PS—While I prefer topping, I’m technically verse, if my small collection of vibrating butt plugs is any indication.
I run my fingers through my hair, reliving that moment in the bathroom when I pushed up against him and he came alive under my body. I don’t think I’ve ever been with somebody so responsive, and it is a total mindfuck. Like, I’d love to get into that ass of his, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Which brings up another thing—I shoved him out the door without returning the favor. I know that it’s just Roly, but it makes me feel twitchy to think about not taking care of a sexual partner.
Eh, he’ll get over it.
I check my watch and realize that it’s time to get a move on. I’m supposed to be meeting Jean-Pierre at the gym to talk about joining their investor group. I don’t live too far away, so a few minutes later I’m walking through the door of Wrecked for the first time. Let’s just say that Nick was right—I definitely needed to check out the gym in person because I have an immediate understanding of exactly why someone would invest in a gym for combat vets.
Holy.Shit.
The women here are built like they could take my head between their thighs and crack it like a walnut. I’m not opposed to that. At all.
And the men… mother of god, the men. There are all shapes and sizes of men and they’re all sweaty and grunting and if I’d had any question at all about my queerness, the gym cleared that way the fuck up for me.
There is a guy in one corner flipping tires with chains around his neck and a weight belt around his trim waist, and there are twin beefcakes who look like Norse gods with one spotting the other. And I’m trying to remember if it’s bad form to hit on the clients of my client.
Yeah, probably bad form.
“Heath! My good friend! I’m so glad you’re here. Isn’t this a marvelous place?” Jean-Pierre says as he comes in for one of his big hugs. I prepare for him to rearrange my internal organs, but he’s gentler this time.
“Jean-Pierre? What’s wrong, buddy? You usually crack my spine and a half. Are you injured?”
“No, my friend. My mother would come down from Quebec City just to smack my head if I ever hurt her precious Heath.”
“She does love me,” I say with no small amount of pride. Jean-Pierre and I went back to his adopted hometown during one Christmas break, and she made a jollof rice dish that still brings a tear to my eye. Apparently, she doesn’t just cook that for anyone.
“Why don’t you come upstairs with me to the new offices and have a chat with Nick and Elijah?”
We head through the gym, and I try to pretend that I’m a focused professional. “How’s Elijah doing in his new role?”
“He’s very, very good. Though not as good as Jake was.”
“Obviously. How are the preparations for the art show going?” I ask, watching a gorgeous woman with a long braid and a fantastic ass doing pull-ups at the wall.
Jean-Pierre laughs at my distractedness, but his face lights up with obvious pride. “It’s going so well. Jake is stressed-out.”
“Of course.”
“He’s getting all of the pieces ‘show ready,’ as though they aren’t already masterpieces. Thankfully, Cricket and Jules have been working with the gallery owner, and it’s going to be an amazing opening night.”
I nod, excited to see Cricket again. She’s Jean-Pierre’s publicist, and the three of us have been working together since our college days. She lives in Atlanta, but Pete and I are working the long game to try to get her to move here with us so that the three musketeers can be reunited once again.
“I hope you can make the time to join us.”
I look up at my very tall friend, enormously pleased that he’s started to live his authentic life. “My brother, I would not miss Jake’s show for the world.”
He gives me another hug, this one with a bit more oomph, and I make a mental note to make an appointment with my chiropractor.
We continue to make our way through the gym, and I’m not gonna lie, I may have dawdled a smidge to watch the twins spot a couple of folks. Daaaaamn.
I was once very hesitant about coming out as bi because we get a lot of shit from both straight folks and gay folks, but this is one day where I am really fucking happy and damn proud to be a bisexual. Because I can tell you right now, I’d fuck every person in this gym.
I mean, not really; I’m way too relationshippy for that. But in theory…
Anyway, it feels weird to say that after what happened with Roly. I mean, there’s fuckable, and then there’s swallowing around the head of my dick until I see stars. And it has to be said: that man really likes my body. I’ve had lovers avoid the bits they assume I’m ashamed of, and hedid not.
I smile at a cute girl on one of the rowing machines, and while she smiles back, I have to wonder if she’d treat my body like it was church.
Probably not.
