Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Diego

I'M BARELY HOLDING myself up. My arm trembles, but my desire to kiss Avery supersedes the post-orgasm exhaustion melting my bones into jelly.

What the hell did they just do to me?

The way they took things so slowly was absolute torture, but it made the high of release even higher. I'm reeling from it even as I kiss them. The world can't seem to hold steady anymore.

I suppose there's only one sensible thing to do.

I flip Avery around so abruptly they squeak with surprise. When I get them on their back, I shimmy between their legs. No point in trying to prop myself up when I'd much rather be here, like this, lying on my stomach .

Their panties stretch around their excitement. I've never seen a body like this in a garment like this, but it looks … it looks really good. Then again, I suspect anything Avery decided to wear would look good on them. They're not bound by the boring rules the rest of us abide. They turn whatever they decide to wear into the perfect thing to wear.

Despite all that, I can't wait to get these damn things out of my way.

I pull them down as swiftly as I dare, then angle Avery toward my mouth. The taste and weight of them revitalizes all the exhausted parts of me, and soon I'm bobbing with as much enthusiasm as they did. At least, I hope I am. They certainly deserve it after what they did to me.

The moment they sigh, their body seems to go slack, and I know I have them. They move subtly with me, not jamming their hips at me, but encouraging me along nonetheless. I take them with all the devotion and joy I can muster, hoping it conveys even a sliver of what I feel. I'm wrung out, hollow, but I want them to feel as good as I do, so I put everything I have left into licking and sucking their sweet cock until they whine my name in a high-pitched, pleading moan.

Even after that, it doesn't seem like enough. Even after we recover and push our hastily discarded clothing off the bed, I'm greedy for more. I bundle them in my arms as we lie there drowsily talking about nothing. And before I know it, we fall asleep that way.

I GROAN WHEN I wake, but not from any physical distress. I feel incredible, in fact, like I just got the deepest sleep of my life. And when I breathe in and catch the scent of Avery's shampoo brushing against my nose, warmth and comfort suffuses my body.

No, the groan isn't a physical malady. It's because I'm awake. And being awake means I'm not going to stay here much longer.

Avery is tucked against my chest, my arm draped over them. We separated a little in sleep, but not much, so all I have to do is lean forward to kiss the soft, warm curve of their shoulder. They stir with a pleased sigh, a slightly less smooth breath than the ones that indicated they were dreaming.

"Morning," I say.

"Mmm. Morning."

My voice is scratchy and rough from sleep, but theirs is as sweet as ever. We slept naked, and I lean my forehead against their bare back and allow my fingers to trail along their skin like I'm drawing patterns in sand. Goosebumps break out under my fingertips, and Avery shimmies closer. They roll over, their face rosy with sleep as they brace their hands on my chest.

"I like waking up this way," they say.

"Me too."

They comb their fingers through my hair, brushing it off my forehead and out of my eyes. "How are you so handsome first thing in the morning? It's not fair. The rest of us have to try, you know."

I scoff. I'm sure the hair they're combing is a mess. I'm probably squinting without my glasses. My mouth is tacky, my skin sticky from the sweat and sex we didn't bother washing off. And even if all of that wasn't true, I'm lying here with Avery . Avery, whose black hair falls loose around them like silk, whose eyes are bright and so blue it's like looking into a lake, whose every gesture and movement carries a grace a century of dance lessons couldn't teach me. If anyone is far too handsome first thing in the morning, it's them.

"Don't disagree with me," they say.

"I didn't say anything."

"But you thought it. I could tell from that little sound you made."

I pull them closer to me, kissing along their neck then tracing their jaw with my lips. "I'm allowed to think whatever I want."

Avery's voice is slightly unsteady. Their breaths are deepening. I hold myself back before I stir both of us up too much .

"Especially if what I think is that you're the handsome one," I say.

They laugh and accept the compliment this time, giving me a swift peck on the lips.

It would be so easy to keep doing this all morning. It would be so easy to spend my whole day this way. This is the second time I've woken up with Avery, and it's no easier to leave now than it was the last time. I drag myself from the bed and use the toothbrush Avery let me borrow on that fateful Sunday morning. I suppose it's mine now. They left it beside the sink, that confident that I'd return. And, well, I guess they were right about that because here I am.

We take a shower together. Unlike last time, we truly only shower this time. Mostly. We can't quite resist rubbing our hands all over each other's bodies, washing each other, touching everything we can touch, but it doesn't move beyond that. Barely. It's a struggle, I must admit. Having Avery's body under my hands and doing nothing but touching takes superhuman restraint from me, but I'm determined to stick to what I promised myself. I'm not going to linger. I'm not going to put us in any unnecessary danger. These aren't things we can have right now, but they're waiting for us in that hypothetical "someday" that I so desperately want to reach with Avery.

Avery lets me wash their hair too, an activity I never realized I needed in my life. I love doing it, love having an excuse to dig my fingers into the silky strands, to scratch along their scalp, to run all that dark hair through my hands and feel the weight of it. And Avery seems to love letting me do it. They hum with satisfaction and pleasure, making noises that very nearly tempt me to break my promise to myself, but again I persevere.

Someday , I swear to myself. Someday. Someday. When it's safer.

I survive the shower, despite the enticement of Avery's naked, slick body. Truly, I deserve some sort of award for that. I can already tell the image of them in the shower is going to flood my mind the second I'm home and by myself. But at least it's safer that way.

"You really have to go?" Avery pouts when we stand dressed at their front door. They turn pouting into an art form. It shouldn't look so damn beautiful.

"I really have to go," I say, softening my words with a kiss. I cup their face in my hands, thumbs stroking when I ease off their lips.

"Fine," they say. "But we can do this again?"

I nod. "It seems like it's going to keep happening regardless. We might as well be smart and intentional about it. It's safer that way."

"Safer. Yeah." They don't sound like they care about safety.

"It's just for the rest of the semester," I say. "When I'm not your TA, well, it's still not exactly great, but it's a lot better than if someone found out now. "

"I know, I know," they say. "I don't want to get you in trouble. I just…" They bite their bottom lip, and God help me, I almost break.

I kiss them to keep myself from doing anything worse.

"It is not fair that you are both the most beautiful and most handsome person I've ever met," I say. "If I look at you for even one more second I'm not going to make it out of that door."

They laugh in delight, a sound I tuck away behind my heart for when I exit this house and go back to being their TA.

"In that case," they say, "I think I have this spot on my face. I need you to look very closely for a very long time."

They point at a random spot on their cheek. I kiss it playfully. I could so easily go on teasing and playing with them this way, but I slip from their hold before I can get carried away, summoning the final dregs of my self-control to put on my coat and set my hand on the doorknob.

"I'll see you soon, Avery," I say, more promise than farewell.

"Text me," they say. "I like hearing from you."

I promise to keep in touch, then finally get myself out the door. It isn't easy. Again, I presume that award I'm in line for is coming in the mail any day now. Stronger men than me would crumble at the thought of leaving Avery there wanting them.

I'm less paranoid as I walk toward home this time. It's only a mile away, and I've gotten to know the town a bit better, so I can appreciate the big old oaks and cute storefronts along Main Street. The changing leaves throw splotches of garish color onto every roadway and sidewalk, a burning quilt defying October's gray skies. It even smells different from home, more wild, more full of stuff , more perfumed in a way. It's probably that my nose isn't as accustomed to the things that grow here compared to home, but I like that I can smell this place, that its newness has remained tangible in that way.

And that is when I realize I'm not as homesick as I ought to be. I'm barely homesick at all. I'm enjoying my walk through town, the strangeness, the differences. It's not that I never want to go home. That bar of fudge sits on my counter, barely eaten, like once it's gone I'll lose my tether. Yet … this is nice too. Montridge, the university, the trees and leaves and drag shows and all of that.

I'm so caught up in contemplating my sudden comfort with this place that I don't notice the people waiting outside my apartment until I'm climbing the stairs to the second story. Then I stop dead in my tracks, blinking at both of my parents standing outside my apartment door.

"There you are," Mom says. "We thought you'd be home first thing in the morning."

I feel my eyes widen. "You're here," I say stupidly.

"We wanted to surprise you," Dad says. "Sorry, we didn't know you might be… "

He waves vaguely to encompass the obvious truth that their son did not sleep in his own bed last night and that none of us want to discuss that in more detail than a hand wave. I certainly am not about to tell them anything about what I did last night, or who I did it with.

Instead, I launch myself at them, every ounce of homesickness bursting out of me all at once as my parents catch me in a hug. I might be twenty-six, but this is the longest I've ever gone without seeing them and my heart is damn near ready to explode. We launch into Spanish without even noticing the switch.

"What are you doing here?" I say.

"We wanted to see your big fancy job in the big fancy city," Mom says. "And after I talked to you on the phone I couldn't wait any longer."

My job. Right. The one where I'm a TA fucking one of his students. That job.

My head reels. The world wavers around me. Joy and terror make for a potent mix, a mix that attempts to knock me off my feet. I keep nothing from my parents, but I absolutely, positively can't tell them about this. I'm their baby boy. I won't disappoint them that way.

"Come on," Dad says. "Show us everything."