I have no idea what “more” he was referring to, but I’m going to find out. I don’t know if tonight will be a onetime thing, so I plan to take full advantage, to do whatever Hudson is willing to try.
Before I let my fantasies run completely wild, I need to figure out what his expectation is. I try to pull back again, and he chases my mouth, a sexy-as-fuck whimper leaving his throat when I put a hand firmly on his chest to hold him back.
“Why do you keep stopping?” he whines, and his impatience makes a smug grin stretch across my face.
“What did you mean by wanting to do more?”
Without hesitation, he answers, “I want to have sex with you.”
I’m glad he’s so confident, but I’m concerned about what his expectation for that might be.
Physically, I’m pretty much exactly what most people would picture when they hear the word “twink,” even if I’m a little old for the label according to some people. At five foot six inches, I’m on the shorter side. I’m fairly slim, and I happen to prefer the clean-shaven look. I have an expensive hairstyle, and take time to focus on looking and feeling good about my appearance every day. I also have a big personality and enjoy attention. Some might even describe me as dramatic.
And for some reason, most people associate those things with wanting to bottom.
But I don’t.
Been there, done that. I don’t enjoy it, the sensation of something in my ass or feeling like I’m less in control. And as much as I believe Hudson is the definition of my dream man, I’m not going to compromise what I enjoy to have sex with him. There are plenty of ways we can get off together where he isn’t topping me, if he’s willing.
I let out a big sigh. “As much as I really don’t want you to put me down, you probably should.”
He squeezes his grip on my thighs. “Why?”
“So we can talk about that.”
He also sighs, leaning in for another kiss that was probably meant to be quick, but neither of us is in a hurry to end. Finally, we break apart, and he gently sets me back on the floor, his hands back on my hips like he doesn’t want to let go. I don’t either, so I rest mine on his pecs, trying not to get distracted over how firm his muscles are.
“So, what do we need to talk about?” he asks, gaze still dropping down from my eyes to my mouth every few seconds.
“What having sex with me would look like. More specifically, who would be doing the fucking.”
He nods. “Okay. What are you saying?”
“I don’t bottom. But there are other ways we could get off together,” I hurry to add. “Sex doesn’t always mean penetration.”
He looks at me for a moment before repeating, “Adrian, I want to have sex with you.” It’s as though he didn’t hear me at all.
“Hudson, did you understand what I said? I only top,” I rephrase, hoping to clarify so we can move on to what hewouldbe willing to do with me.
“Okay. And?”
“Okay?” I echo back, completely not expecting thatanswer and needing to make sure I actually heard him correctly and my mind hasn’t run away with fantasies again.
“Yeah,” he replies, smirking now. “I said that I want to have sex with you, and you let me know your preference, so I said ‘okay.’ I know I’m new to the whole sex with another man thing, but that seemed pretty clear to me. Did I do something wrong already? Am I supposed to know a secret code word? Because you’ll have to teach me that sort of thing.”
He sounds so casual as he jokes around with me, that for a moment, I almost forget what we’re talking about. That this man, who I was still fairly certain was straight less than twenty-four hours ago, is now agreeing to bottom like I just asked if he’d rather have Coke or Pepsi, and he has no preference.
But how can he possiblyknowif he has no preference if he’s never tried one of the brands?
“But… but you’re?—”
“Don’t say straight. I am definitely not. I very desperately want to have sex with you right now. That isn’t straight.”
I can’t help it. A laugh escapes from my throat at how different his reaction is to the one I was expecting. “Are you sure? Have you ever done that?” I ask. I know some straight men are into ass play, pegging, that sort of thing. This conversation is making it very clear that I have no idea what he’s into, and that I shouldn’t assume.
His cheeks darken as he bites his lip, still smirking at me. It’s the most captivating mix of embarrassed and playful, almost mischievous even. Whatever the word is, I love that I’m the one he’s looking at that way. As though he wants to share all his secrets with me. I want to wrap my arms around him, to hold him as he does, and learn every little detail there is to know about him.
That’s pretty intense for what is, in all likelihood, just a hookup situation though. He hasn’t said anything about wanting to be with me, just that he wants to have sex with me.
