Page 54 of Hiding in the Outfield

“I got carried away.” He glances at my neck, and those light blue eyes glow as they trace the mark he left. He bites his bottom lip. “I left a…hickey.” His grin breaks free.

“Stop.” I shake my finger at him. “Stop being so fucking cute. It should be a damn crime.”

He just swats my finger away, grin not faltering in the least. “I’ve never given someone a hickey before.”

“Yeah. I got that, Mr. I’m Oh-so Pleased With Myself.”

His grin dims. “Sorry. This is probably really foolish and childish to you. You’ve had so much experience.”

“Okay, let’s not slut shame, darling.”

His eyes pop wide. “No—I didn’t mean⁠—”

Dear fucking God. This man is a literal sweetheart. I have no idea how he pretended to be an asshole. “Relax, Jackie-babe. I was teasing.”

“Oh.” He shoots me that bashful smile I’m becoming so fond of. Then he rolls away from me and stares up at the ceiling. “Is there anything you…haven’t done?”

“Well, obviously. I’m sure there are an endless number of things. I’m down to get kinky, but Frankie is more into Kink Lite, you know? Like I’m not about to wear ears and a tail… Though for you? I’d probably try it.”

“Ears…and a tail?” He frowns.

Yeah, definitely not venturing there. “I’m guessing kinks weren’t really what you meant. Were there things in particular you had questions on?”

“You’ve done anal?” His cheeks pinken. “Both, uh…giving and receiving?”

I smile. What a cute way to say it, like we’re talking about the gift-giving of a penis. “I have. I…typically do not bottom.”

His head turns toward me. “How come? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“You can always ask, though I might not always answer. But I’ll answer this one.” I huff out a breath. “It’s just not really my thing. I’ve done it before where I’ve…enjoyed it? Or close to that. I guess I saw an inkling of what some people rave about. But it was a rare thing for me…”

I hesitate. But what the hell? Let’s unload all the bullshit.

“When I first started having sex, I thought I had to enjoy being dicked down to be a real gay. Like if I didn’t bottom, I wasn’t gay enough?” I let out a groan. “God, it sounds bad saying it out loud. It’s just that society has created these stereotypes, and they’re shoved down your throat over and over again until you just…believe them. It’s so fucking confusing. I’ve always leaned toward the femme side, and I just assumed that meant my role was to bottom. And that happened to be what other men wanted from me. So, I…put up with it.”

He rolls back to face me, dark brows heavy and knit together. “That sounds horrible, Frankie. So you were doing something that made you uncomfortable because you felt like you had to?”

I shrug a shoulder. “Yeah. It took a while to learn that I could set boundaries. That my wants were just as important as my partner’s. It’s not really a unique thing, though. I think it’s hard for any young person to know that.” I pluck at my bedding. “For such a small word, no is pretty damn hard to say,” I murmur.

“I get that. It wasn’t the same, but I get doing something because you felt like you were supposed to.” His gaze skitters away.

I give him an encouraging hum, but don’t push any more than that. It’s his story to tell if and when he wants to.

“I had sex with a girl once. When I was in high school,” he says stiffly. “My family—” He breaks off, his body like stone next to mine. When he finally speaks, the words are so tight the pain in them scrapes over my skin. “Olander men are meant to be a certain way. My parents made it very clear that being gay wasn’t an option. I couldn’t take my father’s comments any longer. So, I did what I had to do to shut him up.”

He draws in a shaky breath, then whispers. “That’s the extent of my sexual experience, and purely done because it’s what was expected of me. It was one of the most crushing days of my life. I, um, don’t want to talk about it. I want to erase it.”

“Jackson.”

Sad blue eyes meet mine, and it’s like a knee to the gut. I can see the long-ago pain in the broken shards of blue reflecting back at me.

“I’ll do everything I can to help erase it. To rewrite it.”

His lips tilt up in a small half-smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’re already off to a good start.” He clears his throat. “But can you promise me something?”

“Depends.” I bounce my eyebrows. “Ears and tails, remember?”

He doesn’t smile, though. He slides a hand up to cup my jaw. “Promise me you’ll say no if you don’t want to do something. Like you bottoming for me? Off the table, okay? I want to experience things, but not at the cost of your comfort.”