Page 55 of Him
“Well…” It’s not easy to explain. “I’m a little freaked out about not being freaked out. If that makes sense.”
We go silent again. I can tell he’s absorbing what I just told him.
“Can I ask you something?” I murmur.
“Hit me.” His breath tickles my nipple, and it hardens. Instantly.
“Have you ever…” I’m not sure how to phrase it. “Bottomed? Is that the right word?”
His shoulders tremble as if he’s trying not to laugh. “As good a word as any. ‘Been fucked’ also works. ‘Taken it up the ass’, also a goodie.”
“Okay. Well?”
He shifts a bit. “Yeah. I have. Once.”
“Just once?” I guess I’m not surprised. Wes has “top” written all over him. “Did you like it?”
He considers it. “Not at the beginning. And definitely not at the end. But it was pretty good in the middle.”
Classic Wes answer. I burst out laughing, my palm sliding over his bare arm before I give his biceps a pinch. “Um…what happened at the beginning and end?”
“The beginning, it hurt.” His tone is rueful. “But that’s probably ’cause we were both eighteen-year-old morons and neither one of us thought to bring lube.”
Eighteen. For some reason that makes me bristle. I wonder if it was before or after our last night at camp. Before, I’d be okay with. But after… Not sure why, but the thought of Wes cutting me out of his life and then going off to lose his virginity to some dude pisses me off.
“Spit’ll only get you so far,” he’s saying, oblivious to my turbulent thoughts. “So it took a while for him to…yeah.”
I force a casual tone. “But then it got good?”
He pauses again. Then nods, his chin bumping my shoulder. “Yeah, it got good.”
A hot rush travels up my spine. I’m stunned to realize it’s jealousy.
“And at the end?” I prompt, in the hopes that hearing how the sex got sucky again will ease the tightness in my chest.
Wes sighs. “He wasn’t anyone I need to see again. He got off on making it degrading for me. Kind of soured me on the whole experience.”
I stroke the top of his head. I can tell he feels awkward talking about it, but I appreciate that he told me. It’s rare for Wes to shed his fuck-the-world attitude and let himself be vulnerable.
“So that was it? You didn’t let anyone else…uh…stick their flag in there after that?”
He chokes out a laugh. “Nope. I decided I’d leave the flag-sticking to me.”
I chuckle, stroking his hair again. It’s silky-soft beneath my palm, a contrast to the stubble scraping my shoulder.
“I…” He clears his throat. “I’d let you do it, though.”
My hand freezes in his hair. “You would?”
Wes nods. “I’d let you do anything to me, Canning.”
When his voice cracks, something inside of me does, too. I have no clue what’s going on here or what we are to each other.
Friends. We’re friends. Except that doesn’t feel like the right label.
Friends with benefits? Doesn’t feel right, either.
I must have stayed silent for way too long, because Wes suddenly sits up, the warmth of his body abandoning me. “Come on,” he says gruffly. “We should get going.”
