Page 56 of Until He Scores

I didn’t know what I wanted. What I could say with certainty was, I missed the feel of his mouth on my dick first thing in the morning, and I’d only experienced a taste of what things could be like if he stayed. Therein lie the rub. The unsettled insecurity of not knowing where I stood with him. The fear of making the wrong move or saying the wrong words would drive him away or put so large of a divide between us, no matter how much I wanted him or cared for him, he’d disappear forever.

“I want you,” I said.

“You're hesitating,” he replied. “Why?”

“Why?” I exhaled a breath, hoping for the strength it would take to explain how I was feeling. “It’s been weeks since our last... Interlude.”

“Cute,” Pope said. “You call them interludes. I call them jerk sessions.” He settled in beside me. The loss of his body heat and weight left me bereft.

“I’m trying to be honest with you,” I replied.

“I can tell. So, what’s the real reason you made me stop, Thier?”

“I’m unsure of myself—us, I wanted everything out in the open between us. Where I stand. Where you stand. Knowing if this is right for us. I don’t want to peer behind the curtain in a year or three or even ten and realize you were only doing this for me because you felt bad for me. Not because you wanted me.”

Pope slumped. “I’m doing this wrong again.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I come with a shitload of baggage. Some you know. Some you never saw. I don’t want you to choose me now because of some unrequited love I had for you as a kid. Or because, after a series of unfortunate events, you feel obligated to say you’re bi or queer or whatever your sexuality is to appease me and make me happy.”

“So, I can’t win any way you split this? If I tell you I’m confused about my feelings, but I want to explore whatever is growing between us, what then?” Anger vibrated in his voice. “Are you going to tell me I don’t know what I’m saying or feeling now?

I scrubbed my face. I wanted to go back in time to the moment I woke up with Pope’s mouth on my cock. “I’m saying, I don’t want to be blamed for unnecessary trauma years from now should something happen between us.”

“What?” he snapped, his voice cracking. “You’re worried about years from now, and I just wanted to give you a blow job?”

Had I read everything wrong? “Are you saying you only want to be friends with benefits then?”

Pope pulled a face, shaking his head like he didn’t recognize me or as though I had something vile coming out of me. “Who said anything about friends with benefits?”

Frustration zipped through me. “What the fuck do you want then?”

He ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a breath. “We need to work on our communication, Thier.”

On that I could agree. I scrubbed my face. “Let’s start from the beginning. You woke me up with a blow job an?—”

“The beginnings of a blow job,” Pope interjected. “But go on.”

I sighed. “Anyway, the beginning of a blow job, unprompted. I didn’t even ask for any kind of favors. Not to mention you’ve never gone that far before with another man.”

“I wanted to wake up my potential partner who had the worst two weeks of his life after being stuck in the hospital and dealing with a psycho stalker ex-boyfriend.”

“But you’re not, you know...” I murmured, shame and regret coated every inch of me, leaving me feeling like an oily, gross pervert or worse, sexual manipulator. Hell, I didn’t even know what to call myself.

“That’s...” he whispered and exhaled. “You remembered our conversation.”

“All of it,” I said. “I want to explore your sexuality with you. Not have you gobble up my dick because I have morning wood.”

“Well dick sucking with morning wood is the best way to wake up,” he stated, giving me a sly grin.

I couldn’t argue with his logic. “I won’t push you into a relationship with me. This isn’t about my wants, Pope. You have a say here.”

“I’m still figuring all this out,” he confessed. “Kissing you, makes my dick hard, and my blood heated. The urge to bend you over and fuck you creeps in right behind the first thoughts of “damn, I like this.” Then I remember the morning after our conversation and how we jerked each other until we came and...” He stretched out beside me, making sure his face was close to mine. “I’ve wanted a repeat.”

“You do?”

“I don’t feel obligated, asshole. I don’t ever want to hear you say that word again. Am I figuring it all out? Yes. Do I have questions, of course. But this between us—I read the room wrong that night.”

“That night?” I tilted my head.

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