“Why are you suddenly so interested in changing that, then?” I ask.
“People don’t want to sleep with somebody this inexperienced,” he says. “They want somebody who knows what they’re doing, and I don’t. The way I see it, you’ll be doing a public service. Based on the distinct lack of naked people in my life, I might not even recognize somebody else’s cock. Think about it, if you let me go into the world with the knowledge I have right now, I might go in for a blowjob and start to lick somebody’s elbow or something.”
“That sounds like a problem a few sex ed classes might solve. Or biology,” I joke weakly. I go hot all over at the casual mention of blowjobs and cocks. My own cock is trying to make itself known in a very obvious way, but I’m a good friend, so I ignore it.
“Believe me, I’m familiar with the theoretical part. In fact, I watched a documentary just the other day.” He thinks about it for a moment. “Or should porn be considered a mockumentary?” he asks with a thoughtful frown.
I slam my hands into my pockets to try and conceal my very obvious erection because the thought of Andy watching porn is a mental image that makes me want to forget everything, and just attack Andy right here and now. Fuck the tourists, they can walk around us. Or stand and watch. I don’t give a shit.
Unlike Andy, per his own words, I’m good at the practical part. There have been many compliments given over the years, five-star ratings and glowing reviews all around, if you will, so we would complement each other nicely. But that line of thinking must stop immediately.
Do it! Do it! My insides chant, not giving a shit about being a decent friend, and my dick is begging me to grab this opportunity and run with it.
Andy takes a step toward me, and fuck me, he glances down and smirks, a knowing look in his eyes as his gaze collides with mine. This whole conversation has been about teaching Andy about sex, but to be honest, he doesn’t exactly behave like a blushing virgin. The part where he asked me to sleep with him might have been a bit awkward on his end, but for everything else, he’s been sure of himself and straightforward. Hell, it’s almost as if he’s seducing me.
Case in point:
“You could teach me,” Andy says. It would seem almost innocent, but there’s a calculating look in his eyes, and he’s one step short of sliding his fingers over my chest and biting his lip. Here’s a man who knows what he wants and is going for it. It reminds me of the way I pursue my own goals. There’s an almost cunning look in his eyes, and it’s really hot. I have no idea what’s wrong with me that I think that, but God help me, I do. He’s playing me like a world-class violinist does a Stradivarius, and I don’t mind one bit.
“It could be hot,” he says. I don’t know who he’s kidding because there’s no could about it. It will definitely be hot.
I’ll be forever proud of my self-control as I take a step back and force myself to say, “You need to take a few days and think about it. To make sure this is what you want.”
He huffs out an impatient breath. “I’ve already thought about it. It’s not like I came up with the idea on the spot. It’s been on my mind for a while already.”
“Really,” I say skeptically. “You’ve been thinking about sleeping with me. Had a list of pros and cons, did you?”
“The you part might have been a stroke of genius that happened today,” he admits. “But come on, those are legitimately the best things ever. Think about it, there are a number of cases where a solution comes to you suddenly. It even has a name. The Eureka Effect. And in the spirit of how we met, I’ll even give you some examples. Think of it as a private tutoring session: Newton and gravity, Hubble and nebulae, Paul Dirac and antimatter, Fleming and penicillin, Percy Spencer and the microwave. I can go on and on about how people accidentally stumbled on ideas that turned out to be genius.”
“I bet Fleming took an evening to think it through instead of handing out antibiotics to people all willy-nilly,” I say reasonably.
He looks at me for a long moment. “I change my mind. The responsible streak you’re displaying is most definitely not hot.”
“I feel the same,” I mutter, which makes Andy snort out a laugh, but he immediately glares at me. “Don’t try and be all cute about it.”
“I’m not. But you do need to think about it some more.”
“God, you’re stubborn,” Andy says.
“Like a mule. It’s one of my better qualities, actually.”
“I heartily disagree.”
“Let’s just get back to the car. I’ll take you home, and you can do an actual pros and cons list.”
“Yeah, because that’s how I solve all the great dilemmas in my life.” The sarcasm is thick, but I ignore it. I want Andy to think this thing through before we move on with the plan. Hell, I’ll probably make a list of my own.
Later that night, I’m lying in bed. It’s early still, and I can’t sleep for shit. All I can think about is Andy’s proposition, and how much of an idiot I must have been to self-sabotage myself like that. Who says no to casual sex when it’s offered to you? Me. That’s who.
“Motherfucking moron,” I mutter to myself as I pound my fist into my pillow to make it more comfortable.
I’m in the middle of tossing and turning when my phone dings on the bedside table. I swipe over the screen.
I made that pros and cons list you wanted.
I grin despite myself as the messages start pouring in.
Sex counts as exercise (5 calories per minute. We could do it instead of the gym sessions if you’re worried having sex with me will be hard to fit into your schedule)
Sex improves sleep (you could be asleep right now if you’d taken me up on my offer before)
Sex boosts your immune system (you’ll thank me when you won’t have to skip games because of a common cold)
Sex lowers heart attack risk (I mean, you’re young, but being proactive about your health is never a bad thing)
I can’t help but laugh at the list. I especially like the casual way he doesn’t shy away from joking about my heart condition. It makes me feel normal. Andy isn’t done yet, I get about ten more messages, each one getting more ridiculous than the last, before I give up and text back.
What about the cons?
The reply is quick and swift.
Sex relieves stress. Let’s do it, and you won’t have to worry about the cons anymore.
You’re like a dog with a bone, I type back.
Is your subconscious taking over, letting us know you want to bone me? I’m all for it, just saying.
I laugh out loud, because how can I not? The last dregs of resistance are disappearing, dismantled by Andy with his cheeky humor and quick wit. All those reasons I’ve been resisting him seem less important than they did earlier. They’re replaced by a burst of can-do attitude.
We can have sex and remain friends.
I can keep myself from developing feelings for Andy.
This won’t end up being a total disaster.
So, before I can hesitate, I type three words and send them off, heart thrumming wildly like I’ve just scored a winning goal.
Let’s do it.
15
Andy
I pace on the street in front of Law’s apartment building.
Last night, when I was sending the texts, it was easy to hide my nervousness behind humor. After all, no one but me knew how much time it took me to compose the messages (three hours of research and writing different versions of them in my laptop when I should have been studying).
It felt like I’d won the lottery when Law’s Let’s do it appeared on my phone screen. The problem is, there’s been twenty-four hours between that message and this moment, which means there’s been ample time for my brain to come up with a cons list that keeps replaying in my head.
I’m probably not that good in bed. How many of us are experts at something on our first try? It took me eight months to learn to drive, and I still can’t drive a stick, even though my dad tried to teach
me. Well, he tried to teach me for an hour or so, but it didn’t really look like his heart was in it.
My siblings think it’s a conspiracy theory, but the thing is, Dad’s car has manual transmission, and none of my siblings know how to drive it, even though supposedly we’ve all received lessons from Dad. Call me cynical, but I think I’m onto something here. But I digress; the point is, even with an automatic, it took me an embarrassingly long time to pass my driving exam. What if I’m as bad at sex as I am at driving?
What if I make weird noises?
What if I do develop feelings for Law? Other than the friendship feelings I’m already feeling, I mean.
I almost jump out of my skin when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and groan as I look at the display.
Law.
Great.
And here I thought this couldn’t get any more embarrassing.
I clear my throat before I pick up, doing my best to sound confident and relaxed.
“Yellow!” I say cheerfully and close my eyes as what I just said registers in my brain.
There’s a long silence in the phone before Law’s amused voice says, “Should I just pretend I didn’t hear that?”
I let out my breath in a whoosh. “It’s probably better for everybody involved.”
“So… whatcha doin’?” he asks. He’s still laughing at me, but I decide to ignore it. Challenging him would only make it worse in my current state of mind. I’m not decent with comebacks even at the best of times. Throw in nerves about having sex with Law for the first time, and the result will not be pretty.
“Oh, you know, I’m out on a stroll. Little evening exercise. It’s supposed to be good for body and mind.”
“I see I’ve turned you into a fitness fanatic.”
“Oh shit, you think? In that case I should probably stop going to the gym with you. Otherwise I’ll do something drastic, like join a team or something.”
“The horror,” he deadpans.
“It might as well be a sign of the apocalypse.”
Silence falls between us.
“Are you gonna come up?” Law asks, and now his tone is decidedly more serious.
I whirl around. “You can see me?” I ask like the moron that I am.
“I have windows, you know?” he says, and the smile is back in his voice.
My eyes scan over the front of the building and there on the third floor, leaning on the windowsill, is Law. He looks effortlessly hot, like always. His eyes are intent, focused on me and only me.
“I’m really selling that whole I’m-smart-let-me-tutor-you angle, huh?”
“I thought I was the one that convinced you to help us out,” he remarks.
“Ah, that was just my clever ploy to get you to have sex with me.”
He chuckles, his voice warm and soothing in my ear. “Come up, Andy,” he says and hangs up.
I take a deep breath and go inside.
Usually, I dislike stairs. People have gone through a lot of trouble to come up with the concept of an elevator, so I’m a firm believer that we should honor their work and let ourselves be whisked through the air in metal boxes, where the only physical activity involved is lifting our fingers and pressing a button.
Today, though, I’m perfectly happy to slog myself up the stairs. The more time-consuming the activity, the better. Too bad Law’s apartment is only on the third floor.
I feel like I’m about to enter a dentist’s office, not like I’m about to have sex, which as I understand, is a favorite pastime for a lot of people.
Law’s door is already open when I reach his floor. I go in and shut it behind me, get rid of my jacket, slide off my shoes, and follow Law’s voice into the kitchen. He’s making dinner and singing. I’ve never heard his voice before. It’s nice. Deep and, unlike me, he can keep a tune.
I take a seat at the small table. I’ve been a bundle of nerves ever since last night when I finally got Law to agree to the whole sex plan, which has resulted in some fairly ludicrous thoughts forming in my brain:
I’ll trip over my feet and fall face first into Law’s lap, injuring his dick—among other things—after which we’ll be forced to spend an awkward night in the ER, and then Law will never want to see me again, because penis injuries are no joke.
I’ll make weird noises while in bed with him. It’s totally a possibility, since I’ve never gotten past second base, or whatever the gay equivalent of an awkward hand job is, so I don’t know if I have a tendency to do that.
Maybe I will actually lick Law’s elbow without realizing it’s not his dick.
The possibilities are endless.
I take a deep breath and concentrate on the sound of Law’s voice. It calms me down quite well. Not all the way, but I stop trying to call the whole night off out of fear that I’ll embarrass myself. Law has that effect on me.
“Can you set the table?” he asks over his shoulder as he pours sauce into a big pot. I get the plates, cutlery, and a couple of glasses from the cabinet above the sink. I’ve been here so many times already that I know where all the necessary items are.
After I’ve set everything up, I go to peer over Law’s shoulder. I inhale deeply and groan as the delicious scent hits my nostrils with full force.
The spoon Law uses to stir the pasta stops for a second. He continues after a moment, and I can see the corner of his mouth curl up in a small smile. “I hope I can coax a repeat of that sound out of you later tonight,” he says casually, like he doesn’t have any idea what kind of effect his words have on me.
I feel like I’m about to hyperventilate because all the oxygen seems to have been sucked out of the room.
“That…” I croak. “That would be most pleasant.” No one could ever accuse me of being suave.
“Indeed,” he says and the twitching of lips is now a full-blown smile. I’m still standing behind Law, unable to move. I’m so close that I can smell his body wash on his skin. The citrusy smell is addictive. The shorter hair at the back of Law’s neck is standing up as my breath whooshes over it. Without thinking, I lean forward and run my nose through it. It’s exactly as soft as it looks. I repeat the motion again and again. I’m like a cat, rubbing against his owner.
Law leans forward on the counter. He drops his head, exposing more of his neck, as his breathing becomes louder and harsher. It’s the only sound in the quiet apartment.
I’m not sure if it’s the right thing to do, but I stop myself from overthinking everything and just go for it. My lips land on the soft skin and I move up and down, leaving small kisses. The tingling in my lips, Law’s scent, and the soft noises that drop from his lips make for a heady combination. I could stay right here all night. This small patch of skin is fascinating enough to explore for hours.
But Law lets out a loud curse as he drops the spoon he’s been clutching in his hand. He whirls around in my arms, and in less than a second, he has turned us so that now I’m the one pressed against the counter.
“I thought I was supposed to be the teacher tonight,” he growls before he covers my mouth with his.
The kiss goes from zero to sixty faster than a rocket ship. As soon as our lips touch, it’s clear that neither of us has time for slow explorations. Our lips smash together, and I slam my palms down on the counter so as not to lose my balance. Law presses against me with every inch of his body. You’d need a chisel to pry us apart.
The outside world disappears. It’s just him and me and that hot-as-fuck kiss that makes a desire sizzle inside me.
Kissing should definitely be Law’s major. And minor. And his future career. He should just walk around and kiss all day long because he’s that good. But not other people. Just me.
The unexpected flash of jealousy at the thought of Law kissing somebody else causes me to lose my balance for a second. I move my hand upward to steady myself, but somehow end up pressing my palm against the hot burner on the stove.
“Shit!” I yell as the burning sensation registers.
“Your hand,” he mutters against my lips.
“Don’t care.” It doesn’t feel like a serious, third-degree burn. Maybe like a superficial second-degree one at most, so I ignore the throbbing in my palm and concentrate on the kiss. Unfortunately, Law cannot be swayed so easily. He pulls away and grabs my hand to examine it.
“It’s fine,” I protest as I try to kiss him again, but he dodges me.
“It’s just a little red,” he mumbles more to himself than to me. “Cold water,” he decides and pulls me to the sink where he blasts a spray of icy water on the damaged skin.
“Any long-lasting effects, Doctor Anderson?” I ask.
“You’ll thank me when you don’t die of infection. Now be a good boy, and maybe I’ll kiss it better after I’m done with the first aid.” He waggles his brows.
My body immediately goes hot all over, and it has nothing to do with the burning sensation in my palm.
He holds my hand under water for a few more seconds before dabbing it dry with a clean towel. He examines my palm under the kitchen light and is seemingly satisfied with whatever he sees there.
“What—” I ask, but my words get stuck somewhere in my throat as Law slowly lifts my hand and presses his lips to the center of my palm.
“Holy fuck,” I whisper as he stays true to his word and kisses it better. Literally. And he doesn’t stop with my palm. His lips track the inside of my wrist and follow the path of the lines in my palm. Heart line. Or lung line. Or brain line, something like that. I can’t remember my mom’s name at this point, so body parts and everything related to them seem like the obscurest of matters.
His eyes stay focused on me the whole time, which makes the experience even more intimate. He sucks my fingers into his mouth, one at a time, and I nearly come in my pants.
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