Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Diego

I DON'T KNOW what I'm thinking. I don't know what I'm doing. But when the rideshare pulls up I get into it and let Avery give the driver their address.

The lurch of the car pulling away from the club is a sobering slap. The whiskey I drank tonight is long out of my system, leaving me horribly clear-headed as Avery and I sit in the backseat not speaking. After a few awkward seconds, Avery takes my hand.

It's weird how comforting that is.

It's just us in this car. And the driver, but he hasn't said a word and seems content to ignore us for the duration of the drive. We exist in this temporary liminal space between the club and our real lives, and in that bubble of peace I find myself … calm .

And also curious.

I can't help looking at Avery beside me. The lights flashing by on the highway offer me a better view of them than the lights in the club ever did. Their hair is sleek in its long ponytail. Their slim legs are encased in leggings, their skirt covering their lap. They're so vibrantly unlike anyone from my gay bar back home, all those men in jeans and cowboy boots and plaid. Back home, wearing a hoodie instead of a denim jacket made me downright flamboyant compared to those men.

A jolt of doubt streaks through me. What if Avery does things differently than those guys back home? What if everything I think I know about sex is wrong? Is it different because they're non-binary?

Avery squeezes my hand. "What's wrong?"

They can always tell so quickly when my mind slides toward panicky anxiety.

"Nothing, I just…" I shoot a look toward the driver, still happily ignoring us. "You'll tell me if anything … isn't working?"

Avery quirks one eyebrow, smiling with only half of their mouth. "I'll tell you all about what's working, but I wouldn't worry about it."

Their eyes rake up and down me, and the heat of that gaze burns away some of my doubt. They certainly seem to have no concerns about my past experiences.

I swear the drive back to Montridge takes forever. At least it affords me an opportunity to text Leo and let him know I left with someone. He texts back a thumbs up. I guess I'll find out later if he's mad at me for bouncing. It's increasingly difficult to care about my new roommate as the car putters down Avery's street and pulls up to the same curb I broke down beside a month ago.

Avery thanks the driver and tugs me out of the car almost before it stops moving. They drag me toward their house, quickly unlocking the front door and letting me inside.

"Should I take my shoes o—"

I don't finish before Avery kisses me so hard I slam against their door. They steal my breath before breaking away.

"I don't care about the fucking shoes," they say.

They don't wait another moment, taking me by the wrist and pulling me up the stairs to the second story. I slept up here that night when I broke down, but we pass the little guest room where I stayed that time, opting instead for the large bedroom at the end of the hall.

Avery's bedroom.

I don't know why this shocks me. Maybe because it's real. I actually said yes. I'm here. This is going to happen.

I should feel way more guilty than I do.

Instead, I'm watching the way Avery's hips move, reveling in their strong grip on my wrist as they pull me insistently toward the large bed in the center of the room .

We fall onto it, and Avery wastes no time crawling on top of me. I've touched them before, but I've never felt their whole body this way. They lay atop me kissing me, and I can't help letting my hands wander to their hips, to that skirt they looked so damn good in tonight. They groan when I muss it trying to tug it aside, boldly pushing their ass into my hands. I raise one knee, trying to relieve the pressure building in my jeans, but that only places Avery between my legs, their body pressed along mine.

They tug on my lip as they end the kiss, finally releasing me with a pop.

"I'd say it's all working so far," they say.

A trickle of pride sneaks into my chest at how breathy their voice is. It's softer, too, straddling the line of ambiguity, and that does more to me than I thought it would. I can feel Avery's excitement against me, but that doesn't make them one thing or the other to me, not really. In the moment when that distinction should feel the most blunt, the most unavoidable, I can't help feeling instead like I'm experiencing their truest self, a person who defies easy binaries.

"You're thinking," Avery says. "You shouldn't be thinking. You should be getting undressed."

I reach up, ruining the playfulness of the moment by stroking my thumb along their cheek. "I'm thinking that you're extraordinary."

Out of all that's happened tonight, this is the thing that manages to surprise Avery, as though they don't realize how uncommon and brilliant they are. They smile shyly, casting their gaze down for a moment so their lashes fan over their cheeks. Then they recover, fixing me with a look that screams their determination.

They sit back and peel off their shirt, and I'm almost speechless when I get a glimpse of their smooth, narrow chest. It's just a body, I tell myself, a body like a lot of other bodies, but for some reason I can't stop drinking in every creamy plane of this one. I can't stop my mouth from watering at the sight of all that skin on display for me.

Then they start unzipping their skirt, and I scramble to sit up so I can get my own coat and shirt off, eager to keep up. I set my glasses aside, vision going slightly blurry. I don't know what I could possibly have to offer in comparison to them, yet the moment my chest is bare, they size me up and shamelessly chew on their bottom lip.

They move in a frenzy. Before I get to appreciate them, their skirt and leggings are coming off, their shoes thumping to the floor. They shove me backward so I fall onto the mattress, then claw at my jeans and shoes and every other bit of cloth that stands in their way. I might be older, but it's clear I'm not in charge as Avery strips me down.

"Wow, you are so…"

They don't finish, as though overcome by the sight of my body, but that's such a ridiculous notion I almost laugh. They're … they're surreal . They're gorgeous. They're a fantasy. Avery climbs over me and settles on my thighs and even though I can feel their solid weight on my legs, they're like something from a dream. They let down their hair, and it spills past their shoulders like ink staining marble. I want to reach up and grab it, but Avery is snatching something off a nightstand, and I realize I can't simply lie here stunned by them; I should probably participate in this.

Avery squirts lube into their hands. They hunch over me, propping one hand on the bed, but using the other to grab themself — and me. I suck in a sharp breath when my cock is suddenly squeezed against theirs. Avery pants above me, and I'm not doing much better myself. My whole body reels from the contact, as though I've never been touched this way before. But things with those guys at the bar back home were never quite like this.

"Diego."

Avery breathes my name out like a sigh, and it makes me want to grab all that inky hair and pull them to me even harder. Before I can, they start moving their hand, and I forget about anything else.

Their slick touch squeezes us more tightly together, making a ludicrously lewd noise along the way. Avery rocks into the feeling, unabashedly using their hand and my cock for their pleasure. I rest my hands on their thighs, feeling the motion of their body, riding it until I find my hips shifting with theirs, their long hair falling around us like a satin curtain as they rock more forcefully.

They were hunching over me, but as the pressure mounts, they sit back, arching and shifting like they're riding my cock and not stroking it in their hand. My grip goes to their narrow waist, moving them up and down, feeling the shock of momentum that rolls through their whole body and down into mine.

As their moans ring out, I lose whatever fragile grasp I had on shame or reluctance. I'm chasing them with my body, scrambling to keep up as they bounce on my thighs and groan and pump their hand along our cocks. Pre-cum has started to mix with the lube, making a slick mess of us that will surely only get worse.

And soon.

The edge is so close I can taste it, but I don't want this to end. I don't want to stop watching them move like that on top of me. Caught up in the moment, my cock can't really tell the difference between this and if they were actually riding me. The heat, the pressure, the beautiful view — they're similar enough for my overheating brain to conflate.

I grip them harder as tension barrels into me, threatening to push me past the point of control. I arch up at them, and they moan sweetly, strangling some version of my name as they do. I'm no longer sure if I'm moving them up and down or simply following them, caught in their wild exuberance as they fuck into their hand, cock grinding against mine. Blinding friction forces me to squeeze my eyes shut, and I squirm as it all becomes so big I'm like a rubber band about to snap.

"Avery," I groan.

I meant it as a warning, but Avery seems to take it as encouragement. They moan in response, and their hand somehow moves faster, stroking so hard it teeters on the edge of painful. I'm so overcome with sensation that I'm not truly sure I'd notice if it crossed that line. All I know is the fire consuming me and the precipitous drop looming ever closer.

Avery shouts, actually shouts . I've never heard someone yell during sex, but their voice rings out loud and brash and I assume they're coming, but I can't see it, can't stop to wonder about it, can't do anything but groan and grind my teeth together as that rubber band snaps and my body shatters.

Avery's hand guides us through it, every thunderous drop and spurting exclamation. I don't open my eyes throughout any of it, gasping for breath through every shuddering beat of an orgasm I barely have words for.

Finally, my body relaxes, bone weary after that performance. I sink onto the bed, and though my eyes creak open, I don't make any other attempt to move.

Thankfully, Avery is a lot less useless than me. They leave the bed, and for a brief, terrifying moment, I almost call out for them to return. They leave the room, but it's only to head into an attached bathroom. When they come back to the bed, they have a damp washcloth, and they start using it to clean my chest and abs.

"I can do it," I say. I don't mean to make them baby me like this.

They shoot me glare. "Let me do it."

It's not a request, and I don't dare argue. Avery patiently cleans me up, quite obviously taking their time and keeping me in their bed. Yet as they work I realize I never truly intended to leave it tonight.

I take them by the wrist as they go on wiping a spot that was already clean. They stop, looking up at me, worry pinching their expression.

"Could I stay here tonight?" I say.

Their face changes, shifting back into that open, radiant expression I've gotten to glimpse tonight. They smile — a real smile with both sides of their mouth — and nod as though they can't find the words. Avery tosses the dirty washcloth onto the floor and throws back the covers, ushering us both into their bed. As they settle against my side, their head on my chest, I'm surprised to find myself calm and peaceful. I've given into something I will probably come to regret, but the truth is that Avery is extraordinary, and they wanted me, and I wanted them, and it was … it was incredible. My body is too blissed out on feel-good brain chemicals to figure out how to regret that .

Avery is petting their fingers through the dark hair on my chest. "You okay?" they say.

"Yes," I reply shortly. I don't know where to begin expressing everything this night came with.

"I'm glad that we did this," they say quietly.

I swallow. When I don't respond, Avery pushes themself up onto their arms to peer down at me. Their long hair falls past their shoulders, and at last I can reach it. It's just as soft as I imagined when I wind a strand between my fingers.

"Are you glad we did this?" Avery says. "Or are you going to run away from me again?"

The hurt in their voice plunges me into cold water. I dig for the right words to salvage this moment.

"I'm glad we did this," I say. "I am. But I'm also trying to get my graduate degree. This was my dream school, my longshot. I didn't expect to get in, and the first thing I did when I got here was … was fall for you. I could lose it all. I could lose everything."

"I know," Avery says. "I understand. I really do."

"I don't want to run from you. You're…" I release that strand of hair to cup Avery's face. They lean into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. "You're incredible. But this is dangerous."

Avery turns their head to kiss my palm. "I know it is. But we can be careful. There's no one in this house but us. We aren't on campus. We're alone. It's okay. "

I hope that's true. I really hope it is. But the fear is trickling back in as we discuss this, a slow drip of poison.

"And you're here," Avery continues. "So some part of you is willing to risk it. Some part of you … likes me."

It's easy to smile at this bit, at least. I pull them down to me, kissing them yet again. I don't think I could ever get sick of this mouth.

"All of me likes you, Avery," I say.

And all of me is terrified of you.