Page 18

If you’d have told me four weeks ago that this motorhome would become a blissful bubble of sex and spooning, I’d have laughed in your face.

One, because I’ve never been a cuddler, and sex is all about a quick thrill with no repeats.

And two, because although we’ve done everything else, Kian and I have not actually shagged.

I know, I know. This could not be further from my usual pattern.

I’m sure he wants to. I mean, I’m pretty sure he wants to. I know I do.

And whilst neither of us seems to have figured out each other’s preference yet around anal, we’re still going at it like rabbits.

It turns out that Kian loves to sixty-nine and he’s bloody good at it. He seems to have this perfect rhythm of sucking me off, whilst also thrusting down into my mouth. It leaves me with nothing to do other than to choke him down.

It’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever been a part of – and I’m not exactly shy when it comes to sex. I’ve had my fair share of experiences – partners, groups, you name it – and yet, when it comes to Kian, something feels different.

He’s good at taking control, which maybe I’ve never wanted before. In the past I’ve always gone for subs and twinks who want to be owned. I’ve always been a top, and I love to have my dick sucked. But right now there’s nothing I want more than for him to tell me what to do. I want him to dominate me and it’s a totally new experience. I usually just take charge, move the guy into position and then fuck him however I want. But I find I don’t actually know how to ask for it. I don’t know how to tell him what I want.

There was one time when he came back from the gym and pushed me against the wall. He didn’t say a word, and when I put my hand down his boxers and started wanking him off he growled into my ear, ‘Good boy,’ and I thought my head might explode. It was such a turn-on, and when he came it took the barest graze of his hand across the head of my dick and I was right there with him. My obsession with pleasing him has me in a chokehold. Who knew being a good boy would feel like this?

And it’s working out perfectly for me. It’s taking the stress – which doesn’t belong in the bedroom – out of sex. I’m not going out partying. I’m not drinking too much. I’m not picking up randoms and having to worry about what kind of story they’ll sell to the press or put on social media.

Most nights I just slip down the narrow corridor, poke my head around Kian’s door, and he beckons me in. Others, when the day’s been long, we cuddle – cuddle! – on the sofa until things start to get handsy and Kian moves us to his bed.

And somehow, I always find myself falling asleep there after we go at it, even though every night I promise to go back to my own bed.

After the first night, I also promised myself that I’d get my fill of Kian, that I’d fuck him and then leave it be, and yet it’s been weeks. I don’t want anyone else.

Not when he’s so mind-blowingly good.

Take right now, for example. We’re in our shared motorhome in Stavelot, Belgium. We’re moving on to Zandvoort in the Netherlands in a couple of days but we have a small window of free time after a really busy month, and Kian and I are making the most of it.

Kian’s lips stretch perfectly around my dick as he hauls my ass forward until I’m hitting the back of his throat. And, like the man of my dreams, he just relaxes and lets me thrust further.

Drool might be gathered at the corners of his lips which are slick with pre-cum, but it only makes him look hotter.

He’s looking up at me with lust-filled eyes under a thick fan of dark brown lashes and I feel my balls contract. He’s loving every minute as he sets the pace again, slapping my ass when I try to pull back in an attempt to last longer.

The rhythm we then find is delicious. He can tell I’m close, and each thrust is met with a hearty moan, the vibrations in his constricting throat choking my dick and sending fireworks through my brain. He makes a swallowing motion, and I’m not sure if it’s the way it clenches the head of my cock, or it’s because it feels like a command, but I know I would do anything he asks right now.

Just as I feel myself about to fall off the edge into oblivion, his finger slips between my cheeks and presses on my hole.

Ass play isn’t something I normally allow. I do the fucking when I’m in my own bed. I’m a top, not a bottom. Yet I can’t get enough of his teasing fingertip, and it shocks me back from the precipice of my climax. For a second, I rock back against him, the pad of his finger dangerously close to penetration.

‘What are you waiting for?’ I groan, my ass so ready to finally feel him inside of me, even if it’s just a single finger. And now I’m aching for it, and the gentle fluttering sensation of his touch around the rim isn’t enough anymore.

I know he’s enjoying the way he’s playing my body because he takes me even deeper into his mouth, like the little tease he truly is. Then he pulls his finger away from my ass.

I throw my head back, almost disappointed, and then he drags his teeth a little up my shaft and I’m too overstimulated to care. His hands have already caressed every part of my body prior to him crawling down the bed to worship my dick. Every nerve ending in my body is alive with the touch of Kian. I want him to own me, dominate me, take me. It’s a new feeling for me, and I’m not sure what to do with it, but you can’t blame a guy for wanting his prostate to be shown a little love too.

We’re almost at the finish line as my balls twitch, a tight sensation tugging at them like they’re ready to explode. Both Kian’s hands are at the base of my dick, working me in time with his mouth, and the orgasm is dangerously close.

He doesn’t seem to mind swallowing me down, but I still like to warn him, just in case he changes his mind.

‘Kian,’ I pant, ‘I’m so fucking close.’ I test-drive a deeper thrust until his nose is in the soft skin I keep properly manscaped in order to show off my V-cut and my tackle. As I’m about to pull back for another thrust, a wet finger dives into my ass. Pressing straight on that sweet spot.

My eyes roll back in my head until I’m seeing stars, stars! It’s amazing.

It’s fucking magic. He’s … magic, with the instincts that mean he’s in the driving seat when it comes to how and when to make me cum. Which I do. Repeatedly.

‘Fucking hell, Kian.’ It’s all I can say. I almost want to thank him, but I feel like that would be weird.

His tongue swipes along his bottom lip, lapping up any traces of me he didn’t swallow down from my body. I gulp in response – it’s like he’s got me on a chain and I don’t even care.

He stands up and I pull his head towards me for a kiss. A primal urge to taste myself in his mouth.

‘You good?’ he asks against my lips like an idiot.

Do I look anything other than good? I’m a spent heap of limbs that couldn’t move even if I tried right now.

‘Mmmm,’ I rumble against him before sealing my lips on his. Inside, his mouth tastes warm and salty, and my dick gives a slight twitch of approval even in its exhausted state.

We kiss for what feels like hours, until I don’t know anything other than his lips. This is kind of new for me, too. Whilst I never object if a guy wants to kiss me, I don’t usually initiate it.

But I’d let Kian kiss me all the time if I get to feel like this.

‘Have I ruined you for all the other guys?’ he asks when he pulls away.

The room’s fading into a hazy darkness, it’s only around 9pm, but it could be the middle of the night for how pitch-black it is in here.

But, even in the darkness, the way his eyes search mine contradicts the teasing tone of his question. He’s looking for an actual answer. He wants me to say yes.

In general, Kian’s good at being honest, but right now I can tell he’s holding back on what he actually wants to say and I don’t like that. It sets me on edge.

When he doesn’t get an answer, he rolls off me, breathing heavily as his head hits the other pillow.

‘What do you mean?’ I finally ask, half hoping he doesn’t laugh in my face and shrug it off, half hoping he actually was just teasing and not trying to lock down the situation.

A couple of seconds of silence tick by, but then he leans up on his elbows to look me in the eye and asks, ‘Are you seeing anyone else right now?’

Is that what we’re doing? Seeing each other? Did I not realise that this was more than just sex? Panic rises in one massive ball in my throat and I can’t choke it down.

Kian must see it because he quickly corrects his words. ‘I mean, you’re only with me at the moment, right?’ It’s a desperate question, and we both know it. The only correct answer in his mind is yes. I nod. ‘Okay. So you won’t sleep with anyone else, right?’

Does he mean ever? Because, like, I can’t promise that. Not in a million years. This works right now because we’re stuck in here, forced together, but that won’t always be the case. Kian will leave me because everyone always leaves me. He’ll get … bored, or I’ll piss him off, and he won’t want me anymore. Or, I’ll feel trapped and I’ll need the rush of someone wanting me. I’ll need to feel like I have options because I don’t want to start relying on him. I’m not stupid – I’ve had therapy. I know what I’m like.

The panic rises in a heart-fluttering, chest-squeezing sensation. It’s like a cage around my heart, trapping it so that it’s struggling to function correctly.

I try to form words, but my mouth is so dry they don’t come out.

It’s already incredibly awkward that I haven’t responded and the more time I take to do so, the worse it gets. I’m desperate to leave and at the same time have no desire to be anywhere other than here, lying next to him. I want to be held, to feel safe and wanted and yet I’m terrified.

It’s the most brutally overwhelming feeling, this contradiction that I can’t balance in my mind.

Luckily, I’m saved by my phone bleeping loudly and disturbing the awful silence.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, pulling my phone out from under the pillow to see a couple of texts from Johannes. The first text says SOSand the second is a whole bunch of exclamation marks. ‘Oh fuck.’

I swing my legs off the bed, using the torchlight to find my boxers and the rest of my clothes when a third text containing the location of a bar comes through.

‘I’m so sorry, but Johannes just SOSed and we have this rule in our friendship that if either of us sends that text we have to go.’

Kian nods understandingly, but says nothing.

I know it probably seems convenient that this has happened at the exact time he’s trying to talk about us being exclusive or whatever, but them’s the rules of friendship.

It’s the first time in ages that Johannes has reached out and I want to know what’s been going on with him.

* * *

When I get there, I can tell Johannes is looking to pull; he’s prowling the bar with a determination I haven’t witnessed in a while. It’s been months since he’s been happy to just let me do my thing and wingman me. I’m not sure what’s changed, but tonight he’s dragging me into the thick of it.

I try to get him to tell me what’s going on and what’s happened but he doesn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t have a great race in Belgium, but I don’t think that’s what’s got to him.

‘How do we feel about twins?’ he asks, the rim of his glass poised at his lips. I don’t know what he’s drinking, but he’s clearly wanting a sesh.

I follow his line of sight to the bar, where indeed there are two identical men – hot as anything – watching us. One nudges the other and turns his head to say something. It’s clear they’re talking about us.

If I’m honest, they aren’t doing a thing for me, but it’s too late. Johannes is sliding sloppily out of his seat, clearly already on his way to being shitfaced. I watch him approach the twins and invite the pair back to our booth.

I’m stuck with Twin 2, who’s boring as hell and only interested in talking about his friend from university who he’s obviously in love with.

Even after all this, he asks me to go home with him.

‘I’m really sorry, but I’m not looking for anything tonight,’ I tell him.

Twin 2 looks at me like I’ve lost my mind and Johannes’s expression is comically surprised, too.

‘What are you doing?’ Johannes almost growls across the booth.

‘Going home. This was a stupid idea.’

I feel bad about abandoning him when he’s drunk, but then again, that’s exactly what he did to me in Miami the night he dropped me for his mystery man.

‘You going to be okay?’ I ask, because even so, I don’t want to be an asshole. He’s still my oldest friend.

‘Yeah, fine. Maybe I’ll get doubly lucky!’ I’m not so sure about that, but at least it makes me feel more comfortable leaving. Twin 1 gives me a thumbs-up and it’s clear he’s going to take care of Johannes from here. I pay the bar bill on the way out and suggest that they stop serving my drunk friend, but whether they will or not I have no idea.

I just want to get back to Kian.

* * *

‘Hey,’ I say, poking my head around his bedroom door the second I get back to the motorhome. His face is illuminated by the light of his phone and I catch the moment he realises I’m home.

Shit, I’m an idiot. It’s not like he was trying to tie me down to marriage or lock me in his room forever. He was literally just asking me not to sleep with anyone else while we’re hooking up.

He wasn’t being unreasonable, I was. I knew that even at the time, but I really know it now.

I don’t need to sleep with anyone else if I have him. That’s more than enough. Not that I’m acquainted with the word. Going from nothing to the high life of motor racing, it doesn’t feel like anything could be enough – sex, alcohol, money, success. But the way I’ve been feeling with Kian, the way I feel when we’re … when we’re just spooning … it’s a kind of emotional comfort I’ve never had before and I … like it.

Who am I? I barely recognise myself these days.

‘Hey,’ Kian says.

It’s not much, but he shuffles over in his bed to make room for me and I feel my heart squeeze. I step out of my shorts and whip my T-shirt over my head, discarding them on his bedroom floor to his utter annoyance.

‘Can I get in?’ I say as I hover by the edge of his bed. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so unsure about being mostly naked and about to get in bed with one of the hottest men in the world.

Kian flips up the covers and pats the spot next to him. I climb in, instantly feeling refreshed by how cool his sheets are against my limbs. It feels clean and good and almost calming. We lie face to face, not touching, my mind racing a mile a minute because I’m not quite sure what to say to him.

I know I was coward earlier. I know I should apologise. I’m just not sure how. It’s not something I’ve done a lot of before.

‘Good night?’ Never have I ever heard two words spoken so cautiously. Almost like he’s afraid of the answer.

‘No.’ I shake my head and feel him relax his head into the pillow. ‘I’m sorry,’ I finally say. Bloody hell! It should have been the first thing I said when I came into the room.

‘It’s okay?—’

‘No, it isn’t. I completely freaked out. You weren’t asking anything unreasonable of me. I just panicked. That’s my issue, not yours, and I shouldn’t have just run out of here.’

‘What did Johannes want?’

‘He didn’t want to talk so I don’t know. He was already drunk when I got there. He had his eye on a pair of twins.’

‘Twins?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Identical?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Hot?’

‘Yeah.’

‘But you’re here.’

‘Yeah.’

It doesn’t take a genius to unpack the subtext.

‘That’s quite the temptation,’ Kian says. ‘Hot Belgian twins.’

‘But I’m here, with you,’ I reply. I hope he knows what I’m trying to say without having to actually say it.

Yes, I know, I’m a coward.

He finally pulls me into his arms and I tuck myself into his side, my cheek pressed against his shoulder. He smells of my shower gel, minty toothpaste, and a kind of homeyness that’s incredibly soothing.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he whispers into the darkness.

Normally I wouldn’t, but I find myself speaking anyway. ‘There was something weird with Johannes tonight, when we’ve been out the last couple of months he’s taken a backseat, told me he was cleaning his image up and I should, too.’ Even in the dark I can see Kian’s knowing grin of agreement with Johannes’s wise words. ‘Okay, maybe everyone’s been telling me that and I wasn’t listening, but that’s beside the point for this story. I’ve barely seen him recently, and I assumed he was blissfully coupled up. He’s been having a good season on the track, too, until the other day, and even I thought maybe he was on to something.’

Kian’s bark of laughter stops me. I roll my eyes and he gestures for me to continue.

‘Yet tonight he was pissed, and constantly scanning the bar. Then he spots these twins?—’

‘The hot identical gay twins?’

‘The holy grail, right?’ I say. Kian doesn’t respond. ‘Before I can say anything, Jo’s out of the booth and dragging them over. I said I wasn’t up for it –’ I’m still hoping Kian will get the message without me having to say it out loud ‘– but there was no stopping him. I said I was going home and left him to it.’

‘Is he okay?’ Kian asks. Trust him to worry about whether my best friend is okay, even when that same best friend was directly working against Kian’s own interests tonight. He’s such a good person – a much better person than I am.

‘I don’t know. He was shooting tequila, so probably not.’

‘And you left him there?’

‘Wait a—!’ My first instinct is defensive, but I know he’s not actually attacking me or accusing me, because he’s still holding me in his arms and our legs are entwined. I take a moment to breathe, and then reply petulantly, ‘I paid the bill before I left and told the barman to stop serving him.’

Am I a shit friend, though? Kian would have done more, I know. Kian Ubered across Miami in the middle of the night to come and get me when I was a drunken mess. He looked after me when I was sick in Melbourne. He’s calmly comforting me now when I know I hurt him earlier on when I didn’t answer his question.

‘Text him now and make sure he’s okay. Get him an Uber home if that’s what he wants. You aren’t a bad friend –’ is Kian a mind-reader now, too? ‘– but it seems like you both had things going on in your heads tonight and you both need better coping mechanisms.’

I laugh off his comment, but he’s not wrong. I do need better coping mechanisms. I need to address all the things that feel messed up inside of me and lead me to make bad decisions.

I sigh and start texting Johannes. Whatever’s going on with him, I want to make sure he’s being safe. He texts back that he’s in an Uber on the way home. He doesn’t say whether he’s alone or not, but the fact that he’s responding to my message suggests his judgement isn’t entirely impaired.

Maybe the therapy Anders and my agent suggested isn’t such a bad idea, after all.

‘You’re right,’ I admit. I feel like such a grown-up being sensible like this. ‘I’m gonna go back to Anders about the therapy. Can’t hurt, can it.’

His lips find my forehead and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t melt under both his touch and his implicit approval. It’s almost disgusting the way I feel so contented right now. It’s been a very odd day indeed.

‘Good thinking,’ he replies and I snuggle up closer to him. ‘Sleep now,’ he whispers. As I’m falling asleep, it occurs to me that I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am right now.