“You skipped the part about your sex drive. I want to know if you’re a horny fucker or if you’re more content with once or twice a week,” I point out.
“I guess it kind of depends on my partner. If I’m super attracted to them, I want it more often.”
I push myself up so that I’m on my knees and drag my hand down my bare chest and abs. “You’re attracted to this, aren’t you?”
He huffs. “Seriously, Keno. You’re ridiculous.”
Grinning, I sit back on my haunches. “You missed two questions. Sex acts and cuddles.”
“I don’t know what sex acts you’re referring to,” he answers warily.
“Well, there’s the basics like bjs and handies and shit. I think there are probably more.”
“Basics, yeah. I don’t see why not. And cuddling, yes, too. I’m good with cuddles.”
I nod, finding I’m stuck in his eyes. Staring at him. Am I really considering this? It’s insane, isn’t it? A foolish idea. I know I suggested that it’s smarter to marry someone you’re completely compatible with instead of on your fickle ability to fall in love with someone, but… I’m torn.
Etna’s right. I think if we’re open to it, we could love each other that way easily enough. If I’m willing to be honest and examine what’s between us, I’m sure I’d find we would probably be halfway there if we weren’t so deeply surrounded by a heteronormative culture that screams at us from all angles—billboards, commercials, Hallmark movies, songs, social media, fairy tales...
If the world were a queer-accepting society, I’m pretty sure we’d have fallen in love hard and fast.
So why am I hesitating? Is it the gay sex thing? It is, isn’t it? Drunk kissing a dude is one thing. Other stuff is a little… daunting.
But I’m not horrified by the idea or turned off by the eventuality. As long as I keep in mind that it’s Etna.
“What else?” Etna asks, his voice quiet. “What other concerns do you have?”
Shaking my head, I whisper, “I don’t know. I just… This doesn’t feel real right now. I hadn’t meant for you to take it seriously and I’m kind of honored that you are. With me! I think I’m hesitating for the same reasons I dread trade season. I’m afraid of something screwing up what we have now.”
Etna nods. “I know that feeling. But Keno, what if it gets better?”
“Is that even possible?”
He smirks. “We are sans orgasms right now. Just saying.”
I laugh. Fucking guy.
A knock on our door makes us drop the subject. I glance at the clock and sigh. We made plans with the guys to shoot some zombies tonight. No doubt that’s them.
I back off the bed and head for the door. This is why I’m in bed pants and Etna’s in shorts and a tank. I suppose even that should be telling about how comfortable we are around each other. Usually, when we know it’s just us for the night, we’re in our underwear. I wonder if we’ll sleep naked if we get married.
To accommodate all the sex, we’ll have to. It’s mandatory. It’s going in our vows.
Does that mean I’m agreeing?
I open the door to Horny and Julian. Letting them in, I’m stopped from shutting it again when I hear Hilt hollering from down the hall as he jogs from the elevator. He shuts the door behind him as I crawl back onto the bed to lean against theheadboard with Etna. Hilt shoves my pillows out of the way and shoves me aside.
“I’m old. I need the bed.”
“You best keep your gas to yourself, then. That’s where my head goes,” I mutter, sliding closer to Etna. I ignore the way my palms sweat when my leg brushes his.
This isn’t new. We sit close all the time. Just get a fucking grip. Nothing has changed between us.
Except everything has and might continue to.
If we decide against this, will our friendship recover? I take a breath and let it out slowly. Stop overthinking. For right now, all we’re thinking about is killing zombies.
When I bring my legs under me, my left leg presses against Etna’s. For a second, I’m stiff as I determine whether it’s appropriate. Have I cared before?
