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Chapter one
Greg
SixMonthsEarlier:August
“For fuck’s sake, just put on the cock ring,” Mason snarled. “Or take some Viagra. I want to be fucked. By a cock. I’d prefer your cock, but seeing as it isn’t interested, I’d take any that can do the job.”
It was in that moment, Greg knew their relationship was over. If you could call two months of getting together once a week a relationship. Especially when most of their time boiled down to one frustrating sexual encounter after another and ended like this one, minus the anger Greg felt coming from Mason.
Greg got up, found his clothes, and started to get dressed. He couldn’t look at Mason, shame and embarrassment fighting with…well, it wasn’t exactly hurt anymore since this wasn’t the first time a partner got frustrated with him even after Greg explained he was asexual and rarely got aroused. He could forgive the guys who got confused because he liked sex—liked kissing and touching and taking care of their needs—and didn’t understand why Greg rarely got hard. Mason, however, wasn’t one of those and had never stopped subtly pushing him to try getting an erection. Pills—both legal and otherwise—along with creams, blow jobs, porn, poppers, cock rings, you name it, if there was a chance it would work, Mason had asked Greg to try it. Greg had gone along with the blow jobs and jerking off but declined everything else. After all their conversations, he’d thought Mason finally understood his boundaries.
He should have known better.
Greg snorted at his own stupidity as he picked up his jeans from the floor and pulled them on.
In truth, he shouldn’t have continued to see Mason past their second date, but a lengthy dry spell and the first guy in months who hadn’t balked at his HIV status and seemed—at first—to understand what asexuality meant for Greg had made him hopeful things would go differently after Mason agreed to take things slow when they met. Greg should have known this was never going to work when “slow” turned out to mean not demanding sex on the first date. Greg had obliged on their second date by fucking Mason with a dildo. It had been hot—Greg couldn’t deny that—and seemed to satisfy Mason, so Greg agreed to a third. And then a fourth, even though, Mason flat out refused to use the artificial cock again. “I want yours or nothing,” he’d said, and then suggested Greg use a cock ring.
Greg supposed they were both guilty of hoping for things the other person was incapable of providing. Mason wanted a good fucking, and Greg wanted someone who accepted him as he was. Now, he just wanted out.
“Where are you going?” Mason asked, and Greg shook his head.
“This isn’t working for me.” Greg kept his gaze on the floor, searching for his shirt.
“For you?” Mason scrambled up onto his knees, his dick now only at half-mast. “Foryou? What about me? I’ve been patient and understanding. I haven’t pushed you because you said it sometimes takes time. But this has been—”
“You haven’t pushed me?” Greg asked, knowing it was stupid to respond to Mason, but it was galling that Mason was trying to paint himself as the aggrieved partner here. In truth, neither of them was in the wrong; it was just that their sexualities didn’t align in a satisfying way. “What do you call—?” Greg stopped himself. “You know what, never mind. We’re just not compatible.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” Mason continued on into a monologue that was appallingly familiar. Was Greg sure he didn’t have a medical issue? What was the big deal about taking something to help him get hard? Wasn’t Mason hot enough to turn him on?
Greg tuned him out, numb from another failed attempt to find someone who wouldn’t feel as if they were owed a fucking simply because they’d “put up” with or “didn’t mind” Greg’s inconvenient sexuality forXamount of time. Was it too much to ask for a guy who didn’t feel as if he were doing Greg a favor by being in a relationship with him?
“Are you sure you’re even gay?” Mason asked.
That was a new one, and Greg glanced up as he tucked his shirt into his jeans. He rolled his eyes as Mason continued.
“I mean, maybe you’re actually into pussy. That would be ironic, huh? A straight guy who thinks he’s gay.” He laughed, amused with himself. “Because I know at least ten guys who’d be willing to bang me right now…”
Without another word, Greg turned and left. “Hey,” Mason called out as Greg headed down the hallway toward the living room. He heard Mason scramble off the bed.
As he reached the front door, Mason appeared in the hallway, still naked, and called out for him again. Against his better judgment, Greg turned and took in the man with whom, up until ten minutes ago, he was planning to be intimate. Mason was objectively gorgeous, Greg couldn’t deny that, especially with the light coming from behind him throwing all his angles and muscles into stark relief. Greg might be asexual, but he was definitely gay, and Mason had a body and face to die for. Too bad that beautiful face had masked a truly ugly person. Those handsome features were now contorted by an angry snarl.
“You’re such a fucking control freak.”
“Excuse me?” The accusation stunned Greg into halting his retreat.
“You use your status and your sexuality to keep control. Oh, we can’t fuck because your dick is broken. Oh, we have to be so careful because you’re positive. You know it wouldn’t have even fucking mattered if we’d fucked raw.” Mason laughed, and it was a horrible sound that warned Greg what was about to come out of his mouth. “I’m positive too.”
Greg’s entire body went cold while his feet seemed to be glued to the floor. He gripped the doorknob tight enough to make his knuckles ache. “You should have told me.”
Another laugh. “Why? You told me your status on our first date when you said you were a top.” Mason snorted. “Though I’ve yet to see any proof ofthatstatement. Who cares if you’re positive if your dick doesn’t work.”
Without another word, Greg turned the doorknob and got the hell out of Mason’s apartment. He wanted to slam the door shut, but sound carried in the building, so, out of deference to Mason’s neighbors, he closed it behind him and walked down the stairs. He took comfort in the idea that Mason wouldn’t know how upset he was, how betrayed he felt, how angry…and how much it fucking hurt that yet another guy had turned out to be an asshole.
Down on the street, Greg took several deep breaths and walked a couple of blocks away from Mason’s building before opening up the group chat with his roommates to let Luis know he was heading home. He’d been intending to spend the night at Mason’s, which would have left the apartment they shared empty in case Luis wanted to bring someone home. Their third roommate, Darius, wasn’t due back until the next day.
Luis: bad night?
Greg: you could say that.
