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Wordlessly, he pushed up out of the chair, the frame squeaking from his bulk, and closed the distance between us. I widened my legs, and he stepped into the space I’d made for him. I hooked a fingers through a belt loop, giving a gentle tug to pull him even closer.

“Are you getting what you need out of this, Cal?” I asked, my voice low.

Cally’s eyes moved over my face, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

“Do you need more?”

“I’m … it’s …” His eyebrows twitched, a crease forming between them, and he blew out a breath. “No. Not fully.”

I screwed my eyes shut, my head dropping back as I let out a long groan.

Fuck.

FUCK.

I needed to fix this.

“It’s not bad, Mikey. I swear. I love what⁠—”

I tipped my face forward, my teeth gritted as I spoke. “I’m an asshole, Cal. I’ve been having the best sex of my life, and you’re … what? Enduring?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not like that. It’s good, I swear. Really good.”

“But I’ve been a selfish prick,” I pointed out. “Not once did I ever stop to think you might need more.”

“I don’t need more, M. But … like …” He paused, scratching at the side of his cheek before dropping that hand down to cup my own. “There is one thing I’d really love.”

I curled into his touch, my eyes dropping briefly closed. “Anything,” I said, meaning it fully. I’d do anything to make him feel as good as he made me feel.

I opened my eyes in time to see his throat bob against the collar of his shirt, his swallow loud in the otherwise quiet room. “I want to fuck you so bad that I sometimes can’t see straight,” he rushed out, his shoulders curling forward, his head dropping forward.

Every time I thought I had a handle on Cally, he pulled the rug out from under me, destroying any pre-conceived notions I might have had about him—and he’d just done it again.

So no more assumptions. No more taking a sleepy bodily cue and guessing at what it meant. No more reading between the lines and hoping I’d interpreted them correctly.

Straight talk time.

“You want to fuck me? Is that what you’re saying you need, Cal?”

“So much,” he whispered.

Okay, no ambiguity there.

If that was what Cally needed from me, I’d find a way to get there. I’d have to. Because the idea of him fucking somebody else made me literally physically ill.

I uncurled my finger from his belt loop and slid my palm onto his hip, pulling a deep breath into my lungs and blowing it out slowly. “Can we work up to that?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said softly, his long fingers sliding behind my neck, his thumb tracing a tiny circle behind my ear. “And just to be crystal fucking clear—because I think maybe that’s something we need to work on—I’m going to need you to fuck me, too. Okay?”

“Oh.” I dropped my head forward, pressing my face into his belly.

I’d driven myself mad trying to figure out Cally’s preferences, completely emitting a possible third option. A major options. I felt so goddamn stupid.

“You’re switch?”

“I’m vers,” he stressed.

“That’s both, right?” I pulled my face back and looked up to see him nodding.