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hands under Evan's jacket and pulling his shirt out of his pants. And yeah, that sounded good. They'd been dancing around each other in the few weeks since they got home from the beach. The bedroom wasn't a dead zone, but both seemed to be holding part of themselves back, as if not wanting to approach that losing control line again. Evan missed the naked passion, the times when Matt just didn't care or stop himself from saying or doing what he wanted. He wanted that back again, even as he spent daily hours worrying over the next time and whether or not he could go through with it. Being gay meant a lot of things in Evan's head. It meant wanting to sink down on your knees in front of your boyfriend and unzip his shorts in the middle of the kitchen just so you could feel his dick on your tongue and his hands in your hair. It meant wanting to hear dirty whispers of how good and hot and tight your mouth felt as he pushed his cock to the back of your throat. It meant getting hard in your pants just from the taste and the smell and feeling of his ass under your hands as you rock him harder and faster until he's gasping for air and you're swallowing and it's so, so good you don't need anything else. It meant that you did need him to sink down onto the floor over you and pull at your clothes until you were naked and writhing and begging for something anything& And for Evan, it meant this terrifying moment when he was so undone by Matt's come on his lips and his own throbbing erection that when Matt rolled him over and pulled down his pants and pushed his tongue into the place he couldn't imagine being the center of his need he didn't fight it. He didn't protest or push Matt away as he was filled and fucked. That was the word. It was Matt's mouth and tongue, but he was being fucked and every stab felt indescribably good. And it shouldn't. It shouldn't but it did, and Evan moaned and pounded his hands against the Pergo wood floors in absolute perfect pain. Matt didn't let him deny it anymore. Matt held him open and down and took the orgasm right out of him, taking his cock into his hand at the last possible second and sliding from root to tip once just once and Evan came with a choked cry against the floor. Maybe Matt knew the second it was too cold and too strange to be down on the floor. Before Evan could dissolve into self-recrimination, Matt was pulling him back and up, into his arms, letting him lay back in his strong hold. Hey, that was fun, Matt whispered against his ear, and Evan huffed out a laugh. Floor needs a cleaning, he whispered back. Is that a critique of my housekeeping or a compliment on my lovemaking? It didn't sound entirely like a joke; Evan's heart thumped and settled he turned his head a little, enough to look at Matt's face. It's a compliment, he said softly. Whatever his hang-ups and fears, he loved Matt deeply. There was no denying that. I should hope so, Matt huffed. He shifted back and moaned not in pleasure. Old knees, protesting& Right, let's go upstairs. Evan reluctantly moved out of Matt's embrace and stood up, gathering his clothes. They were both naked from the waist down, sweaty and disheveled. Evan's shame meter blipped slightly, but it got drowned out by the damp aftershocks still stirring through his body. He could deny and deny for the rest of his days, and not a word of it would be true. The way Matt touched him triggered something so deep and needy in his very soul he felt like a key had been turned inside him, one even stronger than the first time they'd kissed. Matt wasn't privy to his thoughts, his wonderment. He was heaving himself off the floor, bitching about old age and cold wood floors. He picked his clothes up and looked at Evan, pausing at the expression on his face. What? Evan shook his head. He couldn't verbalize it, not yet. Not until he came to terms with it. Nothing. He smiled, reached for Matt's hand. Come on. Bare-assed in the kitchen is weird. The kids came home, and they had a normal night. No one seemed to notice Evan's distraction or catch a clue of his internal monologue. Why did he like that so much? Why did he want it so much? What did that make him? The idea that his life with Sherri was a sham, a cover-up to a confused sexuality, made him sad. It made him angry. It made him wonder what would have happened if Sherri hadn't died. Would he still be turned on by her for ten years? Twenty years? Would he one day have woken up and felt like a different person? Matt, oblivious and sleepy, lay on the sofa, his head pillowed on Evan's thigh. The local news was on, the forecast over, the sports highlights winding down. Domestic bliss. Evan trailed his fingers through Matt's hair, remembering when Sherri used to do the same for him, soothing him as he tried to drift off after a long day. Who was he? Who was Evan Cerelli, and what the hell did he want and need? * * * Friday night, Evan found the book. It was crammed under the nightstand on Matt's side, thumping to the floor when Evan was trying to straighten the mattress out. He picked it up and glanced at the title. The Gay Kama Sutra. He turned the first page and the inscription could his eye. Call him. Underlined for emphasis. Then, a little below that: I recommend pages seventeen, thirty, and forty-one. Stretch first. A wave of conflicting emotion rolled over him. He knew exactly who this book was from, the only person it could be from. Call him Jim sent this book after he and Matt slept together, before Evan and Matt reconnected and got back together. Jim had been encouraging Matt, encouraging him not to give up. Evan owed him a thank you. But the other lines they gave him a lurching feeling in his stomach. It was probably a joke, but but he couldn't help feeling intimidated. Jim didn't need a book. He could imagine there had been no fumbling or confusion the night they spent together. Evan's fingers tightened on the book, and even as he resolved to put it back from where it came, he couldn't help but flip through a few more pages. The illustrations were graphic but tasteful, and Evan paused at more than one, his mouth dry as he brought the book up closer under the light. His clothes felt tight and constricting. His first instinct was to stick his hand down his pants and relieve the needy urge welling up inside him. The second thought was to find Matt and crawl into his lap and whisper things in his ear that Evan didn't imagine he'd ever say out loud. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |
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