The fact is, I’m hurtling toward an unknown destination. It’s too late to pull back. I’ve already crossed too many lines with him, and yet I’m crossing another, and another. Once we reach his house, another line will be crossed, one that I can’t take back. But how else am I supposed to let him know that what I feel for him is real, even if my identity isn’t? I’ve tried to the best of my abilities to remain honest with who I am. I’m Kellan on the field, but everywhere else, it’s been me. Noah. My love of all things nerd. My frustration with my family and feeling like an outsider.
The closer we get to his place, the tenser I get. His hand moves from the steering wheel to rest on my thigh. It burns through the fabric. I wish the fabric was gone, that he was touching my bare skin, but I can’t say that to someone out loud. I’d sound like a complete idiot.
Max, able to feel the stiffness of my leg muscle, squeezes it. “Relax. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“That’s the problem.” My voice croaks. “I want to do everything.”
A huff of air escapes. He keeps his eyes on the road as, carefully, he pulls his hand away to make a turn into his apartment complex. He lives much closer to the athletic complex than I do. There isn’t a reason for me to live on this side of town since, you know, I’m not actually a soccer player.
“You probably should have waited to say that until we were inside.” Strain in his voice. Tendons stand out on his neck and I’m dying to bite down on them. Geez. I really need to get a grip.
“Then park faster.”
Max whips into an open spot, and we both hop out. The night is pleasant.
And why the hell am I thinking about the weather when Max is promising me dirty things with his stare? Once he unlocks the door, I follow him in. He sets his keys and wallet down on a side table and rests a hand on the back of the blue couch, his gaze steady on me. Less than ten feet separate us. I wish he would close the distance.
He pushes away from the couch. “Kellan.”
Three steps, and he’s halfway there. Five steps, and less than six inches of space remain. It’s not Max who closes the final distance. It’s me.
Soft. Tentative. This kiss is vastly different from the last. We’re not touching. No hands. A sliver of space, enough for air. It ups the tension, makes me want more, but I hold back. If no touching builds to the finish, I’ll keep it.
Max responds immediately. A slight opening of his jaw so our mouths align. No tongue. The rasp of our lips sends tingles through my mouth and tongue, my nerves responding from the tactile sensation of skin brushing skin. His lips are full, dry. But then his tongue darts out to wet them, and there’s more glide, a deeper slide. I shudder, my eyes fluttering closed.
For a moment, I imagine he knows my identity. He knows I’m Noah Dumont, computer geek, creator of video games, introvert. As well, he knows my hidden desire for human connection, and the fear. How would he feel knowing it’s me and not Kellan that he’s with? Would it make a difference?
The possibility of rejection hurts too badly. I focus instead on the catch of his breath as I bite his lower lip, tugging it between my teeth and licking the hurt. The sound shoots straight to my cock, which quickly swells against my constricting pants.
“Was that okay?” I ask in a whisper, lips lightly touching his as I lean back.
“You should do it again.” His eyes glitter. In the lamplight, they’re a beautiful pale green. The rosy hue to his skin, the flush, makes the color even richer.
Hesitation wars with my desire. Why is it so hard for me to show how much I want him? Afraid of being judged, I guess. I’ve been judged my whole life. Stand next to Sebastian or Kellan, the soccer stars, and Maverick, the one everyone likes because he’s a legitimately nice guy, and no one notices me in their shadows. I’m fine with it. At this point, I don’t care about impressing people who mean nothing to me. But stand me next to Kellan, who lights up a room in his presence, and you’d be hard pressed to find someone who would choose me.
“Easy,” he murmurs, whispering a kiss across my mouth. He offers the slightest hint of tongue, but by the time I chase it, it’s already back in his mouth, and I retreat. Damn.
Max laughs, and I swear the sound travels down his arms, through his hands, into my skin where his palms mold my upper arms. I’m shaking. Fuck.
“It’s been a while,” I manage as he begins peppering kisses along my jaw, down to my neck, up to my ear, where he lingers, licking the rim and nibbling the lobe. My knees threaten to buckle. Need to sit. Somewhere. I grab onto him tighter.
He pauses. I’m afraid he’ll move away, but instead, he tucks his face against my neck and rubs his hands down my back, where they settle at my waist. “Me, too.”
Wait... what?
Max explains, “I’m picky with who I sleep with. Hang out with.”
“But you hang out with your teammates.”
“When I feel the need to. As captain, I need to stay relevant.”
“Relevant? Who says things like that?”
“Dunno.” He shrugs. “Maybe you should kiss me to shut me up.”
So I do.
It’s long and deep and thorough. Max’s tongue licking into my mouth and over my lips, his teeth scaping down my lower lip, nipping my top one, and his groans sound like he’s tasting Ambrosia for the first time and can’t bear to part with it.
