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His breathing was returning to normal. “I know it’s not generally the done thing, but am I allowed to rate sex and make comparisons?”
After the spectacular orgasm he’d just wrenched from me, he could do whatever the hell he bloody liked.
“Because that was the best sex I think I’ve ever had. I can’t remember coming that much since I was a boy.”
My thoughts helter-skeltered along the same lines. For fuck’s sake, what had he done to me? The picnic frotting, him on top, had not been a fluke. Nor had last night’s action replay, when I’d kidded myself it would be his last indulgence. Don’t get me wrong—I was still going to pin him down and fuck him one day, if only to prove a point. But I loved Evan taking control.
He kissed my forehead again. “Don’t let it go to your head, though.”
“Um…yeah,” I fumbled, “It was…yeah.” Recalling how much I'd enjoyed it, inexplicable embarrassment washed through me.
His eyes met mine, narrowing slightly. “You don’t normally do that, do you?” he observed in his careful, considered voice. “Choose the bottom bunk. I could tell.”
His warm palm made slow laps of my upper back as I cuddled into him. I felt wanted, secure, almost protected, which was even fucking weirder.
I shook my head. “No, hardly ever. Not for years.”
“When you finally got over yourself, Rob, and you relaxed and let yourself go, you went all weak, like…like…” He paused, searching for the right word. If he said like a woman, I’d punch him. On behalf of men who bottomed out of preference and all women everywhere. “Like you really enjoyed having someone else call the shots for a change. Like it was a good fit for you.”
Oh God, he’d said it. He’d put into simple words the conclusion I’d already drawn in my own head. I had gone weak the moment I’d realised he was doing it his way. Whether I wanted it his way or not, he wasn’t giving me a choice. I’d fucking stopped fighting, let him take over entirely, and bloody loved every second of the tender, possessive fucking.
“And seeing you like that,” he added in a low murmur, “all open and hungry for me, was fucking hot as hell.”
Squirming in his arms, a wave of an alien emotion washed over me. Shyness? Bashfulness? Neediness? A desire for the back-rubbing never to stop? More bottoming? It was unnerving.
He looked down at me, possibly expecting a response, at the same time I looked up at him. I’d be doing a lot more processing before I had a suitable explanation. At a loss but needing a distraction, I planted a kiss on the end of his nose instead, leaving it wet and shiny. Not a gesture I had ever made before. He wrinkled the wet tip adorably, so I kissed it again.
“I didn’t know big strapping farmers were quite so soppy.” An amused smirk crinkled his lips.
“Well, I didn’t know sensible surgeons could make such a racket having sex.” Hm, much better. I’d had enough self-examination for one day. Time to regain a little authority. I glanced up at the bedroom wall behind our heads. “You’ve unintentionally come out to my entire herd, by the way.”
Chuckling, he shifted, getting himself comfortable. “I told you, I’m happy to be out. So far, it’s been a positive experience. I feel better for it.” He raised an amused eyebrow. “I’m only just appreciating how many times I’ll have to do it, though. Sally won’t tell anyone unless she has my permission. In my stupid head, I’d imagined you declared it once, and somehow everyone would know, like telepathically or something. I hadn’t thought it through at all.”
I grunted sleepily. That was the other thing about being thoroughly fucked; I could scarcely keep my eyes open. Which was unfortunate because I had a date with a milking parlour and three hundred girls in ten minutes. Yawning, I listened to him talk, loving the feel of his confident voice vibrating underneath me.
“How many years ago did you come out, Rob?”
I stiffened, wide awake after all. Oh bugger. It was too early in the morning for this shit. And my arse had started to ache.
He prodded me with a finger. “Come on! I’m a newbie! I need to know this stuff!”
I sighed heavily. He wasn’t going to go away. Seemed I’d found myself someone who not only liked to take charge in the mornings, but then liked to follow it up with a post-match analysis too. Though it didn’t stop my increasing fondness for him.
And he was right. He needed to know the whole of me, not only the parts I chose to display. Especially as he’d discovered a submissive side so well-hidden, I’d kept it a secret even from myself.
“I’m not out,” I mumbled into his armpit.
There was a pause and some nodding. “Oh. Okay. That…um…wasn’t what I was expecting.”
“I know.” I rolled off and lay on my back next to him, an arm pillowing my head. “Just because I’ve been fucking blokes for fifteen years doesn’t mean I’m out. It’s not something I’m proud of, by the way.”
“So what do you do? Pretend to have girlfriends, or what? You must do something to cover up. You’re young, you have a social life, and you’re not terrible to look at.”
He got a poke in the ribs, and in response, his hand found mine under the covers.
“That’s exactly what I do,” I answered, registering his surprise. “I go for drinks and chat up women. I’ve slept with a few. Keeps everyone looking the other way. My mates just think I’m playing the field, not interested in settling down. Or too busy with the farm.”
“That’s what I assumed when I met you.” He frowned. “Are you telling me no one knows?”
