by L B Winter
Jamie pressed the bottle of lube into my hand and said, “I always regretted that I didn’t have any of this when I slept with you at Freedom. That must have hurt like hell.”
I shrugged, still so eager to have him ride me that I didn’t really want to talk about anything else.
“It wasn’t very good, was it?” he said. “This guy from the club, he was better.”
I wasn’t sure I liked where this line of questioning was going.
“I’ll make you feel so much better than he did,” he said fiercely. “Or you can fuck me dry, if you want to. You don’t have to use this. We should use a condom, but—”
“No,” I said softly, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I just want it to be good for you,” he said again, in a voice hardly above a whisper.
“It will be,” I said, with absolute certainty that it would. How could it be anything but?
Jamie guided my lube-slicked fingers into his own hole, first one, then another, then three fingers inside him. “Can you—will you fuck me with your hand?” he asked breathlessly.
I did as he asked, rubbing quickly and being rewarded with his lips pressed hungrily against mine. I hoped he would be ready soon, because I was beyond ready—my dick was engorged between my legs and had leaked all over the sheets, and I was almost painfully hard. But he didn’t stop me. He just kept taking my hand and moaning, and I started to get irritated with him. Why was he dragging his feet? Was he nervous? I realized then that he probably was. I had been thinking of him as somebody who’d had so much experience with sex, but the fact was, he hadn’t. He’d had a few illicit trysts, all in secret, never lasting long. I was probably equally qualified to take the lead—and I wanted to.
I withdrew my hand and said, “Lie back.”
He looked up at me in surprise. “Now?”
“Now,” I said, “and hold your legs up.”
I was surprised at how commanding my voice sounded. Eyes darker than ever, he obeyed me, and I gazed down at that hole, so slick and ready, those legs, shaking slightly, and the hands gripping them so tightly as he held them up that they had to ache. White knuckles, pink fingertips. I could see the nervousness in his face, and I finally understood.
“You haven’t bottomed before, either.”
“No,” he whispered. “But I want to. For you.”
I smiled. “Okay.” I didn’t have much confidence that I could do this with anything like skill, nor any experience to make me believe I would, but sheer force of will told me that this could be nothing but great, this pulsating energy between us.
I leaned over him and pressed my dick inside. He moaned, but his body somehow stayed relaxed as he welcomed me in. I’d never felt anything like it, and I gasped as I moved further, through tighter bands of muscle, feeling them constrict and contract while we both breathed hard and weathered the overwhelming sensations.
“You feel so good, Paul,” he whispered. “God, I’ve wanted this—you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”
He didn’t move a muscle while I sank deeper and deeper inside him, my cock almost beyond its tenuous last reaches of control. I could have come in an instant—but I couldn’t do that yet. I had to make this good for him. I had to help him see how good it could be between us.
When I was full-hilt inside him, we were both slick with sweat as we pressed our chests together. “Okay?” I whispered.
“Mhmm,” he said, then moaned loudly when I drew back and pressed into him again. That was fun. I did it once more, and this time, he had to bite his fist to keep from shouting—and my reaction wasn’t far off from his. He was so tight; it felt so perfect to be inside him. I never wanted anything or anybody else; I knew there would never be any coming back from this. For the rest of my life, I was going to want Jamie every bit as much as I did right this second—I was sure of it.
Jamie held his legs higher so that I could sink deeper still, and I leveraged my arms against them, rocking into him deeply over and over as he arched his back and moaned, not even attempting to keep his voice down. It was so sexy, that total abandon, that I had to let go, too.
“Jamie,” I said, “I’m so close. I want to come together. Are you—”
“I can be,” he said, and he reached for his own cock.
“No, let me,” I said, and I batted his hand away. He smiled at me through heavy-lidded eyes, but then a few hard thrusts later, his smile was replaced with an orgasm so thorough and deep that it shook us both. I came, too, feeling myself milked by him, throbbing with the sudden contraction of his muscles. When I pulled out of his body and laid back on the bed again, for a split second it was like we were back in Freedom; like we were kids breaking the most important rule and could be caught at any time. But we weren’t there anymore; we were really free, now—just enjoying each other while we laid in each other’s arms and caught our breaths.
He was sticky, cum all over his chest and sweat glistening all down his arms and legs. Still, I laid on his side with my head on his shoulder, and his hands ran up and down my back, lips pressed to my forehead, legs intertwined with mine. We panted, smashed against each other in my tiny, dorm room bed.
Neither of us spoke as we settled down, and the silence started stretching just a bit too long—just a moment past comfortable, inching into awkward, when Jamie started to laugh softly. I picked up my head and looked down at him, eyebrows raised.
“You are so good at that,” he said on a chuckle. “What is that, a natural talent? Holy—holy shit.”
I laughed, too—relief mingled with foolish happiness. God, he was adorable. “I’ve never heard you say ‘shit’ before. Or ‘fuck,’ for that matter.”
He shook his head, a wide grin slowly spreading over his lips. “What, is that what you took away from what I said? That I cussed?”
I shook my head. “No. I mean, I don’t know. Not all I took from it. But I’d never heard you cuss at all before tonight, and now you’re talking about fucking and saying holy shit.”
He laughed and closed his eyes, the smile still etched onto his lips.
I added, “I mean—you were really good, too.”
He sighed and pulled me back down to his shoulder. “I wanted to take the lead,” he said softly. “I was so afraid to lose control. But God, look how amazing it was when you were in the lead. Just trusting you…” His voice trailed off, and he turned slightly to look into my eyes. And good lord—nobody had ever looked at me like that in the entire course of my life. “You’re the most amazing man I ever met. Ever. You said you didn’t know I thought about you, but Paul—I never stopped thinking about you for a minute. I just…knew, somehow. That no matter where life took me, I was meant to be with you.”
I was suddenly reminded of the words he’d said at Freedom about Ellen. “You told me once that Ellen was the one God had for you,” I whispered, and he looked down and away suddenly, and I could have kicked myself for saying it.
But he looked up again, and his expression was fierce, certain, honest. “No, Paul. That was never true. I got so good at lying to myself. You’re the only one that makes me feel like I can tell the truth. I see you doing it, and I want to do it, too.”
I glanced away again. The reminder of all that we had been through, all the shit that had led up to this point, was putting a serious damper on my sated afterglow. But he reached up and put his palm on my cheek, guiding my face back toward himself.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?” I looked at him and saw that his eyes were earnest, tears once more gathering inside them, though they didn’t spill over.
“We were kids,” he whispered, “but I knew then, just like I know now. I knew she wasn’t the one. I knew you were. I lied,” his voice cracked, and he wiped surreptitiously at his eyes. “I lied to you, and her, and myself, and everybody. I was a coward, just like you said I was.”
Why, every time he expressed regret over what had happened in the past, did he have to fixate on hurti
ng Ellen? Why couldn’t it be about me, only me, just one time? He knew he’d hurt me, too, right? But he could never let my pain just be what it was; it was always surrounded by everybody else’s.
“I don’t care who else you lied to,” I whispered, surprised at how vulnerable my voice sounded, tears echoing at its edges, hollowed out with sadness. “I care that you hurt me. God, you cannot imagine how devastated I was when I came back after break and—and—you said you wanted to be with her. I—” But I couldn’t say any more. I bit my lip, stubbornly stopping my tears. I didn’t want to cry in front of him, suddenly. For months, I hadn’t let myself feel angry about what he’d done to me. I’d pushed it back, swallowed it up in concern for him. Now, though, it seemed more important than it ever had. How could I trust somebody who’d treated me like that? How could I trust that he would feel the same way about me tomorrow that he did tonight? I’d already seen how this played out once before.
“Paul,” he whispered, and his tears finally spilled over.
“No,” I said, sitting up. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“I don’t know what to say,” he said.
“You don’t have to say anything,” I replied, “but you should probably go.”
“What? Paul,” he reached out and touched my back.
“No, I mean it. I just need a little space right now.” I turned to look at him over my shoulder, but I had to look away again in the next instant. The hurt written all over his face was too much for my heart to take. And I didn’t want him to go, but I also couldn’t bear for him to stay. I shouldn’t have slept with him; it opened up all these feelings that I didn’t know how to deal with, and I felt like I was drowning in them.
He didn’t leave right away, though nothing else was said. It was like he was in denial for a moment or two about whether I really wanted him to leave. But when he couldn’t deny it anymore that I did, he picked up his clothes and left. And oh my God, how my heart ached when I watched him walk out the door, shoulders low, head down. I didn’t want him out there; I wanted him in here, with me—but I couldn’t say it. I just couldn’t let him back in. The fear was too much.
CHAPTER 19
Want Me to Go?
__________
It wasn’t that late—only about eleven or so—but I was pretty sure Taylor was asleep. What would I have done if he was awake, anyway? Gone to his room and told him all about sleeping with Jamie, who just happened to be bunking in the next room? But after Jamie left my room, I felt like I couldn’t be alone at that moment. I grabbed my phone and dialed Steven, but when it went straight to voicemail, I remembered that he had to work that night.
I scrolled through my contacts. Should I call Lynn? No, she was probably with Deacon. Trent? No, he would be at the club, too—at least, if he knew what was good for him. Steven had said he’d pierce Trent’s ears in his sleep with his stilettos if he didn’t come to his next Saturday show.
Then I reached Tessa’s number, and I stopped. Tessa. If anybody would understand what I was going through at this moment, it would be her, right? I texted, U up?
Yeah, why?, she responded.
I hesitated, and then I heard the shower turn on. It must have been Jamie. Eager to make my escape, I threw on shorts and a t-shirt, grabbed my keys, and slipped out the door. Did it make me a coward to wait until Jamie wouldn’t see me to leave my room? Yeah, probably. But I didn’t know how I could keep my hands to myself when I saw him again if I didn’t find some clarity first on everything that had just happened.
As I climbed the stairs to her room, I started to worry—did I know Tessa well enough to ask her to weigh in on something like this? Was it fair to just show up in the middle of the night at her room expecting her to hear all my love troubles?
I knocked anyway, and she opened the door herself this time—though I could see her roommate, the formidable Michelle, on the couch just inside. A movie was playing on the TV.
“What’s up?” she said, arms folded across her chest.
“I just slept with Jamie,” I blurted. “And I’m freaking out.”
“Oh, my God.” Her face went from suspicion to concern in an instant, and she said in that high voice that girls sometimes use, “Paul, why? You know he’s trouble.”
“I don’t know that,” I muttered. “I mean, tonight he was really nice, but I just—I don’t know, I freaked out.”
“Okay,” she said, “come on in.” She turned and went inside, beckoning me to follow. On the couch, Michelle paused the movie.
“Want me to go?” she said in a monotone.
Yes, obviously I did. But Tessa shook her head and said, “Oh, no, it’s fine. We can go to my room.”
So I sat down with her and explained our fight at the AC, and how it had turned to something equally fiery, and how it had finally fizzled out.
“He told me he’s always wanted me, like even when he was married. And I just…I don’t know,” I sighed. “I couldn’t believe him. Like, he has told me almost the exact same thing about his ex, once upon a time. That they were meant to be together. And it almost killed me when he said it then, but now—I just don’t know what to think. Why would I believe anything he says now?”
She nodded. “You shouldn’t. You absolutely shouldn’t. Men only lie, Paul. This is just like Daniel, seriously. He would say one thing, but mean something else completely. His actions did not match up with his words.”
Was that Jamie, though? His actions had been erratic at times, true, but what he’d told me today did sort of match up with his actions, didn’t it? It had overwhelmed me, even disgusted me at times, but none of it seemed untrue. My instincts told me it was true—at least that much was the case. It wasn’t that it seemed like a lie—it was that it seemed inconsistent. His feelings could change on a dime, and that scared me more than I’d ever been scared before. If this was real, the thought of losing him now was terrifying.
“Where is he now?” she asked.
“Uh…maybe still in the shower? That’s where he was when I left.”
“You can crash here if you want,” she said. “It has to be awful seeing him there.”
“I think I’ll be okay,” I said hesitatingly. “Thanks. I just…I don’t know. I just didn’t feel like being alone, and I really didn’t feel like being with him.”
“I get it,” she said. “Hey, do you want to watch a movie with us? It’s supposed to be girl’s night but,” she shrugged. “I don’t think Michelle will mind.”
“No?” I said. “She never talks to me.”
“She’s just embarrassed about how things went when you first met. She’s nice, Paul. You’ll get along.”
Luckily, I tended to get along with pretty much everybody, even if we didn’t all become fast friends. Anyway, unfriendly Michelle was still preferable to irresistible but emotionally unavailable Jamie. “Sure,” I said, “let’s have girl’s night.”
She laughed and led the way to the main room, where Michelle appeared to be surprised but not at all put out that I was joining them. We settled in and put on something new—the girls didn’t want to restart what they’d been watching, and I wouldn’t have understood it otherwise, they said—and in the dim lights and the comfort of the couch, I finally began to feel drowsy. It had been such an exhausting day. Between learning Lynn’s news, and running way harder than I had in recent memory, and fighting with Jamie, and making up with Jamie, and sleeping with him before fighting again—I was just beat. It was warm in the room, and the edge of the couch was as soft as a pillow. I didn’t have to think about anything, or worry, or overanalyze anything. I could just rest.
When I opened my eyes, it was to a loud rap at the door. I stretched out my arms and legs and looked up. Through the window above me, the sun was shining. I was on a couch, with a thick, woolen afghan over my legs—but it was neither my couch nor my blanket. I blinked slowly and looked around me. Where was I?
Another loud knock at the door helped jolt me into the land of
the living, and I sat up and called, “Who is it?”
“It’s me,” came Taylor’s voice. “I thought you’d be there. Open up!”
I stood up and walked to the door, happy enough to let Taylor in, though I was surprised that he’d found me.
“Hey,” I said on a yawn, “how’d you know I’d be here?”
“You left your phone on your desk,” he said, “and Jamie didn’t know where you were, so I checked your messages.”
I probably should have been mad that he was looking through my phone, but it was Tay. I said, “I didn’t know you knew where Tessa’s room was.”
“We came up here that time on the way to the AC,” Tay answered, “to drop off her essay.”
Oh, that’s right. “Well,” I said, “hi. I’d ask you to come in, but I’m not sure you’d be welcome. Tessa has a thing about guys in her room. Well,” I said again, a little self-consciously, “straight guys, anyway.”
“Fine,” Tay said. “So, what are you doing here? Did you sleep here?”
“I guess,” I answered. “We were watching a movie last I knew. I just woke up because you knocked on the door, but she put a blanket on me and everything.” I smiled at the memory. Never before had anybody reminded me so much of Lynn. It made me miss her just a touch less—and also, simultaneously, tons more.
“Jamie was so worried that he woke me up,” Tay said, “at seven in the morning!”
I cringed. “Sorry. He gets up early to run.”
“I know that,” Tay said, then added in a fierce whisper, “What I don’t know is why the hell you slept with him!”
“He told you that?” I folded my arms. “Not your business, Tay.”
“Bullshit,” he said. “You’re the one who told me we should talk about the important stuff, remember? And besides, he didn’t have to tell me; I have ears, you know.” But then his expression softened. “Look, if you really like this guy, then I’m happy for you. One hundred percent. But it seems like if you really liked him, you wouldn’t have bailed and left him freaking out about where you went.”
