Page 23 of Josh’s Play

After flourishing his left hand again with the word “hurt,” Josh hung both of his hands over the back of the chair and looked surprised when leaned forward and I took his right hand in both of mine.

I felt a fire pass through his hand to my fingertips before he yanked it away. I tucked mine in my lap and looked down at them instead of up at him. I could practically see the flames coming from them. The heat traveled through me. My face burned.

“Sorry!” he was quick to say. “I thought you didn’t … I was just surprised that you …” Josh swung over the chair and slid it out of the way, kneeling in front of me, bending and wedging his head so that we were looking at each other again.

His eyes were smiling but so kind. Not laughing at me, I understood. He was looking at me in sympathy and understanding. He took my hands in both of his, never taking his eyes from mine. Though the passion remained, the fire calmed immediately, the touch of his hands feeling so right.

He started again, squeezing my hands. “I was just surprised, is all.” We quietly looked at our hands entwined together, and he waited.

“Josh …” was all I could get out. I didn’t know what to say. No, that was a lie. I was afraid to say what I wanted to. I had fought for years not to be in a situation where I wanted another man. Where another man wanted me. Yet there I sat, face-to-face with a beautiful man that I definitely wanted. A man I had kissed, a man I thought about constantly. A man whose hand in mine ignited my entire body.

I watched him clock the emotions playing out over my face in place of words that I could not articulate, and eventually Josh rescued me.

His good hand reached up, and he held it near my face, watching me as he did so. I didn’t move, not to lean into it and not to pull away, and he took that as permission enough to gently stroke my cheek.

“This blush of yours brings out the red highlights in your hair.”

I let out an awkward laugh and ran my fingers through my bangs.

“Josh, I can’t …” That sentence should have been I can’t do this. But the reality was that I couldn’t fight it any longer.

Unfinished words hanging in the air between us, I leaned down and found his lips. He held me steady as I kissed him, the gentle touch of his hand to my face a clear communication that I could keep kissing him or pull away. He was receptive to my lips on his but not aggressive in return. The choice was mine.

I wrapped both arms around him, hoisting him so that he stood taller on his knees, nestled between my spread legs. I tilted my head and kissed him in earnest, tightening my grip around him, pulling him as close to me as I could. Our chests pressed together, and I worried that the pounding of my heart would scare him away, remind him that this was all new to me. Remind him of all the times I’d said, “I can’t.” His lower half was flush with the ottoman, and I wished more than anything that he was flush with me instead.

I whimpered at the thought, and the sound is what finally triggered Josh. His hand slid from my cheek to my hair, and he repositioned my head, his hand and tongue moving in tandem until he was possessing my mouth and in control of my entire head. I moaned again, and my hands traveled up Josh’s back, to his neck, tickling the short hairs at its base before traveling up and down his spine. I could feel the fire in my hands, and I wanted, no, I needed to feel more. I tugged at his shirt, tucked perfectly into his jeans, the belt making the move a challenge.

I grunted in frustration as I yanked at Josh’s shirt, and it took us out of the moment. He leaned away from me, his hand still gently in my hair. I stopped my work at his back, grasping his sides instead. It was his turn to growl in frustration. He shook his head no and kissed me gently one more time. He sighed as he pulled away again. My instinct was to follow him, to chase his lips and keep doing what we’d been doing. To do more. But I didn’t.

I was surprised when he leaned toward me instead of standing up, his hand wrapped around the back of my neck and pulling me to him until we were forehead to forehead.

“I’m sorry,” I admitted.

“Don’t be. I don’t know what it’s like to be in the closet, but I know it must fucking suck. You have your reasons, of course, but …”

I pulled back and put my finger to his lips. He couldn’t help but brush it with a kiss, and I couldn’t help but hitch my breath. But he didn’t finish his sentence. I put our foreheads back together, keeping us close while also allowing me to look down and not at him.

“I can’t come out. It’s simply not possible.”

He nodded against me. “Okay,” he said as he stood, putting me eye level with his arousal, evident through his tight jeans.

“Okay. But here’s the thing.” He leaned down and pecked my lips. “I know.” He shrugged, our faces still close.

“What if …” he began. “I mean, we have to do this project together, right? We’re obligated to spend time together. Maybe we could …” A finger traveled down my cheek, hooking on the loose collar of my worn-out T-shirt, brushing my collarbone and sending chills to my core. It was like flying on the rink, the sensations of fire and ice running through me at the same time.

“Josh …” I had meant it to be a request for him to stop, but I could hear the desperation and need in my own voice. It sounded foreign on my tongue.

“I get that you’ve got a lot going on. I get that hockey comes first. I get that you’re in the closet. And I get that you’re horny as fuck.” I couldn’t help but laugh at that, and it felt good. Josh dragged the chair back over and straddled it again, providing a barrier between us, giving me space.

“You’ve got hockey to focus on, and I don’t do relationships, so whatever this is between us, you don’t need to stress about it. If you’re ever ready, it could just be whatever. If you’re not, then we’ll just keep working on our project.” He held his hands up in a shrug, and when he put them down, they were hanging off the back of the chair again. He turned them palms up in offer, and I grasped them.

“No worries, okay?” he implored. I nodded and squeezed his hands, one more gently than the other.

“Okay,” I agreed.

“I can be a safe space for you, Cam. If you decide that’s what you want. No one would need to know.”

“I’ll … I’ll think about it.”