Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I pushed the melancholy feeling away as we got ready for bed, slid under my sheets, and cut the lights. I was exhausted from the events of the last twenty-four hours, but sleep would not come easily.
“Skylar?” I whispered, hoping not to wake him in case he’d already zonked out.
“Yeah?” he whispered back, readjusting himself onto his side, facing me.
The room was dark, which made me feel braver somehow. I could only make out his profile and hear his steady breathing.
“How come you haven’t been hooking up lately? Is living here messing that up for you?”
“Not exactly.” There was a long pause, and I worried I’d asked the wrong thing, though I wasn’t even sure why I was questioning it in the first place. Maybe to reestablish boundaries? Or just being nosy. When he finally responded, I let out the breath I’d been holding. “Guess I haven’t been feeling it lately. Besides, a lot of the time, it’s just a handjob or blowie in the bathroom.”
I shifted, my underwear growing tight as I pictured him on his knees with some faceless guy or the other way around.
“Sorry, did that make you uncomfortable?” He touched my arm, and I trembled.
“No, it made me hard,” I blurted out, then felt my skin catch fire.
Skylar laughed in this husky voice that didn’t help the situation. “I like when you say exactly what you mean.”
“Yeah? Okay,” I replied in a wobbly voice. “Up for another jerk-off session?”
Holy shit, had I really just suggested that? Yeah, I really did.
Instead of responding, Skylar threw off the covers and pushed down his underwear, and I did the same, fisting my hard-as-nails cock.
No, I wasn’t in an episode of The Twilight Zone. I was just embracing my sexuality, and I had Skylar to thank for that. Right?
25
Skylar
We jerked off together again that night, eyes on each other, our hands on our own dicks, and it had taken everything inside me not to reach out and take over for him, not to bend down and take his fat rod into my throat and show Clark what I could do.
He made me crazy.
He said I made him feel wild, but damn if he didn’t do something to me too. It was stressful and confusing, but in the few days since then, I realized more and more that I wanted to explore it, only I couldn’t piece together how to make that work, given that we didn’t want the same things.
It would kill me to hurt Clark, but I wanted him. There was no denying it, and if I was reading things correctly—and there was no doubt in my mind that I was—he wanted me too.
My feelings for him would hit me at the most random times, or hell, maybe they didn’t leave my mind at all, but I was good at ignoring them…until I couldn’t.
Clark made me feel special. He always had, and apparently he always would.
Things had been busy at work. I’d also checked up on my apartment, and they said the repairs were running smoothly.
I’d turned down several hookups, one witnessed by Jesse and Dane. Dane had looked at me as if I were an alien who’d kidnapped Skylar, and Jesse laughed, the jerk.
Wanting Clark made me not want anyone else. At least not until I got this whole thing out of my system.
My work schedule rotated, sometimes four days a week, others five. This was a four-day week, and since I had extra time off, I was meeting my mom for a late lunch at one of our favorite cafés.
“What’s going on with you?” she asked once we ordered.
I think I have a crush on Clark, but I’m scared, because of you. I want him, but I can’t have him that way, and it’s freaking me out. “Nothing.”
“Baby…I know you better than that. What is it?”
I knew my mom well, and she wasn’t going to let this go until I talked to her. I had to give her something, and strangely, I wanted that to be a piece of the truth. “So…Clark…”
“Oh.”
“Wait. What do you mean, oh? I haven’t even said anything yet.”
“Yeah, but you’re my son. And my best friend. I’ve sort of known you all your life.” She smiled at the joke. “And I know how you are with him.”
“I’m not any way with him.”
We both knew that was a lie, and she proved as much when she said, “Yeah, okay, sure.”
“Real mature, Mom.”
“Being mature is no fun,” she countered. “Anyway, so what’s the problem? You like Clark, he likes you.”
“First, I never said I liked him. I mean, not like him, like him. I’m attracted to him and I think he’s fun. I wanna have a fling with him, but that’s it, and who’s to say he likes me?”
She rolled her eyes like I was being ridiculous. “He would have to be an idiot not to like you, and I remember that boy—he was smart. Smarter than me, and he was twelve. If you like him, give it a chance.”