I swallowed hard, knowing I should back out of the room and knock so he’d have time to cover himself, but I couldn’t move. I was terrified that if I did, I’d close the distance between us and press my erection into the crease of his ass. It wasn’t the first time I’d had thoughts about Peter, but it was the closest I’d ever been to acting on them. Normally, I used memories of the nights we spent sleeping in the bed next to one another as a springboard for my fantasies. I’d imagine him rolling over, offering to take care of my arousal for me. But somehow I’d convinced myself he’d never be into it.
“Hold up,” Peter interrupted, leaning back so he could see my face. A cool rush of air across my neck made me shiver, and I wished he was still resting his head on my shoulder. “You seriously used me as spank bank material?”
“Um, yes?” My reply came out more like a question because I wasn’t convinced he’d take that revelation well. Just because he was gay didn’t mean he was into me.
“Fuck, we really should’ve talked about this when we were kids. Would’ve been so much better getting off with you instead of just thinking about you,” he blurted out. Fuck. He’d thought about me, too? “Damn, talk about a wasted opportunity. Anyway, continue.”
“That’s it. I sat there watching you for probably a minute, you spun around and realized I was there, you freaked out, I dropped the cookies your mom sent up and ran out of the house so fast you wound up bringing my bag with you to the church parking lot.” I’d debated telling Papa I didn’t want to go to the retreat, but that would’ve raised even more questions. Then, I’d been prepared to spend the entire week in the same clothes because there was no way I could’ve gone back to the Agnelli house. When Peter dropped my bag beside the church van, no one thought it was strange because the two of us frequently helped one another out.
“And this whole time I thought you ran out because you couldn’t be friends with someone as depraved as me,” he whispered, shaking his head.
“I know, Peter. I’ll never forgive myself for letting you think it was your fault.” Man, being honest with Peter was harder than I’d expected it to be. I wanted him to understand where I was coming from, but my life was turning inside out with every word uttered. The way he licked his lips as he patiently waited for me to continue sure as hell wasn’t helping.
“And what about now, Freddie? You said you’reprobablybi. Is it something you’d be interested in exploring? If you are, and if you still think about me, then I think we were brought back together for a reason.” It seemed like a bad time to point out that the reason was his mother’s death. I wasn’t a believer in fate or destiny. “I can’t offer you forever, but I can offer you right now. And I promise you, whatever happens, it doesn’t have to be weird between us now that we both know the truth. All you have to do is have the balls to go after what you want.”
My breathing was ragged as I considered what he wanted to give me. I knewexactlywhat I wanted, but he was right; at the end of the day, it all boiled down to whether I had the courage to go after it.Him.Peter was what I wanted.
Realizing this was an opportunity I wasn’t likely to have again, I caved to a moment of lust-craze and pushed Peter back on the couch, bracing my hands against the back and the arm so I didn’t crush him. I could feel Peter’s breath across my face as I watched him for any signs of regret. Finding none, I lowered my mouth to his–so damn slowly, giving him every possible chance to tell me he was joking. He didn’t, and when our lips finally touched, my entire world narrowed to just us.
Peter wrapped his legs around mine, locking me into place as one hand curled around the back of my neck. Both of us moaned as the kiss deepened, and I got my first taste of the man who’d changed everything in my life.
For so many years, I’d deprived of myself knowing what it’d feel like to have my body pressed against the firm planes of another man rather than the softer slopes of a woman’s. Told myself it wasn’t something I needed, but as Peter lifted his head off the arm of the couch, forcing his tongue deeper into my mouth, I knew that’d been a lie. Not once in my life had a kiss turned me on as much as his. Never had I felt a consuming desire to push for more until him.
Peter obviously felt the same, because he arched off the couch, and for the first time ever, another man’s erection pressed against my own. Even through the layers of our clothing–or maybebecausewe were both dressed–it was beyond everything I’d imagined.
“I guess that answers that question,” Peter quipped when we were forced to break the kiss or suffocate. “I kind of hate us right now.”
“Why’s that?” I asked, combing my fingers through his mess of blond hair.
“Because that was seriously fucking hot,” he informed me, reaching around to cup my ass. Once our groins were aligned again, he started grinding against me. A voice in the back of my head told me I shouldn’t be doing this, but I couldn’t think of a good reason not to, so I kissed him again.
I thought I was prepared for anything at that point, but then Peter had to turn the heat up a notch by sliding his hand into the waistband of my pants. The tip of his finger dipped into my crease and I tensed. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you do anything you’re not ready for. Just want you to see how good it can be.”
“It already is,” I admitted breathlessly.
“Baby, you have no idea,” he whispered before nipping my ear. “I’m going to play your body like an instrument. Going to make you beg for more, scream when you come.”
To emphasize his point, Peter contorted his body until he was able to brush his fingers against my sac. Without being told, I widened my stance, allowing him easier access. Fuck, it felt so good to get off without having to think about the things Iwishedmy partner would do to me. He gave my nuts a gentle tug, forcing my attention to what his hand was doing.
“You like that?” he asked, repeating the motion. “Me too. Fucking love the pressure, just on the right side of pain, keeping me from coming before my partner wants me to. Gets me off to see how long I can hold out.”
Fuck. He was a better man than I, because I was already close to shooting off in my briefs. Peter kept massaging my balls, allowing the tips of his fingers to caress my shaft. “Don’t stop, Peter. Please, whatever you do, don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” he promised. He bit the side of my neck hard enough I’d probably have a mark, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop him. Didn’t give a damn about how I’d hide the love bites or how much shit my brothers would give me when they saw them. The harder he sucked, the more I wanted him to cover my body, claiming me as his own.
But I wasn’t, not really. He’d offered me a safe way to experiment, not happily ever after. My erection flagged a bit as I remembered that eventually he’d have to go back home.
“You’re over-thinking,” he scolded me. “Don’t think about what happens next. Live in this moment we’re making together.”
Yeah. That sounded like a damn good plan. I closed my eyes as I started exploring his body with my hands and mouth. I tensed as my hand neared Peter’s waist. I could deal with everything we’d done so far, but this felt like a moment of no return. Once I took his dick in my hand, I’d unleash every craving I’d never sated. There would be no more denying that I was a bisexual man even if I wasn’t comfortable with the label.
Sensing my unease, Peter shifted our bodies so he was pressed into the back cushions of the couch and I was lying next to him. Facing him. Staring into those gorgeous fucking eyes. Eyes that begged me to make him feel half as good as I felt in that moment. I couldn’t deny him.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I gave into my curiosity and shoved my hand unceremoniously into his sleep pants. And holy fucking shit, there was no mistaking the abrasion of lace against my skin. “Do you... wear… oh fuck…”
I couldn’t string words together into a simple sentence knowing he was wearing lace underwear. Rather than rushing to a hand job, I cupped my palm over his length, feeling the contrast of feminine lace and masculine hardness.
“Not always, but sometimes they serve a purpose.” I stilled, not sure I wanted him to explain his logic. He caressed my cheek until I looked at him. “When I’m forced to conform to what others expect of me on the outside, I wear something that makes me feel sexy underneath as a reminder of everything I’ve fought for in my life. Plus, knowing I can stand in front of my old man without him realizing I’m wearing dainty underwear is like a giant ‘fuck you’ to him.”
