Page 25 of Coming Clean

Connor

T he next evening, I sat with Jeremy on his balcony watching the sun set.

“You want to take a walk?” he asked. “Maybe get some ice cream or a drink?”

An ice-cream cone sounded perfect. “I don’t think I’ve been out for ice cream since the last time we had it on base.”

“Really? David’s a huge ice cream fan so we get it all the time.”

No matter how sure I was that Jeremy and David had never been more than friends, I didn’t like the idea of David taking him out for ice cream.

“So, do you want to go?” I saw the uncertainty in his eyes. I was not going to disappoint him. This shouldn’t be a big deal.

“Sure.”

The smile he gave me was worth taking any risk for. “Great. We can walk around the neighborhood a bit, then end up on Haywood. There’s a great ice cream shop just down from the park.”

I dropped my feet from where I’d had them propped on a storage bench.

My stomach fluttered, but I was going to do this.

I was safe here. Most people in this neighborhood wouldn’t think twice about two men being together.

And we weren’t going to announce that it was a date. But I felt like everyone would know.

Because when you look at Jeremy, you see the man you love.

I don’t?—

You do.

Would Mario know if he saw us together? Was it that obvious? I needed to tell him. Eventually. For now, all I needed to do was go out in public with Jeremy.

We walked through the neighborhood side by side but not touching. An awkwardness hung heavy between us, even though we talked pleasantly, observing people’s dogs and cats and how damn hot it was—I’d become such a fucking wimp about the heat.

Was Jeremy hoping something would happen? Did he want me to hold his hand, to kiss him, to show how open I was?

Ask him.

Hell no.

I wanted to turn around and go back to his house, but I wouldn’t. I would see this through.

Fucking fags. Shouldn’t let ‘em in the Marines.

Dammit, why did Mario’s words have to intrude on me now?

I’d been a damn fine Marine, and Mario knew that.

If I confessed that I was going out with a man, that I’d never liked women, would it erase all that I’d done in Mario’s eyes?

Would he ever respect me again? Why did his opinion matter so much?

He’d stayed in the desert, lost inside his head, hoping to atone for something that wasn’t his fault.

Jeremy was right here, and he wanted me. Why should I give that up?

We turned onto Haywood and walked a few more blocks until we reached Isadora’s Ice Cream.

I’d driven past the brightly colored, art deco-inspired shop plenty of times.

Most evenings, there was a crowd milling around outside, either waiting in a long line or happily licking ice-cream cones on the front porch or at one of the tables in the grassy area in front of the shop.

I’d never stopped though. I bet Jeremy had been here often.

He probably felt right at home among the oddly dressed Ashevillians.

The place made me feel stodgy and unimaginative.

Jeremy grabbed my arm—the first physical contact we’d had since leaving the house—and pulled me into the line.

I wondered what people thought about me being here with him—not because we were men, but because we were so obviously opposites.

Jeremy was soft, artistic, and delicate, and I looked like what I was. A Marine.

“Do they have regular ice cream here?” I asked.

Snickering, Jeremy raised a brow. “You mean like all-American vanilla?”

“I eat chocolate too, and sometimes I’m really crazy and go for strawberry.” I rolled my eyes. “I meant something not made with goat’s milk or chia seeds or shit.”

He laughed. "Yes, they do.”

“Good.” I didn’t say anything else, and the silence between us lengthened into unease.

“We could go somewhere else,” Jeremy suggested.

“No, I’m good.” I looked around and saw a man eyeing Jeremy.

Hell, no. Jeremy was mine. Without even realizing it, years of self-protection evaporated in the face of a primitive desire to claim him as mine.

I reached out and took his hand, lacing our fingers.

He stiffened at first but then relaxed and looked up at me, his expression questioning.

“Is this okay?” I asked.

Jeremy smiled. “Very.”

“Okay then.”

He squeezed my hand and warmth spread through me. I looked around. No one seemed to have noticed, including the hot guy who’d been checking Jeremy out. He was now swapping spit with a tattooed guy who was holding a guitar. That’s right, asshole. Find it somewhere else.

I took a deep breath and smiled at Jeremy. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Maybe I could do this after all. Maybe Jeremy really could be mine.

Later that night, after ice cream, more walking, and a lot of handholding that seemed oddly erotic, I pulled Jeremy into the house, pushed the door shut, and backed him up against it. I muttered “Need you” as I grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the door.

He shuddered and opened to my kiss. I wasn’t gentle—I didn’t think I could be. Lust thrummed through me along with the desire for something new, something I’d never tried before. “I want you to fuck me,” I whispered against his ear.

“W-what?” he asked.

“I want to know what it’s like to have your cock up my ass.” I couldn’t be any clearer than that.

His eyes widened. “Holy fuck.”

Did that mean he liked the idea? “You said you didn’t usually bottom, so I?—”

Jeremy cupped my face, his hands warm. “I’d be very happy to fuck you.”

"Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Upstairs,” he ordered, his voice low and rough.

I wanted to obey but wonder and lust had me frozen to the spot. Jeremy grabbed my hand and tugged hard, pulling me toward the stairs.

Jeremy

I knew my smile was so wide I looked like a total goof, but I couldn’t contain myself.

Connor trusted me enough to ask to be fucked.

It was more than I’d ever expected. As much as I’d enjoyed bottoming for him, the idea of Connor writhing beneath me as I drove into his ass made me so hot I didn’t know if I could control myself.

I was so hard by the time we reached my bedroom I could barely walk. “I need you naked right now.”

Connor didn’t respond with words. He yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor.

I meant to strip too, but his body mesmerized me: the firm muscles of his chest, those broad shoulders and narrow waist, the light covering of dark-blonde hair.

Pebbled nipples that I suddenly needed to suck on, if for no other reason than to hear the sounds he made when I did—plaintive, desperate sounds like the ones he made when I sucked his cock.

What would he sound like when I was inside him?

The need to find out as soon as possible inspired me to move again.

He watched as I shoved my pants over my hips. “I was worried you’d planned to stay dressed.”

I grinned. “No, I just got distracted. You’re so fucking hot.”

“Seriously?” He looked genuinely surprised.

“You have to know how attractive you are.”

He shrugged. “I don’t really think about it.”

Which, of course, made him that much sexier.

I stepped out of my pants and boxers and then pulled my t-shirt over my head. Connor moved toward me, stopping when we were so close we were almost touching. “You’re beautiful, you know? Your hair. Your skin. Your smile.”

I frowned. I’d never thought of myself as anything more than average.

“Don’t even try to protest.”

I didn’t. Instead, I gave in to the desire to play with his nipples, first with my fingers and then with my mouth.

His breaths grew ragged, encouraging me to experiment.

I used my tongue to tease, then sucked harder.

That earned me the desperate moan I was hoping for.

He slid his fingers into my hair, gripping my head but not trying to push me away.

I bit down, not too hard but enough to make him really feel it.

“Fucking hell!” he shouted.

I soothed the sting with careful licks, then sank to my knees.

His cock was deeply red and precum beaded at the tip.

I took his shaft deep into my mouth and gazed up at him.

He had his teeth sunk into his lower lip, obviously trying to stay silent.

I swallowed him deeper, tightening my throat around his cock.

When I pulled back and took him down again, he whimpered, and the sound made me suddenly desperate to move things along.

I sucked him for a few more seconds before releasing him and standing up. “I don’t want you to come until I’m buried inside you.”

I walked around the bed to get the supplies we needed. When I turned around, he was watching me while lazily stroking his cock. He kept going as I watched. I loved his lack of self-consciousness. He might be uncertain about telling the world he was gay but he was comfortable in his own skin.

He gestured toward the lube and condoms with his free hand. “Are you going to do something with those or just stand there watching?”

I gave him what I hoped was a seductive smile. “I have some very good plans for these. Get on the bed.”

He complied rapidly, as if he’d been given an order by a superior.

“Are you good at taking orders?” I asked.

Color rose in his cheeks. “I can be. I used to be.”

“Good. Lie down on your back, arms above your head, and don’t move.”

“Jeremy?”

Betting on him liking this power play more than he wanted to admit, I raised a brow. He obeyed without further protest. I climbed on the bed after him, and when he bent his knees, I pushed them open with a firm—but not quite rough—pressure and settled between them.

He groaned. “I’ve never felt so exposed, so….”

“I’m right here,” I whispered. “I’m going to take care of you, but if you change your mind, that’s okay too.” Somehow, I’d stop. Even if it killed me. “I want you to trust me.”

“I do,” he said, the words barely audible.