by Riley Hart
“You’re killing me, Trav. Do you know what hearing you say that does to me?”
Instead of replying, I cover his mouth with mine. Kiss the hell out of him before pulling away to grab a condom and lube from my bedside table.
I cover my aching dick and wonder what it would be like to sink inside him bare. To feel his tight, hot hole with nothing between us.
I squirt lube into my hand and stroke myself before putting more on his hole. I push a finger inside.
“Travis…” Gary says as his hands tangle in the blankets, as he arches toward me.
“Gonna fuck you good,” I tell him. “Gonna love you good.”
He opens his legs wider for me as I push at his hole with the head of my cock. I work my way inside him. I shudder and he quickly does the same. I feel so fucking raw in this moment. Like he can see everything inside of me.
We both let out a deep breath when I push all the way inside of him, but don’t move.
“Fuck me, Travis.”
“Tell me again.”
“I thought you were the one begging me?” he teases. I can’t hold back anymore. I pull almost all the way out and thrust forward again. I lean over him, kiss him as I rut into him.
I take him hard and fast, then soft and slow. “God damn this hole. So fucking addicted to it,” I tell him, my face in his neck as I thrust into him over and over.
His blunt nails dig into my ass, his quick, sharp breaths in my ear. I kiss my way down his neck, lift his arm and nuzzle my face in his pit.
I lick his collarbone. Bite his neck.
“Harder,” he tells me, so I take him harder. I spit in my hand and stroke his swollen dick. “Oh fuck. Right there. Christ, Travis, right there.” His cock spasms in my hand, his body arching off the bed as a rope of come spurts out of him, on his stomach and into my hand. I keep stroking, keep fucking as he shoots some more.
His hole tightens around my dick, and the build-up becomes too much, so I let loose. Bite into his neck again as I thrust through my orgasm, emptying my load into the condom.
Then I fall on top of him, pull out, but don’t have the strength to move.
We breathe together for a moment, reality making its way back into my world. “Thank you.”
“What are you thanking me for?” Gary asks.
“For having my back.” It didn’t escape my attention that he used the same words I thought. “For telling my parents I’m a good man.”
For the first time, it’s Gary tilting my head up so I’m looking at him. “You are. You’re not who I thought you would be, Travis. You’re so much more.”
I kiss him again, and it’s slow and exploratory. A kiss with emotion, something else I’ve only shared with him.
“I don’t trust very easily.”
He chuckles softly, his body vibrating against mine.
“Yeah…I guess that’s pretty obvious.”
“It makes sense that you don’t. The people who are supposed to love you the most have let you down. I won’t let you down, Travis. I promise. I won’t try to change you. You’re exactly who you’re supposed to be…who I’m falling for.”
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” I tell him, but the words don’t feel strong enough. Like the think doesn’t belong in there. Jesus, I’m shit at this.
“What did you say to me?” Gary asks, a tremble in his voice.
“I think I’m falling in love with you. I’m all twisted up when it comes to you.”
And then it’s Gary kissing me with so much fucking hunger and need. When he pulls away, he says, “I love you too. Just…don’t hurt me, Trav. I can’t handle you hurting me.”
I couldn’t live with that either.
“We’re getting entirely too sappy. Give me a minute to recoup and then I want to see Sex-Beast Gary. I need some more Superass before this night is over.”
And then we both dissolve into laughter, and I think if this is what being in a real relationship is, I should have gone in with him sooner.
33
Gary
We stand in line at the ticket booth for the production of Avenue Q that’s being put on at Boulder Crest Park. I hold Travis’s gym duffle bag, which has a blanket and some snacks in it. We saw the signs for the event on our jog through the park yesterday, and Travis mentioned it as a great opportunity to have our first actual date.
We’ve been on dates and spent plenty of nights together, but that was all before we talked about how we felt. It was to perpetuate the fake relationship we were trying to convince everyone of. Now, not only is it official, he fucking said he thinks he’s falling in love with me. And I love him.
I knew that’s what I was feeling all along. I didn’t want to use the word because it scared me. Because to call it that knowing he didn’t love me back—couldn’t love me back—would have been too painful.
But hearing those words coming from his mouth was magical.
Every bit of anger and frustration I carried with me from the party last Saturday dissolved in an instant. And the night we shared, kissing, caressing, loving…was amazing.
We’ve had an incredible week together, and I haven’t felt like I’ve had to hold anything back. I like getting cute texts from him while I’m at work. I enjoy waking up to him having his arm around me like I did that morning when he scared the crap out of me…and the morning when I was scared for an entirely different reason.
“You’re hot as hell in that shirt,” he says, standing behind me.
I went out with Hayden and Derek after work to H&M and picked out a blue polo. It’s a much brighter blue than I would have bought in the past, but when I tried it on, it was the first thing I’ve ever seen myself wearing that made me think, That’s me. And Hayden and Derek eagerly agreed.
“That’s the third time you’ve said that,” I say, recalling how his eyes lit up when he opened the door. Right before he attacked me with a kiss.
“And I’m gonna keep saying it until we get out of here so I can rip it off you.”
He wraps his arm around me and nuzzles his nose against the back of my neck.
I lean back against him. I could melt into him right now.
We get our tickets and head to an open area, finding a spot next to several other blankets where we’ll be able to get a good view of the stage.
“This was a perfect idea,” I say.
“Well, I know you love musicals,” he says. I turn to him and he winks.
I laugh as I recall the drunken night when I was singing Les Mis in the hall outside my place after we had dinner with Steven and Raymond.
We set up our blanket a few rows of people away from the stage before I get out some sandwiches I made before meeting up with him. Travis lounges on the blanket, clearly happy it’s Friday, and he doesn’t have to deal with any clients for the weekend.
I sit down beside him, and we remove the sandwiches from Ziploc bags before I pull out some bottled water I brought with us. Everyone around us is doing the same thing. Having some pre-show snacks. By the time we finish, the performers come onto the stage for a mic test, each singing something popular from the radio, getting the audience excited about the performance.
“These are good,” Travis says after he swallows a bite of his sandwich. “What are they?”
“Just ham, cheese, mustard, and mayonnaise. My personal favorite.”
“It’s really good,” he says before glancing around at all the other people here. “This is kinda cool. I didn’t realize they did this.”
“Neither did I. We’ll have to check and see if they’ll be doing any more plays this year.”
His gaze settles on a family a few rows in front of us.
An older woman sits on a lounge chair beside a young man who wears a rainbow wristband. She tells an older guy on a blanket next to them, “Oh, my son has been dying to see this show for a while now. He’s all over the theater department at his school. He’s the head of their LGBT Alliance group—”
“Mom…�
� her son says, dragging out the word in an annoyed tone.
“Let me brag on my boy,” she says.
She goes on, but I’m too focused on Travis to hear what she’s saying. I can tell, as he looks at them, he’s bothered by how at ease she obviously is about her son being gay.
“Must be nice,” he mutters. “To not be afraid of being judged. To be accepted. Encouraged, even.”
I’m thinking the same thing. I’m still stunned I could stand up to his parents last weekend. If someone had been shouting at me like that, I would have walked away. Wouldn’t have stood up for myself. But since it was Travis, I couldn’t stifle the impulse. I had to do something…because they didn’t have a right to make someone as incredible—as wonderful as Travis—feel like there was something wrong with him.
There’s nothing wrong with him. Even when I didn’t think he wanted me, I knew that. As I reflect on how Travis is with his parents, I’m reminded of what a wuss I am with mine.
When the show starts, our attention is pulled to the production. The first act is phenomenal with fantastic songs and hilarious one-liners. The actors are incredible, and I’m thinking we need to get a subscription to the local theater that puts on these productions. That would be a fun, datey thing to do. I like that I’m sitting here, appreciating the show, already planning out future dates with this awesome guy who I’m so fucking lucky to be with.
When intermission starts, I notice we’ve both finished off our bottles of water. I offer to get drinks from the concession stand, and Travis asks me to grab him a Twix while I’m there. I think I’m gonna have a snack too. We’ve both been really lax about eating. I’m comfortable with Travis, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d care if I gained weight. And I doubt him eating would do much more than help him pack on muscle.
After I grab a Twix, and a Butterfinger for me, I head back to our blanket when I hear, “Gary.”
An eerie sensation creeps up my spine as I tense up and turn to Peter, who approaches me a little too eagerly, a cocky smirk on his face.
“Where’s your new boy toy?” I ask. I feel unusually confident. Showing him how much I don’t need him at the fundraiser must be at least partly responsible for this feeling.
“Around,” he says. “I noticed you guys were a few blankets away from us, so I thought I’d swing by and say hey.”
“Well, hey.”
“And I kind of wanted to talk to you about something.” I can tell by the expression on his face that it’s not good news. I wonder if he’s heard something from Steven about the money he said he was considering investing in Travis’s business. Steven called Travis to tell him he had to go out of town for work and that he wants to chat with Travis as soon as he gets back. Travis thinks Steven might be blowing him off. I keep assuring him that’s not the case, but I’m nervous too. And I can’t help but wonder if maybe Peter heard something through the grapevine. “What is it?” I ask.
“It’s about your man. I know you don’t trust me for shit right now, so I’m just…give me a second.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and keys in his code. I notice a Grindr message on the screen before he closes the app and opens Facebook Messenger. He hands it to me.
“I don’t know what you think you’re about to show me,” I say, “but—”
“Just read it.”
It’s a message from some guy named Vincent Schwartz: Yeah, and that Travis guy that your ex Gary’s with sure never has a problem letting me suck him off. We have kind of an arrangement. Got me a real good massage today, if you know what I mean.”
My face flushes.
I check the date. It was sent to Peter yesterday.
We’ve only been together a week.
Could he really still be doing stuff with other guys? After we said we loved each other, we talked about being totally exclusive, but if this is true…I don’t even know what to think if this is true.
But why would this guy send Peter this message if it wasn’t?
It would be one thing if it was just Peter’s word…but this…
A tear stirs in my eye.
I turn slightly because I don’t want my d-bag ex to see me like this. He doesn’t get to see me cry like he did the night I confronted him about Evan—the night that I was so furious but the tears flowed even through my rage because of how much he wounded me.
I hand his phone back. “You can act like you’re helping me out all you want, but you don’t have any fucking good reason to have shown me that.”
“I’m doing you a favor,” he says.
“I bet. By the way, I saw your Grindr app on your phone. You might want to hide it better before someone tries to do Evan a favor. Fuck you, Peter.” I hardly get a chance to appreciate the guilty expression on his face as I storm off.
I head back to our blanket.
Travis is lying on his back, his elbows propping him up slightly.
“Hey, Superass,” he says with that cocky smirk on his face. “Where’s my chocolate? I gotta work on putting on some love weight.”
My hand shakes as I give him his Twix.
His expression shifts from playful to concerned.
I must be wearing my anxiety…my confusion…my disappointment.
I can hardly process it all.
He said he loved me, but I know how he is. Sex doesn’t mean anything to him. Maybe it’s back to what I’ve thought it was all along. He can’t do this…not like I need him to. Not without doing what he does best. But still…why did he fucking lie about it?
But it means nothing to him, so why would he lie? That doesn’t make any sense.
He hops up.
“Hey, hey,” he says moving close. “What’s wrong?”
I step away from him because I can’t be near him right now.
I put my hand in front of me. “Please, don’t come any closer,” I say.
I need a minute to think this through.
“Gare, talk to me.”
Oh my God, I’m gonna fucking cry like a baby.
“Do you know a guy named Vincent?” I ask.
“He’s a client, why?”
More evidence to confirm my suspicions.
“Do you guys have something going on?” I spit it out because I need an answer right now. Is my world totally about to fall apart? Or is it all a lie?
“Vincent?” The way he says it, it sounds like the most ridiculous thing in the world. Although when I accused Peter of fucking around with Evan, he was just as convincing—so convincing that if I hadn’t had the messages to prove he was lying, I might have believed him.
“Have you been hooking up with any of your clients…or anybody?”
“No!” he insists. “I haven’t even hooked up with anyone since we started pretending.”
The tears start rolling down my face.
“Where is this coming from?” he asks, approaching me again.
I step back some more.
“Peter—”
His jaw tightens at that. “Oh, Peter said something? Big fucking surprise there.”
“No. There was a message on his phone from Vincent who said you guys had some sort of arrangement…something involving blowjobs.”
He looks at me, stunned. Is it because I caught him?
I’m so fucking confused right now.
His gaze drifts down.
“So, that’s what you think of me? That I’m a liar? Another Peter screwing around behind your back?”
No, I don’t think that. But I need to hear you say it.
I can’t believe he would do this, but he could have, and this has activated all those insecurities that Peter left me with.
“I’m asking because I deserve to know the truth.”
“If you think that’s the kind of guy I am, then I don’t even know why we’re doing this.”
His words cut me deep.
“Vincent’s a fucking client who tried to make some moves on me. Yeah, it happens sometimes. And you know what, peopl
e talk all kinds of shit about their massage therapist to brag-it-up, but obviously that’s a problem for you. And if one fucking rumor is enough for you to question everything that we’ve had for the past few months…if that’s all it takes for you to want to run off, then I think I was fucking wrong about what was going on here.”
What’s happening right now? I went from thinking tonight was going to be this sweet, wonderful evening…and now it’s a nightmare.
“I think I should go,” he says.
He tosses his Twix onto the blanket and starts off.
“It’s probably better this way,” he mutters.
I turn toward the stage as Act II begins. It’s a loud musical number. Puppeteers rush onto the stage, hopping as they sing the next song. Travis and I should be laughing our asses off right now, but I sit on the blanket, the tears rolling down my face.
Is it over? It makes sense that he’d have clients like that, but he knows what happened with Peter. Didn’t I deserve an explanation? Don’t I at least deserve him staying and not walking away? He’s my boyfriend. He’s supposed to help me through my insecurity, not lose his shit over it. Travis of all people should have understood what I was going through after Peter showed me that.
At the same time, I’m relieved in a way. Seeing the text, even considering the possibility of Travis doing something like that, terrifies me. I don’t want to go through that again. I don’t want to trust someone, give them everything to find out it’s all a lie. What if I wake up again to discover he’s fallen for someone else? Someone more attractive. Someone younger. Someone more worthy of him than me.
Tonight needed to happen, I know that. Because considering Travis’s line of work and my history with Peter, it’ll always play on my mind. I’ll constantly be wondering if he’s really going to see a client or if he’s fucking some guy behind my back.
Do I want to open my heart to someone else so I can spend my life wondering if he’s going to break it?
34
Travis
Sweat runs down my forehead, stinging my eyes, but I keep going, keep pushing past the burning, not only there but traveling through my muscles as well.