Ryan shifts, annoyance creeping into his expression. “Again,” he says, “pretty obvious, Spence.”
I wet my lip, shaking my head slightly. “That's not what I mean. I'm asking how you go from straight boy to…this?”
He scoffs, still on his knees in front of me. “For a smart lawyer, you're kinda slow, huh?”
I tilt my head, watching him, until he huffs out a breath, then says it plainly. “I'm not straight.” The words land heavy between us. “I never have been,” he continues. “Not even a little. I'm not bi either, Spence. I'mone hundred percent a lover of the dick.”
I see that flicker of shame in his expression again. “The version everyone else sees?” he adds more quietly. “That's fake.”My chest twists and my head swims. This isn't some experiment. This isn't curiosity. He wasn't baiting me.
He's still on his knees and I drag a hand through his hair without thinking. He inhales sharply at the contact. “Why didn't you tell me?” I ask, softer now.
His eyes lift to mine again, glassy. “I couldn't,” he says. “No one knows. I can't risk it.”
I glance around the room, taking in the setup again. “And this is the solution?”
He chews on his lip. “Yes. And no. I abstain from getting dicked as long as I can. But when I can't take it any longer” he shrugs, “I keep it anonymous. Usually just one person.”
Ryan's gaze flickers. “Tonight's just…” He trails off. “It's my birthday,” he finishes quietly. He gives a small, helpless shrug. “And I've never had more than one dick at a time. Also, I'm so wound up I feel like I'm going to lose it.”
Warmth flares low in my gut. Unwelcome and dangerous. Ryan sighs, “There's also someone I've been throwing myself at for months. But he doesn't want me, so—”
“Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?” I interrupt him because I can't deal with the thought that he's genuinely wanted me all this time.
His gaze drops again. “What would've been the point?” he mutters. “I wanted to get fucked and you made it pretty clear you weren't interested.”
That lands. I step closer without thinking, my hand combing through his hair again-this time gripping firm enough to tilt his head back so he has to look at me.
“Ryan,” I say, my voice lower now. “Interest was never the issue.” His throat works as his eyes darken. And that's all it takes. Because whatever restraint I've been holding onto cracks clean through. I release his hair, taking a step back, dragging a hand over my mouth as I try to regain some control.
“Get up,” I demand.
He hesitates for half a second, then pushes himself up from the floor, steadying himself. He moves close. Too close.
“This?” I gesture vaguely around the room. “This isn't happening.”
Over my dead fucking body.
His lips twitch slightly, but he doesn't argue.
“Listen,” I continue, forcing my voice back into something resembling calm. “I don't do complicated. I don't do messy.”
His gaze lingers on mine, waiting.
“So, if we do this,” I add, “it's simple. It stays simple. I have three rules, Ryan. No kissing. No sleepovers. And absolutely, positively no catching feelings.”
A beat passes.
“Understood?” I ask.
Ryan studies me for a second longer, then nods.
And even as he does-even as I tell myself this is controlled, contained, nothing more than a release-something in my gut tells me I'm already in deeper than I should be.
“Also, from here on out, we tell each other the truth. I understand why you need to be guarded, but you can trust me, okay? This is a private arrangement, Ryan. We both get what we need. No complications.”
His eyelashes flutter and he nods again.
I shrug out of my suit jacket first, letting it slide off my shoulders before laying it carefully on the bed beside us. The normalcy of the motion feels almost absurd in contrast to everything else happening in this room. I loosen my tie next, pulling it free and setting it neatly on top of the jacket, then undo the top two buttons of my shirt, letting it open just enough to breathe.
