This time when I sigh, it’s in frustration. “This isn’t some huge romantic thing, like I’m waiting for the right man to sweep me off my feet and I’m saving myself for the love of my life,” I say defensively. “It all really comes down to hockey. I refuse to be a gay athlete. I just want to be a fucking athlete. My sexuality shouldn’t play into that, so I refuse to let it. So yeah, that means I don’t hook up.”
“You know there are ways to have anonymous hookups, right?”
“Yes, but I’m far too afraid of someone recognizing me. I’ve contemplated it over the years. A lot. Because I’m fucking horny, but I just… I can’t bring myself to do it. It’s not fear of being out. It’s a choice I’ve made not to be out, to keep that private. I’m allowed to have that privacy. But I’m in a position where I have to make a choice because, like it or not, my privacy isn’t private. So as painful as it is, I’ve chosen to be completely fucking closeted. And because I’m not willing to put myself in a position where it’s ever possible to be found out, it also means I’m a fucking virgin.”
Lo’s smile is soft and understanding.
“But this weekend, I didn’t have to be quite so hidden. You offered me something I didn’t want to pass up—the freedom to be me and to get off and to be heldandremain private. That’s why I agreed. I wanted to do this. I still do. Honestly, I didn’t know until now when your dick was right there that I’m maybe not ready for sex, which is stupid because I’m twenty-eight and I’m going to be just like that movie!”
“Shh,” Lo murmurs, coming back down on me and pressing his lips along my jaw and neck. His arms wrap me up again, and I cling to him feeling a little more desperate now that all that shit is in the open. “Easy, take a breath, babe.”
I take several until I’m breathing more normally. “Sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to vomit that all over you.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. Also, there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin. For whatever reason. Regardless of what… What did Max call them? Old, privileged, white men? Regardless of what society says, there is no shame in sex—whether you’re not interested in it, whether you want to whore around, if you’re waiting for a life partner, or waiting for other reasons. There’s no shame in any of it—slutting it up or being completely dry.”
I snort. “It’s not that kind of choice,” I mutter.
He presses a grin to my neck. “I understand your reasons, and I’m not judging them at all. I’m actually impressed that you’ve fended off men for so long. You’re fucking gorgeous. I’ve been on cloud nine that you’re even the slightest bit attracted to me.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Lo laughs. “All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t be ashamed of being a virgin, just as I’m not ashamed of not being a virgin. I’m really happy you chose me to mess around with.”
“You understood,” I say quietly. “You get why I don’t tell the world I’m gay. You share that secret. If there was ever a perfect storm to lead to me messing around, this is it. You presented me with something I was desperate for, but was never going to have and… you’re hot, you have a sexy accent, most importantly, I felt safe that you weren’t going to tell anyone, so… here we are.”
“And it’s unable to go on so long that people might ask questions,” Lo says, making me nod in agreement. He sighs. “Yeah, I get it.”
“I swear, it’s not because I don’t want to. Just, as you were pushing your dick to my hole, I felt panicky and that’s not the memory I want for this weekend,” I say.
“Is it because I was being a little reckless not wearing a condom?” he asks. “I wasn’t going to press inside. Just so you know. I always wear protection.”
“I don’t think that’s it but—” I shrug.
Lo’s mouth presses to my skin. His lips part and he sucks on me gently. Not enough to leave a mark, but enough that I feel it in my balls. “How do you feel about me fucking your ass crack?” he asks.
I laugh. “What does that even mean?”
“It means I’m going to press your bubble cheeks together and run my dick through them until I get off. If you’re good with that.”
A shudder runs through me in anticipation. My forgotten hard cock gives a pulse of need. I nod. “Yeah. Do that.”
His teeth skim my skin. “When I’m done, I’m going to suck you dry. Then we’re going to take a shower so we can get messy again.”
“All night,” I say. This is our last night together. While I don’t say the words out loud, maybe the panicky feeling regarding sex will fade and I’ll be able to enjoy his dick inside me.
But I don’t say those words out loud. I should have said something before, like no sex. Everything else is okay, but no sex. Just so it was clear. It was out in the open.
I heard what he said, and I agree. But it doesn’t change the way I feel. He’s mentioned fucking me a few times. He’s even asked something about his dick in me, though I was a little too caught up in the moment to truly have heard that question clearly. I didn’t disagree. In fact, I think I kind of grunted in agreement.
Yes, I have the right to say no. But only a shitty person leads someone through two nights of fooling around and alluding to having sex without ever having the intention of going through with it. Do they still have the right to say no? Absolutely. Without a doubt. It doesn’t mean they aren’t a jerk for actively leading their partner on for days.
Lo kisses me—along my jaw, on my mouth, down my neck. He stops at my chest, taking my nipple between his teeth and biting me hard enough that I jerk in his hold. He licks me and then sucks on the place he bit.
“Roll over,” he murmurs, lifting his body off mine.
I roll under him, my heart racing wildly. His body comes down and his cock is immediately pressed against my ass crack. His lips return to my skin, kissing along the back of my shoulder, the back of my neck, in my hair.
“You okay?” he asks.
