There’s a flash of something that changes Giles’ face, his eyes changing colour like they magically seem to do, or maybe it’s the briefest of frowns. Just something. But then it’s gone and he gives me a smile that I imagine is as playful as my own.
“I see that you do know what you want.” He walks towards me, towards the bed.
I slow my strokes because just watching him move into the room, all stocky hard muscles that flex and pull under his polo shirt and trousers – has my dick hardening and a new delicious tension tugging on my balls.
“I want you,” I say and it’s there again in his face. That flash of… something. Except this time it stays there and I start to think I recognise it. Confusion. Or uncertainty. Or maybe some kind of turmoil, and it twists my stomach that that’s what Giles could be feeling.
But then he pulls his T-shirt over his head and all my thoughts and concerns evaporate.
I wonder if I could ever get bored of seeing Giles’ body. Even before I’d started questioning exactly how heterosexual I really was, I could appreciate a well-crafted masculine physique. It’s possible I’d have been as mesmerised with Giles’ defined abdominal muscles and solid pectorals then as I am now, but I don’t think I would have felt my mouth water or felt more hot blood rush to my dick. Or maybe I would have, had I just let myself.
Because that’s what it feels like this whole experiment has been about. It’s been about giving myself permission to feel whatever I feel, to want whatever I want. It’s been about discovering the freedom that comes when you learn more about yourself.
Giles has given me that. He doesn’t know it, and maybe I’ll never be able to tell him, but he’s given it to me. And I want to thank him.
“Come here.” I take my hand off my dick and reach for him.
He hesitates for a second and that unnameable expression of his grabs my attention again, but then it melts into a smile. His hand finds mine and I yank him down onto the bed next to me.
Rolling onto my side I reach for his hip and dig my fingers just under the waist of his trousers.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
“Yes.” He smiles shyly at me but fails to meet my eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he says but there’s a bit more air in his voice.
“But…”
“Nothing, it’s nothing.”
I pause, checking that what I want to say next isn’t going to come across any other way than what I want it to. “I don’t want to keep asking, or keep pestering, but if you’re not okay with this, with what I want to do, you have to tell me, Giles. I know these lessons are for me, but that shouldn’t mean you don’t enjoy it too. In fact, that’s what I think I want most of all. I want you to enjoy what we do.”
I watch his jaw work as he swallows. Still, he avoids my eye contact.
“I do enjoy what we do together,” he says finally. “I enjoy it a lot. I just… Look, this is probably asking too much but it helps put my mind at ease.”
“What?” I ask eagerly. I’d love to be able to put his mind at ease. To never see that confused look on his face again.
“Can you… Can you not do this with anybody else?”
“What? Anal?”
“Yeah, and other stuff.”
“All the stuff we do in our sex lessons?” I ask for clarity.
“Yeah.” Giles finally looks up and into my eyes. “It’s more of a safety thing too, you know. Like, we’ll use condoms and I’m on PrEP too—”
“PrEP?”
“It’s a preventative medication to stop you getting HIV.”
“Oh, right. Should I be on that?”
Giles pauses and while he is still looking at me, it’s like his eyes cloud over with another one of those confusing looks.
