Free Out of the Blues by Mercy Celeste Page A

from his hair and let it cascade over my hand. The strands felt like silk, I could stroke him for hours and not ever get enough.
    “I have a condom in my pocket” He still watched the light swing. His voice had gone soft. “Some girl from back in school that I can’t remember slipped it in.”
    “Condoms are good. Stay safe.” I had no clue what he wanted me to say.
    “I didn’t even think about fucking her, you know,” he said, his gaze shifting to look at me before hastily averting to the ceiling.
    “I didn’t know.” Did I need to know this now?
    “I’ve never had…you know…” he sounded unsure now. Young. Very young. “No girl ever did that to me before.”
    “Ah.” I understood now. The same reason straight men sought the company of another man. Because it was different, not necessarily better. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
    “I can see why,” he said, his voice catching on a nervous laugh. “Why me?”
    I suppose I wondered when we’d get to that. Talking about why I more or less forced my attention on him.
    “Because you needed it. Because I needed it.” I didn’t know what to tell him. I don’t know why I hadn’t minded my own damned business, gotten dressed, and let him deal with it on his own. “I apologize.”
    “No.” He rolled off the sofa and settled on his knees on the floor in front of me. “I mean, don’t apologize.”
    I could only stare at him as he struggled with where to put his eyes and his hands. He seemed to come to some internal decision and laid a hand on my leg. He stroked my thigh and I went so fucking hard I couldn’t breathe.
    “And if I was willing, would you want to fuck me?” I could see his pulse rabbiting at his throat. I wanted to lick that spot.
    “No,” I said and felt my heart sink when disappointment crossed his face. “Do you want me to fuck you?”
    He looked scared. I was still hard. I liked him scared. I was a sick twisted bastard.
    “I don’t know what I want. I didn’t want that girl. I can’t stop thinking about…” He reached out and stroked my bottom lip. I shivered and licked the tip of his finger. “Do you want me?”
    “Yes.” I couldn’t deny what I’d wanted since I first saw him early this morning.
    “But you don’t want to fuck me?”
    I grabbed his hand and dragged him off the floor and between my legs. I spread wide enough to hook my feet behind his knees, to hold him there. I gripped his wrist hard enough to piss him off.
    “You’re a bastard, and you’re hurting me,” he said, getting angry. I could see the flecks of green and gold sparking in his moss brown eyes.
    “Then make me stop,” I growled the words and his eyes grew wide. I kissed him then, hard, slamming our mouths together and snaking my tongue into his mouth just to hear him gasp.
    Which he did, just before he grabbed my free hand and pinned it to the seat behind my head. I groaned.
    “Is this what you like?” he asked me when he stopped struggling for breath. I released his other hand and he pinned both of mine together. Leaning over me, he pressed his body into mine and forced me to look up into his eyes. My heart beat faster than it should.
    “It’s been a long time since I let someone fuck me,” I told him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone.”
    His breath caught in his throat. Comprehension dawned on him.
    “You want me to fuck you?”
    “That’s what straight guys do to fags, isn’t it?” Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. He let my wrists go. The tables had turned and he didn’t know how to follow along. “No strings, Mason. We both get laid. You don’t want one of these girls because they link you to this place. You get to find out what it feels like to fuck a man. I get fucked, we both go back to our lives after the wedding and we never have to see each other again.” I lay on the sofa under him. Legs sprawled on the floor, arms on the back of the seat where he’d put them. I felt my dick