by Jen Davis
“Oh, doll, are you telling me you’ve never been with a man at all?”
He shook his head.
“Are you bi?”
“I don’t think so. Honest to God, I didn’t think I was anything before we got together. I mean, I tried to want people. Women. Men. It didn’t matter. No one did it for me. Not until Robby. Now, here I am, totally crazy about him, terrified about whatever comes next, and even more terrified I might lose him and go back to feeling nothing.”
Holy hell, had he really just spilled his guts to a stranger?
Sara looked unfazed. “You’re in the right place, baby. And you’re not the first person to need an emotional connection with somebody before they can flick your Bic. Hold on.”
She rose to her feet with the grace of a prima ballerina and crossed the room, then returned with a few printed sheets in her hand. “Take this home and read it. There is a whole spectrum of sexuality in the wide world. Yours is just one stop on the ride, and it’s just as valid as anyone else’s.”
He glanced down at the article in the printout titled Asexuality, Attraction, and Romantic Orientation from the LGBT Center at UNC-Chapel Hill. Several different categories were listed underneath.
“The labels aren’t really important, but I think when you read the article, you might see something of yourself in there.”
He folded the paper and slipped it into his back pocket. “Thanks.”
“I’m glad Robby’s found someone like you. Someone to care about him more than they want to fuck him.” She batted her false eyelashes. “Pardon my French.”
Did she know things about Robby he didn’t?
Something about Sara told him she probably knew a lot about everything. “I think you more than made up for it giving me all this homework to look over.”
“You ready to go?” Robby called out from the front door.
He tipped an imaginary hat to Sara, and she waved her index finger in farewell. “It was a pleasure, Miss Sara.”
“Oh, honey, a pretty face like yours? The pleasure was all mine.”
Chapter TWENTY
Robby
The Cooper sponsorship got the green light. As Amanda had delivered the news yesterday, Robby had picked her up and spun her around, prompting Kane to start beating his chest and spouting off about crushing the baby. Paul had signed the lease agreement, and now his husband Chris was here at the center, shooting interviews and video for the website they were working on.
The entire project was coming together in just a matter of days. And to think, it had all sprung from his imagination.
Since he’d been here this morning, Chris had interviewed Sara, Vin, and one of the girls Robby didn’t know very well yet. Chris wanted to put real faces on the project. Make it relatable, make people care.
Most of the regulars made it a point to be here to support the center, even if not everyone felt comfortable putting their life stories on display. They sat in groups of three or four on the various sofas, and a few gathered around the big table, laughing and shooting the breeze.
“Has anyone seen Brady?” Vin raised his voice over the low din.
Robby surveyed the room, but he only saw other people doing the same or shaking their heads. Come to think about it, he’d only seen Brady at the center the day they met, and the guy hadn’t shared his story. He resolved to track him down. The idea of the young man returning to the back room at Nitro chilled him to the bone.
Chris beckoned him over.
He walked back to Sara’s room where Chris had been conducting interviews. “Have you got everything you need?”
Chris lifted a hanging microphone attached to a long pole and braced it on his shoulder. “The only person left to interview is you.”
Gaping like a fish, Robby took a step back. “I—I’m sorry, Chris. I can’t talk about the things I’ve shared with the group. Not publicly.” The air in the room felt thinner. He couldn’t breathe right. “I want to help, but my dark days are not—I can’t—"
“Whoa. Slow down.” Chris lowered the microphone and set it on the twin bed against the wall. “You do not have to talk about anything you’re uncomfortable with.”
No. No. No.
A sea of faces flashed through his memories. The men at the shelter. Tex. Harry. Dozens of faces and he couldn’t remember all their names. Some of their names he never knew at all.
He couldn’t even face some of the things he’d done when he looked in the mirror, much less in the lens of a camera. The ground seemed to tilt beneath his feet.
“—just calm down. Breathe.” Chris gripped his shoulder, the pressure grounding him as he lowered himself to the bed. “Robby. I wanted to interview you as a mentor and a volunteer, not as…not to ask you to relive your past.”
Squeezing his eyes closed, he swallowed against the lump in his throat, then sucked in a wheezing breath through his mouth. Then another. Lights flashed behind his closed lids.
When the world stopped spinning, and the urge to scream finally fled, he pried his eyes open. Black spots danced across his vision before the room came into focus. He almost wished it didn’t.
All the young men and women who had been talking and laughing in the main room now crowded in and around the threshold of the bedroom. Their concern, pity, and fear crashed over him.
Then, thankfully, he couldn’t see them anymore. Sara knelt in front of him, her face obscuring everyone else from view. She pressed a water bottle into his hand. “Drink.”
Robby didn’t think; he just obeyed. The cold water made it easier to swallow and helped restore his calm.
Smile. Make everyone feel better.
He got so far as lifting one corner of his mouth before he realized he didn’t have to. They didn’t need him to be sweet. They needed him to be real.
Holding Sara’s gaze, he released the attempt at a smile and nodded once instead. “Thank you.”
Standing, she melted back into the crowd.
“I didn’t mean to scare you guys, but I guess if anyone could understand getting triggered with something like this, it would be you.”
“I don’t.” A tiny girl, five-foot-nothing in her shiny Doc Martens, shouldered to the front. Curly dyed red hair, the kind from a salon, not a bottle. She wore jeans, a graphic T-shirt, which screamed Hot Topic, and a bohemian rainbow braided bracelet.
Meggie. She was earning service hours here for her high school beta club.
“Of course you don’t get it, princess.” One of the guys from the back. “You’re only here to earn a badge for your Girl Scout troop.”
She crossed her arms at the waist. “Screw you,” she muttered. “I’ve got as much right to be here as anyone. Or does the B in LGBT not count anymore? Are you saying bisexuals aren’t gay enough for you?”
“No.” The young man, a teenager with a shaved head and long blond bangs, stomped forward. “I don’t care who you want to French kiss on your mama’s sofa. You don’t belong here because you don’t need this place. You live in Johns Creek and drove here in a shiny new Kia you probably got for your sixteenth birthday.”
“I’m sorry. I missed the sign on the door saying exactly which queer people are allowed. News flash, Pete, a happy home life doesn’t exclude me from the gay experience. We’re not all the same. Or assholes.”
“Okay.” Robby held up a hand. “Let’s take it down a notch. I’m glad you’re here, Meggie, and I’m even happier your home life is a good one. Anyone who wants to be here is welcome. I think it’s just hard not to envy what you have.”
He sent a meaningful look toward Pete, who grunted and stepped back.
“For most of the people here, the center is the only safe space they have. At your age, I didn’t have one at all. I don’t think back on those years very much because…it hurts. And when I thought Chris wanted me to rehash it all, I freaked out.” He shrugged.
Meggie released the hold she had on her arms, allowing them to drop, then clasped her hands loosely in front of her.
“I know how good I have it. It’s the reason I volunteer. It’s why I organized the clothing drive at my school. I wanted to give back. It feels good.” She shot a sour look in Pete’s direction. “Most of the time.”
“It feels good for me most of the time too.” Leave it to a sixteen-year-old girl to drill this whole experience down to its simplest terms. “I grew up happy. It was a small-town life…a little place called Sherman. And my mom, gosh, she loved us all so much. Thanked God for us every day. I heard her do it. I felt safe and secure and loved.”
“Until you came out.”
“Heh, well, I didn’t come out so much as get outed, kissing in the barn with one of my brother Travis’s friends. And my father kicked me out of the house and out of the family without even giving me the chance to pack a bag. Good old Ephraim Jordan, judge, jury, and executioner. But he was just a product of his environment. I thought Sherman was the problem, a tiny town stuck in the 1950s. So I came to the big city. It was different, all right.”
He hummed to fill the brief silence. “I fell asleep on a bench outside the library in Sherman once. Woke up, like, an hour later. No one bothered me. I was safe, and it never occurred to me it would be any other way. When I got here, I was so sure I would find this amazing melting pot and people who would understand and accept me, I never stopped to think about the more fundamental ways it would change my life. Change me.”
The rest of the room listened in respectful silence. No one so much as shuffled their feet as he talked.
“I wish I could forget it all. But if I can take what my experiences have taught me and use them to keep even one of you from sinking as low as I did, it’s worth it to remember.”
From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Chris moving his mic, leaning the long stick against the wall. “You were perfect, man. I’ve got everything I need.”
“Were you—filming me?” He hadn’t thought of the video at all once he started talking to Meggie.
“Mmm hmm. You can watch it back if you want. I won’t use anything you don’t feel right sharing, but the stuff you were saying right there…how your life called you to this place to help other people…powerful stuff.”
He didn’t need to think it over. “Use it. If you think it will help with the outreach, use it all.” As he stood, he felt at least a foot taller.
The crowd parted as he left the room, head held high. Maybe he made a difference for someone with the stories he shared. But the best thing that came from all this: he’d faced some of demons and came through to the other side.
The past couldn’t hurt him anymore. Only an amazing future stretched in front of him. Real friends, a chosen family, and an incredible man who just might give his hopeful heart a home.
He texted Matt to meet him at the apartment after his shift at the bar, and by the time Robby had showered and changed, the doorbell rang.
The man on the other side of the threshold took his breath away. A pair of black slacks hugged Matt’s lower half in all the right places, and a red, soft cotton button-down contrasted beautifully with his rich, dark skin. He held a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
Robby tugged him inside, heart beating a riot in his chest. This gorgeous, delicious man was his. And maybe he couldn’t keep him forever—no one stayed forever—but he would keep him as long as the good Lord let him.
“What are you grinning at?” Matt gave him the side eye. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen that look on your face before.”
“This face?” He spun his finger in a small circle around his mouth. “This face says I am looking at the finest man I’ve ever contemplated kissing.”
Matt brushed the flowers over his cheek. “If you’re still thinking about it, I must be doing this wrong.”
An invitation if Robby ever heard one. He palmed both sides of Matt’s face and drew him forward until their mouths met.
The flowers fell to the floor.
Somehow, they skipped all the niceties, the soft, closed-mouth kisses, the tentative touch of tongues. No, this kiss shot from one to one hundred in less time than it took Matt to drop the bouquet. Their bodies locked together at the mouth in a wet, hot exploration, which shot Robby’s body temperature through the roof. And he welcomed the burn.
Sliding his hands down to grip Matt’s arms, he stepped backward, pulling them toward his bedroom. They didn’t break the kiss. It went on and on, growing bolder and more aggressive with each stroke.
“Clothes off.” He could barely grit out the words. His higher functions threatened to abandon him entirely as the back of his knees came in contact with the bed, and he yanked open Matt’s shirt before it was completely untucked from his pants. A half dozen buttons scattered across the floor.
Matt sucked in a breath, and it shuddered back out as Robby latched his mouth to one of his nipples. His fingers lightly pinched at the other, and both stiffened beneath the attention. With his other hand, he cupped the erection tenting Matt’s pants, and a groan rumbled from the perfect, muscled chest in front of him.
“Tell me.” He squeezed at the thick length in his hand. “Tell me you want this.”
“Yes.” Matt panted. “Give me everything. Show me how.”
With nimble fingers, Robby unfastened Matt’s pants and freed his cock from the confines of his black boxer-briefs. Lord above, the man’s body was perfect.
“Do you trust me?” Robby whispered, his grip firm and sure.
Matt wrapped his own hand around Robby’s, both of them now circling Matt’s erection. “Body and soul.”
Oh yeah. Matt was in for the ride of his life.
Chapter TWENTY-ONE
Matt
“Finish stripping down and lay on the bed.” The lust in Robby’s eyes hit Matt like a drug.
He almost swayed on his feet. “Let me see you first.” He reached to untuck Robby’s shirt, but before he could grip the fabric, his quarry had moved out of reach.
Something passed over Robby’s face he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It only lasted a moment before Robby slipped further away to close the door and block out the living room light. It left the bedroom drenched in grey shadows.
“You can look another night,” Robby rumbled. “Tonight is all about feeling.”
“But I—”
Robby’s silhouette surged closer. “You said you trusted me.” Movement, then the gentle rustle of clothes falling to the floor.
Warm skin caressed his own as he felt Robby’s bare chest rub against him for the first time. A delicate brush of fingers played across his cheek, followed by the ghost of a kiss. “Get on the bed, love.” The gritty urgency in Robby’s voice gave way to something gentle and coaxing. “We’ll start with a massage and go from there.”
He didn’t argue. Robby clearly knew what he was doing in the bedroom; where he led, Matt would follow.
Besides, a massage would put Robby’s hands all over his body. Matt crawled on the bed and settled on his stomach. The rasp of a zipper and some rustling in the nightstand filled the long thirty seconds before Robby joined him.
The weight of the other man’s body rested on his back. “I’ll stop anytime you want.” Robby’s hot breath in his ear broke out his skin in goose bumps.
Then, the press against him vanished, taking the heat of another body along with it. But a heartbeat later, warm liquid drizzled over his back and strong, sure fingers began kneading his skin.
Robby focused first on the expanse between his shoulder blades, his thumbs rubbing the slick oil into the spaces on either side of his spine. “Don’t think. Just feel.” For a time, one thumb would circle harder, then the other would take the lead.
He didn’t think anything could feel better, until Robby put down the heels of his hands. They made brief circles over the area where he’d concentrated first, before sliding down along the columns of his back. Up and down, the glorious pressure moved, the muscles relaxing further with each pass.
Every so often, Robby would drizzle more of the oil o
nto his skin, the wetness dripping a little lower each time to smooth his path. He attended Matt’s lower back for a while, mostly with the flats of his hands, before sweeping down to the globes of his ass.
Even the muscles there must’ve carried some tension because as Robby’s capable fingers smoothed and slathered over, they loosened beneath his touch.
He was boneless by the time the oil dribbled into the valley at the center. A little anxiety spiked as Robby’s thumbs teased the seam between his cheeks for the first time, but just as quickly, his hands moved away. Then slid back. It felt…good.
Without even thinking, he widened the spread of his legs to give better access. Robby rewarded him with another swipe of his thumbs. Then, more oil. Then, all his attention trained on one spot.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t the slow, deliberate exploration of Robby’s questing fingers. At first, they just rubbed over his asshole. Slipping, sliding.
What would it feel like to have something inside him? The question that had made him so anxious before only titillated him now. He lifted his backside, just a little, and the tip of Robby’s finger breached his hole.
Why wasn’t he pushing in deeper?
He lifted his ass more, but Robby slapped his rear. “Stop trying to top from the bottom.”
He relaxed back into the mattress, and more oil slipped between his cheeks. Robby’s middle finger pushed a little bit deeper, then retreated. Pushed deeper again, repeating the motion over and over until his finger was completely seated.
God, he wanted to move. He’d been worried about this? Hell, if people knew it felt this good, no one would ever leave home.
Robby fingered him in earnest for a minute, maybe two, before withdrawing entirely. “I’m adding another finger,” he murmured. “You think you can take it?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes.”
Robby chuckled and gave him what he craved.
This time, he felt the stretch, but his lover advanced as carefully as before. He moaned softly as the two fingers pumped inside of him and eventually moved apart, widening his hole even more.