by Felix Brooks
“I don’t want it to be.” Brent leaned in for a chaste kiss, and Waseem’s lips felt so soft as they brushed tenderly against his. When Waseem pulled away, a stabbing pain lodged in Brent’s chest.
His throat hurt, like when he was a kid and wanted to cry. He hated to let Waseem go, but he knew there was no point in arguing. Waseem was a stand-up guy. He wouldn’t be talked into spending the night, no matter what Brent said.
Waseem rose. “I’m not going to pressure you. The ball’s in your court. If you want me, you know where to find me.”
Brent beamed at him. “Try to keep me away.”
Waseem gave Brent a smile and a wave before leaving. It was cute as fuck. That combination of raw strength and vulnerability made Brent so hard he could barely walk in his tight jeans.
In the empty apartment, he unzipped his fly to get some relief. He ached everywhere, sadder than he’d ever been, but happier, too. Waseem was the nicest guy Brent had ever known. The two were friends, and now they could be more than that. He could have his first real adult relationship. Maybe even fall in love.
All his confusion about his sexuality evaporated. He was confronting a whole host of other problems, though—specifically that his parents would never accept his orientation. But no rule said he had to tell them.
He didn’t know what it would mean for him, living in the closet. But he didn’t have to figure that out tonight. For now, he was just happy to have an answer to the doubts that had tormented him.
Turning off the lights, he headed for the bedroom. His steps were light as he thought about Waseem. The queen-sized bed in the furnished apartment had been wasted on him until now. What would it feel like to have Waseem in his bed, kissing like they were on the couch? Did he want that?
The throbbing in his dick told him he did.
He got ready for bed and slid under the covers. He thought about various guys on the football team, guys he’d seen naked a hundred times, and his body reacted to none of them. Same as usual. But when he thought about Waseem…it was like someone set fire to his cock. The ache was unbearable.
He squeezed lotion onto his palm and wrapped his hand around his dick, hissing at the wanton need of it. What would it be like if it were Waseem’s hand on him? He wanted it, wanted the guy to touch him, wanted the guy’s mouth on him.
Hell if that wasn’t hot. The image in his mind of Waseem between his knees, gliding that sweet tongue over Brent’s length, sucking until his cheeks hollowed. The action of his hand sped up.
And returning the favor. Could Brent do that? Take Waseem in his mouth and swallow him down? He groaned at the thought of Waseem’s fat dick thrusting into him, giving him as much as he could take.
That sent him over the edge, and he whimpered at the loss. The fantasies of Waseem fled, and Brent felt cold and alone. He cleaned up the spunk from his stomach and tossed the tissues into the trash. He turned onto his side and tried to sleep.
Brent had never known until that moment how lonely he was, how his body craved the nourishment of intimate contact. He needed touch, something he’d been denied for too long. Waseem’s touch.
He fumbled for his phone, wanting to text Waseem, to bring back some remnant of the closeness he had felt earlier. But the phone was out of reach, and he could barely keep his eyes open. Tomorrow. He would text him tomorrow. Right now…sleep.
Chapter 7
Waseem closed the door to his dorm room and leaned back against it. The memory hit him full force again. Holy shit. Was that for real?
He’d gone for a long walk around campus, trying to understand. Brent was possibly gay, and definitely not straight. Waseem’s world shifted a little. The reality of it was difficult to comprehend, but he was working on it.
Brent had kissed him. And it had been so tentative, so sweet, almost like it was his first time. First time. Hell, the guy was a virgin! Waseem had not seen that coming.
Now that he thought about it, Brent did have a certain innocence about him. Waseem had assumed that it came from his conservative background. Which it did, sort of. But Waseem had never imagined this.
Brent was never attracted to his girlfriend. They didn’t have sex the whole time they were together. He wants to be with me.
Waseem danced around his room like a dumbass, happier than maybe he’d ever been. He shouldn’t get his hopes up, because once Brent had a chance to sleep on it, he might change his mind. Guys with his background sometimes went through their whole lives never coming to terms with their sexuality.
Waseem couldn’t see Brent doing that, though. He had an open mind and didn’t share his parents’ values. Hell, his best friend was Paige, and she was a free spirit if Waseem had ever met one.
But if Brent’s parents were assholes, he might have to stay in the closet until he graduated from college and was financially independent. But that would only be another year. Waseem could live with that.
He dressed for bed. Excited as he was, he had a hard time falling asleep. This time, though, when he woke up from dreaming of Brent, the happiness lingered.
As his alarm sounded and the first rays of sun penetrated the window, Waseem checked his phone. No text from Brent. That was okay—it was early. But he had meant what he said. He wouldn’t be in Brent’s face about it. Brent would have to make the next move.
He met up with his friends at the track for their morning run, his chest light at the prospect of seeing Brent there. But when Niels approached with Claire, Waseem’s stomach fell. “Brent’s not with you?”
“Texted him. No answer.”
Waseem nodded. “I’m not surprised,” he said, trying to convince himself. “He was drinking pretty late last night.”
Emmett shook his head. “If he wants to be a pro athlete, he’s going to have to show more discipline than that.”
Waseem snapped. He’d had enough of Emmett’s judgmental bullshit. “Maybe he’s dealing with something you know nothing about.”
Emmett’s eyes widened. “Okay.” Everyone else just stared. Waseem never got angry, and especially at Emmett.
“Let’s just go.” Waseem started running. He went full-bore, like he had a football in his hand and tackles coming at him from every direction. But his thoughts kept dogging him. Maybe Brent didn’t want to see him.
Waseem had been through it before, guys who were ashamed of what they were. The next day, they’d act like Waseem seduced them into doing something they didn’t want, when they’d been the ones who’d approached him. They couldn’t deal with their own shit, so they slung it at someone else.
But he’d never cared about any of those guys. Brent was different. Waseem couldn’t stand it if that happened with Brent. Fear and sadness built inside him, and all he could do was run.
Waseem had been the fastest man on the team—none of the other guys could catch him, not until he ran out of steam. So he kept pushing to see how far he could go. Maybe if he focused on the pain in his body he could forget the wrenching in his heart.
Finally he reached his limit and slowed into a jog to catch his breath. Jake fell into step next to him. “You okay?”
It took a moment before Waseem could talk. “Yeah.”
“Something happen with Brent?”
“I can’t talk about it.” Waseem itched to tell Jake what had happened, but it wasn’t his secret to tell. Brent wasn’t out.
The memory of that kiss made it difficult to think about anything else. Brent was so needy. The guy had held onto him, pressed against him like he was starving for contact. Waseem wanted to give that to him.
But now it looked like he might not get the chance.
Or maybe the guy had just overslept. That was a reasonable possibility. Waseem was jumping to conclusions with no evidence. He wanted this so bad, in a way he’d never wanted anything, and all these emotions were confusing the fuck out of him.
They ran for a while without speaking. Waseem liked that Jake didn’t need to fill the silence. The companionship bolstered Waseem,
got him out of his head. No reason to think the worst. Brent needed Waseem’s patience, and he might as well start now.
“You and Emmett,” Waseem said, “you’re solid, right?”
“If we weren’t, I wouldn’t be planning to go to Berkeley. Long-distance will be hard. We’ll have to be completely committed.”
“But a few months ago, it didn’t seem like that would happen.” Before coming out, Emmett had struggled with being a bisexual athlete and the discrimination he would face.
“Are you going somewhere with this?” Jake asked.
“Like I said, I can’t talk about it.”
“In that case, I hope it works out for you. If anyone deserves love in their life, it’s you.”
Waseem hadn’t been much interested in love until now. He was young and liked keeping his options open. He had dated some attractive guys, but none more so than Brent.
Those soft brown eyes had looked at Waseem with a hunger that had filled him with want. Even the memory of it made him shiver. He thought about that strong, sculpted body, perfect in every way, and heat pooled in his groin.
After the run, the group went for breakfast. Still no Brent. Then, Waseem remembered Brent saying he liked to cook on the weekends. Was that why he hadn’t showed up?
It would be nice to wake up with Brent and have breakfast in his apartment, just the two of them. Waseem felt warm inside imagining the comfortable domesticity. But it was up to Brent. Waseem would give him whatever space he needed to work things out for himself.
After breakfast, Waseem walked back to his room in the weak February sunshine, and he finally got a text from Brent. His heart thrilled as he opened it.
Can we talk?
Waseem answered, Sure.
Your place in an hour?
OK.
He got to his room, stripped down, wrapped a towel around his waist, and headed to the showers. He tried not to let himself hope too hard. Brent might insist that he wasn’t gay, and that last night was a mistake. Waseem would have to live with that. It would be difficult, but he would do it.
Dressing in jeans and a heather-gray knit shirt, Waseem focused his thoughts on what he wanted. Brent was bound to be a bit confused, so it was important that Waseem’s emotions stay under control.
It didn’t take much for Waseem to conclude he wanted to date Brent exclusively. If Brent wasn’t ready to go public, Waseem could live with that. He’d take things as slowly as Brent wanted. It would probably drive him crazy, but he didn’t want to pressure Brent in any way. Brent meant more to him than sex.
And if Brent just wanted to be friends, Waseem would have to accept it.
Chapter 8
Brent looked over at Jake, who was seated on the bed in his dorm room while Brent occupied the desk chair. The cute little blond was dressed in a blue Oxford shirt and khaki pants. Brent wanted to talk to Waseem, but there were some things Brent needed to understand first.
“You and Waseem worked at the LGBT center together, right?”
Jake nodded. “We were both in the peer counseling program.”
Brent rubbed the heels of his hands together, not sure he wanted to give away too much. “And, um, were you trained about asexuality?”
“We were trained on it, but I was never approached by any ace people—”
“I’m ace.” Wow, that felt good. He had thought it would be horrible, but instead, it was a relief to let it out.
Jake gripped Brent’s shoulder. “How can I help?”
Brent explained about his situation with Karen. “The whole time I thought I was being a respectful boyfriend, she felt undesired. I didn’t know anything was wrong or different about us.”
His eyes rested on the ceramics sitting on top of Jake’s dresser. Pots sported brightly colored geometric designs against a black background. They were orderly and symmetrical, yet cheerful and fun at the same time. They helped soothe the chaos in Brent’s head.
“In retrospect,” he said, “Maybe I should have recognized sooner that I was ace. The symptoms were there. Like, porn never turned me on—but I was taught that it was evil. A lack of sexual attraction seemed like a good thing to me. And I do have a sex drive. It’s just not directed toward another person. At least it hasn’t been, until now.”
“So, what kind of new feelings are you experiencing, if you feel comfortable talking about that?”
“I want to strip Waseem naked and do unspeakable things to his body.”
Jake chuckled. “Okay, that’s pretty specific. And pretty strong, for someone who’s never experienced attraction before. Could you be demisexual?”
Brent stared. “The online quizzes said I was gray ace. But that was before I realized I was attracted to Waseem.” Brent absorbed the new information. “Demi means, like, you have to be in a relationship or something?”
“Right. It means you only feel attraction for someone after you’ve developed an emotional bond.”
Brent’s mind turned, and his heart felt a spark of recognition. That was exactly what had happened with Waseem. No one else had inspired his interest before, at least nothing like this overwhelming desire. “It’s possible.”
“In that case, maybe you should talk to one of the counselors at the LGBT center. I’m a little rusty, and this isn’t something I’ve ever dealt with. I mean, I’ll be happy to talk to you about it as a friend. I’m not sure I can give good advice, but I’m always happy to listen.”
“Yeah, thanks. You’re a good guy, Jake.”
Brent gazed out the window into the gray winter sky. Despite the lack of sunshine, pink okame cherries were coming into bloom.
“Do you think Waseem would understand?” Brent asked.
“About you being demi, or you being interested in him?”
“The demi part.”
“Sure, he had the same training I did. But Brent, look. Waseem…dates, a lot. I know he cares about you. But these feelings are super new to you, and I’d hate to see you get your heart broken. Take it one step at a time.”
***
Waseem’s door was open when Brent got there. He knocked and entered, shutting the door behind him for privacy. Waseem rose and slipped his hands into his back pockets. “Hey.”
That wasn’t the greeting Brent was expecting. He thought Waseem would hug him or something. Was he having second thoughts? “I hope it’s okay for me to come over.”
Waseem looked at him intently. “Of course. I’ve been worried about you. Sleep okay?”
“Yeah, slept fine. Even though I’ve got a lot of questions and not a lot of answers.” Brent relaxed a little. Waseem’s eyes were warm and bright. The magnetic pull between them had returned. “The big question is answered now. I’m gay.”
Waseem nodded slowly. The focused look in his eyes faded. “I’ll support you whatever you decide. You want to stay friends, I’ll accept that.” He sucked in his cheeks and seemed to gnaw at them. “But if you want to be more, I’m definitely up for that.” His face reddened at the double entendre. “I realize this must be confusing to you. Let me know how I can help.”
Brent cleared his throat. “I was raised to think sex was bad. By my parents, the church…” He rubbed his hands over his thighs. “When you look at me, I feel warm all over. And last night, when we kissed, it felt good. Like, really fucking good. I wish I could ignore what the rest of the world thinks. I want to be with you, Waseem. But I can’t deny that there are obstacles.”
Waseem’s comforting arms encircled him, and Brent held onto him tight. “I was just talking to Jake,” Brent said, “hoping he could help me get stuff sorted out in my head. He said I might be demisexual, which would explain why I didn’t know I was gay before. This is the first time I’ve been attracted to a man.” Brent pulled back. “My parents—I don’t know what to do. I can’t stay in the closet forever. They won’t accept this.”
“If it helps, I thought the same thing about my parents. They surprised me, though. They researched different interpretations of t
he Qur’an and the Hadith, and their ideas evolved. It wasn’t easy for them, but they love me. They’ve come to accept that this is who I am, and I can’t change it.”
Brent shook his head. “I don’t know. My parents are really strict. Last night…kissing you…I liked that. But this is a big change. As of right now, I’m a closeted gay man.” Emotion gathered in his throat, and he blinked a few times. “I don’t know how to begin to navigate that. And I can’t start dating men until I figure it out.”
Waseem’s whole body seemed to deflate. “Yeah, I get that. If you need time, I can be patient. Just, you should know—I’m interested. You’re the only one I want to be with.”
Brent stared, joy flooding his chest. “You’re saying you’ll wait for me?”
Waseem’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I guess I am.”
“I can’t really ask you—”
“You’re not asking. I wouldn’t feel right any other way.”
Brent took his hands. This was happening so suddenly, yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world. It seemed almost like a miracle that Waseem wanted him as much as Brent wanted Waseem.
He looked around the room at the plaques and trophies that seemed to go back to middle school—and at the framed and matted photo on the wall that read “Camp Little Creek,” covered with children’s signatures. Brent guessed that Waseem had been a camp counselor. He was such a fun-loving, patient guy—he’d be great with kids.
Brent appreciated Waseem’s patience now, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. You’re amazing.”
“Not really. I want this, Brent. If and when you’re ready, I want it.”
Brent rested his head on Waseem’s shoulder. “I want it, too. I’ve got so much stuff to work out…”
Waseem ran his fingers through Brent’s hair, his touch soothing. “It’s okay. Whatever I can do to help, let me know.” He kissed Brent’s forehead.
“You smell really good.” Shampoo and spice. Brent could live in that scent forever. “I should go before I kiss you again.”