I gingerly wipe my sore ass with a damp washcloth. I’ve never been fucked like that in my life. Rebel’s massive size would’ve been enough on its own to inflict some pain. Add in the force of the pounding he gave me, and I’m going to be sitting a little crooked for the next few days.

Totally worth it.

I glance at myself in the mirror and smile. My hair is sticking up in every direction, and my eyelids have a satisfied, sleepy droop to them. Anyone taking one look at me would be able to tell I’ve just seen god, and it turns out the door to heaven is between a porn star’s legs. Who knew?

I toss the washcloth in the clothes hamper near the shower and head back into Rebel’s bedroom. He’s spread out on his bed, looking sexier than any man has a right to. The moonlight filtering in through the curtains casts shadows across his skin. His long hair falls messy across his pillow, and the thin sheet rests low on his hips, the outline of his softening cock still clearly visible beneath it.

A little shiver runs up my spine. I can’t believe my luck at randomly bumping into a freaking porn star. Hands down, this will be one of those experiences I remember when I’m ninety and on my death bed.

Rebel’s eyes drift open, and he smiles at me.

“Do you have to take off right away or can you hang out for a few?”

“Um…”

I rub my hand along the back of my neck. I should leave. This is already uncharted territory for me. I don’t usually do repeats. On the other hand, Rebel is kind of cool as hell even when we’re not fucking. How often does that happen? In my experience, never.

“You don’t want to stay?” he asks, the slightest hint of insecurity in his tone.

“No, it’s not that. I just don’t usually fool around with anyone more than once, sometimes twice at most. And it’s kind of weird that I do actually want to hang out with you. I’m not really sure what to do with that.”

“Dude, I know you know I’m a porn star. No Strings is my middle name.”

“See, now I know your middle name, this is getting way too serious,” I tease, and Rebel flings a pillow in my direction. I dodge out of the way, and without letting myself think too hard about it, I crawl into bed with him.

Rebel opens his arms, and I lay my head against his bicep. I’m surprised to find it feels kind of nice to...cuddle. Holy shit, I’m cuddling with a dude after we’ve boned. There is everything wrong with this situation. On the other hand—as Rebel pointed out—if a break-up artist and commitment-phobe like myself and a porn star can’t do casual, then who can?

“Is it tacky to ask how you got into porn? It’s not exactly a job you dream of when you’re five, right?” I ask with a chuckle.

“That’s true. When I was five, I wanted to be a space cowboy, so things have gone horribly awry,” Rebel jokes, and we both laugh. “I guess doing porn is one of those things that just sort of happens when you’re not paying attention. I needed money, and I like sex, so I figured it was a no-brainer. That was almost six years ago, and I’ve loved every damn minute of it so far.”

“That makes sense. You’re happy, though? You’re not like a tragic Lifetime movie waiting to happen or anything?”

“Hell yeah. I get paid to get my dick sucked and to fuck. I’m pretty sure that’s the life lottery right there. I’m not saying I’ll be in porn forever, but I can’t see leaving the industry completely, either. I guess I’m just seeing where life takes me.”

“Mmm,” I hum to show I’m still listening, too relaxed and comfortable to bother with forming another sentence. I know I should get up and go home. But Rebel’s bed is so warm and comfortable, five more minutes won’t hurt anything.

* * *

I bolt awake in a bed that’s too warm. My skin is damp with sweat, and I realize the cause is a furnace-hot body pressed close to me. My heart flutters frantically against my ribs as my sleep-fogged brain grapples for the context of a large man in bed with me. I blink around the room, forcing myself to take even breaths and then glance over my shoulder with caution to see whose bed I’m in.

“Fuck,” I groan quietly, realizing I accidentally spent the night at Rebel’s place.

“Waswrong?” Rebel mumbles against his pillow.

“Nothing, I’m just late for class,” I lie as I ease out of bed and glance around the room for my clothes.

“On a Saturday?” he asks, his voice clearer this time.

“Uh...yeah.”

“Do you want a ride?” He finally opens his eyes and watches as I pull on my boxer briefs followed by my jeans.

“Nah, I’ll just get an Uber, thanks though. Last night was fun, so I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, I told you, I’m good with no strings, but I would like to hang out more.”

“Cool.” I nod and tug my shirt on and give Rebel one last smile before making a run for it.

It’s a short ride back to my place from Rebel’s, but for some reason, the empty quiet of my apartment this morning is unnerving. I grab my laptop bag and head over to the student union to try to get some work done.

I can’t shake the disappointment in Rebel’s expression when I bolted this morning. I must’ve been misinterpreting that, right? There’s no way he cared that I cut and run as soon as I woke up. I’m sure he has tons of things to do today, friends to hang out with, grocery shopping. Fuck, I don’t know, he’s got a life, and I have no idea what it consists of. And I have work to do, too. I can’t let a little fun with my porn star crush sidetrack me from my goals.

“Are you working on that project for Coding?” Mason asks from over my shoulder as I work on my laptop in the student lounge.

“No, this is a personal project. I had an idea for a game, so I thought I’d try to put some of my education to use and see what comes out.”

“Oh?” Mason’s eyebrows shoot up, and he leans closer with interest. “What’s the game?”

I hesitate for a second before deciding Mason isn’t the type to snake my idea and fuck me over. “It’s a play on all the dating games. It’s a break-up game. The player creates an avatar and goes on dates with Non-Playable Characters and then has to dump them. You get points for creativity, tact, stuff like that.”

Mason’s eyes light up. “That’s brilliant. That could make millions as a mobile game.”

“Hopefully,” I agree with a chuckle. “The problem is, I’m shit at the artistic part. If I take this much further than I already am, I’ll end up having to bring someone else in.”

“Oh, well, you know my minor is graphic design. The visual aspect and world design is actually my strong suit.”

“No shit?”

Mason blushes and pushes his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I’d love to work with you on this...if you want to, that is.”

“Absolutely.” I pat the seat next to me. When Mason sits down, I start to explain what I’ve been working on so far and what I’m picturing moving forward.

I’m practically bouncing with excitement. I was enthusiastic about this project before, but now it seems like this could really happen, and that’s cool as fuck.

“Hey listen, I feel like I should apologize again for the thing with your boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Mason corrects. “And it’s fine. I mean, at first, it wasn’t fine. It was...just so unexpected. I was planning to propose; I thought we were happy.”

I nod sympathetically while trying not to cringe. He was going to propose? He thought that at barely past twenty, he’d been dating the man he would spend his entire life with? Jesus, that’s another sixty years, at least. And to that fucking guy? Christ, Mason had terrible taste in men. I shudder internally but refrain from adding my two cents.

“I’m sorry, that really sucks.”

I shift uncomfortably, trying to remember how normal humans usually behave in these situations. I should offer some sort of comfort, right? I awkwardly reach out and pat his shoulder.

“Thanks. Now that I’m away from the situation, I’m realizing how unhealthy it was, I guess. I shouldn’t have let him talk to me the way he did.”

I nod and let out a relieved breath. I’m glad he at least knows that wasn’t normal. “He seemed like a dick.”

Mason lets out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I guess he was,” he agrees. “He wasn’t totally wrong though...about the boring in bed stuff and the socially awkward stuff.”

“Oh.” I put my laptop aside as I try to figure out how I’m supposed to respond. I can’t imagine that’s an easy thing to admit. Am I supposed to offer him advice? I can certainly give him a few pointers. “I know a bunch of porn stars. I could probably hook you up so you could brush up your skills.”

Know is a clear overstatement, but I’m sure I could make it happen for Mason if he wants.

Not taking his eyes off his computer screen, Mason wrinkles his nose. “A porn star? Isn’t that a bit skeevy?”

I snort a laugh.

“No offense, but maybe that’s the problem. You’re all repressed and shit. There’s nothing wrong with porn or porn stars. Sex is natural and fun. There’s nothing to feel weird about. Forget the porn stars, find someone to just fool around with for fun.”

Mason shrugs silently. Well, at least I tried.

“Well, if you want to come out to the club with me this weekend, you’re welcome. I always say the only way to get over one man is to get under another.” Not that I would know what it takes to get over someone. That would mean being emotionally invested, which, as we’ve already established, is not in my wheelhouse.

Mason grimaces. “Probably not this weekend, but maybe in a few months or something. And I don’t think I’ll have sex with a porn star.”

“Never say never,” I chuckle.

Mason focuses on his laptop, and the conversation seems to be over. I’m glad we cleared the air so we can focus on this project, and maybe eventually, Mason will let me help him with the whole awkward and bad in bed thing.