“But…but this is another…entrance.”
“Yeah, your ass.”
“Micah!”
“Oh, c'mon, it's true! You don't have to tiptoe around saying it! I wouldn't suggest it if I weren't down!”
“How…how can you just be socasualabout this?!” Linden groans.
I shrug, only to regret the slight movement when my shoulders burn like someone poured a bucket of hot water over them. Getting back up on that ladder will be hell tomorrow.
“I dunno. I mean, it seems fun? I’ve never done it before, and I guess you haven’t, either, which is the whole point of this, right? Trying new things together?”
Letting out a big sigh, Linden rubs both his hands over his face, visibly torn. I don’t want to talk him into something he’s reluctant to explore, but I also don’t want him to lie about his desires because he thinks I can’t handle it. There’s a slight flutter of nerves every time I think about experimenting with Linden, but it doesn’t mean I’m less eager. I want to do this—not because I necessarily believe Mike will want to get rimmed by me, but because I want to see Linden like Owen is depicted on the page: squirming and writhing and begging, his reserved shell cracked open and not a single worry left.
Next to me, Linden is gnawing on his lower lip, and I can already feel him pull back from me. Not physically, but the air between us is shifting.
“Don’t take this the wrong way.” He sighs, and my stomach cramps—which is utterly stupid. We’re trying stuff out; if thisisn’t on his list, that’s fine. It probably shouldn’t be on my list, either.
“But that’s…I don’t feel comfortable with this at the moment. I…I’m not as casual about…sex…as you are. I really wish I were, but…” Linden’s voice trails off, but his hands continue gesturing for another moment, and I nod hesitantly.
“It’s a Linen-Pants-Guy thing, huh?”
“A what now?”
“The guy you’re involved with? Who told you to gain some experience? That’s reserved for him, right? Like anal.”
Linden frowns, one of his hands absentmindedly rubbing over his nose.
“You mean Colin?” he asks, and I bite the inside of my cheek, giving a nod.
“Right,Cooooliiiin.” I overemphasize the vowels in his name, so they stretch in my mouth like old gum.
“Why do you call him Linen-Pants-Guy?”
Clearing my throat under Linden’s quizzical look, I scratch my neck. “Well…that’s how I pictured a guy you’d be into, you know? Loose button-downs and linen pants. Poetry book in his back pocket and kinda…floppy hair.” I gesture to describe the hairstyle I have in mind, but, judging by the way Linden just stares at me, the vision isn’t coming across. Then, a moment later, he bursts into laughter again.
“Hey!” I complain and stick my lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. “What’s so funny?”
“He looks nothing like that!” he wheezes, wiping the back of his hand over his teary eyes.
“Well! How was I supposed to know that?”
“I can show you a picture if you want? Just so you know ‘what I’m into’,” he suggests with a sly grin, his fingers drawing quotation marks in the air.
For a moment, I consider it, curious what a guy like that even looks like—the kind of guy who tells someone to prove their sexuality to him. And honestly, no amount of supermodel looks could make up for that character.
“No,” I decide as I grab his hand and gently pull him toward me. “I’d rather look at you.”
“Is that so?” Linden teases but doesn’t resist when I pull him on top of me to straddle my lap. He's only wearing boxer shorts, so my fingers dance over the bare skin of his leg. The hairs growing there are so fine, I can’t even see them, only feel them under my caressing fingertips.
“Yeah. You can admire Linen-Pants-Guy once we’re back in Bonham. But for now, you have to put up with this ogre.” I wink at him, which earns me a soft snort.
“Oh yeah, poor me, I should put a paper bag over your h-head,” he quips, his words coming out breathlessly when I use that opportunity to sneak my fingers inside his boxers to brush over the inside of his thighs.
“But how would you put your dick in my mouth then?”
Linden lets his head fall back with a loud groan. “You’re unbelievable.”
