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When Orson turns in my lap, he’s wearing the type of smug smile I’m usually giving him. I’m about to ask what he’s looking so cocky about when his eyes very slowly travel to my chest.
Then he flicks my pierced nipple. Hard.
“Ah, fuck.” I hurry to cover it. “Jerk.”
“Told you I’d get to see it.”
“You went to all that effort to see my nipple piercing?”
Orson gestures at his cum-splattered abs. “Apparently, we were both rewarded for the effort.”
We laugh, but mine dies quickly. “Are we … is this okay?”
“Sure.” He shrugs, trying to be casual, but my bullshit sensors are on high alert.
“Okay. Well, we should probably shower—”
“Actually, I’m going to head off.” He stands to grab the dishcloth off my counter and uses it to clean up. Then he hands it to me with a smirk. “You’re good to wash this for me, aren’t you?Sweetheart?”
I take it, wishing I knew where things went from here. “It’s the least I can do.”
EMOTIONAL SUPPORT CHAT
Orson:I need help.
Keller:What’s up?
Orson:So … you know how I’m straight, right?
Keller:I don’t think I want to answer that until I know where this conversation is going.
Orson:I just got off with a guy and I didn’t hate it.
Keller:… what do you need help with? If you tell me experience, we’re going to have to re-evaluate what friendship means.
Orson:No, not that. I think I just need to talk to someone.
Keller:Door’s unlocked. I’ll see you in twenty.
13
Orson
Keller stares at me,eyes wider than usual, but not saying a damn thing.
“Anywords of encouragement would be great,” I point out.
“I …” He shakes his head like he’s trying to shake himself out of the shock he’s gone into. “Ford?”
I sigh, nodding, expecting this reaction from just about everyone. Well, except Art, who’ll probably offer to show me the ropes. Hence why I was pounding on Keller’s door at ten at night instead of hunting Art down at Killer Brew.
“Seriously,” I prompt. “Anythingencouraging.”
Keller finds a grin. “Was it good?”
My whole face flushes. I headed home to grab a shirt and clean up properly before coming here, but I’m still in Ford’s baggy sweats, not wanting to rid myself of the memory yet. “What am I supposed to say to that?”
“It’s pretty simple. Did you nut like your life depended on it?”
