging his words out. “But sleepy.”

“Are you drunk?”

Holl focuses on me again, propping himself up on his elbows. “Ax, you’re asking me too many questions.”

I chuckle. “I just want to make sure you’re aware of what’s going on. I don’t want to take advantage.”

His expression turns serious as his brow creases and he puts a hand flat on my chest. “You would never do that. You’re just taking care of me. Like you always do.” A dopey smile spreads across his face. “I’m a little drunk,” he admits. “But I’m not wasted. I know what’s going on.”

“Okay, good.”

“Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Yeah, Holl. You can go back to sleep.”

I force myself to my feet and to the bathroom to get a warm cloth, and after returning, I gently wash him before tucking him under my comforter. Returning to the bathroom, I clean myself up quickly and then get in bed too, snuggling close to a softly snoring Hollister.

Lying on my side, I study his face while my head tries to sort out everything that happened tonight. Jealousy, desire, and then an intense need to feel his body and taste his kiss. He obviously wanted it as much as I did, but now what?

Are we gay? I shake my head. That doesn’t make sense. I know for a fact that women turn me on. So then what? I’m bi and didn’t know it? Am I just intensely attracted to Hollister? And if so, how come I’m just now realizing it?

Closing my eyes and rolling onto my back, I search my memory for any other clue that I might’ve missed. In our teens I always wanted to see him naked, but I wanted to see everyone naked, even adults. I was curious about bodies. Hollister said it was normal, then in sex ed they told us about how horny teenage boys were and I figured I was just a little hornier than most.

Another time, we were talking about dick size at age fifteen. His is longer than mine but mine is thicker, and we debated which one was better. Rachel Mayberry, a neighbor, was the tiebreaker, telling us that how we used it was more important. We believed her since she was nineteen.

Then another memory hits, sending shivers through me. We were swimming and wrestling in the pool, and I got hard. When he jumped on me and we rubbed against each other, I had to pull away to keep him from figuring it out. I wrote it off as just more horniness on my part, but maybe there was something else there I didn’t recognize. Something about Holl.

Huh. Slowly it dawns on me that I never got hard seeing the other guys naked in the locker room. Sure, I peeked at their dicks for comparison reasons, but I never felt anything about it. Just curiosity. But it was different with Hollister. I liked seeing his body. I always found ways to touch him, even if it was just my leg against his while we watched movies or played video games.

As adults, my constant need to touch him morphed into daily hugs and sweet kisses on his forehead or cheek or the top of his head. I smile as the realization slowly sinks in. It’s Hollister. He’s always had some kind of hold on me no one else has, even the women I’ve dated.

I want to take care of him, and I’ve always been that way. I want to make sure he’s happy and safe, that he’s eating well and not working too hard. Tonight, I wanted to make him feel pleasure. I wanted him to come, and fuck, I wanted that kiss more than I wanted to breathe.

I want to spank him until he melts against me. I want his moans and pleas. I want to be his Dom.

So that settles it. Hollister is what I want. I just hope I can keep him from spiraling when he wakes up.

* * *

“Holl,” I whisper, pressing soft kisses to his cheek as I card my fingers through his hair. “It’s morning.”

He groans, slowly peeling his eyes open. “No.”

Chuckling, I kiss his forehead. “Call in sick.”

He focuses on me, his brow crinkling. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I never call in sick.”

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