by Chase Potter
“What?” Alex asks, brushing a hand down his shirt. “Is something on me?”
“Um, no. Sorry, I was just spacing out.” I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have gotten away that easily if he had caught me staring at his crotch. I steal another drink, wishing that the beer would grant me courage a little faster.
Alex's apartment isn’t at the top of a high-rise, but it still manages to be… classy. Gleaming hardwood floors stretch from the living room into the kitchen, and he has just the right amount of art and assorted decorative things. It’s obvious that nothing in this apartment came from IKEA, and my eyes land on a painting of a tree. It’s painted against a sunset, and the artist wasn’t afraid to let the evening’s colors wash through the whole scene. The tree holds the entire spectrum in its branches and its leaves. It’s a daring mix of muted and vibrant, and I’m convinced it’s an original work.
“You like that?” He leans forward and the outline in his sweatpants disappears.
I shift in my seat, and in an odd way, I feel like I’m seeing him for the first time. “Yeah, I really do,” I say, and thoughtful notes play through my voice. “Where’d you get it?”
“You’d never guess, but I bid on it at a cancer benefit auction. It was painted by a teenage girl before she…” his words fall into silence.
The living room demands to be explored in more detail, and I get up from the couch. I can feel Alex watching me as I inspect his bookshelf. Trailing a finger over the spines of law books, I turn my attention to a round end table between the bookshelf and the painting. With its bulky and old style framing, it must be some kind of restored antique.
But all those are secondary observations because the tabletop holds a selection of liquors. I lean the nearest bottle back to read the label. Lagavulin 16. I raise an eyebrow. Beside it are an assortment of other whiskies, most of them equally expensive single malt Scotches.
The silence between us winks out of existence as I ask, “Do you mind?”
“Go ahead.” I can hear the smile in his words, but I ignore it.
Setting down my beer, I take one of the tumblers and fill it a third of the way. Without looking back at Alex, I lift the glass to my lips and put it all back. The whisky slips over my tongue and sears smoothly down my throat. I plead for the feeling to linger, relishing in the tingle as the burn subsides.
When I set the tumbler down, I can already feel the nip of alcohol in my fingertips. Alex is still on the couch, babysitting his beer. “What do you think?”
“It’s good,” I say. “Really good.” The whisky in my stomach whispers encouragement, eroding my inhibitions, and I return to the sofa to sit back down beside Alex, closer this time than before. My knee brushes up against his, and he lets it rest there.
“You okay?” he asks, and the question teeters on the edge of caution.
I blink, and for a shadow of a second, darkness fills my vision. I could still leave…
“Yeah,” I whisper as I lean closer. “I’m great.”
We’re close, just inches separating us. I glance from his lips up to his eyes with their green and gold. This is my chance to resist, to get the hell out of here. But the truth is that I want this. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here.
I might be thirty-three, and I might never have seriously thought about messing around with a guy. But something about Alex has drawn me to him, and I’m not going to bolt out of here before I have a chance to explore that.
My eyes slowly close, and unlike the first time this happened, I lean forward a little to meet him. His lips touch mine, and for the following seconds, they become my world. Like last time, he tastes like vanilla, and the flavor mixes with the memory of whisky in my mouth. It creates something smooth, pleasant, and I want more.
Eyes still closed, I feel a hand come to a rest on my neck, cradling the edge of my jaw. Holding me. He’s strong, and suddenly I’m no longer sure who’s in the lead here.
I drag my mind back to the moment, afraid to push a boundary but wanting to do it all the same. I reach out, bringing my hand to his waist and feeling heat through his shirt. My fingers rise, exploring the toned lines in his chest. Higher now to his shoulders, the back of his neck, and my fingers are in his hair now.
I’ve done this before, with a woman. But Alex is nothing like that. He’s got this… masculine energy, a sort of power density that’s not like anything I’ve ever experienced, and even now as his tongue pushes back with aggression, I feel like he’s holding back. It’s weird as hell to think that I’m making out with a dude. But even the starkness of that thought gives me no desire to stop.
He breaks the kiss and drops his hand. His eyes are hazel bright, and a smile pulls at the edge of his mouth. “First time doing that?”
“Other than the night at the bar… yeah,” I say with embarrassment. “Is it that obvious?”
He shrugs. “You seem a little nervous, but…”
“But?”
“It’s sweet,” he answers softly.
My confidence renewed, I lean in again. “Enough talking,” I whisper, and my eyes are closed before our lips even touch. The roughness of his stubble doesn’t catch me off guard this time, and my fingers don’t hesitate to close around his shirt and tug it over his head. I pull upward until his chest is exposed and I’m kissing my way down his neck. Over his muscled chest and the light covering of hair I’m not used to. It almost gives me pause, but like everything else, I like the difference. Unlike my previous sexual experiences, being with Alex feels so much more… equal. There isn’t any submission here. We’re both strong, and I love it.
I glance down over his stomach to the top of his sweatpants. It’s obvious what’s going on in there, and even though this whole thing is a first for me, it’s also sort of familiar. I’m a guy just like he is, and I know what he probably wants in this situation. What’s unusual is what I want. The back of my throat feels tight, but in a good, so-horny-it-hurts kind of way.
My fingers grapple with the tie on his sweatpants. It gives way at my insistence, and I start to tug them down. I’ve only revealed an inch of his lower stomach when I realize I was right about him not wearing underwear. I glance up at Alex and find an amused expression.
“Free balling it, huh?” I ask, my fingers still holding the elastic band.
He smirks. “What can I say? It’s more comfortable.”
I don’t bother to tell him I agree because I’m starting to pull his sweatpants down further.
A girl would never let me move this fast. And that thought leaves me… exhilarated.
The truth is that when I see something I want, I go after it. And right now I think I want to suck his dick.
The heavy feeling in the back of my throat seems to get more intense, and I abandon my spot on the couch to kneel in front of him. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right. Alex squirms, adjusting his hips to get more comfortable, and I gaze up at him. He’s looking back at me, a shy smile on his face as he just… watches. Not breaking eye contact, I pull his sweatpants halfway down to his knees.
I know he just showered after the football game, but I still catch the faint scent of sweat and heat from his crotch, and I… I like it.
I’ve never been this close to another guy’s dick before. It’s just… there, in front of my face. He’s decent sized and cut, his hair trimmed, and his balls are tight and firm. As far as packages go, it’s pretty damn nice.
Lowering my head to the side of his stomach, I press my lips to his warm skin, letting him feel my tongue as I make my way down.
“You don’t have to —” he murmurs, but there’s no conviction in his words. I don’t blame him. He might think he wants to take things slow, or maybe that he’s only looking for a serious relationship, but at the end of the day he’s just a guy and he wants his dick sucked. I can take care of that.
The numb of the alcohol is a husky whisper on my lips, and I don’t wait any longer before putting his cock in my mouth. He’s smooth and hot, and
in an instant my mouth is full of dick.
I nearly gag as I take him to the back of my throat. In theory I know how this is supposed to go, and he’s not huge or anything, but there’s still just so much of him. I fucking love it.
Careful with your damn teeth, Matt, I growl in my mind. My hair brushes against his stomach as I bob up and down, being careful not to let him in too deep again.
My tongue slides along the underside of him as his head presses against the top of my mouth, and I can feel his fingers filter into my hair, guiding my movements. Every time I go down, I catch the musky scent of his balls, and more than anything it’s the tiny detail driving me wild.
He groans, shifting his hips again, and I can tell he’s enjoying himself. Every now and then his dick twitches, pushing harder against the top of my mouth. His fingers are still tight in my hair, forcing me to keep taking him. His heat, his taste, his scent.
I can’t get enough of any of it.
I risk an upward glance, but his eyes are shut and his head is tipped back. The distraction makes me accidentally take him too deep and I gag again.
Alex's fingers curl into a ball, tugging on my hair as if he thinks I still need convincing. Bringing my hands into the game, I cup one under his balls and the other around his shaft. Rubbing, squeezing, worshipping the sleek cock filling my mouth. Alex moans again. “Jesus, Matt,” he breathes. “You sure you’re an amateur?”
I would thank him for the compliment, but it’s not polite to talk with your mouth full.
I keep sucking his dick — giving special attention to the spot on the underside just beneath the tip, wrapping my tongue around the head and tasting how it’s a little salty — I’m slammed by the realization that what I’m doing is terribly intimate. If I throw out all the other crap, all the selfish reasons that I’m indulging myself, then all that’s left in this moment is me trying my best to show Alex a great time. To let him feel pleasure from another person. I don’t know if something can be more intimate than that.
It’s a little embarrassing how into this I am as I trace his dick with my tongue every time I go down. My hands keep working him too, and I find a simple rhythm that he seems to like. Alex squirms even more and his fingers tighten in my hair, and finally I feel him tense. Every single bit of him, even the part in my mouth. His hand taps me twice on the side of the head, urgent and forceful, and I know what’s coming. I know that he’s coming.
And he does, promptly and in my mouth. I can feel his hot load hit the back of my throat, spilling over my tongue like the whisky did earlier. Once, twice, three, four times. Damn, Alex.
I relax my jaw, holding it all in my mouth like with toothpaste just before you spit.
The moment his dick stops pumping, I jump to my feet and jog to the kitchen sink. I spit and turn on the water to wash my mouth out. Swishing back and forth, I spit again and this time the taste is mostly gone.
A minute ago, I didn’t want anything more than to keep going to town on Alex, but him coming in my mouth… something snapped in my head. A realization, subtly building until blowing its load all over me.
When I look back at Alex, he’s still sitting with his sweatpants halfway to his knees and his dick hanging out on his stomach. He’s grinning, and he gestures to the sink. “That bad, huh?”
“Uh, I just…” I swallow hard. Even as my stomach is in free fall, I wonder, do gay dudes always swallow?
“Hey,” Alex says quickly. “I’m totally kidding. You don’t have to swallow.”
“Oh.” I try to return his grin from a moment ago, but it comes out pained. “Do you?” Did I really just ask that?
He smirks. “You’ll just have to find out. Get back over here.”
My eyes widen. “You mean, like, uh…” I gesture in the general direction of my hips.
“You’ve really never done this before, have you?” Curiosity slinks through his voice, and there’s something disarming about it. My hands rest motionless at my sides, and suddenly I need to get out of here.
“I have to go,” I choke out the words, instantly regretting that nothing about them sounds casual. The plan was to have some fun, and I did… but I can’t stay here. Not right now.
Alex stands up, pulling his sweatpants up and stuffing his dick back inside. He’s still kind of hard and currently tent-poling the fabric pretty aggressively. “It’s normal to freak your shit after your first time. So if you want to go… you should. But I hope you enjoyed yourself.” He brushes a casual hand across his bare chest with a grin. “I know I sure did.”
I pause. “You’re not… upset?”
He retrieves his shirt from the couch and tugs it down over his head. My eyes flick over his abs before they’re covered up. Alex shrugs. “I mean, usually a guy would bolt after he gets off, but hey, to each their own.”
A frown plays into my features, and I wonder how many times he’s done something like this. It’s not fair to get hung up on that, but I can’t stop myself.
He must be guessing the thoughts playing out on my face, because for the first time, he looks uncomfortable. “Look, Matt, I like you, and I definitely didn’t mean to —”
“It’s cool,” I force the words as I make for the door, and he doesn’t try to stop me. In the hallway, I pull the door shut with numb fingers. The latch snaps into place with a deafening crack of metal meeting metal, and I feel a wave of nausea slam into my stomach. Dropping to my knees for the second time in twenty minutes, I try to steady myself with a hand on the wall, the floor, but the world rocks back and forth. What did I just do?
I think I’m going to throw up. Not because Alex was gross. He really wasn’t. I never thought I’d let another guy come in my mouth, but… that’s not why I feel sick. No, the thought in the back of my mind — the one spitting venom and vitriol against every inch of what I consider to be me — that thought is that this might mean something different for him than it does for me, and there’s a chance I could end up hurting him.
I’m not sure why that even matters to me.
Chapter Seven
When I get home, darkness has long since spilled from the window into my condo. It’s quiet, and Carson isn’t home yet. He went to a friend’s place after school, but he should have been home by now. I get a parental itch to text him, but right now I don’t have the motivation to do anything but curl into a ball and go to sleep.
I kick off my shoes and take solemn steps through the dark to my bathroom. Flicking on the light, I take the bottle of mouthwash from the vanity and tip it back. For the second time tonight, I let something fill my mouth. But this time it’s to sanitize, to clean away the memory of what I did. And when I spit, the taste from earlier really is gone.
In an instant, I feel completely overwhelmed. Slumping against the wall, I let the open bottle slip from my fingers as I sink to the floor. The plastic bottle lands with a liquid thud, teetering back and forth before settling upright. It’s a bit of luck that I can’t bring myself to care about. I stare ahead into the clean lines of white subway tile and black slate. My vision slides silently out of focus, and the world turns murky.
I had Alex in my mouth. Another guy. What the hell was I thinking? The question throbs in my mind, but really I know the answer. I did it because I wanted to.
At the very least, I’m being stupid. However unlikely, Alex might be the only guy I’ve ever met to push me in just the right ways to make me want to jump his bones, but he’s the very last person I should be messing around with. His investigation into variance approvals might turn up nothing. Or it might lead him to Pandora’s Box of felonies. And that means Alex could bring me down. He could tear apart my whole life. He only needs to think of the right place to look, the right questions to ask.
And I just sucked his dick.
A current of shame rushes through me, along with a thought I’m not expecting: what would Carson think if he knew?
It shouldn’t matter to him, but he’s everything to me, and I couldn’t bear the thought
of him being grossed out by something I’ve done. I force a breath, and mint and alcohol burn through my nose.
Everything I’ve done in my career, even the less savory decisions, I’ve done for him. I didn’t want him to grow up like I did, where my dad didn’t have enough to buy me a vending machine soda.
I didn’t want that for Carson. Not that I spoiled him either. His room was never piled with toys or designer clothes, and I didn’t get him a cell phone until he was thirteen. He doesn’t have a car, and certainly not a hand-me-down luxury vehicle like half of his friends.
No, any extra money went to experiences. Europe, the Caribbean, Australia. Snorkeling and scuba diving in the Great Barrier Reef, backpacking through the Black Forest, rock climbing and paragliding in the Alps. We’ve done a lot in the last few years, and I loved every minute of it. I tried to give him the formative years that I never had.
A sad smile finds its way to me. For all the things Carson and I have done, his favorites are the cooking classes we take together every few months.
I take a breath, and a new fear awakens in me. What if he loses everything because of me?
I try to drive away the thought, but it refuses to move. It intertwines with the memory of what I did with Alex. Sensations and emotions twist together in my mind as I stare into nothing and nowhere, and time gusts past.
When my tailbone is throbbing from being pressed to the tile floor so long, I blink, dragging the room and the bottle of mouthwash back into focus. The taste of stale mint lingers on my breath, and I almost want to take the bottle again to my lips. Maybe I’ll find clarity then. The temptation hovers in the air, teasing me for thinking that that could actually help anything at all. And if I really wanted to get wasted, there’s much better stuff in my bar.
Ignoring the temptation, I push myself off the floor and pad into my bedroom. At my dresser, I take out my phone and text Carson. I’m going to bed early. You going to be home soon?
