Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

Diego

I WANT TO see you tonight.

My hands trembled as I typed out that text. It's the first time I've been the one to reach out, the first time I've asked for this instead of being swept along by Avery. Seeing them with my family wiped out all my reasonable arguments against seeing them again. I woke up at their house today, and here I am going right back over late at night, after a café shift has ended and all the customers and servers have left.

Avery is on the couch in the living room when I arrive. They're wearing the slacks and vest and tie that they don for the café. Their hair is even more sleek and straight than usual, and a bit of makeup highlights their eyes and glimmers on their lips .

I see why they get so many customers at that café of theirs. I hear there are other servers working there, but I can't imagine why people would choose anyone but Avery.

"Hey," Avery says, turning on the couch and smiling at me. "I didn't have time to change. Wanna watch a movie? Sometimes I unwind from the café this way."

I toe off my shoes and join them on the couch, cozying up close under a blanket that Avery spreads over our laps. I wrap a hand around their waist, indulging in kissing the side of their head as I settle in.

"You don't need to change," I say. "You look great."

Avery chuckles. "It's a little formal for movie night on the couch."

"I like it, but if you want to get comfortable, don't let me stop you."

Avery smiles, self-satisfied, basking in my compliment, and it makes me want to describe every single thing I like about them just to drink in that expression for longer. They take off their vest and tie, tossing them on the table, then resume the movie they had on. I leave my arm around them as a couple actors I vaguely know of steal paintings in an elaborate heist in the rainforest, but I have to admit I'm not paying much attention. I'm more focused on burying my nose in Avery's hair and soaking up the echoes of every quiet chuckle that rings through them.

And if the night were to end here, I can't say I'd mind. It's a bit startling to realize that. A bit scary, too. This isn't purely physical. That's no shock; I've always been attracted to Avery's intelligence. But this goes beyond that. We aren't even talking. We're simply existing in each other's presence, silently watching a movie, holding each other on the couch. And it's giving me the same sensation that seeped through me as I watched them charm my parents this afternoon, a feeling of warmth and security and home that I haven't felt since I've come to Montridge.

Avery shifts closer as the movie nears its climax. Their hand has rested on my thigh through most of it, but now that hand is moving, trailing slowly up and down, getting dangerously close to my groin.

"Good movie," Avery says.

"Mhm."

Avery chuckles. "It wasn't. It was terrible." The blanket falls to the floor as they shift, throwing a leg over my thighs to sit in my lap. "But you weren't paying much attention, were you?"

A wicked smile curls their lips. I reply by kissing the expression, my hands going to their waist to pull them toward me. Avery tangles their fingers in my messy hair and kisses me back, rocking in my lap and groaning as our tongues tangle. I let my hands trail downward, along the slope of Avery's back and over the hump of their ass. They push back into my palms, giving me a good feel of that firm ass and tugging on my hair. When I squeeze, they groan into my mouth, and there's no more hope of my having a coherent thought for the rest of the night.

Avery pulls away, cradling my head in their hands, lips bright and blushing. "I'm so glad you asked to come over here tonight," they say. "I was kind of surprised. But in a good way, of course."

I swallow, trying not to wince. It's hard staring at the results of my own flaws. My fear, my cowardice, has left Avery afraid to ask for what they want, afraid to reach out, afraid to want me. It's like a dagger in my chest, the knowledge that I've dimmed their brilliance in this way. They've been nothing but themself this entire time, and meanwhile I've hidden and cowered, always thinking first of protecting myself, always scared.

"I'm glad I asked too," I say.

I slide my hands up their back and draw them in for a softer kiss, trying to reassure them. They sigh against my mouth, nearly melting against my lips, and God, I want to give them everything. Everything they want, everything they need, everything they're hoping I can be for them. But I simply don't know if I have those things to give, and if I'm wrong, won't I hurt them more? What if I were to give them what they want only to decide I need to go home? The soft, yielding, trusting lips against mine deserve better than that.

They're squirming in my lap, unable to keep still. Occasionally, their wriggling brushes over my crotch, and that light touch stirs my blood. I can't help remembering what they did to me last night, all those barely-there touches that tormented me until I was all but begging them for relief.

They pull away, and I can see some deviousness glinting in their light eyes.

"Diego," they say, "I really want to … want to feel you."

"You have me," I say, confused. What more of me could they possibly need to feel?

Avery shakes their head. "No, I mean…" They huff, frustrated with themself, and climb off of me. They don't go far, standing before me so they can dig in their trouser pockets. Their hand re-emerges clutching a condom and a packet of lube. "I mean like this."

"Oh." I blink, then catch myself. My heart restarts like a clunky old car coughing and spluttering before it finds its rhythm again. "If that's what you want…"

Avery is biting on their lip. "It is. I didn't have time to change, but I grabbed this before I came down here in the hopes that … that you might say yes."

What kind of utter fool would I have to be to say no? Yet I can barely form the word, my throat all clogged up as heat boils through me in a rush.

Avery tosses the packets onto the cushion beside me. They stand before me unbuttoning their shirt, and I get to watch as they slide it off their slender arms and let it fall to the floor. The undershirt goes next, then they move right on to the slacks, not a beat of hesitation pausing them before they're completely naked before me.

They lower to their knees, sliding their hands up my legs to spread them, then sliding those hands even higher to palm over me while they lick their lips. Their eyes could be the eyes of a demon, sharp with mischief, luring me into oblivion.

Mama and her church group will have to say a few extra prayers for me this week.

Avery reaches my fly and undoes it, their eyes never leaving mine, even when they start dragging my pants and briefs all the way down and off. I race to take care of my shirt, but when I free myself from the fabric all the breath whooshes from my lungs.

Avery is kneeling on the floor languorously feeding their own fingers into their mouth with a deliberate, destructive pumping motion. They pluck their fingers free and smile at me as they reach behind themself.

"Are you going to help, or should I do everything myself?" they say as their hand moves behind them.

Fucking Christ. I'm not inexperienced in this, but I might as well be in this moment. No one's ever put on a show like this for me, and even if someone had tried, I doubt they'd measure up to a naked, gyrating Avery riding their own hand, lips parted around deepening breaths, cheeks flushed, beautiful cock stiff between their legs.

I scramble for the packages, fumbling until I choose the right one and manage to tear it open and sheathe myself. I do even worse with the next packet, nearly getting more on Avery's couch than my cock. Avery watches my every move, chewing on their lip as I stroke myself, plunging their fingers more forcefully into themself, as though what I'm doing could possibly be even a fraction as enticing as them opening themself up for me.

"Avery," I groan.

"Fuck, you look so good," they say. "I need you."

They pull their fingers out and all but leap into my lap, apparently as eager as I am, as absurd as that is. They straddle my thighs, reaching for my cock immediately so they can angle it at themself. Their experience is apparent as they work themself onto me, self-assured and brash. The nails of one hand dig into my shoulder as they ease down, taking me in an inch at a time. Harsh breaths gust against my face, each seeming hotter than the last, as though me filling them is overheating their whole body. I cling to their slender waist, trying to steady them, to do more than sit here uselessly, but Avery has their own ideas, clearly, and they need very little assistance from me to make them happen.

Soon, they're all but sitting in my lap. I'm leaning back, holding their waist, looking up at them as they brace on the edge of the couch on either side of my head and gaze down at me. And they're just so God damn gorgeous I can't stand it. I reach a hand up to pull them to me. Avery moans against my mouth as the motion of bending down apparently shifts me inside them. The moment our lips touch, they wriggle in my lap, a slow roll of their hips that moves my cock around within their tight, hot walls.

Both of us are groaning, lips sloppy and often missing each other as we try to kiss and writhe all at once. I grab at their hair on impulse, feeling blindly for the tie restraining it. When I get it free, all that silky black cascades around us, so long it tickles my chest as it spills past their shoulders.

Avery sits back a little, smiling at me like my freeing their hair amuses them. I don't care. They can laugh all they like. Shrouded within the curtain of their hair, our boiling body heat cocooning us in a cloud, I don't care about anything but touching them.

I run a thumb along their lips, and before I can pull it away they take the digit into their mouth, clamping it gently between their teeth. They flick the tip of their tongue at the pad of my thumb, and the sensation shivers through me. I shift my hips without thinking, and Avery gasps and releases my finger.

They grip the back of the couch harder, head bowed as they start rocking atop me in earnest. Their tight heat grips me as they slide up and down. I watch their sinuous body roll closer on the way up, then backward on the way down, every motion a little deeper, a little harder, a little faster.

"God, Avery, that feels so good," I groan.

"Your cock," they respond, breathy and broken. "I want more."

My hands fly back to their waist, eager to obey, to indulge their every desire. I try to jerk my hips up at them, to give them whatever I can, and they shout the first time our bodies meet with a slap. They have all of me at their disposal, every atom in my body turned to their pleasure. When they grip the couch hard enough to make it creak and throw themself at me, I snap my hips upward to meet them.

"Oh fuck," they cry, throwing their head back, sending all that long, dark hair flying around us.

It's like a vision out of a fantasy, their hair, their body, the haze that washes through me as pleasure surges upward. I forget to close my eyes, too caught up in watching them as they take what they please from me, take everything I have and more, and I gleefully offer it up to them.

Amid the tumult, I reach for their cock. It's hard, the head slick with pre-cum. I move my hand along them in rhythm with their body, and they scream at their ceiling, bucking even harder in my lap. Their body clenches, and I choke on my own breaths, the pressure and heat overwhelming me all at once. Finally, my eyes snap closed, but it almost doesn't matter. Everything is so tense within me that I'm only left in that warm darkness for a moment before I'm shoving my hips up at Avery, rigid with tension as pleasure erupts out of me.

Avery groans and whimpers and fucks into my hand until they're spilling over it. They clench around me, and I can feel the overwhelming tension corded through their whole body. A few more jerky jabs of their hips and then it's over. They're sinking onto me, breath blowing hot against my chest as they sag forward to rest their head against my shoulder and pant.

I'm softening inside them, my whole body weak with satiation. The heat that poured off us is dissipating, cooler air prickling my skin, but I make no attempt to move, letting Avery sit on me as long as they like.

When they finally stir, it's to nuzzle their nose against the side of my neck. I chuckle as the motion tickles me, and they kiss that same spot.

"I love you."

It comes out so casually, so easily, like a sigh. Avery doesn't even seem to know they said it out loud. It was just an errant thought that happened to escape.

It's not just an errant thought to me.

They really said that. They really blurted that out. And it didn't sound like it was the first time the thought had crossed their mind.

I tense, and Avery must feel it because they stop their playful nuzzling, languid muscles clenching. A silence stretches between us, and I know I'm supposed to fill it. I'm supposed to say the words, return the feeling, but how can I do that when I'm not even supposed to be here? I'm not supposed to be touching Avery, let alone loving them. Even when this semester ends, I have no idea what I'm going to be able to give them. This very same night, I was questioning whether I could give them anything resembling a relationship, but love? Actual love? That hadn't even crossed my mind yet.

Liar , a little voice inside me says.

I swallow hard, choking down the accusations rising up my throat. Some piece of me knows. Some piece of me has always known. But to give voice to that is to invite a hurt I'm not strong enough to bear. This isn't supposed to be happening at all. At best, it's a secret we need to keep for months, possibly years. How can I make a declaration like love in a situation like that?

And what if I go home? What if I need to go home? What happens to this then? What happens to Avery?

My heart is racing, sweat slicking my palms. I don't know what the right words are for this, but I know I've already waited too long to say something, anything. The moment has stretched too far, and it's obvious that I'm not going to respond in kind, that the words Avery's waiting for aren't going to happen.

It simply isn't the right time for that. Everything is so perilous. The future is shrouded in a fog of uncertainty, and I won't know that we're safe until we make it to the other side. How could I lead them on when everything is so unsure? How could I give them hope when I might have to shatter it? I couldn't live with myself if I did that, no matter what words may lie locked behind my heart, sequestered in a place where I thought they couldn't hurt us. On top of all of that, Avery has no plan for their own future. They've said as much themself. They plan to graduate and simply go get a job, when they could do so much more. I want more than that for them, but I don't know how to say that and those words they're waiting for.

"Avery, I…"

Avery sits up, sliding me out of them so they can clamber off my lap. They smile like they didn't speak. Or perhaps they're smiling as though I did speak, as though I had the courage to take that leap without knowing whether we'd land safety or crash and burn.

"I'll grab us a towel," they say.

Their voice doesn't waver. They stride away, steady and casual. It's only because I know them so well that I can detect the stiffness in their shoulders, the slight rigidity in every step. Where they should be floating through their home, they're marching, and it's clearly my fault.

This is why I couldn't say it. Please understand. If I said it now and it hurt you, it would be so much worse than this.

I don't actually attempt to explain. I just sit there on the couch, Avery's words ringing in my head, and wonder what sort of disaster I've unwittingly unleashed.