Page 128 of Levi

“You tell me the second you’re not.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I tell him. “I’m okay with anything you want to do.”

His eyes flick up to mine, and he smiles. He hooks his thumbs in the waist of my jeans and drags them down, going to a crouch with them. I put a hand on his shoulder to keep my feet and step out, one leg, then the other. He lays the jeans over the chair.

Just my shorts left now, and him still in his clothes, down on one knee in front of me. My cock is already tenting the thin cotton, and he can see it.

“You’re hard for me,” he says, and hooks his fingers in the last of it and takes that too.

My cock springs free, thick and flushed, the head already wet and shining. He stays down a second, both hands warm on the backs of my thighs, just staring up at me — at my cock, at my balls drawn up tight — and I have to lock my knees to stand steady.

“Your turn,” I tell him.

He stands and lets me undress him. I lift his shirt up over his head and put my palms flat on all that smooth skin. Open his belt, his slacks, until there’s nothing left between us. His cock is heavy and hard against my stomach when I pull him close, the head slick already.

We end up tangled down into his bed. His weight settles over me and I reach down between us, wrapping my hand around his cock. I want to make him feel good, to be worth the day he spent bleeding on my account. His hand closes over mine gently, and moves it away.

“Levi, wait up.” He props up over me on one elbow. Even in the dark I can feel him looking at me. “I want to ask you a question first. And I want the truth out of you.”

My stomach tightens in a bad way. “Okay.”

“The other night. You started to tell me something and you stopped. You said there were things you hadn’t done. That you weren’t as experienced as me.” His thumb moves back and forth on my hip. “Tell me what you meant by that.”

I turn my face away so I don’t have to say it looking at him.

“It’s not much of a story. I’ve been with men. Some. Not a lot. It was always the quick, dirty kind of thing. On the road, in the dark, fast, secretive. One time the crew brought a guy on for a couple of cities and he was gone by the third. That kind of thing.”

Dante doesn’t jump in to fill the silence. He just waits, his hand on my hip. The waiting is what pulls the rest of it up out of me.

“Nothing that ever made it into the daylight,” I say. “Nothing anybody had to think about beforehand, or get ready for. You did it and it was done.”

“And afterwards?” he asks.

“After, I was alone. Nobody hung around. Not even ten minutes. There wasn’t any of this.” I don’t have a name for what this is, him propped over me in the warm dark taking his time, so I let it go. “After it was over, I’d be back in the dark by myself, like it didn’t happen. It’d leave me feeling worse than before.”

I stop. The shame’s got a hand around my throat now.

“Worse how.”

I make myself say it, looking at the door instead of at him.

“Like they were collecting it. As if I was a trophy and they were hunting.” It’s ugly out loud and I say it anyway. “Every one of them came at me first. Always. They’d get me off alone somewhere and offer, real generous about it, hey, let me do this, like they were doing me a kindness. A blowjob, a hand, whatever they wanted to be able to say they did to me. And I let them, because I was lonely and starved enough to take it and too scared to ever be the one asking first. But it wasn’t me they were after. It was Lee Streeter. They wanted to be the guy who blew Lee Streeter in the backseat of a tour bus. Something to brag about later.”

I can’t bear to see his eyes. I hate what he must be thinking about me. I keep going anyway.

“And it only ever ran the one way. Nobody wanted anything back from me and I never had the nerve to give it if they did. So I’d take what they were offering and then lie there after feeling used.” I finally get up the nerve to turn and look at him. “And I’d hate myself over it for weeks. Every single time. Because I didn’t know how to want it the right way.”

That’s more than I’ve told a living soul. The shame almost choked it out of me but he has a right to know. It’s out and I can’t call it back.

“Levi, look at me,” he says and he waits until I do. “Those men wanted a story. That’s a cheap thing to want, and not one bit of it was ever about you.” His hand comes up to the side of my face, thumb along my cheekbone. “I’m sorry that happened to you. You were a young guy alone on a bus, taking the only thing anyone ever offered, because no one offered you the rest. That’s not yours to be ashamed of. It was done to you. You deserve much more than that.”

My throat closes up and I can’t get a word out.

“Hear me on the rest. This goes both directions between us or it doesn’t go at all. I’m not a guy who takes and rolls over. And when it’s finished, I’m not going anywhere, and you’re not by yourself after. Not ever again. That’s mine now, you understand? The after belongs to me. I’ll take care of you.”

“You shouldn’t have to—”

“I’m not done. Here’s the standing rule, so you quit guessing. We only ever do what feels good to you. If something doesn’t, you say so and we stop, right there. There’ll be no pressure, no talking you into it, or you trying to get through it. You enjoy it as much as I do or we don’t do it. Period. That’s the rule.” He brushes the hair back off my forehead. “I’m not a guy gone by the third city or a one-night stand. I’ll be here in the morning, and the morning after that one, so there’s no rush. We’re not doing everything tonight. We’re a long way from that.”