Page 48 of Enemy

Then we realize we’re on top of the bedding, so we have to get off to get under the fluffy blanket. We try to slot our arms and legs together, but nothing feels all that comfortable.

“Back to back?” he suggests with a sigh.

“I’m not your damn buddy on a drunken night.”

We try again, this time with me spooning him, which is cozy, but he’s so tense I’m starting to think I’ve offended him, or something.

“Still too hot?” I try when he claps to shut down the light. Now that I can’t see the evidence of where I am, the cool thick bedding seems even more luxurious on my skin.

He stays silent for a while. Huffs. Then puffs. I don’t know what his problem is, but there’s not many options left, and I want to touch him.

“Can we do this the other way around?”

“With our heads toward the footboard?”

“No… I…”

He twists out of my embrace and I let him roll me over like I really am his puppet. He then settles behind me, leg sliding between mine, arm wrapped around my waist, chest pressed to my back. His lips brush against my nape when he whispers.

“Like this?”

Again, I’m silent, because this position didn’t even occur to me. He’s the one who called me butch and stud. So I kind of thought… I don’t even know anymore. No one’severheld me like this, especially not naked, and as I relax into his embrace, getting used to the warmth of his form, a sense of contentment settles over me.

“Yeah, this works,” I mumble, surprised how comfortable this is. Even the knee between my legs somehow makes my spine less strained.

I sense the tension in his body ease, and he presses a kiss to the back of my head. This whole situation is a new aspect of being with a guy that I haven’t thought about. That we don’t have any predestined roles. We have to make our own rules. And maybe even though I’m more dominant in sex, I can let him spoon me.

“I like this,” Clyde says, and I can almosthearthe smile in his voice.

“You can say I look good from behind too,” I tell him and adjust the pillow under my head, still getting used to the smooth skin shielding me from behind. As if I’m… protected.

“You do. Your back is so muscular, it’s so hot. I loved watching you chop wood the other day.” Clyde sniggers, and I remember the exact moment.

I was working on the wood for our campfire while he sat there on the blanket, smoking, and watching my every move without a word. I’d felt his admiration through my skin and it was one hell of a drug. So much so, that I ended up getting a splinter in my finger because I was paying more attention to my form than the wood. He pulled it out for me.

“Maybe you should give me a nice, long massage sometime,” I mumble, so very sleepy now that all the sexual tension has been exhausted. The bed’s soft and smells of the scents that are becoming my favorites, but just as I’m on the verge of falling asleep, Clyde kisses my shoulder again.

“You could probably talk me into it. You know what else I liked? Your lips on my cock. Did you enjoy it?” He punctuates the question with another kiss.

I would have never imagined that out of all people in the world, I’d feelsafewith Clyde Turner, but I do. For as long as he doesn’t know who killed his brother at least.

I lick my lips, wondering how to respond, but when I sense his breath quickening, it’s clear I can’t avoid the question. “Yeah. I liked doing that to you.”

There are so many other thoughts crowding my head, but how can I discuss them with anyone? How could he understand what I mean if I said that I’m glad to know I’m not broken?

Another soft kiss feels like it’s touching something inside me, beneath the skin. He squeezes me tighter, and it’s as if he’s holding all the pieces of me together, so they no longer rattle around. It hits me that he’s the only person like that in my life, even if we’re technically in some weird fuckbuddy arrangement.

He knows I’m the enforcer for the Vulture Hollow MC. He knows I’m gay. He knows I enjoyed sucking dick.

And accepts it all. Maybe he’d accept one more piece of my puzzle?

“I know I took my time with it. It’s not because I think I’m too good for it, or something,” I whisper into the darkness and find his hand with mine.

Clyde entwines our fingers and his warmth is soothing to my heart. “It’s fine. We don’t both need to want the same thing. But I get what you mean. There’s so much… wrapped up in what you do with another guy. What it means about you.”

I nod, rubbing his fingers when my throat gets painfully tight, as if a morsel of food hard like a brick was stuck in there, refusing to pass. “Porn makes it look so easy. Everyone always likes it in the end, no matter how things go. But it’s not like that.”

“What do you mean?”