My Favorite Sin

by Lina Langley

  “Stay there,” I say as I start to undo the buttons of my shirt.

  He smiles and bites his lower lip. “I wasn’t going to anywhere,” he says. “I was enjoying the show.”

  “Good,” I say. I throw my shirt off and watch it fall somewhere. Then I get on the bed, one leg around each side of him, and I keep kissing him on the mouth. As far as I’m concerned, Cyrus and I could kiss forever and it would be amazing, but I need release. Just kissing him is making my dick throb.

  “Can I fuck you now?”

  He nods, his eyes closed. His breath is trembling when he speaks. “Yes,” he says quietly.

  “Hey,” I say, rolling off him and grabbing his hand. “It’s okay. We can stop if you want to stop.”

  He opens his eyes, setting his gaze on my face. “I don’t want to stop,” he says. “I’m just a little nervous.”

  “Why?” I ask, my gaze darting between his eyes and his mouth.

  I watch his throat work as he swallows. “What if everything changes after this?”

  “Nothing is going to—”

  “No,” he says, his eyes watery. “I mean, the way you look at me.”

  I smile at him and bite my lower lip. “You don’t have to worry about that,” I say. “Nothing is going to change. You’re beautiful and I just want you to feel good. I can’t wait to be inside you.”

  He groans. When I put my lips on his forehead, I can feel how warm he is.

  “I want you,” I say. “All of you.”

  I grab the bottom of his shirt.

  He raises his arms so I can pull it off him. I kiss him on the mouth, then move down over his skin, which is warm under me. I stop for a second when I see the scars on his chest. I look up at him to find him staring. I kiss his chest, his scars, then move down to kiss his stomach. He’s breathing heavily, his stomach moving up and down as he takes sharp breaths.

  I get to his jeans and start to unzip them. “Lube,” I say as I move his jeans down his legs, scratching his skin as I do it. “It’s in my nightstand.”

  He passes it to me when I’m done with his jeans. Our gazes meet for a second and then he nods slightly. I smile at him. He looks so beautiful like this, so vulnerable, so very fuckable. I grab my hard dick, slather it with lube, and then look down at Cyrus again. “Are you ready?”

  Cyrus looks at me. “Yes,” he says. He’s still on his back and now he’s lifting up the lower half of his body so that I have easier access to his to him.

  “Do you want—”

  He smirks at me. “You know I don’t have a prostate, right?”

  I smile at him. “I just didn’t want to do anything you didn’t want to do.”

  “I want to do this,” I say. I’ve been hesitating, so he extends his arm and grabs my cock, guiding me into him. I feel like I’m going to come the second I’m inside of him, and then he tilts his head back and groans loudly.

  It takes me a second to get my bearings, because this is a lot, and I don’t know how much of it I can take. I lean down so I can kiss him as I thrust into him, his hips moving while I fuck him. We’re staring into each other’s eyes when I realize I’m not going to be able to last much longer, not while he looks like this, not while he feels like this.

  He bites his lower lip and his gaze meets mine. “Are you going to come inside me?”

  “If you want me to. Is that okay?”

  “Yes,” he says. “It’s more than okay.”

  “Cy—”

  “I want you to.”

  He’s quiet and I lean forward to kiss him on the mouth before I start moving faster, fucking him harder, and then I can feel the orgasm building up inside of me as he moans and screams, his body twisting under me, his skin flushing, his fingernails digging into my back and my name on his lips. I can feel the pleasure spreading from my core to the tips of my fingers, to the bottom of my toes. I can’t feel anything but electrical explosions through my body, my orgasm so intense that I don’t think I can hear or see anything else.

  When I’m done, I roll off Cyrus. I notice that I’m panting. He grabs my hand, our fingers interlacing. I don’t look at him. My mind is racing, and I’m thinking about what I just did, what it means. I know I need to ask him, but a huge part of me is too scared to say anything.

  “Alex,” he says. I swallow and turn to look at him. “Hey. Don’t be scared.”

  I bite my lower lip. “It’s like you can read my mind.”

  “If the musician thing doesn’t work out, psychic is next on the list,” he says.

  I smile, but I have no idea how he can joke at a time like this. I take a deep breath. “Listen, Cy—”

  “It’s okay,” he says. “You haven’t ruined anything.”

  “What?”

  “Psychic, remember? I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to tell me you hope you haven’t ruined our friendship and you’re going to tell me that you love me. Not in that way, you know. Then you’ll say things are complicated and I’ll agree with you, and we’ll stay here and cuddle, and then things will be awkward for a bit.”

  “I…” I don’t know how to finish that sentence. I do know he’s not wrong, and something about that kills me.

  “Then it’s going to be awkward for a few weeks,” he says. “And then one of us will move away, and we’ll meet up when we can for drinks, and at first, it’ll be every few months, then it’ll be every few years. But we’ll never talk about this night again.”

  I blink, my eyes watering. “Is that what you want?”

  He smiles. “Babe, it’s not about what I want,” he says. “What I want doesn’t matter right now.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t understand,” I say. “Shouldn’t that be the only thing that matters?”

  “All flesh is like grass and all its glory like the flower of the field,” he says. “The grass withers and the flowers falls.”

  My eyes widen as I recognize what he’s quoting. “Is that from the book of Peter?”

  “Yes,” he says, the smile fading from his face.

  “I thought you weren’t religious,” I say.

  He bites his lower lip. “I’m not,” he replies. “I don’t care about the bible. I care about you.”

  I swallow. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say that. He smiles at me. “Look, can we just skip this part? Can we go to sleep, and then tomorrow, just pretend everything is normal between us?”

  “It is,” I say, holding him close. “Well, I don’t know if it’s normal…”

  “Alex—”

  “But it feels right,” I say. “And that’s what matters, right?”

  He smiles at me. “Yes,” he says. “Of course that’s what matters.”

  CONTINUE

  I know I’m going to be mortified when I call Lawrence, but he has always said he was going to be there for me when I was in trouble, and I’m definitely in trouble now. There’s no way I can get out of this without help. I know Lawrence isn’t going to mind helping me, though I expect he will ask questions and I don’t know if I’m going to have answers for him.

  Still, he’s my mentor. If anyone is going to help me out when I’m in a pickle, I’m almost certain it would be him. He did say to call him whenever I needed something.

  I look at his picture on my phone. It’s the one from his Facebook page, his head slightly turned away from the camera. His hair looks dark in the picture, his cheekbones high, his brows arched. He looks more like a model than a counselor, but that doesn’t surprise me. Over the past few years, I’ve learned that Lawrence is extremely vain, though he tries very hard to fight it.

  I can feel the officers staring at me. They know I’m stalling, so I clear my throat and press my thumb down on his photo.

  He picks up almost immediately. “Alejandro?” he asks, his voice quiet. It sounds like I just woke him up. I feel a knot in my throat, but I decide I’m going to push through.

  “Lawrence,” I reply, clearing my throat. I feel like I’m about to burst into tears
, but I can’t do it when the officers are staring right at me.

  “Hello,” he says, his tone measured. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Well, no. Maybe. I don’t know. Everything is okay, I’m not hurt. I just need your help.”

  “Of course,” he says, so quickly he might as well have been cutting me off. “Whatever you need.”

  I clear my throat before I speak again. My voice shakes when I speak. “I need you to come get me.”

  “Of course, Alejandro,” he says. “Where are you?”

  “The police station,” I say.

  “Yes,” he says. “I’ll be right there. Why did they take you in?”

  I swallow. “I’m not actually sure,” I say. “I’ll tell you when I see you. Is that okay?”

  Lawrence pauses for a second. “Yes, Alejandro,” he says. “Of course it’s okay.”

  I swallow and close my eyes tightly. “Thank you,” I say. “Thank you. I didn’t know if I should call you.”

  “Of course you should have called me,” Lawrence says. “I’m glad you did. I’ll be right there, okay?”

  My smile is a little shaky, but it feels really. It helps. He’s helping. “Thank you,” I say again. I don’t care that I sound like a broken record, I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say to him.

  He doesn’t say he’s welcome. He doesn’t say anything. I notice that the line has gone dead and it takes me a little while to realize that he has hung up. I stare at my phone for a long while, until I can hear one of the officers snickering. Like a fucking child, I think, but after clinching my jaw, I turn to Officer Roberts and hand him the phone.

  He’s staring right at me, his smile wide, as he puts it back into the drawer. I assume Officer Cooper is the one taking me back to the drunk tank, but he’s not here and I’m sure as hell not going to ask where he is. I don’t know when he left, I was so invested in the phone call. It felt like the entire world felt apart around me.

  I look around as I try to find him. I’m not trying very hard, because if it were up to me, he wouldn’t even show up again. I don’t think I’m going to be that lucky, but I would really like it if I didn’t have to see Montgomery again tonight. That doesn’t look to be in the cards, because Officer Cooper has suddenly reappeared and he’s walking toward me. I have no idea where he was, but I don’t think I can ask him, and even if I did, I doubt he would answer me. He owes me nothing.

  “Come with me,” he says.

  I swallow and follow him down the hallway, until we reach the drunk tank. I stand behind him as he starts to open the metal gate. The smell of piss and vomit hits me hard. I scan the drunk tank as I look for Montgomery. He sitting down on the stone bench, looking down at his lap, a drunk man sleeping next to him. He doesn’t even look up at me when Officer Cooper closes the door behind me, the metal rattling.

  “Hey,” I say to him. Montgomery doesn’t look up at me. I know he can hear me, but I want to look at his face. I think he deserves a face-to-face apology, at the very least. I don’t want to kneel down on the floor of this place because it’s disgusting, but I think I’ve already gotten a ton of grime on me, and I don’t really know how much worse it can get.

  I kneel down so I can look up at him. His eyes are wide, his mouth slightly-open. He looks like he might be on the brink of tears. “Montgomery,” I say.

  “What?” he answers, barely meeting my gaze.

  “I’m sorry. I just… I can’t stay here.”

  He takes a deep breath and it makes his entire body shudder. He straights up slightly, which forces me to stand. There’s no room on the bench to sit next to him, so I continue standing, my arms at my sides, as he looks at me. “I know,” he finally says. “I get it.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes,” he says. Then he stands up so his face is only inches away from my face, and for a second, I’m certain he’s about to throw a punch. His hushed tone make his words seem far more desperate than angry, though. “I get it.”

  I want to apologize again, but before I can, he wraps his arms around me and envelops me in a hug. It’s tight, almost crushing. I think this is the first time Montgomery has ever hugged me, and something about it feels off. It might just be because he’s drunk, but he’s never acted like this before. I hug him back, but I try not to hurt him.

  When he speaks, he does so into my ear. “Thank you for coming anyway,” he says. “I didn’t have anyone else to call.”

  I want to question him, but this doesn’t seem like the right time. I’m sure he’s wrong, because Montgomery has more friends than almost anyone I know. Wherever we go, whatever is happening, someone is bound to recognize him. I know he values his alone time, but he’s something of a celebrity. I’m pretty sure he could have called any one of them and it would have been less trouble.

  I move away from him and try for a smile. “It’s okay,” I say. “You know that I’m here for you, right?”

  He narrows his eyes. I think he’s about to say something, but before he can, Officer Cooper is back. “You,” he says. I turn to look at him, my eyes wide. “Your friend must have floored it here, because you’re about to be released.”

  I blink. “Can we both be released?” I say, my gaze darting toward Montgomery.

  “No,” he replies. “He needs to sleep it off. You can stay with him if you—”

  Montgomery practically pushes me away from him and toward the officer. “No,” he says. “He’s going with you.”

  I turn around to say something, but he’s sitting again, once more staring at his lap.

  “Are you?” Officer Cooper asks. I nod, unsure of what I’m supposed to do or say other than agree, and then follow him out of the cell.

  CONTINUE

  Once we’re out of Montgomery’s view, I speed up so that I can get to Lawrence quicker. He’s not Cyrus, so I’m not going to tackle him with a hug, but I want to get out of here with him so I can explain things to him.

  I need to explain it all. I need him to understand I didn’t get in trouble on purpose. I stop sprinting when I see him. He’s wearing a red polo shirt and jeans that hug his legs. I have a second to register how hot he looks before I extend my hand toward him. “Thank you,” I say. “You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

  He looks at my hand and furrows his brow. Before I can process what is happening, he takes a step forward and envelops me in a hug. It’s not an uncomfortable hug, it doesn’t last too long, but I can tell he’s doing it more for his benefit than mine.

  He pulls away from me and sighs. “Alejandro,” he asks, his voice deep and gruff. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  I swallow, suddenly remembering where we are. I don’t want to piss the police off again. I don’t want to go back into the drunk tank tonight. I lick my lips, which are dry. “I’ll tell you in a bit, okay?”

  He looks me up and down, then he gives me the subtlest nod. I start walking with him, smiling tremulously at him. He’s not looking at me. When we’re side-by-side, he leans in, just a little. “Do you need me to call my sister?”

  “Your sister?”

  “She’s a lawyer,” he says. “Mostly wills and probates, but—”

  “No,” I reply. “That won’t be necessary. Thank you for the offer, though.”

  He nods, flashing me a tight smile. We walk out the double glass door. The night is warm with a breeze, then he turns to look at me, for just one second. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sounded distraught on the phone.”

  I would smile at him if I wasn’t dying of embarrassment. Distraught is putting it mildly. “I… I’ve never been in trouble with the police before,” I say, more to myself than to him.

  He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Of course you haven’t,” he says. “This must have been a huge shock to you.”

  I look at him, and this time, I can’t help but smile. Even though it’s dark, I can see how deadly serious his expression is. I want to jump to reassure him. “It was… definitely a litt
le weird,” I say.

  “Let me drive take you somewhere,” he says. “I parked over there, in the parking lot.”

  When we finally get to the car, I climb into the passenger seat and look ahead. I don’t want to look at Lawrence while this is happening. I don’t want to talk to him. I feel like he’s going to tell me I need to get a grip any minute now, but he doesn’t say anything.

  The silence feels thick and it weighs heavy on my heart. It’s only when we’re on the road that he speaks. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I shrug, looking down at my lap. “It’s not what you think,” I say. “I mean, I’m not drunk. I’m stone cold sober.”

  “I can see that.”

  “I don’t really drink that much.”

  “You’re an adult,” he says. “How much you drink is not at all my concern.”

  I nod and then turn to look at him. He’s staring at the road ahead, barely even looking at me, only one hand on the wheel. His fingers are slack, but his jaw is tight. I think I worried him and that makes me feel like shit.

  “I know,” I say. “But I want you to understand, I wasn’t there because I was arrested on the street or anything like that.”

  He waits for me to keep talking, saying nothing.

  “I pissed off the police when I tried to pick up Montgomery,” I say.

  “Remind me,” he says.

  “That’s my, uh, roommate,” I say. “We’re not friends or anything, but he seemed pretty, uh, distraught himself, I guess. He wanted me to help him out, so I went over to help him out, and the police officer wouldn’t take me seriously.”

  Lawrence nods. “They rarely do.”

  “He started getting upset when I told him I would pay for Montgomery’s bail,” I say. “Then he said he was going to hold me, you know, in the drunk tank.”

  Lawrence turns to look at me, his eyes widening slightly. “They wanted to put you in the drunk tank with your roommate?”

  “He said I was attempting to bribe him,” I say, shifting slightly in my seat. I can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable at this line of conversation, but I know that I need to tell him the truth. It just sucks that I’ve managed to put myself in this situation. “Yes,” I say.