He laughs, and my stomach does that thing again. "Before I knew you were straight."
"Oh..." I bite the inside of my cheek. Shit. It'd be hard to really argue with that one, wouldn't it? Even if I could think of a few arguments for either side. "Right, but... I thought maybe wecould, like, be friends or something." The second the words leave my mouth I let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "God, why do I sound like a pre-schooler?"
"I can't be friends with you, Chris." And just before my queued-up 'Why' can leave my lips, he adds, "BecauseI find you attractive."
My next inhale is clipped and audible and I don't miss the way he lazily swipes his gaze down my frame, and then up again, equally slowly.
I don't know if my brain is designed to interpret the mixed signals. All I know is, they make me a little warmer inside, and I can feel them in different parts of my body. My throat. My chest. My groin. They also make me take another step forward. And then one more.
He takes a step back in return. "Don't. Don't do that." His voice is barely above a whisper; deep, growly and pleading.
I raise my palms in a placating gesture. "Sorry. I'll behave."
He grazes his top lip with his bottom teeth and nods. "Good... Great."
We stand like that for a moment, looking at each other, then around, then each other again. In silence that should be awkward, but somehow isn't. Even the wind seems to ease for a moment, as if to stop and look at us too.
"I like your forearms," I say when my eyes land on them. Not to fill the silence, but because it's the truth. My gaze slides up to where he's rolled up his sleeves and then more up to where he left the top buttons undone. "And your chest. That I've seen illegally." He lets out a small, breathy chuckle while myeyes travel up. "And your eyebrows. I like quite a lot about you, actually. It's weird, but it's true."
He closes his eyes, his heavy brows falling lower. "Don't do that," he repeats, but this time, it sounds different. Thicker. Like a warning.
Like something I want to hear again.
"I wonder..." I leave it hanging as I watch his jaw set, eyes still closed, and fuck. Why doesthatdo things to me. "I wonder how the rest of you looks."
He's fast like a cheetah. One second I'm standing there, watching his face grow taut and sharp, the next I'm yelping as my back hits a brick wall, Hayden's tense face hovering a couple inches above mine, tattooed forearm pressing firmly against my sternum, keeping me in place.
"What is it you want from me exactly, huh?" He growls through his teeth, and it's a good fucking thing he's pinning me to that wall. I'm not sure my knees could support me right now.
Fucking hell, he's feral, breathing heavily through his nose, those thick brows furrowed, eyes almost black, and I feel it. I feel it in my fucking balls, my cock twitching with every one of his breaths that land on my face.
It's scary.
Not Hayden. What's happening to me is.
My breaths are shaky as I contemplate my next words. Not because I can't find them, but because speaking them out loud is dangerous.
And I'm fucking reckless. "I want you to want me."
"Yeah?" he snaps back, pushing harder against me. "And after that? What's next straight boy, huh?"
Fuck.
I clasp his arms, my fingers digging into the bulging biceps and I'm on the verge of passing out, and I'm desperately trying to stop myself from wrapping a leg around him just to pull him closer, but it'shard. Almost as hard as my dick, pushing painfully against my zipper. "I don't know. Am I still considered straight if I let you fuck me? If I ask you to?" At first, I wonder if I'm losing my mind. After my next words spill out of me on their own accord, I'm sure of it. "If Ibegfor it?"
Hayden squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his teeth, his entire body shaking, vibrating as he takes a couple of long, unsteady breaths. "I don't. Do. Straight guys." He snarls through his teeth. "Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I'm not what you think I am. I'm not patient. I'm not gentle. And I sure as fuck don't have it in me to teach you how to operate your virgin ass."
All my restraint turns into a distant memory and I lift one leg, hooking it around the back of thighs, which is as high as I can reach and stand on my toes. His grip keeps me in balance. "I must not be what you think I am either, then. I don't need patience. I don't want gentle. And trust me, my ass can handle you just fine. Strap-ons exist, in case you weren't aware. Guess I'm not the one who needs teaching."
My entire body is buzzing, random tremors rip through me like thunder and yeah, I'm fucking panting.
And Hayden? Hayden goes offline for a second. Motionless, with his arm still pinning me against the wall, upper body pressed against mine he peers right into my eyes, as if trying to assess me, to gauge whether there's substance behind what I said.
There is. I meant every word. And even though all I want is to scream just that to expedite the process, I wait. I let him get there on his own. It wouldn't be genuine otherwise.
Hayden gets there in twelve breaths and three gusts of wind, and the moment he does it becomes perfectly fucking clear whatever free will I possess I have just submitted to him.
The low, grumbling groan he makes is long and controlled, a perfect juxtaposition to my clipped moan as he drops his free hand between our bodies and presses his large, firm palm right against my junk with energy and conviction I don't think I've ever felt before.
