- GARRETT -
Of course, Blair couldn’t have left it at “Thanks for the orgasm. See ya later.” No, he had to want to talk about it. I would’ve made a joke about the point of hooking up with a guy was so I didn’t have to talk about my feelings, but I knew that bullshit wouldn’t fly with Blair—even when said in jest.
“I think we need some ground rules.”
“Ground rules?” I furrowed my brow. “Like a safe word? You into BDSM?” I was trying to make the mood light to cover up the fact I was wrecked inside. I was freaking out.
He laughed. “No. But we can have a safe word if it makes you feel better. Hairy balls is a good one. Nothing puts on the brakes faster than that.”
I cocked my head to the side. “If you’re not a fan of hairy balls, we may have some issues.”
Blair stepped back, faking shock. “Considering I just learned firsthand—pun totally intended—that you do not have hairy balls, I can only assume you made a joke. About balls.” He smiled. “There’s hope for you yet.”
“So, what are these rules?” I took a sip of my beer, trying to hide my nervousness.
I didn’t know what I was doing there. I should’ve gone home after Olivia’s. I definitely shouldn’t have come all over my brother’s friend. Despite the mind-blowing orgasm, I knew it was a mistake to be with Blair. Because this wasn’t my life. It wasn’t my future. My future was simple: wife, kids, house, and maybe a dog. What the fuck do I do now?
He leaned against the kitchen bench near the sink. “I don’t exactly know what you want to get out of this.”
“You think I know?”
“Okay, I get this is just hooking up, but if this is going to be more than a one-night deal, I’ll need you to be honest with me. I don’t want to be taken off guard again by Hunter telling me you went home with someone else. And I don’t want to find out you have a girlfriend or boyfriend but have been in my bed every other night. I won’t be the other guy again like I was with my ex.”
I nodded but took another sip of beer before answering. “That’s fair. But just to get things straight—”
He snorted. I ignored it.
“You’re suggesting like a fuck-buddy situation here? But exclusive?” I’d be lying if I said that didn’t excite me, but I wasn’t sure I could do it. I didn’t see it going anywhere past tonight, no matter how much I wanted it to.
“Well, that’s another thing. I think … we shouldn’t … there’s not going to be any fucking.”
“Because?”
He shrugged and looked away.
“I have a right to know if it’s an STD thing—”
His eyes snapped to mine. “What? No. It’s just, I won’t bottom for a hook-up. And I assume you wouldn’t be comfortable with me topping you.”
He couldn’t have been more wrong. “Why do you assume that?”
“I guess I thought you had top written all over you.”
I laughed but it was a nervous sound. “Well, I’m not opposed to the idea. I’ve kinda thought about it a lot.” Ever since the night you put your tongue in my mouth. “But you’re right. It’s probably best not to go there. Not any time soon anyway. I’m still getting used to the fact I just jerked off another guy.” My voice was lighter than it felt coming out. I took another sip of beer and tried to smile.
“Are you freaking out?”
Guess I didn’t come across as blasé as I was hoping. “What do you think?” It was a genuine question. As hard as I was trying to relax, my body refused to.
“I’m thinking you’re two seconds away from running out my front door and never talking to me again.”
The hand that wasn’t holding my beer rubbed the back of my neck. I didn’t want to lie and tell him he was wrong, but I didn’t want to voice the truth either. So, I did the only thing I could think to do.
I closed the short distance between us and put my beer on the bench.
Our lips were mere centimetres apart, but before I could kiss him again, he put his hand on my lips.
“I have one more condition.”
“Shoot,” I said against his hand, my voice muffled.
He removed his hand from my mouth before he spoke. “No matter what, if this ends on good terms or bad, you promise you’ll always come to me if you need help.”
When we were in the bathroom at the club, I finally understood he was hooking up with me to try to get me to trust him. And the fucked-up thing was, it was not only working, but I didn’t care. I just wanted him.
My chest burned. “I don’t deserve you.”
Before he had the chance to ask what I meant, my mouth was on his again.
Even though I was scared as hell about what I was doing, there was no denying my body craved his. I wasn’t sure if it was a Blair thing or a male thing, but either way, I was where I wanted to be.
When I confessed my issues to him earlier about being with women, he never once looked at me like I was a freak or that I was crazy. I left out the fact that for the last ten months, I’d basically faked every orgasm I had with a woman. Yup, faked it. Condoms made it easy to get away with. And then tonight, after Blair kissed me softer and with more meaning than any woman had, I couldn’t even get it up when I was with Olivia.
The fact I tried to go home with her ate at me. Guilt, shame, regret, all those shitty emotions that consume you when you’ve done something wrong, I felt them all.
Blair’s throaty groan was the only thing reassuring me I was making it up to him now. He drove me crazy as his tongue ravished mine. I pulled him closer and felt his hard length against my hip.
“Are you kidding me?” I pulled away and looked down. “You’re hard again already? Fucking twenty-year-olds, I swear to God.”
He laughed. “You realise you’re still in your twenties, right?” He reached for my cock and rubbed it through my boxers. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll get you there again.” He eyed me, as if waiting for me to freeze up or bail.
Surprisingly, the term of endearment made my cock jump. I wanted Blair to see me that way.
I didn’t know if this casual but exclusive hook-up thing was going to work. I should’ve been trying to forget about him, not making it harder for me to walk away.
And the thing was, I should’ve walked away right then and there. I definitely shouldn’t have grabbed his hand, interlaced our fingers, and dragged him to his bedroom. But that’s what I did anyway.
One night. I’ll give myself this one night.
I paused in the doorway. “Holy shit, you have a king bed?” The bed was covered in stark white linens, which was in total contrast to the black wall behind it. “Why did we fool around on your tiny couch when we could’ve been in here?” Like a child, I threw myself on the bed, bouncing a few times before landing on my back and throwing my head onto the soft pillows.
Blair shook his head with a smile. “I thought you were the mature one.”
“Have you met me?” I never took anything seriously. At least, my outside persona never did. And for some reason, cocky Garrett decided he needed to make an appearance. Whether it was to cover the fact I was nervous or if it was to give myself a confidence boost, I wasn’t sure.
“Fair point.”
He stalked towards the bed, and I sat up, leaning on my elbows. Blair crawled his way up my legs, and my breath caught in my throat. His head dipped, and he tongued my abs, kissing his way up my torso.
He wasn’t kidding about getting me hard again. I was already halfway there, and he’d barely even touched me. The more he had his mouth on me, the harder I was getting.
By the time he reached my pecs, sucking one nipple into his mouth, I couldn’t stand his slow torture anymore.
I rolled us over so I was on top. With my lips on his, it was so easy to forget everything. It was easy to forget who I was meant to be—the guy I was in high school: the star athlete, bullshit artist, and womaniser. It was easy to forget that the person underneath me didn’t have soft curves and full lips—the things I was supposed to crave. Instead, he had toned muscles, three days’ growth on his chin, and a tongue that I couldn’t get enough of.
My lips trailed down his neck, his chest, his stomach. His ragged breathing only spurred me on.
He lifted his head as I got to the waistband of his sweats. “You don’t have to—”
I looked up at him. “I want to, but I … I don’t exactly know what I’m doing.”
His reassuring smile made some of the nerves disappear. “Trust me, I’m too wired and too fucking hard. I’ll probably come as soon as your mouth’s on me.”
My hands trembled as he raised his hips and I lowered his sweatpants. It was one thing to fantasise about doing this, but it was a whole other ballgame with an intimidating cock staring me in the face.
“You don’t—”
He was about to reassure me again but stopped talking when I found my courage and lowered my head. My tongue ran the length of his shaft, light and teasing, and he seemed to enjoy it if his hand fisting the comforter had anything to say about it.
His reaction made me want more. Sucking the tip into my mouth, I licked under the head. An unfamiliar saltiness hit my taste buds, but it wasn’t unwelcome.
“Fucking hell,” he whispered.
I smiled around his cock before taking him in my mouth. As much as I wanted to take him deeper, I didn’t want to choke and gag.
“Use your han—”
I was one step ahead of him. My hand grasped the base of him, covering what my mouth couldn’t.
“So good.” He reached down and gripped my hair.
My mouth released him. “You know the rules.” No one was allowed to touch the hair. Ever. It’d always been that way.
“God, you’re worse than Hunter with the hair.”
My hand continued to stroke him. “Mentioning my brother right now is probably not the best idea.” I smirked when he scowled at me. The control I had over him went straight to my head, and not the one with my brain. Pretty sure the connection between brain and body was severed by that point. “You know how important the hair is.”
Letting out a pained groan, he muttered, “Are we having a chat about your hair or are you sucking me off?”
I tsked him. “So impatient.”
“I’ll remember this. You do realise you’re next, right?”
“Shit.”
When I took him in my mouth again, his hips bucked off the bed. I used my free hand to pin him down. Sucking him deep, my cheeks hollowed. The hand stroking him went to his balls, adding pressure as they drew up tight. My own were in a similar state. I could’ve come on the spot, but I told myself to ignore the pain in my groin for now.
Seeing as my hair was off limits, he gripped the comforter again. With two small, restrained thrusts into my mouth, he began panting. “Coming.”
I was tempted to stick with him to the end, but at the last second, I lost my nerve and moved away, continuing to stroke him as he came all over his stomach. I tried to keep the smug look off my face as I reached over him to the bedside table and grabbed some tissues to clean him up.
He was still trying to catch his breath by the time I was done and climbed up his body. Our mouths met. His kiss was sloppy, his tongue lazy, but it drove me wild knowing I did that to him.
“Just give me a second to recover.”
I smiled and kissed him again quickly before rolling onto my back next to him. “Take your time.”
He rolled onto his side to face me. “Are you—”
“I swear to God, if you ask me if I’m okay one more time …” If I didn’t think about how I was, I didn’t have to face it. I could revel in post-sex activities in a false state of euphoria. If he made me think about it too hard, it’d come crashing down way before I was ready.
We lay in silence with Blair still breathing heavy and me trying to keep hold of the thought I was right where I was supposed to be. A lie or not, I wasn’t ready to face reality.
Yet, that didn’t stop “Can I ask you something?” falling out of my mouth. “Warning you, it’s not PC.”
“Of course.” He lifted his head and rested it on his hand as he put his elbow on his pillow.
I had to turn away and stare at the roof to get the question out. “Do you have a preference? Men or women?”
I risked a glance in his direction in time to see him purse his lips. “I don’t think so. I mean, I dunno. No.”
“Thanks for clarifying.” I laughed, but there was no humour in it.
“I know they say some bi people tend to gravitate towards one over the other. Some people will admit to being attracted to both but will only date one particular gender, but everyone’s different, and not everyone likes to put a percentage on it. I’ve never really dissected it. I guess if you look at my history, I’ve been with way more women than men, but my longest relationship was Marc. Maybe that means I swing more towards guys for relationships? Maybe it just means I haven’t met a girl I can tolerate for long periods of time yet.” He smiled. “So, yeah, no. I don’t have a preference. I’m one of those people who like whoever I’m drawn to. Male or female.”
“Okay.” I was kinda hoping for a more definitive answer than that.
“Was that the wrong answer?”
“I don’t understand it, I guess. I mean, I get what you’re saying, but I just can’t relate to it.”
“Says the guy who made out with a man and a woman tonight.” He was joking, but it hit me in the gut.
“True,” I admitted. “I don’t get what it all means.” Our little timeout allowed my erection to waver, doubts to fill my head, and my mood to sober.
I wanted him to reassure me that what I was feeling was normal. That the fact I hadn’t wanted a woman in almost a year meant I could still be bi. But what he said … I couldn’t relate to it at all. What did that say about me?
“I should probably go.” I went to climb out of bed.
“What? Why?” He grabbed my wrist.
“I shouldn’t be here, Blair.”
“Okay, what the fuck just happened? Is it that I like women as much as men? Or is it that I like both?”
I shook my head. “That has nothing to do with it. I just … I lost my head for a bit there. I’m sorry.”
He let me go and ran his hands through his hair as I got up and left the room.
By the time I found my shirt and sat on the couch to put on my shoes and socks, he was standing in front of me, wearing his sweatpants once again. His arms were folded, and he was scowling—not the first time I’d seen that expression on him tonight.
“Give me your phone.” There was a tone of exasperation in his voice.
“Why?”
“So I can give you my number, and next time you can call me instead of messaging me on Facebook.”
“No need to worry. This won’t happen again.”
“Fuck, Garrett. Really? You’re going to pretend you didn’t have my dick in your mouth ten minutes ago?”
I winced.
“Sorry. I’m not angry, but you promised no matter how it ended … just give me your phone. For emergencies only.”
Reluctantly, I handed it over.
Blair entered his number and then gave it back. “I mean it. If you need anything. Even just a friend to talk to.”
He didn’t wait for me to let myself out before he was back in his bedroom with the door shut.
Irrational and stupid, that was me. Only, this time it made me feel like a horrible human being. I couldn’t even apologise for it, because even though I suspected what set me off, I wasn’t ready to deal with it.
I locked up his place and left, vowing I’d never make the same mistake again.
***
Come Monday morning, the last thing I wanted to do was put up with the assholes I worked with. I loved my job, but I hated my workplace.
Entering the breakroom to grab some shitty instant coffee, I overheard three of my co-workers.
“Stop kicking me under the table, faggot. You wanna play footsie with someone, ask the new guy. He’d be into it,” Lee said.
“Total cum-bucket.” Jones laughed.
“God, not another Craig, I hope,” Dipshit replied.
I called him Dipshit because I couldn’t remember his name. He was also hopeless at his job, and well, I was an ass to everyone at work. No, I was an ass, period.
“I think he actually took pleasure in making us all uncomfortable,” Dipshit continued.
I stiffened. That’s their issue, not yours. Ignore them.
Jones nodded. “Right? I don’t care if you’re gay or what you do behind closed doors, but that shit needs to be kept behind closed doors. I don’t need to know about your boyfriend’s dick size, or—”
I slammed my coffee cup down on the bench harder than intended.
“What the fuck’s up with you, Erikson?” Lee asked.
“Nothin’,” I muttered. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if he found it as hard to hear about a girl’s bra size or body shape from one of their straight co-workers. But I wasn’t like Blair, and I couldn’t bring the words to the forefront to stand up to assholes with loose mouths.
“Someone needs to get laid,” Dipshit said in a singsong voice.
“Got some on the weekend, thanks.” Except it was with a guy. A year ago, had one of my co-workers said something about needing to get laid, I would’ve joked “Thanks, but you’re not my type.” Now that seemed inappropriate somehow. Maybe a year ago I felt I could joke about being gay because I didn’t realise that I actually was.
Saturday night was the first night I knew it for sure. I’d convinced myself that the thing in high school and kissing Blair last year were spurred on by pure curiosity.
Blair was confident in who he was—he knew he liked both men and women—and I admired him for that.
Being attracted to him, I immediately thought that I must’ve been the same. It meant I could hook up with guys but end up with a woman.
Ever since I kissed him though, I hadn’t been interested in any women. I tried to force myself to be, but my eyes kept gravitating towards guys. Any guy.
Now, I was getting prickly at the slurs I heard on a weekly basis but never thought much of before. In retrospect, it sucked it’d gotten this far without me realising how offensive they were, but in my defence, I never paid much attention before either.
I never participated when they said derogatory things, but I never stopped them. That seemed to be the story of my life—witnessing horrible shit but not having the balls to do something about it.
“What was she like?” Jones asked. “Another one of your brother’s model friends?”
I was on the verge of snapping. “Thought you just said you didn’t need to know all that shit.” Even I was surprised by the words falling out my mouth.
“Man, I wish my brother wasn’t butt-ugly so I could put him to work and cut in on that action.” Jones ignored what I’d said, and I began to wonder if I said it out loud at all.
“Why would you wish good looks on your brother instead of yourself? I bet Garrett’s brother gets more action than he does,” Lee said.
And I was done. “You three fucks are getting way too interested in my sex life. It’s easy to be enviable, I know, but if you spent half as long focusing on your own, maybe you’d be getting laid.”
I walked out of the room hating myself a little more. In my own way, I told them to shut up, but I didn’t tell them what I should’ve. There was fear inside me that if I told them to stop with the gay slurs, they’d automatically know I was gay.
Remembering how Blair handled the bigot in the club bathroom, I wondered if I’d ever get to that point. I didn’t want to care what some random stranger thought of me. I didn’t want to be scared I’d get attacked if I admitted it.
I didn’t know if I could be that person—the activist defending who I was. All I wanted to do was run away from the guy in the bathroom. I never would’ve thought to talk back like Blair did.
One thing I knew for sure, I had to apologise to him for freaking out on Saturday night. Both before and after we’d hooked up.
When I got back to my desk, I pulled my phone out and typed a message. Then deleted it and started again. Rinse and repeat. I’d typed out five different messages by the time I hit send.
Garrett:
Sorry for Saturday. I don’t want to shut you out like I did last year, but I need some time. I have shit to work out in my head, and I’d prefer to do it alone. Friends?
I winced at that last part and debated whether to keep it or leave it, hating that I had to go the overused line that people didn’t usually mean when they said it. It was still better than an earlier draft that had: It’s not you, it’s me.
I was relieved when a message came through thirty seconds later.
Blair:
My offer stands if and when you need it.
Garrett:
TY