WES
Sol feels even better than I remember. Pulling out, I slam back in, my hands gripping his hips, holding him in place. The desperate whimpers and moans falling from his lips are sinful and I lose myself in the effort of wringing them from him with every thrust. I’m so fucking close.
“Touch yourself,” I grit out.
Sol shifts, taking his weight on one arm and stroking himself in time with my punishing rhythm. Sweat stings my eyes, and I tilt my head back, reveling in the feel of his tight heat around my cock and his slick skin beneath my fingers.
My name has become a chanted prayer on Sol’s lips, and I slide my hands round to his chest, heaving him up against me and swallowing the sound with my mouth. His body burns against mine, and I push his hand away, gripping his rock-hard cock with my own. It only takes a few strokes before he cries out, his body tensing as he comes.
Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, I let him fall forward and chase my own release, fucking him relentlessly as I press him down onto the bed. It’s only a matter of seconds before my thrusts fall off rhythm and I come so hard my vision blurs.
The room is filled with the sound of our panting, and I almost forget. I’m so close to dropping down beside him and pulling him into my arms, aching to press kisses to his salt-slick skin. But that’s not what he wants. He made it pretty clear why he came here, and I was more than happy to give him what he wanted. After all, it’s what I want too, right?
I pull out, climbing down off the bed and grabbing my sweats from the floor. Sol watches me through half-lidded eyes as I pull them on, and my gut twists as the sated lust slips from his face, replaced by the same anger as before.
“Get what you came for?” I ask, picking up his sweatpants and tossing them to him.
“Fuck you,” he mutters, pushing himself up. He snatches my t-shirt from inside my sweatshirt and uses it to wipe himself down before throwing it at me.
My teeth clench, but I say nothing. How the hell did we end up here? Portland seems like some sort of fever dream. But it was. Nothing more than a beautiful ‘what if’.
I watch silently as Sol dresses, pulling on his sneakers like they’ve personally offended him. My face is sore from the stubble coating his jaw, and I wonder if it’s there intentionally or he hasn’t bothered to shave.
All too soon, Sol is dressed and heading for the door. A thousand different things spring to my lips, but none of them make it out. The truth is, I don’t know how to make him stay.
“Do you want to know the real reason I came here tonight?” he asks, his back to me and his fingers resting on the handle.
I swallow hard. I’m not sure I do.
Sol takes the silence as my answer and shakes his head, pushing down the handle.
“No,” I say, taking a step forward. “Tell me.”
His head hangs and I curl my fingers into fists to stop from reaching for him.
“The reason I came here—the reason I’ve been trying to speak to you all fucking week—is because I didn’t want us to be casual anymore.”
My heart skips, but my brain snags on the past tense. I open my mouth to ask him what about now but suck the words back in before they can escape.
“What are you so scared of, Wes?” The sadness and defeat in his eyes when he finally looks at me steals my breath, and I hate that I’m the reason it’s there.
I shake my head, dropping my gaze to my feet. “You should go.”
“Is that what you really want?” he asks. “I mean, the fact you dodged me all week should have been enough of a hint, I guess. But was last weekend a lie? Am I seriously nothing more than a hookup?”
For a second, I consider lying, telling him that’s all he is. I’m starting to think the only way I can protect his heart is by making him hate me. Because that’s what I’m trying to do—protect his heart. How can I let him think there’s a chance for us? This was never meant to be more than it was.
“No.” The word is a heavy exhale. “Of course, you’re more than a hookup.”
Sol turns to face me, but I still can’t look at him. “Is that why you came to the game today?”
I close my eyes. Why is it so hard to voice the truth? That the reason I went to the game was to see if he was falling apart as much as I am. That I miss him so much it hurts.
“Wes?” I flinch as Sol’s hand wraps around my wrist. “I understand why you put distance between us. I get why you were hurt when I freaked out at my house. But I don’t want to lose you. I’m not ashamed of my feelings. If anyone has an issue, that’s their problem. I want to be with you. Properly.”
His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist and I close my eyes. He thinks there’s a chance for us, but there’s not. He’ll get bored of me after a while. Move away after graduation. Maybe if this had happened last year, things could be different. But it didn’t, and they’re not.
“Wes?” he tries again.