Page 42 of Golden

“Where’s my pic?”

Wes’ voice is low, and the sound of music and voices in the background is muted. He must have stepped out of whatever club he’s in, or perhaps he’s in the bathroom.

I chuckle, lying back down on my bed. “I’m not sending you a dick pic.”

“What if I said please?”

My grin widens, and I close my eyes, my hand drifting back to my dick, still hard against my abs. “Not even if you begged.”

“I think I’d like it better if you were the one begging.”

Fuck. He’s not slurring, so he can’t be as drunk as I first thought, but there’s a looseness to his words that tells me he’s far from sober.

“If my memory serves me right, it was you on your knees,” I say, my breath hitching as I work myself with firm strokes.

“Fuck, Sol,” Wes hisses. “Do you have your dick in your hand right now?”

My skin heats, but I can’t stop. My brain is frozen in a loop of memories of Wes, heightened by the sound of his voice, his breathing against my ear. Water trickling over his muscled body at the pool, the feel of his hand wrapped lightly around my throat, the taste of his mouth, his smell . . . Not to mention how his lips and tongue felt around my dick.Fuck. My breathing grows heavy.

Wes groans. “Does it feel good?”

I close my eyes, imagining that he’s lying next to me instead of some club two hundred miles away—that it’s his hand instead of mine bringing me closer to the edge.

“Yes,” I gasp, my hips thrusting up into my fist. “So, fucking good.”

Wes’ breathing changes and I wonder if he’s touching himself, too, but before I can ask, my balls tighten, and pleasure flickers up my spine as I shoot all over my stomach with a gasp.

“Fuck. Wes,” I pant.

“Text me when you’re back on campus,” he says. “Sweet dreams, Sol.”

And then he’s gone.

For a minute, I lie there, trying to get my brain back online. Did I just jerk off with Wes on the phone? Yes. Yes, I did. Grinning to myself, I slide out of bed and head to the bathroom to clean up. The last time he told me to come and find him, I chickened out. This time, he’d better be ready, because I’m done hiding from whatever this is. Maybe I’ll freak out if we take things further, but I won’t know unless I try. I’ve watched a bit of gay porn over the holidays, for informational purposes, of course, and although I enjoyed it more than I thought I would, I’m still a bit terrified at the thought of going there myself.

The good thing is, if I freak out, I don’t think Wes would make me feel bad about it. But that’s what he’s worried about, isn’t it? From what I’ve heard, he’s been out for a long time, so he’s probably super experienced. He probably just wants to get laid, not take things at a high school virgin pace.

Slipping back under the covers, I turn off my lamp and take a deep breath, trying to loosen the knot that’s formed in the center of my chest. Any relaxing aftereffects of my orgasm have fucked off into the night, and I’m left staring at the ceiling. I always forget how quiet it is back at home. We’re in a small neighborhood with lots of space between houses and, with the snow and the late hour, there are no cars on the road. At the Den, you can almost always hear people moving around.

When my phone vibrates on my nightstand, I jump out of my skin, reaching blindly for it in the dark.

Wes:Don’t chicken out this time.

I snort, shaking my head as I type out a reply.

Me:I won’t

He reads it, but when he doesn’t start to reply, I lock my phone and put it back on the nightstand. This time, however, when I settle back onto my pillow, it’s with a smile on my face, and sleep comes easy.

WES

Other than a ‘happy new year’ text, I haven’t heard from Sol since I listened to him get off over the phone. Not that there’s time to linger on that fact. I arrived back on campus Sunday night and swim practice resumed this morning. I definitely didn’t spend most of my laps wondering whether he’d chickened out despite his promise.

There’s a chance he’s not back yet, or he got back late last night, like me. The thought that there might be a text from Sol waiting on my phone when I reach the locker room makes my laps a little sloppy and I get chewed out by Coach and given twenty extra. I swim them cursing his name every time I come up for air.

“You okay?” Aldo asks when I finally stomp my way into the locker room. “Winter break do a number on you?”

I snort. “Just got a lot of shit on my mind.”

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