Page 12 of Exhale

“I’ll be really careful with your heart,” I said. “I’ll keep it safe.”

“That’s a big promise to make. What if I smother you too? I’m…what’s the word? Needy. I needallthe attention andallthe texting. If I don’t know where you are, I’ll panic-ring you. I just, you know, get anxious and doubt everything. I worry about every single little thing. I’m your worst nightmare because I’m the guy who will keep texting. I’ll ring you in the middle of the night, convinced you don’t love me anymore. All that stuff you see in stalker movies, I’ve done it all, and I don’t even realise I’m being a creep until people shout at me and threaten to call the police.”

“Oh.”

“See? Told you. You’ll find out what I’m like and you’ll leave me.”

“I don’t want to leave you, and you can always ring me. See? As long as we talk about the small stuff—I mean the small but important details—we’ll figure this out. I’ll get to know you and you’ll get to know me, one day at a time. I work or hang out with my family or go out with my friends. That’s it. You’ll probably always know where I am. We have this big calendar on the wall at home—I’ll make you one and write down all my routines, then you’ll always know where to find me.” I brought the manties back to my nose. Sniffed them. Smiled as he giggled softly. “If you’re a stalker, I’m a creepy underwear thief. Just for the record, I’m keeping these man-panties. I’m going to carry them around in my pocket so I can have you with me all the time.”

“They’re not man-panties, they’re just manties. Pretty boy pants. Surprisingly comfortable to wear too.”

“They’re gorgeous on you. I can’t wait to find out what else you have hiding in your drawers.”

“You’ll be disappointed, no doubt. Just more pretty pants and a lacy camisole.”

“Why would that disappoint me?”

“I hope…” He went quiet obviously overthinking everything he possibly could. “Maybe in the future, I won’t have to worry about what you think of me. Maybe I’ll always know where to find you if you spend every night in my bed.”

“I hope, maybe, you’ll spend every night in mine.”

He laughed at that, then he crawled down my body and took me into his mouth. I almost gave myself whiplash from the shock of my cock hitting the back of his throat, followed by the sensation of his tongue working its magic. He had skills, and I told him so in raspy words and grunting noises. He paused to look up at me and seductively brought his finger to his mouth, covering it with saliva in lazy licks before hitching my leg up over his shoulder.

He was moving fast, and my brain was struggling to keep up.

“What?” I hissed out in surprise as he spread my cheeks and a warm, wet tongue lapped over my hole. The sensations sent shivers up my chest, my arms flying into the air. I didn’t know where to put them. There was tongue, followed by wet fingers, followed by kisses, and my body thrashing around to the point where he popped up for air, laughing at my helplessness. I was completely out of my comfort zone, yet I was loving every second of being with him. The way he made me smile. The little commentary he had going on, complimenting my non-existent man grooming. I’d never ever waxed a single hair off my poor neglected body, and apparently, I had a jungle going on down there, but he didn’t seem to mind at all.

A myriad of new anxieties now brewed in my chest, which he dismantled one by one with small words of encouragement and comfort. I was hoping he would one day guide me through all those things a modern metrosexual man needed to know. Not that I really needed to know anything apart from how I could make him happy, because I was deleting that damn Grindr app from my phone as soon as I laid hands on it again. Right now, I had no idea where my belongings were, my life strewn carelessly across the floor of a small student apartment in south London.

“Pass me the lube,” he demanded, making me aware that I had two of his fine fingers prodding my insides. He might as well have asked me to recite the top ten French 16thcentury poets or something. At that point, I couldn’t even tell him my own name. There was pressure on my insides, sweat on my forehead, my hands were ripping out the hair on his head, and I was kicking my legs like a drunken donkey, completely unable to control my movements.

“Turn over, baby,” he said in a voice so caring I wanted to cry. He was an amazing lover, every touch a small miracle on my skin, every stroke soothing all those fears out of my body. I was his, and my poor heart couldn’t process how much I wanted more, so much more than this too short encounter with this man who was now making me beg.

“I love…more…please…”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then sat back on his heels and reached for something on the floor. A packet of condoms, I realised, as he expertly rolled one onto his swollen length. In something of a desperate frenzy, I flipped onto my stomach, burrowing my feverish head into the cool pillow. The fading light from the window was still too sharp on my eyes, my very existence feeling like it was floating in some kind of twilight zone.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You’re doing so good. Look at you. You’re just gorgeous. Perfect. If you hadn’t trusted me and told me this was your first time, I would never have known. You’re loose and relaxed, and you’ll take me all the way in without any problems. Just let yourself feel, because it’s an amazing feeling to have someone inside you. You’ll feel so full and stretched that your mind goes blank with sensations. But don’t be scared. Just allow yourself to enjoy it. You only have your first time once, and I want to make it perfect.”

Then all I heard was the squelch and slap of lube as he coated his cock, my hole and my insides with confident strokes followed by more slippery cool sloppiness, smooth movements and soothing words. With his arms either side of me, holding himself up, he placed a small kiss on my shoulder.

“Spread your legs, baby, and relax. Push a little against me and let me in. It will start feeling amazing once you get used to it, I promise. Just grit through the stretch, and I will make you feel… Oh god, I can’t believe I’m doing this, that I’m getting to top you. All of you. This body. Insane.”

He was rambling, and my body tensed up as he pushed against my hole. I couldn’t help it. He wasn’t huge, so I wasn’t worried. I’d played with myself; I knew I could take it. Not that this felt anything like my pathetic self-fingering. There was an insane stretch and more pain than I was frankly fine with, but he was gentle and careful, pushing into me at a slow pace, leaving me breathless as he finally bottomed out, his body coming to rest on top of me, his mouth panting heavily into my neck.

“Fuck you. Fuck you, you feel amazing. How will anything ever top this? You underneath me like this? Jamie, fuck, I think I do love you. Forever and always. Promise this isn’t the last time. Promise we’ll do this again. Fuck. Promise me.”

“I promise,” I groaned, my head too fuzzy to focus. There was movement; awkward discomfort as he shifted his hips; small gentle thrusts against my buttocks as he leaned in and kissed me; pecked at my neck; whispering foreign sounding words in my ear. He told me I was beautiful. Sexy. Wonderful and kind. He told me everything I needed to hear. He said I was his, over and over.

I struggled to reply, only gritting out non-words that grew stronger as I started to understand what he’d promised me. It started feeling good, and I relaxed, enjoying the strange sensation of him moving inside my body.

I loved the weight of him on top of me. The laboured breathing. The damp sweat from his skin against my back. The way he held himself up, then moved my legs so he could slam into me at a different angle. He grabbed my hips, positioning me like a willing ragdoll, and I still pleaded for more. I was yanked up on all fours, him fucking me with such fervour I could barely hold myself together. He shouted words; words I grunted back, the bad language coming out of his perfect, pretty mouth joining my near-violent outbursts, egging him on to go faster, harder. Somehow, I was managing to jerk myself off while he supported us both with his arm around my chest and then bit down into my shoulder as his orgasm tore through him. He stilled, indecipherable hissed syllables escaping his gritted teeth. There was hot breath on my back and a cloud of static in my head as my hand, moving at an insane speed, ripped my climax from my poor, battered body.

My brain re-engaged, and I marvelled at what we had done—the sparkling proof on the sheet underneath me, that I could love a man as much as I could love a woman. When it came down to the basics, it was sex and feelings, mixed into a whirlpool of emotions that made me grin so wide my cheeks ached. I had an amazing gift, knowing I had so much love to give, that I could, probably, one day be happy with whomever my heart settled on. And perhaps that day was happening right now.

As I fell back onto the bed with this man of mine wrapped around my back, I finally accepted I was free to be whomever I wanted to be, and I wanted to be me. This me, lying here with Leo’s hand cupping my chin so he could lean over and lazily kiss my lips—lips that were raw and sore from all the kissing and biting down on them while his hands had so wonderfully played my body into an orgasm that had shattered my little universe into tiny sprinkles of bliss.

I was good. I was happy. I grabbed his hand and kissed his fingers. Those fingers that smelled a little of me.

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