“Tilt the steering wheel up to give us more room. Scoot your seat back as far as it will go,” William instructed. “Recline it about forty-five degrees.”
Matt eagerly obeyed.
“Now, raise your arms and put your hands on your headrest. And keep them there.”
Matt hesitated, but ultimately complied. He felt vulnerable, exposed, like a sacrificial virgin on some cultic altar. His heart pounded. He both dreaded—and desired—what might happen next. Okay, 1% dread, 99% desire.
William climbed over to Matt’s seat. He placed his knees on either side of Matt’s hips and folded his legs beneath him. In this position he was straddling Matt, his ass just out of reach of Matt’s crotch.
“Whatever happens, do not take your hands off the headrest,” William said. “Got it?”
Matt gazed up at William’s large, dark eyes and sensuous lashes. Gulped and nodded.
“Tonight’s lesson is Kissing 101.” Williamtraced Matt’s lips with a forefinger.
Matt smiled agreeably, but truth be told, he thought kissing was highly overrated. Why did people waste all that time slobbering on each other when they could just get to the good stuff? The reality was that he knew nothing about either kissing or the good stuff.
William leaned down, closing the distance between them.
Matt puckered his lips, scrunched his eyes closed.
William nuzzled Matt’s nose instead.
Matt’s eyes flew open in shock.
William grinned, pulled back, and combed his fingers through Matt’s hair, his nails lightly grazing Matt’s scalp.
For the first time in his life, Matt understood why cats purred.
His eyes focused on William’s lips, which were full and luscious. His mind obsessed on William’s bony ass, which was anything but full or luscious, which somehow made it maddeningly enticing. It hovered just inches above Matt’s bulge.
Hookup. That was the word William had used.
Matt was no longer surprised by his desire for this effeminate, lanky guy.
As they’d sat, as straight guys would do, across from each other in a vinyl-covered booth at Johnnie’s, munching the occasional French fry, William had said a lot of things that made sense. Things Matt was embarrassed he hadn’t thought of himself. Things like gay guys didn’t have to play by the same rules as the heteros, weighing down every hookup with the heavy baggage of love and relationships. Hooking up could be for a myriad of reasons: sexual release, friendship bonding, love, or helping newbies learn the ropes.
The longer they had talked, the more bewitched Matt had become, both by William’s ideas and by his unique combination of features—manly jaw and eyes; delicate, high cheek bones; and pouty lips.
Matt hadn’t considered that he needed mentoring. His assumption had been that all he needed to do was find other gays and the rest would happen organically.
Of course, he worried whether guys would be attracted to him. After all, the only male to show any interest thus far had been the youth pastor who had groomed and raped him.
Girls found him attractive—judging by all the giggles, batted eyes, and outright solicitations he’d received but declined. More than one girl had gushed that he looked like Mark-Paul Gosselaar of Saved by the Bell fame. He had good, smooth skin that tanned instead of burned. He was gifted with an athlete’s fine musculature. And, of course, he was blonde. Tall, tan, and blonde. Wasn’t that the gold standard? Maybe gays had different standards. Maybe big heads and popsicle stick bodies were all the rage.
But he wasn’t here, in hisJeep with William straddling him, because of his looks or because anything between them had evolved organically. He was here to be mentored—starting with basic kissing—by this self-assured skinny kid who seemed to know not only all the ins and outs of gay sex (saying “hookups” plural) but also knowing about this farm drive and avoiding Bliss’s cops.
He was also here to be tested.
The most intriguing thing William had told him at Johnnie’s was that there was a secret gay fraternity at MCU! William wouldn’t say any more other than that he would have to see if Matt checked out. Some guys didn’t make the cut.
Matt was determined to pass that test, whatever it entailed. If that meant swapping spit with William and pretending to like it, so be it.
William lightly bussed Matt’s lips. He licked Matt’s teeth with his tongue, nudging his jaw open.
Matt became acutely aware of his own body. In his peripheral vision, he saw tufts of his pit hair poking out of his sweat-stained t-shirt. He felt his nipples hardening, which was a weirdly new experience.
Matt felt William’s tongue snake past his teeth, slithering against his own tongue in some sort of saliva-slicked, reptilian mating ritual that was intimate and wet.
