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He didn’t have to do it. He could’ve stayed in the shadows, his secret safe, but he didn’t, and witnessing it was fucking awesome.
I don’t see myself standing up on a bench in the middle of the locker room, yelling that I’m into Rick, but he’s always been braver than I could ever hope to be.
So what’s the problem then?
I groan again because I just don’t fucking know. I can’t pinpoint one exact thing.
I know I don’t want people staring at me or talking about my sex life behind my back.
I don’t want people making up scenarios.
God fucking forbid someone walks up and asks if I’m a top or bottom. First, that’s so fucking rude, and I might punch someone who did in the damn mouth. I don’t walk up to hetero couples and ask if the girl likes doggie. Second, I don’t have a clue if I’m a top or a bottom.
Does my dick jerk when I think about sinking into Rick? Fuck yeah, it does. His mouth was amazing. I’m certain his ass would be twice as awesome. But after coming down his throat, I also understand that shiver I got when he mentioned being a top because it turns me on to think of him pushing into my untried asshole for the first time.
“Fuck my life,” I grumble, squeezing the head of my cock until I hiss in pain.
I need to get a fucking grip.
I push out of the men’s shower room, considering just how many looks I’d get if I crashed on the sofa in the common area downstairs when Silas clears the stairwell landing.
“Hey, man. Having a great night?”
The real answer is a mixture of the best and not even fucking close.
The time with Rick was amazing. Being forced out of the room in fear seriously sucks.
“It’s fine,” I grumble.
Instead of just walking past him on the way downstairs, I grab his arm. “Mind if I crash in your spare bed?”
“I don’t have a spare bed.”
“Huxley’s bed,” I correct. “He hasn’t gotten in yet, right?”
“There aren’t any sheets.”
“Doesn’t bother me.”
“Why?”
“I’m not a pussy.”
He chuckles. “No, I mean why do you need to stay in my room?”
“Rick… umm… has someone in our room.”
“Yeah?” He gives me a little grin, telling me he doesn’t have a problem with Rick hooking up. “Good for him. Come on.”
I follow Silas down the hall, wanting to reach for the doorknob to my room as we pass, but I manage to resist.
“I guess you struck out, too, huh? I thought you had it in the bag with Mazie. She was all over you, but I saw her leave with one of the basketball players.”
His eyes search mine as he unlocks his room, no doubt trying to figure out if I’m going to be pissed with the news.
“Wasn’t feeling it tonight.” I slide past him, crashing on the unmade bed, just wanting this night to end.
“A little young for a low libido, aren’t you?”
I huff. “There’s nothing wrong with my libido, asshole. Goodnight.”
“I know you don’t want to, but you need to have a conversation with Matthews about room etiquette. The two of you need to get along long enough to make decisions about when it’s okay to bring someone back to the room so you aren’t stuck finding somewhere else to crash.”
“I’ll talk with him tomorrow.”
“Yeah, okay,” he says, his tone making it clear he doesn’t believe me.
I haven’t sought Rick out for a conversation once while in Texas. There’s no reason for him to think I’ll start now.
I don’t sleep a fucking wink, spending half the night running a million scenarios through my head with that girl witnessing what happened last night. The other half was spent reliving every damn second of my time in the dark with Rick.
Okay, so more of my time was spent with that memory. Jesus, the taste of my own cum on his lips, how each kiss was better than the last, those little whimpers.
“I would be the one doing the railing thank you very fucking much.”
I spent an excessive amount of time on that statement, deciding that pegging and getting pegged carry the same appeal.
Wait… is it pegging if it’s two guys or is it just called fucking?
I don’t know shit about any of this, and that only leads to more confusion.
Fun fact, the ceiling in this room looks exactly like the one in mine. This one doesn’t hold the answers to any of my questions either.
I keep my eyes on the ceiling when Silas begins to shift on the bed across the room.
He grunts and groans, his form in my periphery, reaching up as he sits on the side of the bed.
“Wanna grab breakfast before hitting the gym?”
“Sounds good,” I say as I roll my head on the mattress.
The sun hasn’t been up for long, and I don’t want to chance running into that girl. The longer I stay away from there, the better.
