Jesus, if this is how I was right now, from a kiss, what the fuck would happen if he wanted to do more? Was that even a possibility? Oh god, what the fuck had I just done? And more importantly, why couldn’t I stop? Why didn’t I want to?
“Room,” I managed to get out, my voice cracking, trying my best to keep my composure and not lose complete control right here in the open air.
Cal pulled away slowly, reluctantly. His eyes were dark, lust filled, even more hungry than before. He examined me, my swollen, kissed lips, my chest heaving, my cheeks which I knew were surely flushed a violent red. He looked at me like he’d just discovered a new form of oxygen. He leaned back in, stealing one more small, hard kiss, the stubble on his jaw scraping against mine. My face felt raw from the friction, a stinging reminder that this was real.
“Fuck, Si…” he mumbled, his eyes feeling as if they were piercing through the water and straight into my soul.
I gave a small nod of my own, hoping he took it for what I meant. That this wasn’t going to end when we got out of the water. That I wanted more. I needed more. And fuck, I needed him to take it. Take every ounce of it all from me.
We awkwardly, but frantically, made our way back to the room. We walked fast, keeping a foot of distance between us in the hallway, trying desperately to make it look like we weren’t just seconds away from fucking right there in the goddamn resort pool.
It was nearly four in the morning at this point. The hotel was a ghost town, the long corridors silent except for the squelch of our wet shoes on the carpet. The tension was so heavy it felt like a vice grip around my chest. My head was spinning. I didn’t understand any of this, not even a little bit. One moment Cal was asking us to break into a hotel pool, and the next he was kissing my neck, his hand daring to go down the front of my shorts.
And the worst part? I was still hard, aching against the wet compression of my shorts, a throbbing reminder of how close I was to losing it.
The second the door shut behind us, the heavy click of the electronic lock sounded like a gunshot in the quiet room.
We stood there, dripping pool water onto the hotel carpet, chests heaving. Cal was watching me, his eyes dark and dilated, seemingly waiting for me to tell him this was okay. Waiting for me to snap back into control and put a stop to the madness.
Except right now, I didn’t give a fuck.
For once in my life, I didn’t care about the rules. I didn’t care that I was being impulsive in a way I always hated. Right now, the adrenaline was gone, and all thatwas left was a raw, gnawing hunger. Every fiber of my being wanted this. Wanted him.
“Fuck…” I breathed out.
I lunged forward into Cal again. This time, his response was far more confident. He caught me, his arms wrapping around my wet torso, pulling me flush against him. We were both still soaking wet, literally dripping in wet shorts and underwear, shivering from the air conditioning, but neither of us cared. The cold only made the heat of his skin feel more intense.
Cal pulled me towards him, walking us backward, leading us blindly toward the closest bed, which happened to be his. He stopped when the back of his knees hit the foot of the mattress. Our mouths were still sealed together, a battle of tongues and teeth, hands gripping wet hair and nails dragging across sensitive skin.
Then, Cal pulled away.
He placed his hands on my chest, creating a few inches of space, steadying himself as I instinctively chased after his lips.
“We don’t have to do anything,” he said sincerely. His voice was rough, wrecked, his eyes still loaded with desire but soft all at the same time. He was giving me an out.
“Do you want to?” I countered, barely catching my breath, my heart hammering against my ribs.
He studied me for a beat, searching my face. My nerves shot through me like lightning. Maybe he didn’t want this? Maybe it was just the adrenaline of the moment? Maybe I’d made the absolutely wrong fucking move and he was trying to let me down easy.
Cal rested his hands back on my waist, gently, firmly, like he was making sure I stayed grounded where I was.
“Have you ever done anything… with a guy, I mean?” he asked. There was no trace of judgment or sarcasm in sight. Just genuine curiosity.
I felt my entire body lock up.
The heat in my veins turned to ice. Embarrassment flooded me, starting at my chest and burning up to my ears. How did I even answer this without sounding like a freak and a loser all at once? I was twenty years old. I was a professional wrestler on the main roster. And I was… this.
I looked at Cal. He was reading me. I knew he was. He saw the hesitation, the shame I tried so hard to hide behind a mask.
“Si?” he said softly, shaking me from the endless spiral. “Wait. You have, like, donestuff, haven’t you?”
I clenched my jaw, looking at the carpet. “I have, a couple of times. But never—” I felt myself trip up, the words sticking in my throat. The embarrassment was causing everything, including the ache in my cock, to deflate.
“With women?” he asked.
I nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “I only ever did stuff for them. I never… I never had the favor returned,” I said flatly, the admission tasting like ash. “I was always too focused. Too busy. I didn’t let them.”
Cal went quiet. “So you haven’t actually gone all the way?”
