Then he laced his fingers through mine again and held on while I fucked him slow and deep, and that was worse than if he'd demanded answers, because it meant he would wait. It meant he thought I was worth waiting for.
I shifted the angle and his breath caught, his body clenching around me.
"There," he gasped. "Right there, don't stop—"
I kept the angle, kept the slow steady rhythm he'd asked for, even though every instinct was screaming at me to take what I wanted. I wrapped my free hand around his cock and strokedin time with my hips, and his head fell back against the pillow, his throat bared, the cords of his neck standing out as his body wound tighter.
His body arched off the bed. His hand squeezed mine hard enough to hurt, and he came with a sound that went straight through me, spilling hot and wet over my fist and his stomach, his whole body shuddering through it while I fucked him through every wave.
I lasted three more seconds before I buried myself deep and came with my face pressed against his neck, his name on my lips, his fingers still tangled with mine.
Afterward was worse.
He didn't leave. I'd expected him to leave, the way people always left when we were done. Instead he rolled onto his side and looked at me, his head on my pillow, his body taking up space in my bed like he belonged there.
"So," he said.
I stared at the ceiling. "So."
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
"You've been asking me things all night."
"One more." His knee bumped mine under the sheets. "Have you always known? That you were gay?"
I turned my head to look at him. "Yes."
"Like, always always?"
"I knew I was different when I was seven. I knew what it meant when I was twelve." I watched his face. "Why?"
"Just curious." But he wasn't meeting my eyes now.
"What about you?"
He was quiet for a long time, and I didn't push because I was starting to understand that Red would tell me things if I gave him enough silence to find the words.
"I tried not to know," he said finally. "For a long time. Had girlfriends in high school. Slept with a few of them. Told myselfeveryone felt like this, like they were going through the motions, like they were watching themselves from somewhere outside their own body." He laughed. "Took me until I was nineteen to stop lying to myself. By then…” He stopped. "It was too late to start over. That's what I told myself."
"I've never been with a woman," I said.
Red turned to look at me. "Never?"
"Never wanted to."
He was quiet again, and his hand found mine under the sheets. Not holding, not exactly, just touching, his fingers resting against my palm where the scar was. Like he wanted to ask about it again, but knew I wouldn't answer.
I should pull away. I should tell him to get dressed.
"I'm moving to Colorado Springs," I said.
His fingers stilled. "What?"
"After Nationals. My coach thinks it makes more sense to train at the Olympic Center. Better facilities, better access to the federation." The words came out flat because I'd been practicing them for weeks. "It's more practical."
Red pulled his hand back. The warmth went with it.
"When did you decide this?"
