by Cooper Davis
And I thought I’d been so clever, sneaking out by sunrise.
Veronica wipes at her eyes, and stares at me for a long moment. “Didn’t you know that I’d accept you, Hunter? If you love Max, then I want to know it. We all do. You guys don’t have to hide anything from us.”
Veronica may not have been the love of my life, but she has always known how to find my pulse and touch it with a whisper.
I can only stand there nodding, wiping at my own eyes. I’m not even sure when they filled with tears.
Veronica moves close and wraps her arms around me, drawing me close to her. “You’re my friend, Hunter. My really good friend, and I accept you. Don’t you understand that by now?”
Funny, but I flash on the strangest memory. I remember once when Veronica and I were still dating and she asked me what I thought of Max. She asked it in a kind of pointed way, while we were lying in bed together. For some reason, I remember how hushed her voice got as she held me, how naked I felt at the question.
Maybe she’s known all along. “Veronica, the problem was me, not you,” I explain, my voice all thick and tight.
“Well, yeah,” she says a little tartly. “Anybody who doesn’t brag about being with Max is certifiable.”
I swell with pride, because he is all mine. He’s my boyfriend, my lover.
“Well he wasn’t exactly telling about me, either.”
“Hunter, anyone can see that Max is gay.” Veronica sighs. “Look at him! He’s too damn beautiful to be straight. Always has been.”
“So what are you saying?” I demand, feeling a little confused.
“We pretty much knew about Max. You were the one crossing over to the dark side, so to speak, so you were the one who hid this from us.”
“That’s how you see this?”
“You have been into Max for years now, there’s no secret about that. What the hell took you both so long?”
Max’s head jerks up, and his mouth falls open. “Wh-what do you mean, Veronica?” he stammers softly. “Hunter never…before this summer…”
Veronica stares right at me. “Anyone—and I mean anyone—could see how Hunter has always acted around you, Max. He’s had a crush on you from the moment I first introduced the two of you.”
Deep down, I know she’s right on the mark. I was infatuated with him for years, but I hid the truth, even from myself. But I can see it so clearly now, remembering that night when I first met him.
I know that he was wearing a red polo shirt, and somehow that I remember such a thing seems really significant.
Louisa nods in agreement. “I kept talking to Max that night, and he didn’t even hear me. Just kept staring at Hunter, clutching my hand for dear life.”
“That’s not true,” Max argues shyly, shaking his head. Until Louisa gives him a withering look, and he laughs, “Well, yeah, probably is true, actually. Seems like I remember being really smitten.”
Bingo! I want to jump up and down at those words. Brian the stock trader’s got nothing on me.
I grin devilishly, stepping a little closer toward him, “Smitten, huh?”
Golden eyes grow moody as a sunset. “Definitely remember that.” He smiles. “Being…smitten.” Uh, huh. He’s going to pay for that one later tonight in bed.
I turn to face them, folding both arms across my chest. “So if you guys knew, why didn’t somebody knock some sense into me?” I could have spent the past four years with Maxwell, not floundering on the last outpost of my heterosexuality.
Veronica slips her arm back around my waist, holding me close and says, “Because, dear idiot, love has to find its own way. You should know that by now.”
I laugh and shake my head at Veronica’s salty wisdom. “Okay, so if you’re wondering why not to be mad at me…that’s why.”
She frowns, like she’s not quite able to do the math. “What do you mean?”
“Because, Veronica, I was trying to find that way,” I explain softly. “With Max and…and…” I hesitate a moment, plucking up my courage, then finally add, “And being gay. You know, finding my way with being gay.” There, I’ve said it. Bold and proud, like my baby.
Veronica rubs my back a moment. “Forgiven.” She smiles, the teary eyes shining brighter. “I can’t ever stay mad at you, Willis. Especially not when you’re this sweet.”
Hell, did she have to use the word “sweet?”
“I’m not that gay,” I grumble at her, and she narrows her eyes at me.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sweet.” I have to set the record straight.
But Max steps into my zone, grinning gently. “Well, you are to me, baby.”
Baby? Who said he could call me that? “Maxwell—” I begin, but he cuts me off with a full kiss on the mouth. He’s beyond pleased with me, and I can’t help but shiver slightly beneath his passionate kiss.
“Baby, don’t even start.” He laughs, and I think our roles might have reversed a little bit. Hell if I care, we can sort out the details later. I’m still a man, and I know it—a man who happened to fall hard for this damned amazing one.
Lucky, lucky me, I think, as I watch our friends hug and kiss him, bathe him in the acceptance that he deserves. He’s lit from the inside out, and he’s never been more handsome to me.
Amazing what coming out can do, I think, as he laughs and blushes, beaming at me with an utterly hopeless grin.
I return the smile and feel my own cheeks flush hot, as our friends move to embrace me.
There’s no doubt in my mind—I’m definitely right where I want to be.
Chapter Six
So now it’s later, hours later, and we’re literally yanking at our T-shirts, pulling at zippers. Hell, I’ve got to have him right now, and I growl hungrily as we stagger toward the sofa.
“I thought they’d never leave,” Max pants, as he tugs my shirt off me. My chest is bare, and his presses right up against mine, skin to skin, like velvet warmth against me. I reach and caress one nipple, as we drop together, breathless on his sofa. We struggle a moment, until he’s on top of me, working at my fly, but it won’t cooperate.
“Baby,” I murmur softly, dipping my head low so that I draw his nipple into my mouth. I suckle and pull, and it grows taut beneath my lips. Still he fusses with my blue jeans, until finally I lift my head and our lips crush together. I slip my hand between our hips and open my fly with an easy flick of my fingers. He tugs my zipper low, still devouring me with his mouth.
I’m aching for him, that’s how hard I am. It’s painful and intense, and only crests a bit more when I feel his urgent fingers reach within my pants. My cock leaps at his touch, springing right out of the opening to my boxers.
“You did it,” he purrs in my ear, and I realize that our coming out has turned him flat on. Or maybe it’s me committing this way, I’m not sure. And I hardly care if this much passion is the end result.
Slowly, he begins to stroke the length of me, tantalizing me further, teasing me like some coy lover.
My hips meet his caresses and I arch and cry out. We’re not going to last, I don’t even know what we’re up to. He’s still half-clothed and I want more than this.
My hands roam over his warm back, kneading at muscles and trying to somehow get enough of him. Impossible.
“Maxwell,” I groan in his ear. “Not…here.” I don’t want to lose it in his arms out on the sofa. I want to really make love.
He smiles down at me with luscious, hooded eyes. “Not here what?” he asks, and I have to admire the man’s control. I’m hopelessly lost tonight.
“Not here…” Wait, what does he want? “I want to make love.”
“I’m going to make love to you,” he asserts with uncanny boldness. “If we go in there, that’s what I want.” Suddenly it hits me, the way he has me pinned beneath him, how he’s going right for what he wants there in my pants. He’s in control and spinning our roles right around tonight. “Baby,” he murmurs in my ear, and I can’t help
but burn beneath his gentle shower of kisses. Down my jaw, onto my throat, then my chest they go, and I’m fevered tight.
“O-okay,” I agree helplessly. Now I know how he’s felt, because I’m a little bit terrified at the notion of him taking me, but my cock strains at the mere thought of it, too.
He climbs off me, nearly swaggering toward his bedroom and I can’t believe how cocky he looks. Those blue jeans ride low on his hips, emphasizing his bare, muscled back, and he’s way too dangerous.
Yeah, my boyfriend knows how hot and impossibly handsome he is tonight, and I’ve made him feel that way, I realize with a surge of pride.
I stare after him, breathless, and then finally wrestle to my feet. My pants hang open, my cock juts straight out, and it’s already wet with what he’s done to me.
I don’t waste a moment chasing after him.
***
Max definitely has me where he wants me, beneath him this way. There’s something in his smile that is proud, incredibly proud, of what he’s doing to me. He knows without question that I want to be with him. That I’ll never hide again.
And my openness has cranked him right up. I love having him atop me, all naked and warm and rippled heat. I can’t bother with being frightened as our tongues twine together, as our kisses grow deep and heady.
Every nuance of his body needs my attention, every dip and curve.
We’re licking and kissing and rolling. Thank God he’s got a king-sized bed.
Now I’m on top and I dare him a bit with my gaze. Maybe I’ll spin this back at him. I’m a bigger guy and I pin his arms over his head. Lovely eyes widen in surprise at how threatening I am; I’m playful but a little bit dangerous, too.
“Oh,” he gasps, as I work my way between his thighs, slowly cradling my hips against his and moving them. I want to tease him and make him crazy. “Oh, oh,” he repeats, closing his eyes with a shudder.
I have him right where I want him. Wanting me.
“How’s this gonna go?” I challenge him, rocking my hips in a tantalizingly slow rhythm. He quivers and trembles beneath me, but I still won’t let his hands free. “Huh, baby?” His eyes are closed and I push a bit harder between his legs, promising something. The smoldering eyes fly open, and I swear he makes love to me with his roving gaze.
When did I stop breathing?
The hard ridge of his cock rubs against my own, as I slide between his legs.
“I-I want you,” he moans archly. “God, Hunter…don’t you know how I want you?”
I bury my head against his shoulder, kissing his neck, feeling his scratchy jaw brush my cheek. My hand slips beneath him, lifting those slender hips. We’re working at one another now, rocking furiously, needy.
We roll onto our sides, and he slips his arms around my neck, holding me tight. “I want to…to be the one. Tonight,” he stammers huskily. He’s lost some of his control, but he still knows what he wants. I swallow hard, staring into his eyes for a long moment.
Our thrusting motion stills and we gaze longingly at one another. A reverent hush falls over both of us, bathing the moment in stillness. There’s only the sound of our uneven breathing, only him looking right at me, wanting me this much.
“Okay, baby,” I whisper with a slight shiver, cupping his face within my palm. I can’t deny him a damn thing, and I certainly can’t deny him what he’s asking for. Not when he stares at me with those wild, smoldering eyes, the picture of innocence and seduction all at once.
Finally, he swallows visibly, nodding as he rolls away from me. I wrestle with my emotions, my heated body, pressing my eyes closed. I swear to God my heart is beating its way right out of my chest.
He reaches in the darkness, beside the bed, and I hear a clattering sound of his keys and sunglasses. Then another muffled sound, and he rolls flush against me again, smiling devilishly, as he slips a hand between my thighs.
Next thing I know I feel his fingers working into me; slippery and cool and nothing has ever pleasured me quite this way before in my life. My hips buck uncontrollably with his rhythm as he lowers his mouth to my chest, trailing hot kisses across my skin there, still pumping those fingers inside me.
He’s touched me there before; played around a bit shyly back in our first days together. But nothing so intimate and intense as this; he’s practically making love to me already.
When his lips trail low onto my abdomen, and he lets his mouth linger there, I howl despite myself at the furious sensations he’s causing in me.
He kneels for a moment, letting his hands fall away, and I roll onto my stomach without hesitation.
It’s a damned invitation, because I need everything he’s got for me now.
He’s preparing me and I can’t stop writhing at his touch. But then he clasps my thighs and spreads them a little wider as he eases my hips upward, kneeling behind me. His palms splay wide, urging me open to him; he’s bold and in charge. That’s my Maxwell, I think on a sigh, right as I feel him push into me a bit.
I can’t help but tense up, because as much as I expect it, as much as I want it, there’s so much of him.
“I love you,” he breathes into the darkness, his strong hands holding me so securely, making me feel adored and safe.
My eyes water at the intensity of feeling, at how raw this is between us.
He works his way in deeper, and I groan at the sensation.
Oh, no. Nothing will ever be the same, I think, as I can hardly breathe with him pushing tight inside me this way.
It hurts, yeah, but it’s absolutely blowing my mind. I cry loudly, aching with him, but he keeps pushing, doesn’t consider stopping. He’s unbelievably gentle, but he knows what he wants and he’s not holding back. He’s filling me deep, stretching me wide.
I’ve never felt a thing like it in my life. He’s all the way in and I’m at the edge, sucking in breaths, shaking beneath him. He’s burning me, and loving me, and I’m helpless at his touch.
He’s pushed tight inside, but why in hell won’t he move?
My hands grasp at the pillows, flail at the sheets as he makes a first hesitant thrust. I swear it nearly unravels me completely, and I answer with a fierce cry.
Our ragged moans and helpless sounds mingle together, as we begin to slide as one.
“Oh God, Hunter,” he murmurs, small hips moving against me. “Sweet, sweet…oh so wonderful.”
He’s at it again, my Maxwell the talker. Whereas I can’t think straight, can’t begin to reply. There are only my aching gasps and desperate pleas. Hell, there’s nothing but Maxwell, taut and deep inside of me.
I’m absolutely full with him, and he holds me within his very hands. Fragile, lost, I’m his.
That’s my last thought as he thrusts a little harder, and then I’m gone.
I can’t believe what he’s done to me. That’s the only thought pulsating through my mind as I feel him resting his cheek against my back. He’s collapsed on top of me, and I burn inside. It’s an aching, tight sensation, but it’s coupled with the fiery warmth of him being in there, too. He’s slipped out, limp now, like the rest of him. He’s draped over me, holding on tight.
I draw in desperate gulps of air, my face buried against his soft pillows. My chest and stomach are coated with my own sticky warmth, but I hardly care. His hand cups my abdomen, tucked neatly there and I don’t think either of us will ever move again.
I don’t think either of us will ever be the same again.
“Oh my,” he murmurs against my shoulder, kissing it tenderly. I think he’s as shattered as I was that first time.
I’m utterly shattered now; only it’s different, the way it feels to have had him this way.
Slowly, he rolls off me, onto his side and a part of me cries out at the physical separation. I never want to be apart again, and a keening loneliness wells within me. But he’s Maxwell, and he’s not gone long. Instead, he curls up close against me, his arm across my back, rubbing and loving me.
I roll my head sideways u
ntil we’re staring right into each other’s eyes. The look on his face shocks me; it’s undeniably gentle and soft. More so than usual, as he brushes at my hair, so he can see into my eyes.
“You okay?” he asks, that quiet voice causing me to shiver a bit.
My eyes close as I lie there, feeling his breath against my cheek. Finally, I nod. I can’t talk, not now. “Sure?” he asks, a bit more uncertain.
“Oh, baby.” I sigh, reaching to stroke his hair. “You’ve destroyed me tonight. Don’t you get it?”
Golden eyes blink in confusion, squinting as I trace his jaw with my fingertips. I’m sated and sleepy, and absolutely undone.
“I-I don’t understand,” he says finally, and I see him swallow hard.
“Baby, I love you.” There, he should understand that. I see the tension ease from his face, and he presses a tender kiss to my forehead.
“You-you liked it? What we did?”
Men, I tell you. We’re almost as bad as women sometimes.
I roll onto my side until we’re lying there, so close I can feel the warmth of him radiating against me. Slowly, I circle his bellybutton with my fingertip, feeling a soft little tuft of hair there. “You know what you did to me,” I finally say, not looking at him. I feel so broken, lost in him like I did our very first time. Maybe he’ll get that, and not push me so hard.
“Oh.” It’s almost a soft swish of a sound. Not even a word really. His fingers are winding their way through my hair, petting and soothing me and I know that he gets how vulnerable I feel. He slips his arms around my neck and pulls me close within his arms. The familiar scent wraps around me like a summer breeze, effortless and warm. Strong hands fold around my backside, slip beneath my hip.
It’s so simple, so true; I am loved.
Sometime around five a.m. I wake, and for a moment, a slight lurch inside reminds me to go. But then I remember. I’m not leaving again. I’m here with him, I’m here to stay.
We’ve fallen asleep in a tangle of arms and legs and torsos. It takes me a moment to sort out what’s what as I roll out of his embrace. His fingers are laced tight within my longish hair, and I have to pry a few strands loose from his firm grasp. I think he was stroking my hair when he drifted off.
