Page 24 of Punching the V-Card
“Mm?” Devon asked, pulling away, worried and gazing into Carl’s bright eyes.
“I know that’s not normal. I know that wastoogood. Come to L.A. with me. Fuck me forever.”
Devon huffed a laugh. Orgasms were known for bringing on love declarations, but this? Instead of answering he dislodged himself, removed the condom, and started jerking himself off, aiming for Carl’s already jizz-covered chest.
It took longer than he wanted it to, but he was still yelling to God above when he shot onto Carl’s pink skin. He collapsed beside him, and they kissed. It was slow and sexy, and Devon found himself wondering just how much was tuition at UCLA anyway?
Just how much was he willing to risk for more of this with Carl? For sex that made him want to take the other person to heights never seen? For orgasms that felt like brand new bliss?
Could there really be more to life than this?
Right now, high and wrung out, he didn’t think so.
Chapter Eight
“What’s your dreamin life?” Carl asked from where he sat on the cushion-covered swing on the back patio, playing his guitar.
They’d taken a break from all the madness after they’d fucked, and now they were outside touching grass, so to speak. Devon literally so. He stood barefoot in the yard, head tilted back, watching clouds drift overhead and admiring how the treetops scraped the blue as they waved in the light wind.
The rain had stopped the night before, and the grass had dried in the sun while they’d been in Devon’s bedroom getting sticky together. Now it stroked the soles of his feet as Devon considered Carl’s question.
“I don’t know. I guess I keep hoping college will make all that clear to me. Right now, I just know I don’t want to do anything that requires any more math classes.”
Carl smiled, picking away at his guitar, making a pretty melody. “Have you declared a major?”
Devon winced. “Yeah. English literature. I don’t know why? Like, I have no career aspirations in that area. I just like reading and thinking about what I’ve read. I look forward to my classes. But I don’t know. It’s not like I want to become a teacher, or a writer, or anything like that.”
“Yeah.” Carl kept playing, and when Devon turned to him, he felt a weird clench in his chest.
Carl was a beautiful guy. The blondest parts of his hair shone in the sunlight, and his skin just glowed. He was so damn gorgeous, even if his eyes were tired when he looked up. There was no ice prince in his expression now.
Devon could chalk it up to the sex, to tearing down Carl’s barriers with the power of cock and orgasm, but he felt like it was more than that. It was more like Carl himself was a soft man, and that brittle exterior was just an act. Which would explain a lot about his friendship with Hope. His sister didn’t have terrible taste in friends after all.
“What about you?” Devon asked. “I mean, it’s music obviously, but what’s yourdream-dream?”
Carl shrugged. “Believe it or not, I don’t really have one. I don’t necessarily want to make it big or be a star. I just want to play good music and be part of something bigger than me.” No stutter. Not even a little bit. He was secure in this and relaxed, and Devon felt proud that Carl was showing all of himself this way. “I want to keep my options open, you know? Like I could see myself as a studio musician, but I don’t have to go to L.A. for that. I could try for that dream in Nashville.”
“Why not Nashville then?”
Carl picked the melody a bit more, his eyes going distant. “I’m an only child, you know that, and I love my parents. But part of me just wants to see what happens if I’m far away from them. Can I make it on my own? I guess I want a big adventure. Nashville just doesn’t seem like a big enough change. Los Angeles, though. That’s a whole new world in some ways. And what if it doesn’t stop there?” His expression grew a bit more avid. “What if I find an opportunity that takes me even further away? To, I don’t know, Seoul, or Sydney, or London?”
“There’re opportunities like that in the music world?”
“Sure. Touring musicians, for example. Or if I got into more serious songwriting, there are opportunities that way, too. I’m young, you know? I don’t have to set a course forever right now. I just know the general direction I want to go in and I’m going to trust I can find my way.”
Devon stepped onto the patio, sitting on the swing next to Carl. They rocked back and forth in silence as the music trailed from Carl’s guitar. “You have a lot of faith in the future,” Devon said.
“You don’t?”
“I don’t know. I just always felt like I needed to follow the right path. Whateverrightis, you know? Be a good older brother, be a good son and student, go to college, get a job to help pay for school. I just figured eventually I’d see some clear future for myself, but I really don’t. I thought I was weird for that—everyone else always seems to know what they want to do: become a doctor, a dancer, an actress. Like, even if their dreams are unlikely to come true, at least they have a dream. Hope, for instance, and her plan to get her engineering degree and work for the Tennessee Valley Authority. Like she has this clear vision.”
“She’s going to have the most boring life,” Carl said on a sigh. “I keep telling her to dream bigger, but she’s dead set on it. Which I guess I also admire. I just hope she doesn’t end up a frog in a well, you know? Trapped in a small world.”
“Hope likes small things,” Devon said. “She’ll be fine.”
Carl shrugged.
“But what I hear you saying is you don’t have a clear vision either. You’re winging it just like the rest of us. Just winging it in a different direction and down another path.”
