I kiss him one last time and take his hand and lead him around to the garage. I keep one eye on the downstairs windows, making sure the curtains don’t move. Autumn is not known for giving me privacy. I don’t want to lie to her about Chase, but I will, for him. We climb the wooden staircase and I push open the door and flip on the small lamp on the battered old table by the door. Chase looks around, taking it all in.
“My dad made guitars as a hobby. He sold some and gave some away to friends as gifts,” I explain as his eyes sweep over the four we kept, all on stands in the corner of the room.
There’s also a desk in the corner under the window where my mom used to do her crafting and bracelet making that Autumn has taken over. It’s next to an old record player sitting on top of four stacked milk crates filled with vinyl albums. And then there’s the bed. I gently push him toward it and walk over to stick a record on. I pick Nirvana’sNevermind. It’s not exactly soft and sexy music, but I keep the volume low. I like it because Chase thinks I have Kurt Cobain hair. He’s smiling as soon as “Teen Spirit” starts.
Then I walk over to the one window and make sure the curtains are drawn tight, without gaps. I pull my lighter out of my sweats and light the small cluster of candles on the desk. I flip off the overhead light on my way back to him. He’s shrugging out of his suit jacket as I start kissing him again. His mouth is warm and inviting and once his jacket falls, he starts undoing the cuffs of his dress shirt, and I have to pull back and watch because for some reason, it’s an incredible turn-on. “I’ve never been with a guy as put together as you. All designer suits and cufflinks. It’s sexy as fuck watching you… unravel.”
“Your last boyfriend wasn’t a suit guy?”
“He was a college kid like me,” I explain, distractedly because my focus is on his fingers that are now making quick work of his shirt and with every button that opens, I’m treated to his glorious skin — taut and smooth. But then his words replay themselves in my brain, making it through the haze of lust. My fingers still. “Haven’t had a boyfriend since my freshman year. Until now?”
It’s a question because I didn’t think he’d want to dive right into that label. But he used it first so I’m just seeking clarification. His shirt is completely undone now so he slips out of it, leaving it to fall to the floor at the foot of the bed on top of his suit jacket. “I’ve never had a boyfriend at all,” Chase confesses. “Until now.”
He steps into me and our lips connect. It’s ten more glorious minutes of clothes coming off while our lips and tongues explore any inch of skin we can. When we’re both naked, I push him back onto the bed and climb on top. Our dicks bump and rub together and the friction sends ripples of desire up my spine. “God, I have never wanted to fuck someone so badly in my life.”
He tenses under me. Even his lips grow stiff against my neck and I realize that somehow, I fucked up. Before I can pull back enough to read his expression, he shoves his fingers through my hair and wraps one thick, muscular leg over the back of my calf, holding me to him. He kisses my neck softly and rolls his hips, our dicks rubbing again. “I’ve never done that. Yet.”
That kind of throws me. I mean, it doesn’t at all matter, I’m just surprised. He keeps talking in between featherlight kisses up my throat. “I’ve wanted to, more than once, but it’s just… I didn’t… I didn’t want it to be a random hook-up and that’s all I could offer.”
“You’re offering me more,” I whisper and grind against him, my lips move to his ear, kissing the shell and nipping the lobe, which gets me a small, deep groan.
“Yeah. I am. But…”
“We’ve got time,” I tell him before he can finish that sentence. “Lots of it. No rush.”
As much as I want to fuck him, I want to do everything else with him too. God, this man is my catnip. Even the smallest taste is enough and not enough at the same time. “So, you haven’t been fucked. Have you fucked a guy?”
I’m blunt, but we’re naked here and I know he’s as turned on as I am so no need to act shy. With one last push of my hips, I slip off him so we’re lying side by side on the lumpy double bed with one of my grandma’s quilts on it. Chase looks me square in the eye. “No.”
I can tell it’s hard for him to admit that. “But you’ve thought about it.”
“Thought about it. Fantasized. Craved it. But it seemed like a bad idea with a one-night stand,” Chase replies. “I mean, not for everyone. Just for me. Baggage and everything. I just didn’t want my first to be with someone who… with a… well fuck, I sound like a romantic teenage girl.”
We both laugh. “My sister would like you more if she knew. You sound like someone from one of those novels she reads all the damn time.”
“Sorry.” The light is dim, but I swear there’s pink creeping into his cheeks.
“Don’t be.” I reach up, sliding my fingers over his chest, circling his left nipple and then his right. His eyelids flutter a little. And then I remind him of the most important thing. “I’m not a one-night stand.”
“You aren’t.” His lips find mine again and we spend the next several minutes making out.
I roll away from him for just long enough to reach my arm down and under the bed, where I pull out the small wooden box I keep there. It’s got guitar picks, extra strings, and some lube because sometimes I have urges and I’m usually up here at night when Autumn isn’t. I grab the small bottle and turn back to Chase. “Hold out your hand.”
When he does, I squirt some into his palm and then another squirt into my palm before tossing it off the bed and kissing him again. Each lick, each nip, getting more and more intense and passionate. Our lubed hands are wrapped around each other’s cocks as we’re side-by-side, making out relentlessly and giving each other hand jobs. We come almost in unison, my release exploding a millisecond before his.
After we clean up in the small powder room in the corner, we both throw on our boxer briefs and crawl back onto the bed. I pull what’s left of the joint out of my sweats and re-light it. I’m sitting with my head against the wall at the top of the bed, Chase is lower, his head in the crook of my arm. We share the rest of the joint and talk – about my life, his life, our families. It’s nothing but it’s also everything. We couldn’t have more different upbringings – his religious, political, rich, and full of expectations and boundaries. Mine simple, bohemian, working class, and with few rules or limits. Our life experiences, despite going to the same college, at different times, was also different. Chase was an athlete, lived in the dorms and then in a frat house, was an honor student, with a double major, and graduated top of both classes. I only did one year in my program, managed middle-of-the-pack grades, lived at home, and never went to a college sports event let alone participated.
When I mention how different our lives have been he smiles up at me. “But somehow the universe crossed our paths anyway. Kismet is a wonderous thing.”
“How does your dad not see that you’re way too deep to be a politician?”
He sucks hard on what’s left of the joint and starts to laugh at the same time. Little puffs of smoke escape his lips, still pink and plump from our make-out session. I kiss him again. Eventually, with the joint gone, I slide down to lie beside him and we fall asleep.
When I wake up, sunlight is glowing behind the curtains. I feel like I haven’t in a really long time – rested. I drifted off easily, with his warm, hard body against mine, and slept soundly. But now, as I stretch and open my eyes, Chase is gone. It’s not really a shock, but there’s still a pinch of sadness in my chest. I get off the bed and pull on my sweats, digging my phone out of my pocket and smiling at his name in my text alerts.
Chase:Tough leaving you. Hope you slept well. You working tonight?
I text back as I make my way out of the room and down the stairs. The morning air is warm and the sky is cloudless and there’s a hum of machinery. Woody is out back on the riding mower.
