Page 12 of Blurred Lines

4

Brendon

Ikissed Paul.

What the fuck?

My lips tingle, and as badly as I want to brush my thumb over them, I force myself to hold still. I don’t know what I was thinking when I leaned into him, but it just felt right. I meant it to just be a quick, soft kiss, but the way he cupped my face and deepened it was hot as fuck.

And now I’m confused.

Before tonight, I never thought he was interested in me, but now I’m not so sure.

I hook my leg over his, wanting more of my body touching his but not comfortable enough to wrap myself around him the way I crave. I hate how fucking needy I am sometimes. That shit with Jeremy fucked up my head and left me spiraling. Even months later, I’m still struggling a bit.

These twin-sized beds are bullshit. There’s barely enough room for one jock, much less two. Though I guess they don’t really expect two of us to be laying in one. Still. I’m a cuddler. I need human touch, the more the better, and because society is homophobic as shit, I usually have to fuck to get that need met.

After all the shit that went down with Chad and his goons, I was afraid for anyone to touch me. For months, I shut that part of me off, told myself I didn’t need it. It was a lie. I started to get angry and depressed from the lack of human contact. It didn’t take me long to figure out sex worked, but being with men terrified me, so I stuck to women for a while.

Until Jeremy joined the Lumberjacks and I found myself with him and Paul all the time. They respected the fact that I didn’t want to be touched more than high fives or knuckle bumps. Neither of them was weird about touch and freely gave it to the other guys on the team. Hugs, pats, just lying next to each other on the bed so everyone would fit, and they always let me have the edge so I didn’t feel trapped. After a while, I learned to trust them, and I’ve never looked back.

But moving in with Paul made me so much worse. Icravehis touch.

Being this close to him after that kiss is killing me. God, I want to touch myself right now. The mental image of Paul sliding his hand into my underwear to fondle me flashes in my mind and has blood rushing to my dick.

I shift against Paul, turning onto my hip a little and leaning more of my back and ass against him, hopefully hiding some of the bulge now in the front of my boxer briefs. Fuck, I like laying with him like this more than I probably should. He’s my safe space. He never wants anything from me, just lets me touch him when I need it—which is always—and doesn’t complain or make it weird. It’s not sexual, just comforting.

My family are big huggers. My cousins or friends and I were always in dog piles on top of one another. It’s just how we are, so moving out here was difficult. Luckily, Paul and Jeremy know this about me and are used to it, but I know I touch Paul more than I probably should. Is me being so touchy making him question his sexuality?

A cold shiver of guilt runs down my spine, and my breathing hitches for a minute. Paul’s arm wraps around me until his palm is on my chest.

“You okay?”

I clear my throat and force a smile. “Yeah, all good. Just got the chills.”

He sits up a little and looks at my face. Fuck, I hope I’m masking my emotions hard enough. I want to bury my face in his neck and have him wrap his arms around me again, tell me I’m enough.

A knot forms in my throat, but I keep my face passive.

“Are you cold?” He lifts the orange-and-red crocheted blanket from the end of his bed with his foot and covers us with it. His grandma made it for him a few years ago, and he loves it, so it stays on the bed. Grandmas are the best.

“Thanks,” I murmur, accepting it. There aren’t many people he allows to use it. Just Jeremy and me, now that I think about it. “You talk to your grandma lately?”

“Yeah.” He lays back and pulls me more solidly against him. I’m not sure he notices that he does it, but it makes my soul a little brighter when he does. “She’s good. The chickens stopped laying, so she’s threatening to use them for bear bait.”

I laugh. That old lady is the coolest person ever.

Paul starts talking about his grandparents and the shit they’re getting into. It’s clear in the way he talks about them that he loves them. I know his relationship with his dad is hard, so I’m really glad he has them. His mom’s parents stepped up and helped out a lot after the car accident that he and his mom were in. His dad mentally checked out and couldn’t handle the loss of his wife. Paul was fourteen when it happened, on his birthday, so it’s a hard day for him. His grandparents always call, but his dad never does, and I really think it causes him to question what’s wrong with him.

His voice soothes the edges of my consciousness, lulling me toward sleep. I lift his hand off my chest and put it on my head for him to run his fingers through my hair. I love having someone play with my hair.

Without direction, Paul does it, dragging his nails lightly over my scalp until goose bumps make me shudder and finally, I fall asleep.

* * *

Paul is on top of me, naked, riding my dick like a fucking pro. His body rolls, grinding hard against me. My body is hot, sweaty with lust, and I’m desperate to come. The erotic flutter low in my pelvis starts, the tingling along my skin that centers in my groin . . .

My eyes shoot open as I groan, my dick pulsing in my underwear.

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