He’d shoved me onto the bed and climbed on top of me with a look that suggested patience was for lesser mortals.
And when he’d sunk down onto me, both of us groaning at the feeling, any plans I’d had dissolved into pure sensation.
The memory of Archie riding me with his head thrown back and his fingernails digging into my chest, gasping out commands like a particularly bossy dictator, has been playing on a continuous loop all day. Along with the sounds he made when I flipped us over and took control, the way he wrapped his good leg around my waist and demanded, “Harder, Leo. I’m not made of glass.”
Then this morning. Archie, warm and sleep-soft, pulled me into him before either of us was fully awake, murmuring “again” against my mouth.
My rating went up to nine point seven five, for the record.
I still don’t know how I feel about sleeping with Archie when he doesn’t know the truth about his accident.
Guilty. That’s the obvious answer. I feel guilty.
But who exactly would my confession be for? Archie didn’t ask for it. In fact, Archie specifically asked me not to. Confessing right now would be about me, not him. And I don’t get to blow up his life just because the weight of this is getting uncomfortable for me.
“There’s nothing you could tell me that would change the fact that I want to do this.”
His words echo in my head. The way his eyes went slightly panicked when he thought I was about to reveal something heavy. The speed with which he shut down any possibility of confession.
I need to respect his wishes. He asked me to respect his desire to keep things light.
Do I have the right to decide he doesn’t get to have that?
He turns to me now, those hazel eyes catching the candlelight, and for a second, I lose my train of thought entirely.
“Remember, you need to use my pet name for me tonight,” he says in a low tone.
“You want me to call you my little chaos gremlin in public?” I clarify.
“That’s the one.” He grins impishly at me.
Shit. I have such a desire to kiss his smile.
Archie seems to read the intent in my eyes, because his smile grows even more.
“Steady on, Snugglesaurus. We’re in public,” he keeps his voice low. “Although I guess it is appropriate for aT. rexto look like they want to devour someone, so congrats on the excellent role-playing.”
Luckily, I’m spared from replying by the fact that we’ve reached the row where Andrew and Justin are sitting.
Although Andrew and Justin standing to greet us just triggers another spiral inside me.
Fuck, how much time did I spend telling Andrew that he needed to be honest with Justin? And here I am, only a few months later, caught in a deceptive web myself. I’m not telling the truth to Archie. Together, Archie and I are deceiving Elizabeth.
Apparently, I’m much better at giving advice than following it.
I’ve prepared Andrew for the fact that Elizabeth thinks Archie and I are in a relationship. His response was a series of increasingly incredulous texts, culminating in:
So you lecture ME about honesty and then do THIS?
But Andrew’s and my friendship runs deep. I know he’ll have my back on this.
“Leo.” Andrew clasps my hand. “Glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” I turn so I can make the introductions. “Andrew, this is Archie and his godmother Elizabeth. Archie, Elizabeth, this is my friend Andrew and his boyfriend Justin.”
Justin extends his hand to Elizabeth first, his charming smile firmly in place. “Lovely to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” Elizabeth says.
