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“It really just depends on my partner. Legitimately, I have no preference. As long as I’m making you feel good, I’ll do whatever. My pleasure is your pleasure.”

“I read something about that,” I told him, recalling the Reddit rabbit hole I’d fallen down the other night.

Worried about all the ways I might not be pleasing him—and spiraling over what that might mean for any future we could have together—I’d decided to do some research. A couple of hours later, the only clear thing was that so much about queer sex was completely foreign to me, and the deeper I dove, the more worried I got. There were all these labels and identities and roles—things I’d never had to consider before—and I didn’t know what applied and what didn’t.

All knew was that I wasn’t straight, and I really fucking loved everything Cally and I did together. Had I gone into this with the vague sense that “top” equaled “dominant” and bottoms were submissive? Yes. But so did a lot of people.

Now, I didn’t really care what labels we put on it, as long as I was giving him what he needed. If that meant taking his dick, okay. I’d order an anal training kit tomorrow.

Cally smiled down at me, dipping forward to nuzzle the tip of his nose against mine. “I love how curious you are. That you care about making this good for both of us.”

“I’ll probably have a lot more questions along the way,” I admitted, feeling somewhat shy about some of the more … delicate ones.

“And I’ll try to be better about answering and not jumping to conclusions.”

“Thank you.” I anchored my hand on his hip and dropped backward, tugging him down with me, the mattress groaning under our combined weight. Cally caught his weight on his forearms, his hips settling between my open legs.

“I love how willing you are to step out of your comfort zone for me, M,” he said, peppering my face with feather soft kisses to my cheeks, my nose, my jaw. Just … everywhere.

“I love everything about what we do together,” I told him in kind. “I just want to make you happy.”

“You do,” he assured me. “You’re so good to me. So good for me.”

I shivered a little at the praise, which of course Cally immediately noticed.

He chuckled lightly. “I love how good it feels to make you feel good.”

I slid my hands up and down his back. “For the record, I still think you’re a soft Dom.”

“Maybe,” he hummed, pressing his lips to mine.

“No more talking,” I said against his mouth, spearing my fingers into his soft, dark hair, my tongue darting out to trace the seam of his lips.

He opened automatically, welcoming me inside.

We stayed like that for what felt like forever, our mouths moving together, both of us hard but not rushing to do anything about it. Through it all, I was dimly aware of the sound of a blaring siren from an ambulance passing by on the street below, and a door opening and closing down the hall, voices moving toward the elevator.

It was just background noise to the sound of Cally’s hums and sighs in my ears.

Eventually, our kisses slowed and raised himself back up onto his forearms, looking down at me with a soft, dopey smile on his face.

“Will you fuck me now please?”

TWENTY-FIVE

MIKEY

“We need condoms!” I blurted excitedly, wondering if I should try to appear a little less eager.

Though why would I want to? The man of my literal dreams wanted to ride my cock? Yes please and thank you.

“No need,” Cally said, his lips forming a small, shy smile. “I picked some up earlier.”

I slid my hands down his back to cup the round, tight globes of his ass and squeezed. God, he really had the best butt. “Someone was confident.”

“Someone was hopeful,” he whispered.

“Yeah?” We’d said the words, had the hard conversation, and I still had trouble fathoming that this man wanted me inside of him.