Page 20

Nineteen

Ryder

I don't see Knox the night of the club, or the next day, and I leave the day after that for a string of away games in California. How I left things between us feels shitty, and I know the ball is definitely in my court to fix them. Deciding to start slowly, I text Knox as I’m finishing up with a post-practice workout before heading back to my hotel in Anaheim.

Ryder: Things got a little out of hand the other night.

When Knox doesn’t text back right away, I wonder if he’s giving me the silent treatment, and this will be a one-way conversation. An hour later, I’m hanging in my hotel room, doing a hip-opening yoga routine when my phone pings. I roll out of pigeon pose and grab it like it’s a bomb about to detonate and click on Knox’s text.

Knox: That’s what happens when assholes are allowed to run wild.

What the fuck? This isn’t like Knox. He’s normally far more positive than this, but I deserve this for hurting him the way I did.

Ryder: I thought it was asshole night at the club. They do themes there, you know. Just trying to fit in and all.

Knox: Hah.

Fuck, he’s not engaging with me at all. I really messed this up. Pressing my face into the floor, I huff in exasperation. Knox has to forgive me. I guess I have to apologize for that to happen. Rolling to my back, I pick my phone up, looking at the screen.

Ryder: I know I fucked up. This is confusing as hell. I don't know what to do.

Well, it was embarrassing as hell to rip my chest open and admit that. I wait for a reply. And wait some more.

Ryder: Knox?

Knox: Oh, was there something in there directed at me? Because it sounded like you were making some general statements that didn’t require my input at all. You fucked up, fact. It’s confusing, fact. You don't know what to do, your problem, not mine.

Ryder: I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn't have been such an asshole to you at the club.

Knox: What an apology. Do you need a pat on the back for getting that one out? It’s gonna take a lot more than that for me to forgive you for acting the way you did. You scared away the first men to interact with me in public without me hiding my interest. I could have had rainbow booty shorts on my floor before the night was over. You robbed me of rainbow booty shorts, Ryder.

He wanted that scrawny dude in the short-shorts?

Ryder: That tiny man wasn’t even your type. I did you a favor by scaring the guy away!

Knox: What makes you the authority on what my type is? I could like gorgeous little twinks that I can split in half and bounce on my cock in the bedroom, and parade around like my pretty little prince in public. You don't know me like you think you do, Reckless.

The fucker has me seeing red. He’s back to that stupid nickname that is far too accurate, and I want to put a hole in the wall thinking of Knox bouncing anyone on his dick or having someone he parades around proudly. Someone that’s not me, the dick voice says. I’ve got to shut that thing up, but he really likes Knox. I let my dick speak when I type out my next text.

Ryder: I know you, and I know a guy you can break isn’t what you need. You want someone who will meet your strength with theirs. You need someone who can throw you around as easily as you can throw them around, so the power goes both ways. Because the best kind of sex is when you both give and take. You want to let go of your perfectly controlled self for a few minutes and become a beast that feels and takes selfishly from someone who wants to be taken from. You can't get that from someone a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter than you.

I barely stop myself from adding you need me before hitting send. My stomach still curls up and strangles my heart like I did. Why is it so hard to talk about this? To be vulnerable and admit how I feel, even to myself? I don't like it.

Knox: You really are an arrogant fucker. It’s not even about the men when it comes down to it, but you don't want to acknowledge the huge fucking elephant in the room. I’m cool off texting until you’re man enough to talk to me without avoiding the most important subject. Have a good game.

I don’t text him again, because I know Knox is serious, and I’m not ready to bring up what he wants me to. Knox is the bigger person, still wishing me a good game despite being pissed at me.

I’m agitated and in need of a release for my pent-up feelings that yoga just won't cure. I’m superstitious as fuck and I got off against Knox before my last game that we won. That means I need to come again tonight, even if Knox isn’t here for me to rub up against.

I hop up onto the bed and breathe out a frustrated sigh as I open the Vers app. Not bothering to scroll, I go right to my DMs and find HandyManCan with his beautiful skin that reminds me of Knox enough to imagine his face on the faceless photos in our chat history. I start a new message to him, wanting someone who doesn't know all my baggage and won't judge me for wanting to get off anonymously.

HotnHandsy: I’ve been thinking about those hands of yours. Especially wrapped around that gorgeous cock. Hope your day is going well .

I click out of my DMs, feeling a bit stupid for sending a pleasantry along with an obvious cry for a dick pic. I scroll through the feed of recent uploads, admiring those who have the art of the dick pic down and critiquing those who most certainly do not. Come on, man. Your socks are in the pic, and so is the damn dirty toilet. At least get some better lighting so your beast looks better. My notification of a new message pings several minutes later, and I check my messages to find one from HandyManCan.

HandyManCan: There you are. I thought you forgot about me. Hit it and quit it or something. Glad to know I’ve been on your mind, even a little bit.

HotnHandsy: There’s nothing little about you, and of course, I’ve thought about you. I don't get much time to use this app, honestly.

HandyManCan: I feel that. Work keeps me going nonstop. I travel a lot, and when I’m home, it’s just as insane.

HotnHandsy: Same. Another thing we have in common with our hand kink and big dicks.

HandyManCan: Is it weird to say I miss your big dick?

HotnHandsy: Fuck no. I want to see yours, too. Here you go.

I push my shorts down and take a photo of my cock lying heavy against my stomach, lit by the open window so the head gleams with the precum that’s already gathering in my excitement. It doesn't take much to get me going.

HandyManCan: *groan* I want to taste you. Were you just working out? Are you still sweaty? Fuck me, why is that so hot?

He sends me a photo in front of a window from a side chair I always think of as the cuck chair you’d find in any upscale hotel room, his abs bunching and his cock jutting out of joggers he’s pushed down his hips.

HotnHandsy: I was doing yoga before I messaged. Limbering up, I guess haha you should see my happy baby pose, it’s incredibly suggestive. Well, a lot of poses are.

HandyManCan: I just looked up happy baby and fuck me sideways. The things I would do to get you in that pose. I’d tear you up. You’d be my happy baby.

I groan. There’s that baby again. Why does it do something to me to have him call me that? I hit the video call button so fast. He answers just as quickly. My voice is low and raspy when I speak.

“You are a dirty, dirty man to defile yoga for me. I’ll never be able to get through a class with a straight face or without thinking of your cock again,” I say quickly, smoothing my thumb over the head of my cock that is leaking precum at the thought. To be on my back, feet in the air, thighs pressed back against my chest and this man’s cock driving into my ass? The thought sends tingles racing along my spine.

“I think I have to take up yoga. I could use the flexibility, and if it’s gonna have me learning new poses I could use in the bedroom, it will be extra beneficial,” he says, the deep timbre of his voice caressing me through the screen. It feels like velvet and steel, soft but unyielding, like him.

His hand lazily shuttles along his big cock, and I bite my lip, watching through the screen. I love the size of him and how he looks with his fist wrapped around that girth. This is what I can imagine Knox looks like. The thought has my dick jumping in my hand, throbbing painfully as pleasure rockets through me unexpectedly.

“Uh, yeah, yoga is good. You have an incredible body, though, so I don't think you’re skipping the gym. I appreciate what you’ve done with whatever it is you do. You gonna come on those perfect abs for me, Big Sexy?” I growl, needing to see him come apart for me again.

“You’re training me to be a two-pump chump with how fast I want to come when I see you. It’s a problem,” he says, voice sounding strained and a bit breathy. Good. I want him pathetic and needy for me .

“Did you fuck your fist thinking of me?” I ask.

“Yes,” he breathes, the single word sounding like a plea for more of me, and I fucking love it.

“You poor, pathetic thing. Did you come hard every time, but not as hard as when I talked you through it?”

“God, how do you do that? How do you know exactly what you do to me? Fuck,” he groans, his strokes speeding up.

“Did you need me and my fat cock to get you there the way you wanted?”

I’m stroking my cock at the same rhythm he is, and it feels so good, even without any lube, but damn I need something. I stop and spit in my hand, not about to get up and find lotion when I have this fucking beautiful specimen of a man to watch. He groans and passes his palm over the head of his cock and gathers the slickness there with a few pumps before he goes back to the top of his shaft with short, hard strokes.

“Yeah, baby, I did. I needed to see this. Squeeze harder, I want that cock milked for me.”

Holy shit. His comment goes to my balls that retract, and I grunt, staving off the urge to come, but just barely. I squeeze the way he instructed, and stars explode behind my eyelids before I can pry them open to watch him again. The back-and-forth we have is amazing. One minute I’m in charge, watching him fall apart for me, the next, he’s crumbling me with a single word.

“Show me how bad you want me. Give me that cum all over those pretty abs you work so hard for, Big Sexy,” I say, heart racing. “Tell me you want me when you come.”

Why is it so much easier to ask for this when I’m faceless, on an anonymous hookup app, but know it’s exactly what I want to say to Knox? The thought of Knox and his big body pressing me into the wall, his lips on mine demanding my truths and showing me what I can have if I just admit it and come clean, has my release coiling at the base of my spine, my breaths coming in pants as this stranger who feels so close matches my furious strokes.

“Fuck, baby, I want you so bad. Fill me up, give it to me, please,” he groans, cum spilling over his fingers and onto those defined abs in thick ropes.

My response is a strangled “Oh, shit, yes,” as I come all over my stomach in violent spurts that drain me.

But it’s Knox’s face I see. Knox’s hands I wish were on the screen. Knox’s body covered in cum. My cum. The instant slide into a post-nut low is steep and harrowing, sending me careening past enjoyment and relaxation and straight into freak-out territory. My hands shake, and my breathing goes shallow and desperate.

“Hey, you okay?” HandyMan asks gently.

How do I tell him I’m thinking about my best friend? I can’t admit to my online hookup the way I feel when his face isn’t the one that I imagined while coming just now. This stranger on the internet doesn't want to know I'm thinking about someone else. He doesn't need my shit heaped on him when he’s looking for some harmless fun .

“Fine.” I gasp. “Just in my head.” But my chest is tight, and Knox’s disappointed face right before he turned and left me in the hallway at the club keeps flashing in my mind.

“Talk to me, baby. Just let it out, whatever it is,” he says softly, the words exactly what I need to hear.

“My friend,” I start, fighting to keep my voice lower despite the anxiety clawing at me. “The one I told you I hurt a long time ago, and is back in my life now with work?”

“I remember,” he says, reassuring and calm, his phone trained on the mess on his abs and his softening cock that is still far too big. God, I want to put it in my mouth and feel it harden again.

“I think I messed it up even more. I might have feelings for him, but I’m not even sure I’m gay.”

“Baby, I’m gonna say this gently, but firmly, because it’s not the first time I’ve been through this.” His voice is tired as he pulls up his joggers and grabs a tissue to take care of the mess on his stomach. Once he’s situated again, he continues. “Maybe you're not gay, but you’re not straight if you’re coming with me, even in secret. You’re probably bi, and there’s nothing wrong with that. You can like and get off with anyone you want. It doesn't change who you are. You're still hot as hell and a good person if you’re worried about what happened with your friend in the past and how to fix it now.”

I let out a surprised chuckle and follow his lead, tucking my cock away and cleaning myself up. “I appreciate you thinking well of me, despite me losing my shit after coming. Feel free to just hang up on my ass next time if you don't want to deal with me.”

He laughs now. “I don't let people go through it on their own when they open up to me. Besides, I have my own shit to deal with, and it’s kind of therapeutic hearing you say what I wish I could hear in my situation.”

“There’s someone for you, isn’t there?” I ask, kind of sad, but I feel the same.

He breathes out a long breath. “I’ve been in love with the same man for as long as I can remember knowing what romantic love was, and it’s always been unrequited. I’ve never expected him to even see me romantically. He’s an idiot and can't get his shit together, so I don't know if it’ll ever work out for us, but I can’t help holding onto hope that maybe someday he’ll see me the same way I see him. Call me a stupid romantic.”

“If you’re such a romantic, why do you use this app?” I ask with genuine curiosity.

It takes him a second to respond. He plays with the tie on his joggers, his long fingers moving in a mesmerizing way. “I don't have the option to go out and hook up or connect with guys like this. It’s safer for me to stay anonymous and send dick pics to get off. You’re the first person to ask me more than if I like your dick,” he says, sounding genuinely pleased. “Why are you on it?”

“It was curiosity, at first, and for attention, I think.”

“The attention is nice,” he says. “I bet you get a lot on here with that perfect cock. ”

“You're the only one I talk to on this app, but you must be speaking from experience because yours is the most amazing one I’ve seen,” I say immediately. He chuckles in appreciation before I continue. “But I realized maybe it wasn’t just for attention. I don’t know, maybe I’ve always been interested in men, even if I couldn't admit it, and I realized coming with a man, even through an app, felt as good as coming with a woman.”

“That’s nothing to be ashamed about,” he says evenly.

“For me, there’s a lot of shit wrapped up in the idea of being gay. I have, I guess trauma or some shit that really fucked me up about the idea. I couldn’t wrap my head around what I wanted and what I knew was expected of me, so I shoved the part that wanted men down and went hard in the other direction. It terrifies me what it would mean, and who I would be if I looked too hard at that.”

“It’s just a term that helps other people categorize you, not anything that actually tells them who you are. You’re bi like you’re a poker player, or a pilot, or a dog owner. How much does that actually define you, right? Your worth as a human is more than what title you wear.” His tone is casual, the words said like we’re talking about the weather, and it all hits me.

Holy shit. He’s right. I’ve been so worried about other people—how they would think of me, what they would say, and if they would judge me—that I stopped myself from even daring to admit the truth. The truth is, I like women and men, and I’ve been lusting after my best friend in a big way that could be so beautiful if I just came clean about it, so he knows he’s worthy of love, and I want to be the one that gives it to him.

“I’d kiss you if I could. Know I’m sending you a big, sloppy, virtual tongue-in-your-mouth kiss. You just made things feel so much simpler. Thank you,” I say, my voice coarse and gravelly as I fight the emotion rising in my chest.

He chuckles softly. “I may have to take you up on your virtual kisses because the only person I want kissing me right now has his head up his ass and doesn't want to kiss me,” he replies. “Until next time when we have more messy emotions to sort out, baby.”

I feel lighter disconnecting from the app. Now, I have to figure out what this all means in real life, where it’s not as simple.