Seven

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ATTY

Every timeI get nervous and begin questioning what I'm doing, I remember what Egon said. The most I have to lose is that this ends. But honestly, I have everything to gain. At the very least, I get really good sex for as long as this lasts.

When I'm alone at night, I wonder if the sex is so good because the sex I've had has been mediocre at best. Obviously, this is something I keep to myself because I don't mean for a past partner—Marie, specifically—to feel bad about it. I don't think it has anything to do with her. Or any other girl from my past.

I think it's that I've unlocked something in me that really turns me on. The way this man makes me come is unreal. I'm nearing thirty and I swear, my sex drive thinks we're teenagers again. There have been times when all it takes is him giving me a fucking look and I'm hard, dripping with need.

We don't spend a lot of time talking in person. When we're together, it's filled with sex. I've been bent and twisted in so many ways that sometimes I feel like a pretzel. Each new position makes the angle with which he fucks me all the better. Like there are different spots inside me and the new angle hits something else.

It's hot. He's had me coming with such intensity that I'm sure I've lost minutes or hours from my life.

Toby also really loves to deep throat me. He loves when I'm on my knees and quite literally choking on his dick. The man is big. Not like… gigantic. I mean, I think he's definitely disproportional, but I've always heard that it's the skinny guys who have the biggest dicks. Toby is one of those.

There's a chance I'd choke on anything in my throat. I have a very strong gag reflex. But I quite literally see my life flash before my eyes when Toby gets lost in the moment right before his orgasm. On more than one occasion, I've nearly passed out from lack of oxygen.

For some reason, my dick has decided that the hottest thing in the world is either having something far too big shoved into my ass, or nearly dying from lack of oxygen. Whether that's from a big dick down my throat or a hand wrapped tightly around my neck.

Last night, I wondered if my orgasm would be as strong with a woman's hand around my neck. Maybe it's just the choking aspect I like?

As a hockey player, I've always had that ‘glamor' of being an athlete, so women and sex have always been readily available. Without being into anything truly kinky, I was pretty sure I knew everything there was to know about myself sexually. Anything that sounded even remotely appealing, I'd tried.

The strange thing is that so many of those things were decidedly a turn off before, but have a very different effect on me now. I could call it growth. But I try not to lie to myself. It's not something that's changed inside me. It's Toby.

It's not that I'm into choking. I'm into Toby choking me. I'm not into butt play. But Toby can use my ass however he likes it.

Needless to say, I'm enjoying our hookups. I'm also trying not to overthink them. Have I always had an issue living in the moment? Do I always look ahead instead?

Hugo slaps my shoulder, his grin beaming. "Look at that girl!"

Reflexively, I follow his line of sight. Down the bar are two women. It's not hard to figure out which one he's talking about. One is more moderately dressed. The other is… not. They're looking our way. The one barely dressed is watching Hugo (or maybe me, I don't know) and sensually twirling her tongue around the straw in her drink.

"Very nice," I tell him and look away.

He laughs. "That's all you have to say?"

I end up being Hugo's wingman a lot. Generally speaking, I'm probably the most extroverted of our friends next to Hugo. Also, Egon and Noah aren't just gay, but they're also in relationships. That's not to say they wouldn't come with us if we asked. They have before. Egon especially fits in easily enough. However, the crowded situations make Noah anxious, so we don't put him in that position often.

Winslow is an introvert. He's not at all interested in the hookup culture, nor is he interested in romance. He's one of those unicorns who would much rather spend his time at home in solitude when not involved with hockey or friends. Winslow once said he was aro and ace. It took me a while to look that up, and while I think I understand what those shortened terms mean, I'm not entirely convinced I understand it at all.

So yeah, that leaves me as Hugo's wingman. Most of the time, I don't mind at all. Even if I'm entirely not into what's going on around me. As is the case tonight.

I half listen to Hugo talk about the girls he's watching and making eyes with. He sends them more drinks. I don't even bother to look their way, so neither of them get even a hint of the impression that I'm interested. I'm totally not interested. In fact, the idea of hooking up tonight is a complete and utter turnoff.

In hindsight, there have been nights like this that resulted in me calling Marie. The moments where I fell into a rut and thought, everything about this part of life is a turnoff, tend to have me feeling so discouraged at what's around me that I fall back into what's easy. What's familiar.

That's always Marie. For fifteen years, that's been Marie.

Tonight is a little different. I definitely feel turned off by everything around me—in fact, it's rather repulsive right now—but the urge to call Marie is absent. When I realize that, it feels like a weight has lifted from my shoulders.

Maybe I've finally broken free of that pattern, so we can cut ties entirely and live for real. Create our own destinies. Find partners who actually do something for us.

Toby flashes before my eyes, and I quickly stomp that down. It's just sex, I remind myself. There's literally been zero personal talk at all. The only thing I know about him is that he works at Medieval Company (because that's where we met so duh!) and he lives with four friends because L.A.'s home prices are outrageous.

Otherwise, I know nothing.

And I think he knows less of me.

Okay, that's probably not entirely true. I also know that he's Toby Eads, the guy who makes hockey predictions and updates. And he likely knows that I'm Hector Atlas, hockey player. Which is probably why he looked at me at all. He's probably the only one who's figured it out. To date, my face still hasn't been plastered all over the internet as having a new look—finally shaven.

But those are all basic things. There's nothing personal in that.

"Yo. Bro," Hugo says. I blink a few times and look up from where I'm staring at my untouched drink. "Which girl?"

My brows knit together. "What?"

He laughs. "Don't tell me you're thinking about Marie again."

I raise an eyebrow. "Why do you say it like that?"

Hugo laughs. "Come on, man. I may be oblivious about most things, but even I can see that you two are not forever material."

"I'm trying not to be offended."

His grin says he knows I'm not. "Look. We're surrounded by very happy and in love, shacked up men. We all see the sappy hearts in their eyes when they so much as talk about their partners." He makes a gagging sound and I laugh. "I haven't once seen hearts in your eyes, bro."

I sigh. "Yeah, neither have I."

"Then let her go. There are plenty of other fish in the sea. Like the two sweet little minnows at the other end of the bar. Now… Which. One?"

I glance down there again and am slightly surprised when he's referring to two different women. "Where did the others go?"

Hugo waves off my question. "Couple guys asked them to dance. But these two are sitting there and definitely interested."

I glance over again and this time, there's no mistaking that the brunette is watching me specifically. With a sigh, I give her an apologetic smile and very obviously give her my back. "Neither, Hugo. But I'm confident that you can handle both of them."

At first, his face lights up. It only lasts a minute because he looks at me suspiciously. "We can find different girls."

"Look, man. I'm just not into it tonight. If you need me to entertain one so you can hookup with the other, then I can do that for a bit. But I'm just not feeling it."

Hugo nods. "Okay. Sorry, not pushing. No pressure, Atty."

I sigh. "I know. But I really think you can enjoy them both."

He beams, his big smile once again lighting up his face. "Yeah." He gets to his feet and pauses. This man is wearing sweats. Because that's his style—he's all about comfort and gives zero fucks about anything else unless it's game day or some important event where he's explicitly instructed to wear something other than sweats. I think his agent and Coach have learned that they need to be very specific when telling Hugo what to wear. If it's not sweats, he'll show up in gym shorts or track pants. Once, he was even wearing leggings.

Being in charge of him must be a blast. I have a feeling that if he ever gets married, he'll be in sweats. But he'd have to stick with a single woman long enough to do that. In all the time I've known him, Hugo is just incapable of such a feat.

I'm not sure if he's truly all about comfort or he likes the way his dick shows in loose pants. Because we've shared a locker room for years, I know he doesn't wear anything under his pants. Again, unless instructed otherwise. He's proud of the monster in his pants.

Anyway, tonight is no different. He's in sweats.

"You want me to bring you home?" Hugo asks.

I shake my head. "Nah. I'll get a Shuttled."

He nods and slaps my shoulder. "I'm going to see what these girls have in mind."

"Be safe," I tell him. It feels like someone ought to remind him of such a thing.

Hugo flashes me a smile before sauntering off. Honestly, it's a wonder that he hasn't knocked someone up at this point. I really hope he's being responsible. He might appear careless and oblivious, but I have a feeling that something like that would truly wreck him.

Shifting on my stool, I watch him approach the girls. Both of their eyes are on him as he nears, though one girl keeps glancing in my direction. I look away before Hugo makes whatever excuse he does for me. I don't want to see her disappointment.

Maybe that's thinking a lot of myself, but I think maybe I give in to others' expectations of me far too easily. Just another factor that played into my lengthy on/off relationship with Marie.

I continue to stare at my drink for a while and contemplate texting Toby. He's working tonight, which is why I'm here with Hugo. It's not like he'll see my text until he's done. Maybe he can come here afterward, and we could have a replay of the night we met.

My ass twinges in memory. I'm still amused and mystified that I'd liked it at all that night. It's a different kind of pain than when you get injured. It's a little startling to admit that I liked it as much as I did.

Or that I still like it. I look forward to the burn as he pushes his big dick into my too-tight ass. I love the ache that I'm left with for days later. Hell, my throat still feels scratchy from our last hookup when he fucked my face for what felt like a lifetime.

What other gay things are there?

I take a quick swig of my drink—the first, apparently—and get up from the stool. A glance at the other end of the bar says that Hugo succeeded in picking up both girls as I knew he would. I'm convinced that even if they're not attracted to him, he's got such a fun, charming personality that there are very few people who he couldn't win over.

On my way toward the door, I order a Shuttled and then open my browser to start a search. First, I put it into private mode. You can never be too careful when some rando might gain access to your phone.

The car is already here before I even consider what I want to type in. I have a short ride, but it's busy tonight so there's a lot of traffic. While I sit quietly in the back, I tap the side of my phone as I consider what it is I want to look up.

Eventually, I settle on searching ‘gay sex acts' since it seems to cover a lot. I start by reading articles, but the first few act as if I already knew what I was looking for and the words they use. So I shift to images, turn off safe search, and my eyes go wide as porn basically fills my screen.

My cheeks heat as I stare at the first few.

After several minutes, I determine that I'm not in a beginner's view of gay sex activities. This is moderate to expert shit. Although, for a lot of it, I suppose the gender of the partner is unimportant.

Oh, god, what are they sticking in their penis?! I'm pretty sure my cock shrinks inside and yet, I'm morbidly fascinated and can't look away.

"Here we are," the driver says and I jump at his voice.

Cheeks a bright rosy red, I give him an awkward ‘thanks' before climbing out and practically running for my door. Once I'm safely inside, I strip and climb into bed to continue my search. Imagine my surprise when my cock is excited at what I'm seeing.

Is it because I imagine Toby doing this to me? Or have I always been into this and didn't realize it?