“I…El, you feel…I can’t—” he pants as I move, finding a steady rhythm that has me lighting up from the inside out. I lean forward, bracing my hands on his chest while I slide up and down his length, my cock rock hard, bouncing and leaking between us.
“Don’t say anything, sweetheart. Just lie there and enjoy. Let me do the work. Let me make you feel good. Anything you want. Anything you need. Let me fucking worship you, Alex.”
He continues to mutter quiet curses as I ride him in long, steady strokes that I know from experience will keep him on edge. Despite my confident bravado, my entire body is quaking with need. The need to make this amazing for him, the need to lose myself in the pleasure. The need to beg him to keep me. But since I can’t do that, I try to convey my emotions through actions. With a bit of repositioning, I pull Alex up so that I’m seated on his thighs with my knees on the bed and our chests are pressed together. Like this, I can bounce on his dick while grinding mine against his stomach, all the whileplundering his mouth with kisses and little words of encouragement.
“You fill me so good, Alex. You’re perfect for me. So fucking perfect.”
My vision blurs as I tiptoe the line of euphoria, holding on to the edge because I want to make Alex fall over first. Bringing my hand to his neck, I cradle his throat in my palm, gently squeezing until I can feel the frantic flutter of his pulse under his skin. He makes a whining sound against my lips, and I can feel his muscles tighten, his hold on my hips so tight, I know he’s going to leave bruises.
“El, I’m gonna?—”
“Come for me, baby. Fill me. Make me yours.”
Those words might be the closest thing I get to confessing just how much Iwantto belong to Alex, so I let them hang in the air between us as he tenses beneath me. I keep my grip light on his throat and snake my free hand between us, stroking myself in time with the movement of my hips. The moment Alex groans and I feel the first flood of his orgasm filling me takes my breath away. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve seen in my life, watching Alex’s face twist and contort as he whimpers through his release.
That is, until I finally let go, giving into the pleasure and letting my release sweep over me. My orgasm is brutal and sharp, pounding and pulsingthrough my blood, wringing me dry and leaving me splintered into a million little pieces. When I look down to see that I’ve stroked myself all over Alex’s body, painting his abs and his chest with my cum and the sated, dreamy look on his face as he, too, marvels at my masterpiece?
Thenthatbecomes the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
20
MY BISEXUAL SIDE WAS A SLEEPER CELL SPY
Alex
An hour or so after our sex, my bones have somewhat resolidified and my brain has clicked back online. After a quick shower and a change of the sheets, Elliot, Scarlett and I cuddled up in bed with two pints of ice cream. The strawberry balsamic was a total bust, but Scarlett is content to lick the sweaty condensation from the outside of the discarded carton while I dig to the bottom of the cookie dough and Elliot complains about the movie on the tv.
“I gotta admit, as much as women have never done it for me, if I had to pick one to sleep with? It would have been Emma Thompson. Seriously, she was such a smoke show. I mean, who the hell did these filmmakers think they were, trying to convinceus that a forty-year-old Emma was nothing more than a homely housewife? Fucking criminal. I don’t understand how you can like this movie.”
“You’re so right about Emma,” I agree, completely ignoring his bitching about one of the greatest movies ever made. “I remember watching The Parent Trap when I was a kid and being so in love with her. Especially the scene where she’s drunk and sticks her leg out of the car.” I press a hand to my chest and gasp dramatically.
“Emma wasn’t in The Parent Trap. That was Natasha Richardson.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Trust me, Goat. I’m sure. The Parent Trap was a big one for me, too.When Meredith unbuttons the dad’s shirt and his chest hair pops out?—”
“Oh my god! Yes! I totally rewound that scene, like, a hundred times. I thought it’s because I was into the hot blonde woman, but in retrospect, I was totally checking out Daddy Parker, too.”
I hold out my spoon to Elliot, watching as his lips wrap around the dollop of vanilla ice cream teeming with cookie dough pieces, his eyes sparkling in the light of the television.
“How did it take you nearly thirty years to figure out you were queer?”
He asks it like it’s a joke, and I know he’s expecting a jokey answer in return. But what he doesn’t know is that I’ve thought about that a lot in the last few weeks. Discovering mybisexuality has been an easy and enlightening journey for me. I know I’m extremely lucky in that way, and while my innate sense of self and confidence certainly have an effect on the way I’ve experienced this journey, I don’t know that I’d have such a smooth sailing—or even discover this side of myself—if it weren’t for Elliot’s presence in my life.
“My bisexual side was like a sleeper cell spy. He was always there in the background, bopping around while I did my thing. He just needed you to come along and activate him. I was waiting for you, El.”
My answer hovers between us, a sort of admission, sort of brush off that keeps us sitting stagnant in this prison of our own making. I want to say so much more. I want to tell him everything that has been brewing inside me for weeks. That I think about him constantly. That when he’s not here, I ache for him. That when I’m on the ice, the only reason I play well is because I want to be good for him.
That, despite all the rules and promises and reasons why not, I’ve fallen in love with him. But the future we’ve already established, the one where we move on from one another sooner rather than later is starting to feel like a fever I can’t sweat out. I can’t escape it, can’t outrun it. Not unless I get over my fears and cut open my chest, expose my heart, and risk bleeding out in the process.
And right here, right now, watching Elliot watch me in the glow of the TV on the wall, his hazel eyes sparkling in that way they only do when his gaze is on me, I feel brave. Not brave enough to bare my soul, but enough to say something.
“I’m so glad we met, El. Sometimes it feels like…like I’ve never been anything to anyone before you. Not off the ice, and not in any real kind of way. But you make me feel like something. You make me feel like someone.”
“Oh, Goat,” he whispers, leaning forward to gently press his forehead against mine. “You areeverythingto me.”
He kisses me, lazily, without rush or intention to take things further. Just a chance for the two of us to luxuriate in the feel of each other’s lips, and it decides me.
