The Leap

A Sanitaria Springs Story

By Dabeagle


“Take a giant leap into that which sets your soul on fire and never retire from that leap.” ― Hiral Nagda

I think I'm bad at being gay. There are so many ideas out there about how you act or what you think or whatever else when you're gay. Limp wrists. Lisping. Drag. Iced Coffee. Make-up. Sex fiend. Dislike for sports. Cutting hair for a living. Trying hard to look really straight . It seems like a lot of pressure. I'm gay because of one guy. I mean I know I'm gay because of one guy. I'm sure there are plenty of others I'd notice, because, you know, I like guys. But I also don't mind sports, I think iced coffee is okay, but I won't go out of my way for it, and I much prefer shorts and a tee shirt to even the idea of a dress and makeup.

Every time I turn around there’s something on my phone telling me how to be gay, even if it's someone who embodies a lot of the things I just described saying it's okay to express yourself. It's like they are trying to say it's okay for them – which it is – but what about me? I like words. I like going from one online article to another gathering random things that seem interesting. I'm just your average gay boy who waited patiently for the guy who fits me perfectly to realize I was there for him. That probably sounds pathetic to some people who think you don't need anyone else to make yourself complete.

But...some people do.

My boyfriend is Logan Whitmore. I noticed him in grade school, and there was little me, gay Grayson – before I knew I was gay – trying to be anywhere Logan was. Logan is a fucking unicorn – rare and practically mythical. The idea of the unicorn came from language being misinterpreted, which might explain a lot.

The word hippopotamus has its roots in Greek for 'river horse' or 'the horse of the river'. So you go from there to something that looks like a hippo but has a horn on its head, like say a rhinoceros. Then some dude says to some other dude 'Hey, that water horse thing? I saw one with a horn.' One horn. Unihorn on a water horse. Horse with a single horn, and just like that we have the idea of a white charger with a golden horn protruding from its forehead, looking nothing like a rhino, and calling it a unicorn.

Dating Logan is something like that. There had been a misunderstanding about who he really was – not just your average special guy, not just an athlete or a theater geek, but a rare combination of what some people would see as a rhino, but what I saw as a unicorn. Once we'd had a kiss, it was game on. Originally there'd been me, Logan and Seth in a dating triangle, but Seth was now in love with Foster, who had his own things that needed tending to. Logan and I took a little while to find our own groove without Seth, but once we did things seemed like they were too good to be true which brings a certain amount of tension while you expect something to go wrong. The longer you have that tension, the bigger you expect the thing to go wrong to be.

There are guys I don't think are my kind of attractive. Like they are cute, but that's where it stops. Like my cousin Corby is nice looking, and his boyfriend is cute as hell, but not sexy to me. Declan, Corby's boyfriend, is sexy to Corby. He's nice, fun, has some devil and sass to him, but he's not my type. Seth was kind of my type, and in a certain sense he's one that got away. But the only person I've ever met, the only person that has ever held a grip on me without even trying is Logan.

I woke the screen on my phone to check the time; nine-thirty at night. I flipped to my snaps and went through some of the pictures Logan had sent me. Some were silly – him flexing with a funny look or sticking his tongue out while crossing his eyes. Silly things. And then there were the other pictures, the ones that made me instantly hard, the ones that left my mouth dry and then watering like mad by turns.

Logan is very much not body shy. Some people would say he has no reason to be – me among them – because he's got a fine, fine body. But that implies he's confident about his body and therefore doesn't mind who sees it. He actually just doesn't care. He thinks everyone has a body and they are all essentially alike, more or less, differences in genitalia aside. So for him walking around in his underwear is no big deal, despite it making a big deal in my pants.

I've always thought I'd lose Logan someday. He's not gay, but bi. It's not him; it's me. I figured there are eventually going to be things I can't give him that he'll care about. Children, for instance. Maybe the 'normality' of a wife with a picket fence and however many kids they should have by some statistic. And I always wondered how far is too far when it comes to the physical end? When we moved to oral I was over the moon happy, but stressed that maybe a dick in his mouth would be over whatever line he might have, but no – once that line had been crossed, we crossed it with regularity.

I had discovered how adventurous he could be, which was a surprise and thrilling, yet also nerve wracking. We'd gotten busy in our homes, of course – no shock there. His garage, which is concealed enough not to raise other people's blood pressure maybe. But then there came the day we were at school late and ended up in a science classroom closet. It was exciting, and I love any sex with him, but it also made me nervous that we could get caught. If anyone wonders, I'm not into the anxiety, just the sex.

From there he got more adventurous about where he wanted me – and make no mistake, I always want him, my unicorn. The entire summer it was like his libido went to eleven. We went hiking, and partway along we ducked into a thicket. His car – not surprising. His pool – but we weren't trying to hold our breath, which I think would have killed the mood. No, he got me to sit on the deck with my feet in the water while he gobbled me down, and of course I wasn't going to say no.

I'm never forced into these things, and I've never said it makes my heart race the wrong way, because I do want him.

The other things about gay relationships – or relationships in general – are all good. We hang out by ourselves or with friends. We cuddle. We watch stuff together, and he's taken me to see a few live performances, because he's a theater geek. I'm not – another bad gay thing about me. Logan is also a sports geek, and while I like to play, I don't care nearly as much as he does. We watch sports on TV sometimes and it's fine, but I'm not into it as much as he is.

Maybe that's part of the problem – I don't know what the fuck I want outside of Logan. This past spring he'd essentially told his dad he was going to marry me. My heart had swelled along with my ego. He was so together – he knew he was going for sports medicine at SUNY, minoring in dramatic theater. I still didn't know what I wanted to do besides him. He said he'd support us both until I figured it out, but that was not as comforting as he'd likely intended. We'd probably both be at home while we went to college. He'd commute to Binghamton and I'd be driving to the community college; no need for 'supporting' us.

I don't know what happened. Well, I mean yes, I do, but I also don't. Logan and I have been having sex for over a year, and like I was just thinking, he'd dialed it up to eleven this past summer. We'd done so many things – gone to plays and free concerts, played sports and exercised, cooked together, spent quiet nights each doing our own thing while still sharing space. It had been the best summer of my life.

We'd also developed in, I guess, a stereotypical way. Even though we talked about plenty of things, we'd never really talked about sex. Every once in a while we'd fight, because I'd get nervous that I was going to lose him – like when he'd been in the school play and his leading man role kissed the female love interest. He was a little too much of a method actor for me, I guess, and I thought he was falling for her. She was pretty, and I'm not just saying that – I think they'd be a pretty couple, minus my heartbreak. Then he'd come to me and I'd get neurotic, and eventually he'd have enough of my shit and force me to say whatever it was that was screwing me up, and then we'd fight because I was, once again, caught up in a loop that he was going to leave me.

But the feeling was persistent. I constantly developed new fears about why he'd leave me, and it's not a sexy look to do that to someone – I know it's not. It's not healthy. I just wasn't sure how to talk to him about sex, beyond the sex we were already having. What is the right way to ask your boyfriend to bend over and take your dick?

Things didn't change much heading into fall, except that something in the back of my mind started to become louder. It's a point and counterpoint, I guess – I want to fuck my boyfriend. I want to lay him on his back, have him resting his ankles on my shoulders, and I want to rail him so well I can watch his eyes roll back in his head, his mouth open just a bit while his lips mouth words like 'yes' and 'oh fuck' from sheer pleasure. I want to fill him up so much that it runs down his leg when he leaves the bed.

I know – graphic.

But being fucked might be too gay for him. He's bi; I’m not sure if a dick in the ass would be too much for him. Is that a thing? Like...only this far into 'gay' territory and no more? I know some people will say butt sex isn't gay sex, and I guess if your wife or girlfriend pegs you it's not technically gay...but if you get pegged, how much of a leap is it really to have the real thing going in you? I don't know. Seth is bi and Foster fucks him, so maybe not a problem? Realistically, that's not likely to be the problem; I will be.

I've heard guys brag about the size of their tool, it's just what guys do. It seems like most guys in any porn I've seen are pretty well hung. Even the bottoms have dicks big enough to be good tops, based on being above average in size. Logan? Porn star dick. It's exciting to look at, and I love to get him off and to suck him. I like touching him while I get him off. It's even kind of exciting to nearly choke on that bastard sometimes, except for the watering eyes, runny nose and not being able to breathe.

But the idea of that monster in my ass? I mean if I fuck him, he'll want to fuck me, right? Makes sense. Quid pro quo. What's good for the goose is – what the fuck is a gander, anyway? I woke my phone and briefly noted the time – ten minutes after ten – before searching goose and gander. Huh. So a goose is a female? So in my case, what's good for the gander is good for the gander? That doesn't sound right.

Logan knows I worry. I worry he'll want kids I can't give him, even though I don't want any. He knows I worry I won't be enough for him, even though he says I am – but for how long? Sometimes it's hard to just relax and remember he chose me, he's with me for me. Most of the time I'm okay though. These thoughts...they never completely go away, and it's not his fault. I don't think he could be any more committed to me.

But back to my current fear – him splitting me in half. I think if his cock were more my size I'd be okay with it; at least that was my thought. It wasn't on my mind all the time, and when I did think about us fucking, mostly when I was jerking myself, I thought about me topping him. If I was in the mood to worry, I'd think about him trying to force that thing inside me.

Foster had told me he and Seth fucked – not just had sex. He didn't like the term making love, but I'm talking about the difference between sucking dick and fucking. Sex is all of that rolled into one, but right now I mean fucking. I guess it's kind of normal, even if I don't care a lot about normal. I wonder if Corby and Declan fuck? Corby was bi, I guess, so I wasn't sure if he'd be better with information or not, but I decided to call the 'definitely gay' half of that relationship.

“Grey! What's up?” Declan asked, sounding happy.

“Hey, Dec, what are you doing?” This was a dumb idea. How do you even ask...whatever it is I wanted to ask?

“Wrapping presents and texting Corby. I keep sending him pictures of wrapped packages and telling him they’re for him. They're not, but now he's freaking out about how much he thinks I managed to buy him.”

I laughed. “That's evil.”

“I know, but he deserves it. Bell told me about what he got me this year, so I'm not putting up with any shit about me overspending.”

I laughed. “What did he get you?”

“Oh my god,” he whined. “This diamond tennis bracelet! He knows I want one, and he's never even given me crap for it being such a girly-girl, way-too-gay piece of jewelry. I don't think of myself as over-the-top, but when I put that thing on everyone is going to know I'm a flaming gay boy, right?”

I chuckled with him. “I don't know. Are they big diamonds?”

“God, no,” he said quickly. “I saw them in the mall or something. They're tiny, but they sparkle like mad.” He lowered his voice. “I told him I'd wear the bracelet and nothing else if he got it for me.”

“Talk about a bribe,” I said with a laugh.

“Ugh. It's me that has to work, trust me.”

“Oh? That sounds juicy.”

“Hang on,” he said and I heard what sounded like him running up stairs. I heard a door close and then he was back. “Okay. My parents are distracted with the holidays and my sister's bullshit, but I'm pretty sure they'd be concerned to hear me talking about my boyfriend railing me and how hard I have to work to make that happen.”

Well, if he's going to bring the subject up so I don't have to....

I laughed along with him at his statement. “Yeah, parents pick up on words and phrases. The more awkward, the better chance they hear it.”

“Right?” he said, still sounding amused. “I love Corby. He's the best, and he has no idea he's so freaking sexy. I mean you may not think so, being related, but the longer we date, the more I want him, and the more I want to spend time with him. Ugh, I'm so pathetic.”

I laughed at him. “No, no. I understand. Or I guess I should say I can relate. I feel like that about Logan, too.”

“How long have you guys been dating?”

“About two years.”

“That's awesome. This is our second Christmas together, but we've been dating just over a year.”

“You guys seem happy.”

“Insane. I've heard all about people who are always talking about how all they meet are fuckboys and how men are trash or the ones who say they can't find anyone who is built for relationships and just keep finding guys that want to fuck and run.” I sighed. “I want a relationship and the fucking, and in walks Corby.” He laughed. “Always makes me think about Bell complaining that Corby fell off the pussy wagon and into my arms.”

I laughed hard. “How's Bell?”

“He's good,” he replied. “He's working down at that coffee place, and he's been dating Phil for about six months, I think. They seem to be going pretty good – Phil has been able to drive out more since he got a car. His mom got a new job, and things are better for him at home.”

“Oh, cool. I haven't talked to Phil lately,” I said. Phil was part of the family that hung closer to the Kirkwoods. I knew them but didn't hang with them much. It was a big family.

“So how's Logan?” he asked in a leading tone, teasing me.

“Still a unicorn,” I said with a laugh. “He shouldn't exist, but he does.”

“Are you guys going to come visit over winter break? We can play. I got this card game, the Gay Agenda. We can all play and watch the bi boys get confused.”

I laughed again. “Well, we should see if we can carpool and bring Phil out, so Bell isn't left out.”

“Totally,” he replied. I heard an odd noise and Declan muttered 'shit'.


“Oh, yeah you have toys?”

“You mean...?”

“Dildos. Big boy toys.”

I chuckled. “No. Why?”

“Eh. I just dropped one is all.”

I was intrigued. Declan was a year behind us, but he was very clear about his sexuality and what he wanted. I'd been impressed with his clarity when I'd met him and he'd always been straightforward with me. In fact of all the guys I knew, he was always the most sexual in his talks with me – not aimed at me, but he felt we could talk about sex. Maybe because we're both gay? I may be one of his only gay friends.

“Do you...I mean, you like...?”

“Yeah. I'm a total bottom,” he replied.

“How do you know? I mean, haven't you topped Corby?” I would pretty much never have asked that of anyone besides Declan. When others were around he was affectionate about Corby, but he was very direct about sex with me.

“Never,” he replied easily. “I once told Corby I must be a freak, because I've always thought about sex that way. I'm guessing you don't?”

“I mean...I've thought about it, but not, like, exclusively.” Jesus I felt evasive even saying it.

He paused. “Is this weird? I always seem to talk about sex with you,” he said and laughed.

I chuckled. “I just figured it was me or Corby, right?”

“Sort of,” he said. “I don't bring this stuff up with Leigh, because he still doesn't know what he wants. Like he talks a big game, but no matter who he gets interested in, it goes nowhere.”

“So you don't tell him what he's missing?” I asked, teasing.

“Uh, no. Last thing I need is him ghost-crushing on my boyfriend.”

“What the hell is a ghost crush?” I asked, snorting and trying not to laugh.

“Like crushing but denying it while everyone can see it? Leigh has no game at all. If he played poker, he'd be broke. Bust. Whatever the word is.”

We laughed at Leigh's expense, but I guess this is probably why I called Declan anyway. I could talk about sex with him really directly. I could call Seth, didn't feel right, especially given that he used to date both Logan and me. At least Declan would give me the point of view of someone that really liked to bottom. As far as I knew Seth and Foster just teed up periodically; I have no idea how they decide who is doing what.

“I can't imagine being exclusively a bottom. I mean not even trying to top?” I asked, trying to lead him forward. Fortunately Declan needs very little encouragement.

“I don't think I've thought about it once, though I should bring it up just to see Corby's reaction,” he said with a laugh. “I am so bad, though. One time it had been weeks since Corby and I had alone time together, and the more I thought about it, the more I wanted it. It was so ridiculous that when he got to my house....”

I waited a beat. “When he got to your house?” I prompted.

“Well. Let's just say there wasn't any foreplay. I practically had my legs behind my head and telling him to get his dick over there.”

“Classy, Dec,” I snickered.

“Yeah,” he said with a little groan. “He's just so good, and he has no clue. He just thinks, 'Oh, yeah, sex works like this,' and he goes and does it without realizing he's making me want him over and over.” He paused. “Or maybe he's an evil genius and just plays dumb. You think?”

“Corby's smart, but I don't see him like a mastermind.”

“Yeah, you're probably right. Still, if there's sex going on, I want that D.”

“Sounds like it,” I replied. I didn't know how to ask about how this would pertain to me – as in size – and I didn't think I wanted to know what Corby's measurements were. I guess this wasn't such a great idea after all, except that Declan made it sound like taking a dick was the best thing ever. I don't know, maybe I'm making too much of this.

But maybe I was better off fumbling to ask rather than not asking.

“We haven't gone there yet,” I confessed. “I'm not sure about bottoming.”

“The first time hurts. Even the second, some. I couldn't sit down comfortably for like two days,” Declan replied easily. “But in a very weird way I was proud of myself, because Corby did that to me. It wasn't exactly permanent, thank God, but it was a reminder that I'd had Corby and I wanted to again. It just gets better.”

Well, he'd confirmed the pain part. A few days? After Logan I'd probably not be able to sit for a semester.

“Corby's calling, he must have gotten out of work late. Call you later?”

“Yeah. Later, Dec.”

I went back through Logan's pictures while I thought. The idea of getting inside him had me plumped up in moments and I dropped my phone as I sighed. “Yeah. What then, though?”

I trusted Logan, but to do this seemed huge to me, even if guys on my phone screen did it all the time. It wasn't simply a leap of faith about one thing, it was the potential this had to frag our whole relationship. It wasn't just would we hurt when one took the other, but also was it too much for him? What if it was too much for me, in a very literal way? What if the price of all out sex with Logan was the end of it all?


“Hello, how can I help you?” I asked the stocky teen on the other side of my counter.

“I bought this, but it just sucks. It kind of inflates, but it doesn't really do what I wanted,” he said. I glanced down at the box on the counter which was some kind of inflatable beach toy.

Why the fuck are you buying this in December? I wondered. “Sure. I'll just need your receipt, online order number or the card used for payment to look it up.”

“Uh, I don't have that. The registers were full of lines, uh, long lines and there was a guy over by the checkout machines who had a cart to let people cash out.” He shifted on his feet.

“Okay. Unfortunately the system doesn't allow me to process this without a receipt, online order number or the card used to purchase – I can look up the transaction that way. Did you pay by card?” I asked, trying to move this along.

“Like I said, no receipt. The guy said the printer had run out.”

“He'd have had to refill it right away – our terminals won't complete a transaction if the printer is low on paper.”

“How would it know?”

I paused. “How would it know what?”

“The machine. How does it know the paper is low?” he asked, voice laced with suspicion.

“There is a red streak built into the paper at the bottom of the roll. The printer detects it and won't print a new receipt until that goes away by putting in a new roll,” I explained, as I'd done many times with other customers.

“Well,” he said. “he was going to change the paper, but it was taking too long and we had to go.”

“Did you pay by card? I can try to look up the transaction that way?” I asked, circling back to the last way I might be able to get him taken care of.

“No. Cash.”

I shook my head. “I'm sorry. The terminal won't let me return it without a receipt, online order number or the card used for purchase.”

He stared at me for a minute as if looking for a new meaning in the words I'd spoken. Then he snatched the box from the counter, muttered 'fuck this' and stalked off. I'm fairly certain retail is a translation of some old language that roughly means 'hell' or 'hellish'. The Customer Service desk was hit or miss. If someone was nice I'd bend over backward to help them, but if they were nasty or running a line on me...nah, bro. Keep on.

Evelyn came back from break. She was about 5 foot 6 inches of 'don't' fuck with me'. She had brown hair, dyed for sure, given her age, and a no-nonsense approach to work. She asked if she could help someone, and I picked up a couple of items to put in the area to be returned to their departments. As I stood up a fellow with a camouflaged ball cap and flannel also done up in some weird leaf and antler pattern placed the inflatable I'd just been unable to return on the counter.

Oh great, I thought. I set my items to one side and smiled at him. “Hello. How may I help you, sir?”

“Hi. I'd like to return this item, please.”

“No problem. I need a receipt, online order number or the card used for purchase, and I can process that for you.”

“Here's the thing,” he said. “There was this guy over by the self checkout machines with a cart. The lines were pretty long, and he was taking folks to check out. He called us over and we checked out with him, but his machine wasn't giving receipts. He said something was wrong, he didn't know what.” He paused and then said, “We paid cash.”

“I see,” I said to him. “Our terminals won't allow a sale to go through without the printer hooked up and working. It's kind of a default feature. Without a receipt, online order number or the card – but you said cash, right? I can't process a return.”

“Look, kid,” he said, his tone conspiratorial. “My kid spent his own money on this. Your store sold a crappy item – they know this is theirs – and they need to make good on it. Do whatever you have to, but my kid is getting his money back.”

“I really am sorry, sir. I just can't do that.”

He raised his voice. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He picked the box up and smacked it down on the counter. “Return it now!”

“Sir, I can't,” I said. He started talking again, but he didn't get far. Evelyn bumped into my hip, sliding me over while she looked at the fellow.

“May I help you?”

“I fucking hope so. This worthless employee of yours should be fired! My son spent money he earned on this thing and he,” he pointed at me, “won't return it. It's junk and we want his money back.”

“Of course, sir,” she said. “Receipt?”

“The printer wasn't working, we didn't get one,” he said with frustration.

“Oh.” She paused. “No receipt?”

“No. I just said that.”

“Online order number?”

“No,” he growled. “We came in the store and he picked it out.”

“I see,” she said, her tone regretful. “Did your son pay by card?”

“Cash. Look, just take the damn thing back.”

Evelyn's voice turned to rock. “Without a receipt, order number or card used as payment the system will not allow it.”

The guy gawped at her. I mean completely slack jawed. Then he growled and picked up the box and slapped it down again. “My kid spent his own money on this.”

“If it were credit, debit, dollars or Rubles I'd still need the receipt, online order number or card used to purchase. If you have none of these then this item cannot be returned,” Evelyn said impassively.

The guy lost it. “Who wants an inflatable?” He hollered, lifting the thing up like he'd overhand throw it with both hands. “This bitch won't return it after my kid used his own money to buy it! I can't use it, who wants it.”

“Sir, you can't do that. Leave or I'll call security,” Evelyn said, still unperturbed.

“No! I'm not taking it!” he hollered back at her. “Fuck you for doing this! For screwing my kid over!”

Evelyn let out an impatient sigh and lifted her radio. “Security to customer service for pest control.”

“Go ahead! Call security! I can't wait to-” I didn't hear the rest as another customer told him to shut up, and the guy turned to respond, escalating things into a shouting match.

“Let's go, sir. You have to leave the premises.” Two guards boxed him and and backed him from the store while he continued to make a scene.

“Thanks for the assist, Evelyn,” I said.

She snorted. “But my kid bought it,” she said in a falsetto. “Like that makes a difference? Idiot.” She turned and went back to her line.

The day was quieter after that. Logan texted me to let me know he was picking me up from work. That was promising. My mom had a mid-shift, so he knew we'd have the place to ourselves. Looks like I'm getting some vitamin D, I thought with a grin.

I clocked out and went out front to wait impatiently for his little SUV. I spotted it coming in the parking lot and climbed in almost before he'd stopped.

“Your house?” he asked.

“Um. I dunno,” I said coyly. “My mom's not at home.”

“Duh,” he said with a laugh.

As he drove through town he asked about my shift. I told him about the father-son return team, and he had a good laugh about Evelyn. I've told him a lot of stories about Evelyn. When we got to my house the front door was barely closed when he started putting his hands on me. I was doing it right back, except it was harder for me, because I was going backward up the stairs. I'd left my door open, and once in my room clothes became more of an annoyance.

He knocked me onto my bed, which was covered in natural sunlight from the uncovered window. Good thing I was on the second floor or some perv would get all excited! He started kissing me with a lot more intensity and we started grinding into each other, building up a sweat and just rutting against each other. Sometimes it's slow, sensual. Sometimes it's quick and to the point. Sometimes it's a race to finish, and then we begin again with a little more relaxed pace. This time was pure fire.

The room was already hot – heat tends to accumulate in my room when I forget to close the door, something my mom is always yelling at me for, but adding in our exertions I was covered in a sheen and sliding against him, and it was so gross and so hot at the same time. I still can't describe how really, truly horny I was in that moment, but to even try to understand how it went down....

It was the way the sweat was letting us glide against each other. It was the heat of not just our skin, but the few degrees more that was his cock pressed to me. It was the friction and it was the scent – sex was heavy in the air, and I don't know how that is. Locker rooms smell like sweat, us sweating smells like sex. I can't explain it. I was so hard and I was also in a haze of feeling him on me. The heat and the sensations had me in a place that was just like being high or drunk.

That's why I don't quite know how it happened; I was a little out of my mind. I know he spoke. He was telling me how much he wanted to, and I was lost in the delirium of the heat of the room, our wild thrashing and the incredible heat of the moment. The first cool touch of the lube startled me, but his finger racing in circles as he tongued my nuts kind of made me forget. Or not care. Or not think too hard about what he was doing because it felt so good. The slight pressure of his finger pushing in didn't faze me, because he was licking up and down, teasing the tip of my shaft and lapping at the sensitive underside. He was the master of my body, and he was proving it.

Somewhere in my head, something must have known what was coming next. His mouth was moving, but were my ears working? Did I really see his mouth move, or were my eyes focused on his chest, his nipples?

I took a sharp breath when I felt the head of his dick pushing at my hole. My libido was still flying high, but I had a thread of worry now. I looked up at him – my fucking God, he's everything to me. I bit my lip and watched his face, his eyes glazed with lust as he wiggled against my pucker and I pushed down on my fears. Then he pushed forward.

“Oh fuck!” I said, jerking a bit as a sharp pain pulled on the edge of my hole. He stroked my dick and held still, but I was starting to worry about him tearing me open or something. Even still, it was like I was drugged in that too hot room, and as he stopped trying to move forward, I relaxed back into place.

I'm supposed to like this. To want this. And I want to do this to him, so...let's do this. Take the leap.

After a moment he pushed forward again and I groaned loudly and started breathing quickly. The pain wasn't just my hole; I felt something deeper – like his dick was so far in me there was no lube up there. Just a dry scraping. He pushed again, and I let out a stifled whimper and reached up to cover my eyes with my hands, closing them against the sweat that stung them and made them water.

“Babe? Grey, are you crying? Are you okay?”

“Sw-sweat. In my eye,” I said, breath hitching. Tell him to stop, just for a minute.

“Oh, Grey. Oh, Grey,” he said softly. “God, you feel so good. I've wanted you for so, so long, baby.”

His words...I can't stop now. Not when I'm what he wants! It's in already!

His hips rocked slowly and I yipped in surprise, and then he rocked forward and I felt the scraping inside. I don't know how long he went for. Probably not that long, but I kept telling myself to hang on, he was almost done and this was what you did. I focused on looking at him, on how into me he was, no pun intended.

“Oh!” he cried, letting out an elongated and shuddering gasp. “Oh my God, Grey,” he said over and over, his voice breathy and reverent.

I was still sweating, yet a shiver ran through me. I felt a little better with him not thrusting, but felt oddly empty as he slowly withdrew from me. He leaned forward and took me in his mouth, but I wasn't feeling it. I didn't stop him, because what would I say? Oops, I let you fuck me, and it hurts? I'm not sure I wanted to? I was scared it would hurt? Fuck, I'd never said any of that to him – he didn't even know.

Despite my mental acrobatics, I still hardened right up for his mouth and unloaded like I was supposed to. He slid up beside me, our bodies drenched, and he lay on his side, his heavy breathing a cooling breeze across my chest.

“My God, Grey. You're amazing,” he said. He hiccuped once, twice and then fell asleep. Normally I'd nap with him or play with his body until he was up and ready for round whichever is next. But now I was confused. Who was I if I can't have sex with my boyfriend? The boyfriend I adored beyond any reason? Fuck, I was roasting and felt like waves of heat were rolling across my skin. I climbed from my bed and gingerly walked across the room. My bottom felt wet, and I had a crazy thought it could be blood. I crossed the hall to the bathroom and wiped, checking – no blood. Just some lube and Logan's spend. It made sense – I wasn't feeling like I was torn, just sore.

I sat down and farted, splatting out his orgasm, and my butt started a new ache. Jesus, what was I thinking? I stood and wiped, checking again, but no blood. I gingerly made my way downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of cold water. I stood, hip against the counter, not wanting to sit. My mind was in a spiral, and I didn't know how to break the loop. In the center of the mess I just kept asking how this had happened – but of course, I knew.

He'd asked. He'd asked, and I had been too horny to remember his dick scared me. And it had hurt. Maybe not as much as I'd heard a huge dick could, but it had hurt. Oh god, he loved fucking me, too. What did that mean? It meant he'd want to do me again. I should want to! And I did, except that it fucking hurt! Declan said it would hurt the first time, even some the second, but did he mean this? Now I wished I'd asked how big Corby was so I would have an idea of whether Logan's log should have felt like bark was scraping along my tender hole.

I stood in the kitchen long after my glass was empty twice over. I heard him stir upstairs – he never naps long after we have sex. He came down the stairs and, as befits him, he was still naked. His dick hung down, still shiny with lube.

“There you are,” he said gently and took me in his arms.

And I fucking started to cry. Go, me.

“Baby. Babe. Grey, what's wrong? Baby, talk to me,” he said, gently speaking to me in a worried tone. What was I going to say? Glad you liked my ass. Remember it well, because it's never happening again? Would he break up with me? Would it be something as dumb as that? I pulled away and wiped my face.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm fine.”

“You're not fucking fine,” he snapped. “Talk to me.”

I crossed an arm in front of me, grabbing my other elbow and looked away from him. How do I even start? He took a step closer and I saw his bare feet enter my field of vision. Jesus Christ. I'm standing in my kitchen naked and crying while my all-world boyfriend is trying to make me feel better.

“I'm right here,” he said quietly.

I sighed. “You're going to get mad.”

“Okay. Well, let me get mad, and then we'll work it out.”

I shook my head slowly. “I'm...” I looked up at him slowly. “I can't carry this anymore.”

“Then let me help you.”

I looked away, but he took me gently by the chin and turned me back to him. “What's bothering you so much?”

I let out a shuddering breath. “A lot. A bunch of little things that just feel huge right this minute.”

“Okay, like what?”

I sighed. “They all come down to the same thing. Reasons you're going to leave me.”

He sighed as well. “This again? I keep pouring my love and energy into you. Why do you not trust in us?”

“Because!” I said, letting go of my elbow and waving my hand around. “Look at us! You're going to college! You know where you're going! You're fucking beautiful, and you share everything with me, but what do I bring? Huh? I 'll tell you,” I said as he'd opened his mouth. “Nothing. Even less than nothing.”

“Fuck that,” he snapped. “Don't you dare talk like that about yourself. Don't insult either of us with that talk.” He grabbed me by my biceps. “You're mine. You bring you to this relationship like I bring me. All our good things and our not so good things. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

I covered my face with one of my hands. “I love you, too.”

“Then why are you crying? Why are you bringing up this stupid idea that I'm going to break up with you? What about if you break up with me?”

“What?” I asked, whipping my hand from my face. “Like I'd ever leave you!”

“Why not?” he demanded. “Why would you stay with someone you think is going to dump you anyway? This is a partnership. We're equals, why would you put up with that shit?”

“'re a fucking unicorn.”

He stared at me.

“You're my perfect guy. My dream. My happily ever after. How could I ever walk away from you?”

He tilted his head. “Mr. Perfect is going to dump you? Doesn't sound perfect to me. Sounds like an asshole with a raging ego who thinks he can walk all over you because you think he's too good for you to leave.”

Irritation flared in me. “That's not true! You'd never do any of those things!”

He held up his hand and began to stick fingers in the air. “I love my boyfriend. He loves me. And we can work around anything else.” He waved his fingers. “All I need. Right here.”

I crossed my arms. “What about kids?”

He blew his lips out like a fart. “What about them?”

“What if you want some one day?”

“What if I do? Will you?”

“I don't.”

“Then we'll get a dog.”

“But what if you want one or two kids?”

“Then I'll sit down with you like a fucking responsible person and talk about it.” He crossed his arms and looked back at me in defiance. He sighed. “Look if in ten years or something things have changed between us, then we have to deal with that. But that's whenever the fuck down the road!”

I looked away from him and down the wall, staring at a seam where the wallpaper had started to pull away. “Okay.” I closed my eyes. “I'm a bad boyfriend to you.”

He was quiet for a moment. “When? Did I miss something? When was this?”

I bit my lip and then said, “You liked fucking me.”

“No, I loved fucking you. I've never felt more like I was part of you and I'm planning to – hey, I've been thinking about us like that for over a year. Do you have any idea how perfect it felt to be practically one person joined with you? Like one big...Logray person?”

I looked up at him. “I didn't like it.”

“ didn't?” he asked.

“I want to fuck you. I've always wanted to. I mean...ever since we started having sex. But you're so freaking big that I...I was afraid of how much it would hurt. And it does. Hurt.” I paused. His mouth hung open. “I don't want to, but you do. What do we do? How will you put up with someone who doesn't want to get fucked by you?”

“I...wait, I...let's...hold up a second,” he said and licked his lips while uncrossing his arms. He placed a hand on a hip and asked, “You didn't like it? At all?”

I shook my head.

“Why didn't you say no? Why didn't you tell me? I would have stopped!”

“ were feeling good and by the time I realized...I mean I was so turned on that I didn't really...and then you were pushing in and it hurt Logan! It just fucking hurt.” I was whining, I could hear it in my voice, but I couldn't seem to stop it.

His face was frozen in shock. “Grey. No one has the right to hurt you. You can't let me hurt you and not say anything. I never want to hurt you, babe.”

A shiver ran through me. “What about the rest?”

He sighed. “Then we don't do that.”

My jaw dropped. “Just like that?”

He lifted his hands and let them fall. “I'd say we could talk about it – we definitely should have before. It's a little late now.” He sighed. “I was so fucking horny for you I just grabbed your lube and...I mean...what was bad? Is it just I'm not good at it?”

I shook my head and brushed the hair from my forehead. “The start with your finger was good. But your's just big.”

He tilted his head. “Yeah, I know. But...Seth said to use enough of lube and we'd be fine. But if I'm really that much bigger-”

“You've got a baby elephant's trunk between your legs, and you know it,” I said, smiling in spite of the situation.

He threw a hip out and frowned. “I do not. I guess it's bigger than average, but come on.”

“It's a porn star dick.”

“And what do porn stars do with those dicks, Grey?”

I pushed my lips together and moved them around on my face before replying. “They fuck with them.”

“They fuck with them,” he agreed. “Did I maybe not use enough lube? Is there more to it than what Seth said?”

I shrugged. “Declan seems to be all into bottoming. I don't know. He said the first few times hurt, but he didn't say how much.” I hesitated. “In porn they kind of just...shove it in.”

He shook his head. “Maybe I did it all wrong.” He stepped forward and wrapped me in his arms, resting his chin on my shoulder and I copied him. “I never wanted to hurt you. I figured it'd be sore at first, but Seth didn't really say much about it.”

I thought for a minute. “Maybe he was stoned with Foster? Didn't think of it?”

I felt him shrug. “I don't know. But we need to find out before you fuck me.”

I jolted and tried to lean back, but he held me fast. “I don't want to hurt you,” I said.

“I don't want you to hurt me either, but if people have figured this thing out before us, then I guess we can figure it out, too.” He stared at me. “And I want you to fuck me.”

“I don't know,” I said, my voice laced with uncertainty.

“I do,” he said with finality. “If other people can figure it out and we want to do it, then we'll figure it out.”

He stepped back and crossed his arms. “But this bullshit has to stop. You can't go building things up in your head and not talk to me. I'd have gone first!” He sighed. “Look. I'm going to SUNY next year. It's my plan. I thought you might go to the community college. What do you want to do?”

“Like for a career? I don't know.” The change in conversation kind of threw me.

“Do you want to go to school?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Well, okay then.”

Mystified I asked, “What do you mean okay then?”

“I mean you have to do you. Do you like retail?”

“Fuck no!”

“Okay then, you do that until you find something you like better. I mean I know my own road is college, and I just assumed...I mean you have good grades. I know you aren't sure what to do yet, but more education is usually better – that's what I keep being told.”

I shook my head. “How did we get to that from sex?”

He sighed. “It's all the same damn thing! I want you to be my partner. My equal. You keep acting like you don't deserve me, and I want it to stop. For us.” He stared into my eyes, his gaze locked, and I swallowed. “I get so damn mad that you keep coming up with these little reasons why we won't work, and I'm frustrated that I haven't figured out how to make that better for you.”

I was quiet a moment, looking into his frustrated expression. “That's because it's on me, not you.”

“'s got to get sorted out. I'm going to college, and I'm getting a good job, and I want to marry my boyfriend and share a home with him where I can try to get him to never wear clothes.” He narrowed his eyes. “You do realize that means you. Right?”

I let out a choked laugh and nodded. “What fucking me.”

“Maybe it's not our thing. Who says it's what we'll want? I liked it, yeah, but not for the cost to you. I think I've proven we can blow each other's brains out. So what if we don't?”

I nodded. He was right. The clock hummed on the wall and a small drip from the faucet were the only sounds.

“You said you want to fuck me. Right?”

I looked up at him. “Yeah.”

“How much?”

“A lot.”

He tilted his head. “How do you want me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You've thought about it. On my back? Stomach? Side?” He narrowed the gap slightly and my body was at cross purposes with a dull ache in my bottom and my cock thinking about Logan's words. “How have you thought about fucking me?”

I swallowed. “On...on your back.”

“Yeah? What else?”

I licked my lips and my dick was pulsing in time with the ache in my backside. “I want your ankles on my shoulders and I want make your eyes roll back, that you like it so much.”

He moved a fraction closer, his breath on my cheek. “You want me to enjoy being fucked? You want me to like your dick in me?”

I choked out, “Yes.”

His gaze settled on my own eyes. “Then we better figure out how all that's supposed to work. I want to enjoy it, too. I'm too embarrassed to ask Corby or anyone else, so let's go hit the internet. There have to be tips on how to make this better.”

I sighed. “What about what I said?”

He shifted his gaze, and I thought he might be looking at my lips. “After we get it right with you topping, you can decide if we've figured it out enough to try with you again. Your call.”

I swallowed. “Okay.”

His eyes narrowed and he refocused his gaze on my own eyes. “One thing. I'm not a fucking unicorn. I love you and you love me, and this is a 'we' thing we have going on. Don't start shit because you won't talk to me. Deal?”

I cleared my throat. “Deal.”

“Good. Can we shower? Then do some research? What time does your mom get home anyway?” He paused. “Why have we never talked about this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Us. Fucking.” He reached up and touched the side of my face with his fingertips. “You wanted me. I wanted you. We talked to everyone but each other.” He tilted his head. “Why'd we do that?”

“Because...I guess for me because I think bi means...meant, um, that I was temporary.”

He shook his head. “Bi just means I'm interested in both. I mean, Babe, that makes no sense. Like, at all. Because by that logic no girl would be sticking around either because I'd have to go chase the D.”

“I just...well...why did you, like, how come you never said you like that?”

“Honest to God, I'm guessing, but I think I wanted it to be...spontaneous and perfect, and I clearly have no idea how this works outside of what things get put where. I guess I just...I figured it'd come naturally to us. It's what people do so it never occurred to me I'd screw it up.” He took my fingertips in his. “Which just goes to show we both have to talk to each other more about important stuff. Little stuff, big stuff – it's all important stuff.”

He'd probably be mad if I said it, but he is a unicorn, still. But...he's also right. I get caught in these loops of worry, instead of living in the moment with him. I mean it's Logan, and he's right here! He pulled on my hand and I followed him, trailing him up the stairs and staring at his ass the whole way.

I'm going to get to fuck him, I thought. I pursed my lips. And one day he'll fuck me until my eyes roll back from pleasure, too.


Sometimes I get so pissed off at my boyfriend. It took me so long to realize he was there, and then he goes and tries to think he doesn't matter, sometimes. Not always. He goes back and forth like an ocean wave. I just don't understand it – I can't relate. I've had questions in my mind sometimes, and accepting my bisexuality was a pretty big one. Once I got there mentally, though, I was able to catch up with my body, which had no problem with gender.

Grey is tough, though. Sometimes I think he exists just to be with me, like he's not his own person – and sometimes his thinking makes me think that even more. He gets hung up on some 'what if?' question and lets it drive him crazy until it drives me crazy – but he won't tell me until he's ready to break from some internal...whatever.

I tell him I want us to be equal and I want a partner for things, and I do. I think I do.

Sometimes in sports there are major players – like Nate Kennedy. He can turn a game, take the momentum from another team and hand it to his. There are roles on stage that a skilled actor can play so well they steal scenes every time they are out there.

I get angry when Gray hasn't talked to me and has worried himself into a knot. I'm also...I want to be there when he does hurt. When he's worried. I want to be the person that turns the momentum of his day or week. I want to steal scenes from others in his life. If I'm honest, I need to follow my own advice and talk to him about more things, too.

I'm loving that he loves me so much for being myself.

I open my eyes and stare into the darkness of my room. Above me the ceiling is awash in shadows, the only light dimly filtering in from under the door to the hallway. I wish he were here with me. I'd like to tell him everything will work out and how much I love him, even if he's asleep when I say it. I'll bet people hear things like that in their dreams, if people talk to them while they sleep. I've seen it in a movie where people talk to coma patients because there is supposed to be some study that says it affects them somehow. I'm not sure if it's true, but it's a nice lie if it's not.

I let out a sigh and pick up my phone. One-thirty. I love you, I write.

Those words...they get said so much you can forget what it means. The commitment behind them. Or maybe it's the difference between loving someone or something and being in love. Loving really is a state of being.

He'd been brave to get in line for the kissing booth at the school dance to begin with, but when he pointed to me – that took balls. I mean...more bravery than I've seen from a lot of people. It's a different kind of bravery than running into burning buildings or toward gunfire, but it's not about who is braver or giving someone a medal. Learning to say 'this is me' is hard sometimes, and I knew that first hand.

I'd chased him down in the hallway and I'd done my best to give him a solid kiss for his donation, but was that really all? I wonder sometimes, when I'm alone with my thoughts about things like fate or happenstance. I like that word, happenstance. Fate means no matter what, it was happening. Happenstance means there is an element of chance, or maybe choice. I made a choice to go after him when he'd run from people laughing at asking me for his kiss. I made a choice to kiss him, even though we were no longer in the gym collecting donations.

I hadn't chosen this sudden connection when we'd kissed. I made the idea of fate or happenstance questionable when I gave him his first dance out there in an empty hallway. If I hadn't kissed, would I have danced?

Fate or chance? Kismet or happenstance? Maybe one leads to another, but I'll probably never know. I'm not sure I want to.

Kisses move parts of your soul, if they're done right. I'd been a big fan of kissing ever since I'd had my first one. I'd been at summer camp, and Sara Smith-Tarrant gave me that behind the changing rooms for swimming. I'd scored a few more that summer, but it was safe to say I was sold on the idea from then on.

I kissed my girlfriends, but something changed when I kissed Seth the first time. He was different – which I guess makes sense. I loved him, and it made a difference. It wasn't completely romantic love, maybe, as I look back on it, but something had held me back for a while – I never went past the kissing.

Kissing Grey...what happened is something I still can't explain to myself. I can throw some words against the wall, but none of them stick – not completely. Magic. Heaven. Electric. Seeing stars. None of them really told the whole story. Something deep inside me moved that evening. It was like when an elevator suddenly drops a few feet and your stomach needs a beat to catch up. Something that wasn't where it was supposed to be shifted, and I felt more...more...alive? Whole? Nothing fits. I didn't know there was something that wasn't lined up right inside me, but then it was and I could feel it, and I didn't understand how I hadn't known something was off before. I don't know if I believe that there is another half out there for everyone or that two people share a destiny.

But I do believe in us.

After the kiss I was struggling to make sense of it, but Seth opened the door by inviting Grey to be part of our relationship. For a while that was good. I had time to think, time to figure things out and more opportunities with Grey. Funny. It hadn't occurred to me then that Grey felt the same way. I know that he had been interested in me from a distance for a long time, but that deep, unnameable connection...he felt that with me, too.

Grey took the first step that changed everything. Seth broke up with us, but he landed okay with Foster. Grey and I struggled to redefine who we were without Seth, and I was carrying so much guilt that I struggled to find that feeling for Grey sometimes. I did figure it out, though, and from there Grey and I seemed inevitable. I mean the oppressive feeling when a team is just so good that the other hasn't a chance. Or a performance can move you to tears and laughter and all from joy.

I'd gotten lost in Grey. Lost in sharing everything with him and being part of whatever he wanted. I craved his attention and his affection. It made me reckless, especially sexually. I have plenty of confidence in my body, everyone has the same parts more or less, so I'm not really worried about people seeing my parts and pieces. I'm not an idiot – I know there are social norms and conventions I have to follow, just that I never developed that body modesty most people do when they start to hit puberty.

Grey likes to say it's because I look so good – his words, not mine. I guess it could play a part in my own confidence that others have complimented me on my looks, but I don't think that's the whole explanation.

Regardless, I turned into something of a sex fiend. All it had taken was one taste of him in bed, one chance to really get naked with him wasn't enough. Never enough. The rush of his skin, the way he looked when he walked away, his hips moving with nothing but his skin on display...the way he felt in my hands, the hollow of his shoulder and the gentle hardness between his all conspired to make me want him more.

And I did have him, and he'd had me. Our homes. My car and my garage. My pool. His backyard. A trail while hiking. A school closet. The taste of his skin did more than any alcohol or drug could hope to. It made me something of a slave. My honors English class had done some work on Greek philosophers, and I was reminded of one whose name I can't remember. He said that when you own something you are a slave to it. If you owned a home you were a slave to maintenance and defending it. The same is true if you're in love – you're a slave to your emotions, to theirs. It's all by choice – we put those shackles on ourselves.

My anger at him comes from a place of love. My frustration that he can't see himself the way I see him. Of course I don't see myself as he sees me either, and he doesn't get angry with me about it, so maybe I'm just being an asshole.

We're six months from graduating, and Grey doesn't know what he wants to do for a career. I feel pretty good about where I'm headed professionally, and I made the decision that if he didn't know what he wanted that it didn't matter because I'd support him. In a certain sense I thought it'd be great if he were a home body and wanted to take care of our home while I worked to earn for us both. I'd never have to worry about him having a mid-shift so that he'd be gone when I got home.

That all sounded good in my head, and I've even daydreamed about pulling in the driveway of our little home or apartment, walking in through our front door to smell whatever he'd decided on cooking and falling into his arms at the end of a day spent providing for us. It's a nice dream, but it has at least one major flaw, and it took a casual conversation with my parents to realize it.

If I wasn't supportive about what was important to him, he'd never spread his wings at all. Right now he was stuck on the idea of me being a unicorn – somehow existing in a perfect state where one wasn't possible. I know that's crap, and I'm pretty sure he knows it's crap, but he gets trapped by this thinking. After more than a year I know he's a super-hero geek, he's athletic, and he loves me. Those are the only hard and fast things. Everything else is dominated by me – sports, theater – I include him in every part of my life, but his life seems to be about being part of mine.

Part of me, I can't lie, is very happy about that. I can't imagine being without Grey. But who am I if I don't help him to reach goals that he hasn't even tried to explore because...well, not that anything would take us in separate directions, he waiting for permission? To pursue his own goals? To...what?

A few weeks ago I'd picked him up from work knowing his mother wasn't home. I'm nearly always horny for him so I let him know I was picking him up, and we went to his house and got our game on. I sometimes wonder if we're abnormal with as much sex as we try to have. We do plenty of other things, but it's like we're always looking for that wedge of time to make some sexy times happen.

Anyway, my desire for him was just off the charts that day. I don't know what possessed me, but I ended up fucking him. God, I'd wanted to, for so long. I was so lost in the merging of my dreams of being inside him and the reality of being so physically part of each was like the metaphysical and the physical collided and when my orgasm hit I was actually ejecting part of me into him. It was...mind blowing. Those thoughts, those overwhelming feelings had carried me to a light sleep.

Waking without him was unusual, but I'd found him – and we'd argued. Same things. Some weird reason why I was going to leave him at some point, and then us not talking about things had bit us in the ass, because he was scared of my dick size.

I know it's bigger than the average guy. There have been comments here and there in my life that made me realize I was above average, though it never concerned me much. Grey would say it was just like I felt about my body – why would you worry if you have what I do? But it's not like that. I didn't think it made me better as a person or a lover, and I proved it when Grey cried because he'd not wanted to tell me I'd hurt him.

God, I'd felt like such shit. I'd had an experience like having my soul leave my body, and he'd been literally biting his lip and not wanting to interrupt my moment.

And I got mad. How dare he think he didn't deserve to not be treated like his wants and fears weren't valid? How would we ever make it if he never told me what was important to him?How do I get him to talk to me?

We had talked some, though, standing naked in his kitchen. We'd cleaned up and huddled on his bed to look up how to make bottoming a better experience. I felt kind of stupid because there was a lot of useful information out there. There was also some stuff that it took me a little to get my head around, like rimming. It seemed pretty disgusting, but the article actually brought that up and how one guy said he'd only do it for his partner if they'd showered first. Then he went on to say that it had tasted Clean skin. Still, we thought it might be gross but agreed if we tried it, there would be a thorough cleaning first.

I knew it was going to hurt some, but I was really looking forward to it. I wanted him to feel like I had, without the guilt afterward. I'd even changed my mind and had a one on one with Corby about how they managed.

“Oh,” he'd said. “Declan really did the research. I mean really did it. In a way it was kind of a relief, because I didn't know who was going to do what if we got to that point, but he was very sure about what he wanted.”

“Like...straight up he just wanted the D?”

“Yeah. Well, can you blame him?” Corby asked and spread his arms wide with a grin.

I laughed. “I mean seriously. You're bi – you've never thought about bottoming?”

“Not in a serious way, no,” he said with a shake of his head. “I mean...if Dec brought it up then, you know, fair's fair. But we do what we do because Dec likes it this way. Like...” He smiled and covered his face for a second and then looked at me. “So this one time we had a dry stretch – just things never worked out for getting busy. We hung out, did things, but there was always someone home, or one of us was working or had to be somewhere – always something. So this goes on for a few weeks, and then Dec's folks are going to be out of the house, so he tells me to come over. So I open the door to his room and he's,” he paused and chuckled, “he's already lubed and stuff and demanding – demanding, bro – that I get my dick over there.”

I laughed, leaning into him, and he did the same. “Jesus! I mean, I guess he gets his point across!”

Corby's face was pink in the cheeks. “It's funny, because at first Dec was all about me figuring out what he wanted, but he's totally turned that around and just says what's on his mind – so much easier, dude.”

I chuckled and nodded. “Listen, does he, does he worry you're going to break up? Like because you're bi and he's gay?”

Corby shrugged. “Not that he's said. I mean...I don't know how we'll look ten years down, but we have a good thing going. Stuff will change soon – I'll be hitting college and he'll be a senior. I already can tell you his parents are so fooled into thinking he's such a good boy, they have no idea how many times I've railed him in their house!”

We laughed again. “I like to push Grey's comfort level,” I said, leaning closer to keep my business between us. “Outside, in the pool. One time at school.”

“Wild man,” he said with a chuckle. “Maybe I should try that. Might throw Dec a little, but the other side is he might be into that, and next thing you know I'm kicked out of the grocery store.”

We talked about all the ways to make the bottom comfortable and ready, and it ended up being not a very embarrassing conversation at all. I think I'd expected to feel like I would be judged for not knowing how to have sex with my boyfriend, but Corby and I were in the same boat in some ways. The difference was Declan's attitude and awareness, sexually speaking.

My phone made a noise for a notification and I picked it up. Huh. It said school was canceled tomorrow due to expected snowfall. I got out of bed and went to my window and pulled the curtain back. Yeah, it was coming down, but it wasn't God-awful yet. In fact...I could still drive in it.

I pulled some sweatpants on and went downstairs, scribbling a note to my folks and then stuffing my feet into my boots and pulling on a coat. We had a guy who plowed our driveway, and as long as I cleaned the walk before the mail came, my parents would be cool. I could help Grey clean off his steps and sidewalk in the morning, but more importantly I could wake up with him.

The snow was still pretty fluffy, and my wipers cleared my windshield easily. It was odd how falling snow seemed to swallow the sounds of the world – tire noise, engine noise – everything seemed to take on a hushed aspect. I made my way to Grey's house and called his phone. It went to voicemail so I tried again.

Very confused he answered. “Logan? Are you okay?”

“I'm freezing, actually, and I want to get in your bed.”


“I'm out front. No school. Let me in, please?”

“Oh. Um, yeah. Coming.”

I trekked through the powder to his door just as he started to open it. He shivered at the sudden draft of cold wind as it hit his bare chest. I stepped in and put my boots by the door, then hung my coat.

“Come on. Let's warm each other up,” I said.

He smiled, tiredly, and we went back to his room. I left my clothes on the floor and, once in bed, I removed the rest of his before cuddling in.

“I never thought I'd say this, but I hope you're not getting ready to have sex with me,” he said and yawned.

“No,” I said softly. “I was just lying awake and thinking. When I got the notice school was closed, I just figured if I had to choice to sleep and wake up with you or not, I was coming to you.”

He smiled and his chest vibrated with amusement. He closed his eyes and squeezed me lightly before drifting back to sleep. I pushed my face against his skin and breathed him in as I too finally fell asleep.

I was woken by his mom's voice and her sounding a little startled, probably at finding me in his bed.

“Grey? Please help me dig my car out, I have to go to work,” she said.

“I'll help,” I said, yawning.

“When did you get here?” she asked. I gripped Grey as he felt like he was shifting to get out of bed – I don't think he remembered me stripping him in the middle of the night.

“Really early,” I said. “I got the notification on my phone about school closing, so I came over to help Grey this morning.”

She rolled her eyes. “Uh huh. I'm sure that was it. Just couldn't wait to shovel, huh?”

I grinned and pulled Grey tighter to me. “There were fringe benefits.”

“Okay, well, come help then,” she said, turning and closing the door.

“I forgot I was naked,” Grey said sleepily. He's not the fastest to start thinking when he's been asleep.

“I like you this way. Nice and warm,” I said, nuzzling his neck.

He chuckled and squirmed. “I have to piss. Let's get mom shoveled out.”

“Okay,” I agreed. We got dressed – I had to borrow a shirt since I'd only tossed my coat on the night before – and we took turns in the bathroom before going down to dig his mom's car out. With two of us it wasn't so bad, and once she was clear we did the sidewalk and steps since we were already out there. The snow had stopped at some point, but when the plow came by it would bury her parking spot again.

We went back inside at last, taking our boots off at the door. His mom told us to come to the kitchen and she'd made coffee and tea – which was nice, since I didn't like coffee, and I think most people knew it – and she'd put some eggs and sausage together for us.

We sat down and she joined us, sipping her coffee. “So,” she said.

I glanced up at her, to Grey and back.

“I'm not so old that I don't know why a boyfriend sneaks over to his boyfriend's room in the middle of the night.”

I shot her a nervous grin. Of all times to get caught, we hadn't actually done anything. “We didn't do anything.”

“All your clothes were on the floor.”

“I...was cold, and skin to skin is the best way to get warm,” I replied, knowing it wasn't going to be enough.

“Mom,” Grey said in a bored tone. “It's not like we haven't had sex before. We really did just sleep though – he woke me up at dark o'clock and you know how I am when I first wake up.”

She chuckled. “That much is true.” She sighed. “I just don't want it in my face. I don't like to have a stray thought of my baby getting his horn on.”

“Uh,” I said, looking to Grey.

“Well, knock then,” he said and sighed. “I mean, please knock. I've been telling you that since I was fourteen.”

“Yeah, but then it might just be you jerking off. Now there might be a whole lot more going on,” she said, an evil smile curling the corners of her mouth. Oh, she wanted to tease.

“It's actually very repetitive,” I said, setting my fork down and reaching for my tea. “In, out, in, out. Not missing much.”

She burst out laughing and Grey backhanded my shoulder. “Don't help her.”

She stood and put her cup in the sink, then reached under the sink. “Here. Be safe – and I don't want to see this again,” she said, dropping a few tubes of lube on the table.

“All right,” I said with a lewd tone, picking up a tube and examining it.

Grey sighed. “All done now, mom?”

“Oh no,” she said teasingly. “Now I have to get creative.”

“How about you get creative with your own man?” Grey asked. There was a pregnant pause in the air and then they both started laughing. Wow. I mean really? I thought I was playing it cool, but I was actually just feeding into whatever she was thinking of next.

She left for work, and we finished our food and drinks. Grey took my plate and cup and went to put them in the sink and I followed him, hugging him from behind and nuzzling his neck.

“Not until I shower,” he said with a little laugh and turned in my arms.

“Shower sounds good,” I said.

He hesitated and then said, “I have something to talk to you about, first.”

“Oh?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You said I should,” he replied, sounding a little defensive.

“Well, yeah, of course, babe. What's on your mind?” I asked, thinking this was a major step forward for him.

“What...what if I'm not special?”

I blinked. “In what...I mean, you know there isn't anyone more special to me, so...what do you mean?”

“I know what you want for school. For a career.”

I nodded. “Yeah, for now. If it happens.”

“I don't. I was thinking maybe I'd go work as an assistant at the nursing home my mom works at, or maybe as a vet tech. Try to see if there is something I like.”

I smiled. “I think that sounds great.”

He tilted his head. “Do you?”

“Well, yeah!” I said with a chuckle. “Before it was just suffering in retail, but now you're willing to see what you want out there. I think that's a great thing, no matter how long it takes.” I moved closer, pressing our bodies together. “I don't care if you never work. That just means you're home for me to see when I get home everyday.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “And in that scenario am I allowed to wear clothes?”

I grinned in return. “On special occasions.”

He shook his head and smiled at me. “But what if whatever I do...I mean everyone has people that do the not-so-special things. Delivery drivers. Dog walkers. Garbage man. What if what I do isn't that special?”

“Who cares?” I asked. “You do you. And I'll do you. And you'll do me.”

“Logan,” he whined, yet smiling at me.

“Your job isn't what makes you special, not to you and not to me,” I said. “I don't care as long as you're happy and with me.”

He let out a slow breath. “You're sure? Because I might not start college next fall.”

I shook my head. “I don't care.”

He looked at me thoughtfully. “I...well, that's good. I guess...well, yeah, I just need to come talk to you.”

I shook my head and smiled at him. “You really have no idea what it would take to break us up, do you? You have no idea how much I love you.”

He touched the side of my face. “Sometimes when dreams come true, you are afraid you're going to wake up.”

I growled something to him about this being reality and that I'd make sure his ass was awake, but then we were laughing and pushing and maybe a few tickles here and there. We went upstairs and got in the shower, which is something of a mixed bag. Someone is always outside the water getting cold, and a blowjob in the shower could drown a guy. But there was no way I was missing out on getting Grey wet and naked.

We washed each other, taking the time to also wash each other's hair and to make it stand in spikes or a Mohawk. It was actually kind of funny, right until we got soap in our eyes. We brushed and started up our game again, tickling and grabbing as we made our way back down the hall to his room. I grabbed him while we were in the middle of his room, turned him to me, and kissed him. A long kiss, the kind that I felt pulling in my stomach, pulling us together. Kissing is a language to itself, and I had a lot to say to Grey.

And then I stopped thinking. There we were in his bed, and we were dialing up the sexual pressure, not deliberately, but by virtue of raging hormones enhanced by being so in love. Not fate, but perfect happenstance. He pushed me back and traced down my shaft with his tongue, making me let out a breathy whine. I tried to sit up to pull him around so I could get to his cock, but he shoved me hard in the chest, flopping me backward.

I don't quite understand why, but a tongue to the balls is like electricity. It's not as good as a blowjob; it's a pleasure all on its own, highly erotic. I gasped and arched back as he pushed the tip of his tongue firmly around, separating my balls and licking while I twisted on the sheets.

“Good thing you showered,” he said, though I didn't understand what he meant – I really couldn't think. If I thought the balls were electricity, my hole is like a power transformer blowing up. I gasped, let out some stuttering, unintelligible noise and then grunted as he pushed my legs back and went back to it. There was no thought, just feeling. Slipping, sliding, electrical overload. My eyes were closed, but spots of light danced across my vision as I lost myself in the feeling.

Later in the afternoon, much later, I took his hand and kissed the back of it. “Were you planning that?”

He stretched beside me. “Started thinking of it in the shower.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “How are you?”

How was I? Sore. It had hurt, as expected, but it hadn't been the only feeling. There was something that felt good, like the electricity from before. Strangely, though, after he had finished I'd wrapped myself around him and not allowed him to pull out. For some reason having him there felt...real. We were one entity, merged for a short time. I knew already I was going to do this again with him, but I also knew that I'd take further steps to give him this feeling, too.

It was different from me being inside him – I couldn't say exactly why. But we both deserved it.

I turned my head to him. “I'm good, Babe. I feel good.”

“Yeah?” he asked tentatively.

I pulled him in for a kiss and smiled at him. “Yeah.”

“No pain? At all?”

“I'm a little sore,” I said. “And yeah, it hurt going in. I expected some – everything we read said the first few times would be like that. But,” I said, sighing, “you were in me. You left part of yourself inside me, and that's so much better than good.”

He cuddled to my side and whispered. “I'll try again. When you're ready.”

I turned my head. “What about when you're ready?”

He bit his lip for just a moment. “I'm ready.”

I stuck my tongue out a little and flicked it up and down. “Wait till you feel this, then.”

The End