Chapter 9

HARRISON

The whole day I spend with Benny messes with my head. We clean and have lunch and then end up camped out on his bed, watching more of my shows that he claims he hates but smiles at anyway. But even as I laugh my way through The Inbetweeners, my mind keeps slipping back to our conversation. To all the reasons why a straight dude might have sex with another man.

Honestly, I can't say I'm not curious. Have been since high school. It's more in an anthropological way though, and that's not enough of a reason to have sex with someone.

See, I notice when guys are hot, the same way I notice that girls are hot. The first time Fe hit on me, long before he met Marshall, I'd been confused. He's pretty, really pretty, but he didn't make my dick hard or make me want to sleep with him. Still, I thought twice about giving it a go.

What would have happened if I had? Would I have been able to get it up? Would I have enjoyed it?

Obviously, I'm glad it never happened because he found Marshall, and I have no regrets or anything about not taking my chance, but Benny has me wondering. Thinking a lot of thinks. What would have happened if I'd taken him up on the blow job?

I chance a quick look his way, finding him amused again. He's not pretty like Felix, but he's definitely good-looking. Even when his face is resting, and he looks … haughty? Is that the word for it? Benny is brimming with confidence, and he knows how to use his looks to his advantage. I shift closer on his bed, making out like I'm trying to see the screen better, but really, I just want to see if I'll react to the closeness. If it will do anything for me.

My dick doesn't shift, but I can't deny there's … something. Something prickly all along my arm resting beside his. Something jittery in my stillness.

What would I do if he kissed me?

Well, I obviously wouldn't want to embarrass him and stop, so I'd kiss him back, but … would someone totally and completely straight do that?

I try to compare my interactions with men versus women over the years. I'm probably scrapping a seven in the looks department, but because of my size and that I find talking to people easy, I draw attention. I'm not exactly sure what it is, but I get hit on a lot. Mostly women, some I sleep with and some I'm not feeling, but every guy who's hit on me, my response is always, "Sorry, I'm straight."

The automatic no. It shuts down every possibility, and now I can't figure out if it's just become my default response or if I'm really not interested.

The women I find attractive get a chance. We talk, hang out, then get into things later.

It's not like I'm popping wood at first sight. Would it be the same with a man?

Is the fact I'm even considering what it would be like with a man an indicator that I should try it?

I glance back at Benny's lips, imagining leaning over and catching them with mine. Biting down into that plush bottom lip. Slipping my tongue past his teeth.

The jitteriness cranks up a notch. I don't hate the idea. Still not sure if my dick's on board, though, since the fucking thing is taking a nap, apparently.

Fuck, I hate that I'm having these thoughts. I hate even more that I'm having them with Benny.

When I told him that nothing would happen, he backed right off. His cheeky flirting is cute, but I can tell there's no substance behind it, and … I sort of like it. He's fun. Makes me laugh, though that's not much of an accomplishment.

Does all of that translate to attraction? I don't even know at this point. I do know that I need to get home and give myself some time to work out what's on my mind. Benny said he's more than happy to experiment with people, but I like being friends with him. I don't want to mess that up by asking him to blow me and having nothing happen.

When the episode wraps up, I let him know it's my turn to cook dinner and I have to go. It's not until I get out of the house that I realize the expectant look he gave me was him hoping I'd invite him to come. I did say I'd cook for him, but we're going to have to take a rain check on that one. I'll apologize when I see him next.

Right now, I need to figure out if these thoughts are something that's coming from me or our conversation.

I shudderas lips find my neck again, skin lit with ripples of pleasure with every swipe of tongue or hint of teeth. I'm panting, needy, cock steely hard and weeping at the hand wrapped around it. My hips buck, loving the friction, and the groan I let out doesn't come close to conveying how this feels.

Teasing, bluey-hazel eyes blink up at me. So cocky, so deep, watching me pant my way toward my orgasm. I'm achingly close, waiting for it to hit, for me to tip over that ledge.

I bite into a soft lip, and it drives me wild. Makes my balls tighten.

"Fuck," I moan.

A soft chuckle. A chuckle that makes my gut sing.

More lips at my throat. Tighter grip on my cock. Body warm and writhing on top of me.

"Close … so close …" I gasp.

"Me too." The voice is familiar.

"Gonna come …"

Benny gazes down at me, eyes confidently locked on mine, puffy lips parted, hand jerking me toward the edge.

My orgasm hits hard, cum filling my fist as my eyes fly open.

I'm gasping into the dark, struggling to catch my breath and work out what just happened, and as my brain cells come down from that mind-spinning high, one thing becomes clear.

I just came in my pants.

I strip my sheet off with one hand and look down at where my other is tucked into my pajama shorts. There's a wet stain on the front that's yet more evidence of me being twenty-three and having a wet fucking dream.

Goddamn it.

I'm frozen for a moment, scared to withdraw my hand and also still trying to get my breathing back in control. I can't even remember the last time I had a sex dream, and I have never, ever had one about another man.

Did I come because of him? Or was I just too far gone by the time I'd seen his face to stop? Whatever the reason, seeing his face didn't turn me off. Didn't make my orgasm any less intense. In fact, I don't think I've ever gotten off so hard with my hand before.

I manage a long, steadying breath before I sit up, pull my spunk-covered hand out, and strip out of my shorts. I use them to clean up the mess and then pull some new ones on before heading out to the kitchen to wash my hands and grab some damn water.

Turns out having a wet dream over your new friend makes you thirsty.

The light is on, keying me into the fact that someone is still up, and when I enter the eat-in kitchen, I'm not surprised to find Marshall at the table, hunched over his books. He pulls all-nighters more than I can count.

"Hey," he mutters, not even looking up.

I slink toward the sink to wash my hands. "What are you doing?"

"Reading up on the archeological evidence of Atlantis."

I snort. "A myth?"

"It's fascinating."

"Know what else is fascinating?" I ask, filling up a glass of water.

"What?"

"Having a wet dream over Benny."

Marshall pauses, and it takes him a second to look up. "Over … Benny?"

"Yup."

"Right. Huh." He scratches his pen against his temple. "How does that … work?"

"Beats me." I take a long sip of water and lean back against the counter.

"So … are you queer now?"

"I don't bloody know. Awake me has never gotten hard over a dude, and it's not like he was in the whole dream, just right at the end …"

Marshall nods. "I have lots of experience with wet dreams."

"You do?"

He laughs, eyes bright behind his glasses. "I was a virgin until I met Felix and not interested in anyone. Yeah, I had a vague dream person who felt familiar, and we had a lot of fun together."

"But you didn't know the person?"

"In my dream, I did, but they weren't anyone from real life. Just speaking from an ace perspective, someone doesn't have to get your dick hard for you to be attracted to them."

"Yeah, but I'm not ace."

"You also didn't think you were anything but straight, and yet you had a wet dream over a guy."

He's got me there, kinda. "Getting horny isn't an issue for me. I guess … how do I know it was him that did it? Earlier today, we talked about how he's hooked up with straight dudes before?—"

"Don't let him pressure you," Marshall says, suddenly sounding protective.

"No, it was nothing like that. Swear it. We were just talking, and I asked why a straight dude would hook up with a guy."

"They wouldn't."

"Yeah, but from his explanation, I kinda think they could."

Marshall's lips flatten. "Guy-on-guy sex is gay. Or bi. Or pan, or … look, it's anything but straight. The guys who claim to be straight are closeted or something."

"He said some are, sure. But he also was adamant that he'd slept with some open-minded guys who wanted to know what it was like and ultimately decided that nope, they're still straight."

Marshall narrows his eyes. "Are you sure he wasn't pressuring you? Like, did he tell you all that after saying, ‘Hey, Bowser, I can totally suck your dick, and here's why' type of thing?"

"Jesus, dude." I drop into the chair opposite Marshall. "Look, I've always wondered. I didn't tell Benny any of this, and he wasn't pushing. He just wasn't. The thing is, I've never considered that there was a safe way to try out my vague curiosity and see if it did anything for me."

"What are you saying? You want to sleep with him?"

I face-plant onto the table. "I can't work out where my thoughts are at. I'm open to it, sure, but I don't know if it's because our conversation got me thinking or because I specifically want to sleep with him."

"Have you had any, uh, moments to make you think you might want to have sex with him?"

"There's definitely something there. I was testing myself out today. But what if I bring it up and he's open to trying and then … nothing?"

"Then it's your right to say no."

I look up again, propping my head on my hand. "That's not the part I'm worried about. I don't want to mess him around. If we try and I'm not into it, I don't want him to feel bad or whatever. I also don't want to get him all into it and then leave him high and dry. That's mean, innit?"

"You can't get him off just so he doesn't get blue balls."

"That's not what I'm saying …" But what am I saying? I can't blame Marshall for not following when I can't even work out what the hell this is supposed to be about.

"I know why you're confused," he says. "I also get that for allo people, sex is like this big deal or whatever, but is it possible to just … not put so much pressure on it? Maybe the dream was just a dream, or maybe your curiosity goes away, or maybe you wait. See what happens. Then find yourself in a position that you know you want to try it out and it all happens organically." Marshall screws up his face. "I can't think of anything worse than an arranged hookup to see if a guy can get you off. The pressure alone would stop me from performing."

He might be right about that. Marshall gave me some good points, but I'm someone who's all for living in the moment. For feeling and experiencing. Waiting for some hypothetical future event isn't something I usually do.

I'm having these thoughts now, and I want to act on them. The scientist in me is especially curious.

But I also understand better than others how circumstances and environment play a large part in something thriving or failing.

I don't know what to do.