Page 55 of Except You

“I’m not.”

Those words. Those fucking words.

His eyes flick up to mine, and I see the ring of blue around those dark, blown-out pupils.

“Max,” I say softly, and he swallows nervously.

“I don’t know what’s going on with me, Bow-tie. I don’t fucking understand it.”

His hands are fully under my shirt now, his warm palms on my skin.

“It’s okay. You can tell me.”

“I’m so fucking confused.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, and I can feel the tremble of his body under mine.

“I couldn’t even fuck Melissa. I wasn’t into it.”

“Oh.”

“I couldn’t get hard.” He shifts beneath me and then glances down between us. “But I’m hard now.”

I glance down and yep, there it is, his straining dick against his jeans.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t fucking know. I mean, I know what I want to do, but don’t really know if that’s what will be good for him.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

My hands drop to his shoulders, and I massage them gently.

“Do you need to get off?”

His chin dips and he peeks up at me through those long lashes I’m obsessed with.

“If I do that, with you, does that make me gay?”

“No, Max. It doesn’t. It can mean whatever you want it to mean.”

He nods and then his hands slide up my sides, shucking my shirt up my chest until it’s under my neck. I lift my arms and he pulls it off, tossing it aside. And then his eyes rove my bare chest. One of his fingers slides from my pierced belly button up to my nipple.

It pebbles under his gentle touch, and I hold back a moan. I don’t need to be getting all aggressive and weird about this. I can be in control.

I can make his first time with a man be something he can look back on fondly.

“What do you want?” I ask, and Max’s eyes meet mine.

“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.”

I bite my bottom lip in thought and then swallow my offer of a blow job. That’s too fast. Too much.

I think maybe something less invasive. A little less gay.

“How about this…” I suggest, my finger tapping on the button of his jeans.

Max lets out a raspy exhale. “Hm?”