“It doesn’t—”
“It was after that when I started dating Mads, Hutch. It’s one thing if this all happened by accident now, but if I felt something for you back then…”
Hutch rolled his eyes. “Stop being a martyr. You didn’t hurt Maddy on purpose. Sexuality is confusing. You were a horny fourteen-year-old boy, and you didn’t understand what was going on with you. It was a physical attraction you clearly didn’t even remember until right now. Plus, if I remember correctly, he was a bit of a prick. You were right to hate him—and right to want me all to yourself.” He winked, and I laughed.
I just couldn’t believe I’d forgotten that, wondered how many moments in my life I’d looked at Hutch a second longer than I needed to and not known it, or what other signs there were that I was gay long before I’d accepted it.
“Come here,” Hutch said, and damned if I didn’t do what he said, settling in the chair beside him. “Do you want to know what I remember? I remember the boy who took on five other boys for teasing the nearly bald girl when she got better and was able to go back to school. The boy who almost got suspended for fighting because he didn’t want to tell anyone they’d made fun of Maddy so she didn’t feel bad. I remember the boy who stuck by his best friend, spent days in the hospital with her instead of playing sports or hanging out with other kids. I remember you trying to make her laugh when she was sad, even if it meant making a fool of yourself. I remember catching you crying on the back porch the second time she was diagnosed and telling me you didn’t know how to live without your best friend. You loved her with your whole damn heart, and you confused that love with something else.”
He was right. I knew he was.
“You’re all heart, Ryder Lynwood. Well, that, and that big fucking cock I didn’t get acquainted with nearly enough.”
Another laugh tumbled from my lips, loud and deep and pure. “Yeah, but you got my ass. I don’t give that to just anyone.” Like I’d told him before, I was vers, but I leaned toward topping.
“So I’m special?” he asked playfully.
“Yeah. Yeah, you are. I don’t want to end this, Hutch. I understand if you need to. I know you have a whole lot more at stake than I do. It probably makes me a horrible person for pursuing it, but I’ve never…I’ve never felt this way, and I don’t want it to end.”
Hutch sighed. “I don’t want it to end either.” He reached over and tangled our fingers together. He did that a lot. I wondered how normal that was for him, how affectionate he was with his other lovers. “I don’t want to lie to anyone, Ry, but—”
“But you want to wait a bit before we tell them. I agree. Hell, you might be sick of me in a week or two. We’ll keep it a secret for a little while, but then…”
“Then we tell them,” Hutch finished for me.
“Agreed.”
“Now come here.”
“You’re gonna have to cut that bossy shit.” Still, I leaned in, took Hutch’s mouth. Our tongues twisted together, my hands finding they fit just perfectly holding his face and neck. I brushed my fingers against his skin, nibbled at his lip, sucked it, before letting Hutch give me the same kind of treatment.
“You want to stay here tonight?” Hutch asked me.
“Is that really a question?”
“You’re already obsessed with me,” he joked, then nodded toward the condo. We cleaned up our mess. Raphael ran over to me, rubbing against my legs and looking up at me.
“Traitor,” Hutch said.
“He can’t help it if he has good taste. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was my favorite cartoon. I loved the movies as well.”
“Me too. I envied Raph’s give-no-fucks attitude.”
We’d had a similar discussion as GoodWithHisHands and TheDoctorIsIn. It was interesting, connecting those moments, when we didn’t know who the other was, to now.
The cat decided he was done with me and ran off. Finicky little bastard. We both chuckled, and then I walked over to the baby grand piano. “You ready to play for me yet?”
“I hate playing.” I cocked a brow at him, and he said, “It’s different with Layla.”
“One day you will.” And honestly, I didn’t believe for a second he didn’t like to play. I thought he didn’t want to like it, but he did.
“How about we go to bed?” Hutch changed the subject. It was early, but I didn’t think either of us cared. I sure didn’t.
His room was set up the same as mine except the opposite direction. One wall was made up almost fully of a window. His bed was neat where mine was always a mess. “Do you make that every day?”