by Sam LaRose
Freedom to Choose
Sam LaRose
Published by Ink Stained Fingers Press, 2020.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
FREEDOM TO CHOOSE
First edition. April 16, 2020.
Copyright © 2020 Sam LaRose.
ISBN: 978-1393672418
Written by Sam LaRose.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Freedom to Choose
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Further Reading: Real Talk
About the Author
Freedom to Choose
I was twelve years old when I ran into my mother’s study and declared quite loudly to her, “Mom, I’m straight!”
She looked up from her computer, where she was most likely player Spider Solitaire and not writing as she was supposed to be doing. She looked a little surprised, “Huh?”
“I just wanted you to know. I’m straight.”
She nodded, “Okay.”
“So, I’m not gay.”
She was trying to hide her smile, and I felt a flush of embarrassment move over my body. I realized in the moment that she leaned back in her chair and started laughing that what I had declared was silly. Of course I was straight. Something like 70% of Americans were straight. 10% were gay. The remaining 20% were confused. My blush crept up my cheeks, and Mom turned in her chair to hold out her arms.
“Come here.”
I moved around the desk, and leaned into her. Her arms felt good as they wrapped around me. Yeah, I was twelve and starting to get over my Mommy-complex, but I still loved her hugs.
“Look,” she finally said, leaning back in her chair again, “just because I write about gay men, doesn’t mean that I want you to be one. If you are, that’s fine, but if you’re not, that’s OK too.” She shrugged. “Where did this come from anyway?”
I looked down at my hands, “I was watching TV. They were making fun of you.”
She rolled her eyes, “Screw them. This is because I finally allowed them to make a movie out of one of my books. This will pass, sweetie. Don’t let the media get to you. They may attack me, but they should know better than to try that crap with you.” She pulled me down to kiss the top of my forehead. “C’mon, you have homework you need to finish.”
Now, I was twenty and I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing in the hotel room with one of the actor’s from one of my Mom’s movies. Well, it wasn’t really her movie. It was based on her book. The fourth one based on her gay, semi-erotic novels. My Mom had taught me that being gay or straight didn’t matter, so long as I was OK with myself. When Josh had come on to me, it had been hard to resist. He was cute, and I felt drawn to his sleek features. I liked the way he always looked kind of scruffy. As though he had just rolled out of bed.
“What’s the matter?” His voice was as soft as his lips as they kissed my neck.
“Um,” I bit my tongue. I was twenty years old. Josh wasn’t a whole lot older. I was straight. Or at least as straight as I could be, what with his hands being down my pants. He was obviously gay and fit the bill of his character pretty damn well. “You should probably know...I don’t usually do this kind of thing.”
He grinned softly, “Your Mom is a goddess. You’re telling me you don’t have pretty boys coming on to you all of the time?”
“No, I do. I don’t usually give in to them.”
He raised an eyebrow, “Oh really? Does that mean I’m some kind of exception?”
I nodded, “Kind of.”
He laughed, pulling me towards the bed with him. “Don’t fret,” he pushed me down into the mattress before straddling me underneath him. “Nothing’s going to happen you don’t want.” He kissed me on the mouth now, and I found my arms moving of their own volition, wrapping around his neck. He hummed softly, his fingers coaxing under my shirt. After a few minutes he frowned, leaning back to look at me. “Is something wrong, Patrick?”
My eyes widened and I shook my head, “N-no, of course not.”
“I only ask because you don’t seem that into it?”
“I-I’m sorry.”
He sighed, shifting off me to lean on his elbow and look at me instead. “Talk to me.”
“Talk to you?”
“Yeah. Tell me what’s going on up here,” he reached over to tap my forehead. I reached up to rub the spot.
“Ah, nothing. I told you, I don’t usually do this.”
“You got a boyfriend or something?”
“No, I’m...I’m not gay.”
He laughed, “If you’re not gay, why’d you come up here with me? I thought I made it pretty obvious what I wanted to do to you.”
“Yeah, the ‘fuck you right, but good’ comment kind of caught my interest,” I turned my head to look at me. “I’m straight, Josh, but I’m not straight.”
“Bi?” He tried to tag me.
“More like curious. I mean, look at the books my Mom’s written –of course it piques interest.”
“But, you’re not gay.”
I shook my head, “No.”
He nodded, shifting onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. When he didn’t say anything, I bit my lip. I was kind of worried that I had offended him. But, I was a big boy. I knew what I was doing. If I wasn’t open to having sex with him, I wouldn’t have come upstairs with him.
“I’m sorry, I’ll go,” I stood up. He leaned up on his elbows, watching me pick up my jacket.
“Are you going to be on set tomorrow?”
I shook my head, “No, my Mom wanted me to come down and make sure they weren’t destroying her book. I’m going home tomorrow.”
“Oh.”
I smiled, pulling on my jacket, “You seem sad about that.”
He looked up, “I am. I didn’t get to go make good on my promise.”
“Promise?”
“To fuck you.”
I blushed, looking away and shaking my head. My keys jingled as I pulled them from my pocket, “Maybe next time.”
“Is there going to be a next time?”
I shrugged, “Maybe.”
He got up from the bed, catching me by my belt loops as I was starting for the door. My back pressed against the door, the knob wedged uncomfortably in my back. It felt like he was devouring my mouth and his nails scraped my skin as he forced his hands up my shirt.
“What are you doing?” I asked when he finally came up for air.
“I don’t think I can let you leave if I don’t know that you’re coming back. Not without making sure I can make you crawl back for more.”
“That’s kind of a high order, isn’t it?”
“It’s the truth. No one can get enough of me if I hold onto them long enough.” He kissed me roughly again, hugging me close. I shifted when I felt his pending hard-on against my thigh. He bit gently on my bottom lip, sucking it. Finally he looked up at me, his eyes these big pools of blue, “I gotta know. Have you done it with other guys before?”
I nodded, “Sure.”
“Is that a ‘yes’ sure?.”
“I have. On a few different occasions.”
He nodded, stepping away from me to lean on the side table behind him, “Good to know then.”
“Are you done?” I asked. “Can I go home now?”
He shrugged, “You don’t have to, but you can.”
I couldn’t help but smirk, “You’re kind of a tease, aren’t you?”
He shrugged, “Maybe a little.”
I nodded, pushing my way between his knees. He almost knocked over the lamp as I pushed him back. I tried to kiss him just as fiercely as he had been kissing me, but I wasn’t sure if I was suc
ceeding. He groaned, pushing back. His hands were on my face, his thumbs stroking my cheeks.
“Fuck,” he sighed. He panted, his tongue against his lip. “If you don’t leave soon, I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go.”
“What can I say? You’ve piqued my interest.” I reached up to brush my fingers against the scruffy stubble on his face. “Plus, this whole five o’clock shadow you’ve got going on is kind of sexy.”
“Now who’s the tease? Sayin’ your straight, but turning on all of the charm,” he tsked, shaking his head. He pressed a quick kiss to my lips before wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “It’s your call, Patrick. We can go back to the bedroom, get naked, and I’ll fuck you like you’ve never been fucked. Or, you can go back your room and we won’t see each other until the movie premier. If you choose the latter, I can guarantee you’re going to spend the next six months wondering what could have happened.”
I nodded, “Yeah, but if I leave now, I can keep saying that I’m straight.”
He grinned, “Would being something else be so bad?”
“Not if I hadn’t kept insisting to my Mom that I was.”
“I think she’d understand,” His fingers clasped behind my head and he brought me forward for another kiss. It was like his hands were setting fire to my skin as he reach down, his hands moving under the waistband of my jeans. He licked my lips before sucking at my throat.
“Ah, damn,” I sighed. “Don’t leave any marks.”
“Why not?” He asked, pinching my butt. “I like marking the guys I sleep with. It’s a territorial thing.”
“I gotta see my Mom tomorrow. I don’t really want to explain.”
He grinned, “Man, your Mom is awesome and everything, but you gotta get over your Mommy Complex. Seriously.”
“I can’t help it, she’s all I’ve got,” I shrugged. I couldn’t tell him that she was sick. I couldn’t tell anyone. She had sworn me, and everyone else who knew, to secrecy. I wasn’t sure how I was going to live without her, but I had to make sure that every tedious whim was satisfied. I wanted her to be happy before she died. That was why I had come out here to the set. I wanted to make sure it was great for her.
Josh led me into the bedroom again, discarding our clothes along the way.
“Damn,” he nodded appreciatively. “It was in my hands, but feeling it and seeing it are two totally different things.” I blushed, not able to hide myself without looking like a child. He grinned, pushing me back onto the bed. “I’m giving you a compliment, Patrick.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re so cute when you blush.” He reached up, pressing his finger against my lips. “Suck.”
I took his finger into my mouth, sucking softly on the tip. He moaned, pressing his face into my neck. A few moments later, he was stroking his damp finger along my backside, pressing softly into me. I grunted, turning my face into his neck.
“You’ve done this before,” he coaxed. “Why are you so shy?”
“I’ve never done it like this.”
“Oh,” he nodded. “Well, I’m impatient. If you want me suck you off or something, I can do that too.” He leaned in and let his lips brush my ear as he whispered. “Other boys tell me I’m good at it, but I’m not sure.” He stroked me with his free hand as he thrust his finger deeper inside. My breath caught, my mouth opened in a gasp. He took the opportunity to give me a very deep kiss, his tongue sparring with mine. When he moved away, he ran his tongue along my entire length.
“Stay right here,” he requested, pressing a rather chaste kiss to my mouth. “I’ll be right back.”
I raised an eyebrow as he slid away from me. He disappeared from the suite’s bedroom and I heard the bathroom door jiggle. When he came back in, he had rolled on a condom and was coating himself with a slick layer of lubrication. The bottle he had in hand was tossed onto the bed beside me.
“So, how do you want to do this?” I liked how warm his mouth was as his lips touched my skin. His hands were warm too as they wrapped around me.
“What do you mean?”
He laughed, “What position do you want me to fuck you in?”
“Oh, uh...”
He shook his head, “Roll over. I think missionary would be best.” He nudged my hip. I complied with him. I had slept with three guys my entire life. First, my senior year of high school with a guy who loved my Mom’s books. The second time, my freshman year of college and the first time I ever got drunk (again, another fan of Mom), and then a year ago...
“Keep your head here,” Josh whispered. I felt him pressed up behind me. I bit my lip as he started to push inside of me. I pressed my forehead against the mattress. My fingers tightened around fistfuls of the hotel’s thin comforter. He didn’t say anything as he pressed his lips to the back of my neck. He was totally in. His slick hand moved around to grab a hold of me. The only thing I could muster out of my throat was some kind of guttural noise, and I dipped forward as he started to stroke me.
“Feel good?” He asked, his lips on my back. I moaned in reply as he pulled his hand away, grabbing a hold of my hips. “Ready?”
I nodded, “Uh huh.”
He didn’t hold anything back. There was no slow progression. He didn’t care that I was a novice. I came to the realization that he was using me for some kind of self-satisfaction. I found I didn’t care. The slick sucking and squelching sounds of him violating me were enough to get everything else out of my head. It was just the two of us, in that spacious suite. Him fucking me, as though if he stopped I was going to bolt. Me, trying so hard to take all of it in stride and enjoy it for what it was: pure sex. No strings, no explanations.
“Fuck, fuck...” My cheek pressed against the mattress and I reached down between my legs to stroke myself. I listened to his own throaty moans, coming in my hand just a little bit before his strokes began to slow, and his hip thrusts began to become less frantic and more relaxed.
“I love your ass.” he sighed. It took him a second before he rolled away. I stretched my back, laying on my stomach. I couldn’t help but watch as he pulled off the condom, and tossed it into the trashcan next to the bed. “Where’d you learn to do that?”
“Learn to do what?”
He grinned, turning to look at me, “You’re so cute when you act innocent.” He turned onto his side to kiss me. “You’re a little slut, aren’t you? Telling me you’re straight when you can take a fuck like that?” He tsked, shaking his head. “I call your lies.”
I licked my lips, shaking my head as I got up from the bed. “I should go.”
He narrowed his eyes, “Patrick, wait,” I had already pulled on most of my clothes by the time he joined me on the floor. “What did I say?”
“You didn’t say anything,” I shook my head. “I have an early flight tomorrow. I should go back to my room.”
It took him a second but he nodded, “Right. When will I see you again?”
I shrugged, “I don’t know. Depends. A couple weeks, or maybe not until the premier.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to hide his bit lip behind his hand as he watched me pull my jacket back on. I disappeared into the bathroom to wash my hands and make sure that I didn’t have any visible indications of what had happened on my clothes. I had tried my hardest to keep my still-warm come from getting on my clothes but I wasn’t sure how successful I had been. I hadn’t wanted to be gross and wipe my palm on the bed spread either. I looked OK though, as I exited the bathroom. Josh was getting dressed again too as I picked up my keys from where they had fallen on the floor when we’d resumed.
“Call me,” He requested, grabbing the collar of my jacket. “The next time you’re going to be in town. I took the liberty of putting my number on your phone.” He shoved my cell phone back into my pocket. “Maybe we can discuss this,” he paused, “trauma you have.”
“I don’t have a trauma,” I shook my head.
“If you didn’t, you’d still be in bed with me,” he shoo
k his head before he kissed me. “I’ll see you.”
I nodded, “See you.”
***
It was a little over a year ago when I met Devin in the campus bookstore. Mom had just been diagnosed. I was just kind of looking for an outlet to get away from everything. She was in her anger stage and I didn’t want to be the person she took everything out on, so I was distancing myself from her. When she was ready to move on, she knew how to get a hold of me. I was choosing to lay low and stay in school. I wasn’t looking for anything, but I found myself in the midst of the bookstore’s fiction section, staring at my Mom’s earlier works. I recognized them from the shelf at home where she had them all lined up. I’d be the first to admit that I had never read one of her novels. I’d grown up in a fatherless home where she had worked herself nearly to death on her books all about the gay romance. I’d never read one. I’d lost my virginity to another guy, but never thought about picking up a book to get a few pointers. It gave me the creeps to even think about what went on in my Mom’s head.
“This one’s my favorite,” a masculine hand tugged one of the titles an inch forward. “It’s an earlier one of her works, and her new stuff is best. This one though; the end makes me cry every time I read it.”
I turned to look at him. It was pretty obvious he didn’t know who I was. A lot of her fanatical fans were as obsessed with me as they were with Mom.
“Have you read it?” He raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve never read any of her books,” I shook my head. “As a matter of principle, I refuse to actually.”
“Oh? You’re missing out on some great literature. It’s amazing that her books made it so mainstream. It’s probably because she’s a woman. If a gay guy tried to write like this and make it big, he’d get called a pervert and shunned. She’s amazing.” He followed me as I moved on along the shelf towards something a little safer. “Let me guess, you’re a movie fan.”
I shook my head, “I don’t watch the movies either.”
“Then why not give it a try? You think a woman doesn’t know what it is to be a gay guy in modern times? She’s good,” he assured me. “It’s amazing how often she gets it right on the nose. Like she’s writing it, just for me.”
