He’s becoming addictive, and we haven’t even fucked yet.
I pull my cock out of my pants and tug at it. It’s already painfully hard, and I find it easy to get off quickly, envisioning Caleb. Those thick, long legs stretched out in front of him, his cock hardening against his jeans, that backward hat he wears, that nipple ring, the way his scruff brushes against my cheeks when he kisses me.
His taste.
His moans.
His smell.
I gasp as I find my release, and as I try to gain control over my heartbeat, I quickly wash my hands and then look up and see my flushed cheeks in the mirror.
I need a minute or two before I reemerge into the bedroom I’m sharing with Magnus. He’s been watching me closely lately, asking me questions about Caleb.
I’m not quite sure what to say. Magnus was a good lay, eager, and took my cock really well, but that was it for me. A transaction, like I said. Nothing more. I feel nothing for the poor guy.
Nothing like what I feel for Caleb.
Brushing my hair behind my ears, I think about how he wrapped his arms around me at the aquarium and surprised me by holding my hand in public. That day, I’d agonized over whether I should push him to out himself for me and decided that it would be best to keep my distance. I remember how hard it was for me to openly show any kind of preference for men out in public. The stares I got, the way people sneered. I didn’t want that for Caleb, so I stuffed my hands in my pockets so as not to give off any vibes that he needed to do anything he wasn’t conformable with.
But he did it anyway.
I remember how I’d struggled with my sexuality for years, how I hid it, repressed it. But Caleb seems to have concluded that he’s into men and then decided to go with it without agonizing over what it meant. For a man who was presumably straight a few months ago, he transitioned to being out relatively easily.
He seems completely unconcerned that he’s with me now.
Withme.
I rub my chest, my heart thumping in it erratically.
I know he can’t be with me, not really. There is too much he doesn’t know.
I’m going to break him, yet I still can’t stay away. I’m too damn selfish.
Inhaling deeply, I push out of the bathroom and nod to Magnus.
“Ready?” I ask, and he nods, following me silently to where we meet our teammates, Bev and Kate.
The debate goes well, and I’m proud of our accomplishments. And then it’s time for me to meet up with my ex.
Donovan Gray.
I see him on stage, and he looks good, with immaculately combed hair, perfectly pressed trousers, and a button-up shirt. I remember a time when I preferred men like this. Men well dressed, well-mannered, and smaller than me.
Now my tastes run in a different direction entirely.
“Whit,” Donovan calls out, nodding at me. “So nice to see you. Well done up there.”
He holds out his hand, but I just nod at him, my hands clutched by my sides. I don’t want to touch him, even if it’s a harmless gesture.
“You as well.”
His hand moves back, and he tucks it casually into his pocket. “Would you like to head out now? I have reservations at a place we can walk to.”
Being with him feels wrong, but I nod anyway, grabbing my coat and shrugging it over my shoulders. The two of us walk quietly out of the building, and when we exit into the cool fall air, Donovan glances over at me.
“You look good, Whit. Happy even.”
“Thank you. I am,” I say, and he faces forward. “How have you been? I was surprised when you reached out.”