Page 18 of Irreconcilable Attractions (Westwend Boys #1)

He passed me the ball with a confident grin, “Bold of you to assume I haven’t been hustling you this whole time.”

I bit my lip to suppress my grin, “Okay, ball-shark.”

“You have no idea.” He winked.

This round was full of all the enthusiasm and energy that all our other games had.

It was fast-paced and full of more bumping, grabbing, and struggling for control.

I tried to fake him out but ended up losing the ball.

My attempt to regain the upper hand was useless, my energy waning in the sweltering heat.

Colton looked so graceful as he leapt into the air, sinking the ball directly into the net.

“Let’s fucking go!” He cried triumphantly.

The light in his eyes was bright and it was hard not to smile at the joy radiating off him. Part of me was sore I had lost, but a bigger part of me was just so happy to see Colton acting like himself again.

Unable to hold the pretense that I wasn’t exhausted any longer, I flopped onto the concrete to drape myself over my knees, panting heavily.

“I should have bet you something,” He said, making me look up.

“Like what?” I questioned, still breathless.

“I don’t know,” His chest was rising and falling hard too, “Like maybe you had to get a tattoo of my choice or something.”

As he said this, Colton gripped the bottom hem of his shirt, lifting it up to wipe the sweat away from his forehead. The move was so innocent, something I’d done a hundred, if not a thousand times myself.

There was a glimpse of a taut stomach and sweat-slicked abs that glistened in the sun, before the shirt rode up further and…

It was like all sound around me except for a dull ringing in my ears came to a complete stop. My heart pounded erratically in my chest.

It was pierced.

His nipple was pierced.

My eyes locked onto the silver barbell that sat snuggly between the dark pink flesh on Colton’s chest, fixated until his shirt was dropped.

Was I even breathing? I sucked in a large lungful of air, suddenly feeling lightheaded.

What the fuck .

“Your nipple…” I croaked, my tongue feeling oddly heavy in my mouth.

Colton glanced at me, confusion clear in his face till it smoothed in recognition. He casually shrugged like it was a totally normal thing.

“I got them pierced in college. I like them, but sometimes tight clothing can rub on them a little too much. They’re sensitive.” He cupped his chest and said the last part in a shrill voice.

My brain hyper focused on one word.

Them .

Both of his nipples were pierced.

My brain tripped over itself trying to make sense of that detail, like it couldn’t quite compute it.

Who just casually had both nipples pierced? Was that an aesthetic choice? I didn’t think it was. It felt so… intentional.

I hadn’t dated any girls that had their nipples pierced, but I knew someone who did in law school. He’d told our friend group his girlfriend loved to have the piercings played with; that she’d lost her mind when he sucked on them.

The mental image slammed into me without warning—Colton, shirtless, panting, someone’s mouth working over the metal, teasing him until he was gasping for more. My stomach clenched.

What kind of sounds would he make for them? Did he like to have them pinched and pulled on? Another image assaulted me, a faceless person bringing Colton to ecstasy from his nipples alone. His face contorted and wrecked with his fingers tangled in their hair to hold them against his chest.

And then it really hit me.

The images in my head weren’t feminine people doing this to Colton. He told me he was into both, but I was picturing him with someone masculine. My mouth went dry as my gut clenched. My skin felt hot and cold at the same time, and when I looked down…

Fuck.

I was hard .

Not just kind of turned on. Not some vague, theoretical arousal. Full on, throbbing , tight-in-my-shorts hard. It felt like all the blood in my body had rushed to my crotch as my dick pulsed like it had its own heartbeat.

This was insane.

Colton jogged toward the ball, oblivious to the personal crisis unfolding ten feet away. His damp shirt clung to his back in a way that was definitely not helping my situation, but that was also a mind-fuck. Since when did looking at men’s backs become erotic?

I clenched my hands on my thighs, sitting stock still as I tried to focus on literally anything else.

Tax codes. Screaming babies. Foot fungus. That one Hoarder's episode with the bathtub full of potatoes.

None of it worked.

The mental image of Colton with someone else kept assaulting my mind, erasing all other thoughts. Some faceless guy tugging his shirt up to mouth at those piercings. Twisting them so that he’d moan and throw his head back, exposing the line of his neck.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

This isn’t happening. I’m not…

When I opened my eyes again, Colton was turning back toward me and using his shirt to wipe at his face again. I nearly choked on my tongue trying to suppress the groan from the second flash of the metal.

“Dude,” he called, still breathless, “You good?”

I blinked, trying to focus. My mouth moved, but my brain was buffering.

“Yeah. Yeah, I just… need a minute.”

I wasn’t any less hard, if anything, I felt like I had a steel pipe between my legs after the additional teasing glimpse. I hunched forward, elbows on my knees, gulping in air while trying to hide the fairly obvious tent in my shorts.

Colton plopped down beside me, offering a water bottle with a look of concern on his face.

Taking it with a shaky ‘Thanks’, I gulped at the liquid trying to cool the fire that raged inside me.

He bumped my shoulder cautiously, “Do you have heat stroke or something?”

I forced a laugh. “Something like that. But I’m good, just needed this,” I shook the bottle lightly.

He smiled slightly, unaware, “I told you I’d wipe the floor with you.”

I gave him a noncommittal grunt in response, gripping the bottle tight.

Because, yeah, he’d wiped the floor with me.

Just… not in the way he realized.

I couldn’t tell you a single thing about the drive home. Not the music. Not the conversation. All I could focus on was making sure Colton didn’t see my half-chub and praying to any deity I could think of it would go away.

And somehow, by the grace of one of them, I made it home without traumatizing either of us.

I’d tried to discreetly shift in the cab of the truck so I could tuck myself in a more manageable position before we made our way inside. Once there, I’d beelined to my room.

My mind was still reeling from everything that had just happened. I mean, rightfully so. I got a fucking boner over a guy’s pierced nipple. Not just any guy. Colton’s. My roommate. My boss’s son. My friend .

I dragged a hand down my face, then shoved it into my hair.

Okay, Derek. Walk through this slowly. Assess the facts:

1. You saw Colton’s pierced nipple.

2. You pictured Colton doing some very explicit things with men.

3. You got a boner from it.

4. You weren’t repulsed by those thoughts, at all.

I couldn’t remember a single time in my life that this had happened to me before. I mean, I used to pop wood when the wind blew as a teenager, but this? I hadn’t gotten an erection over a guy before. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t… normal.

I exhaled through my nose, slowly. Tried to calm the rapid-fire of my thoughts.

There had to be other straight guys who got turned on by guys once or twice. I bet there were Reddit threads for stuff like that.

‘ I (29M) got hard over my male (27) roommate and now I’m wondering if I like dudes ’ seemed like a plausible title. I was sure the comments would be full of people saying it was just hormones, or it was some physiological thing.

Which meant, the obvious next step was to get on Reddit. I grabbed my laptop and settled against the headboard of my bed. One day, this would all be a joke. I could already hear Colton laughing at me, ‘ You thought you were gay over one boner? Oh my God, Derek! ’

That totally sounded like something he would tease me over.

Feeling slightly better, I typed into Google: do straight guys get boners for guys

Tons of links popped up. The expected Reddit posts. Articles. Forums. Most of them were asking the same thing.

I could feel my shoulders relaxing—this was a normal thing.

Clicking the top result, I skimmed the original post before going straight for the comments.

Most of the responses indicated the same thing; sexuality was a spectrum that people fell along.

However, most people identified with specific labels that felt comfortable to them.

Having only attraction to the opposite sex labeled you as straight.

But, being sexually attracted to the same sex was not straight.

This was all basic knowledge that didn’t provide me much clarity on my situation. I kept scrolling the comments.

One person wrote, ‘ Picture yourself having sex with that guy. If you get off to it, you’re not straight.’

Some other people suggested watching gay porn.

I rubbed my hands down my face and sighed. Somehow, I felt more conflicted than before. I didn’t want to picture myself sleeping with Colton, or rather… I refused to let myself go there. We were finally in a good place after that basketball game. I couldn’t risk ruining that by getting weird again.

Still…

Maybe watching porn wasn’t a bad idea.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut. Seven words I never thought I’d say to myself, especially about gay porn.

Licking my lips slowly, I clicked open a new tab.

The cursor blinked in the search bar like it was waiting to judge me.

What the hell did I even type?

This was meant to be… research. I didn’t have time to get into the weeds on preferences and technique. I wanted to educate myself enough to make an informed decision on if I was suddenly into guys.

Eventually, I decided on: gay guys fucking

I clicked the first link and held my breath as it loaded.