Page 65 of Familiar Things New

“Don’t worry about me.”

Andrew swallowed thickly. His eyes fell to his erection. Hesitantly, he began to move his fist. His hand shook slightly for the first few strokes. He’d never experienced anything even close to this before. It was so vulnerable, so terrifying, so embarrassing. And yet, it was so incredible, too.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Andrew asked, his breath catching as his foreskin slid over the moistening head of his cock.

“It is,” Edwin replied, his voice husky and raw.

Pleasure pooled low in Andrew’s belly. The sound of Edwin’s voice sent little ripples of heat trickling upward and outward everywhere at once, making him shudder. He began to pump his fist faster, and his mouth fell agape as his pleasure neared its peak.

“I’m close,” he said. Immediately after the word left his lips, another flash of pleasure streaked through him. “Oh, I’m . . . Edwin, I’m coming.”

His cock began to pulse, sending spurts of ejaculate onto his shirt and stomach and pants.

“Jesus,” Edwin said through a breath. He leaned down and buried his face in the crook of Andrew’s neck. “Jesus, fuck, Andrew.”

Andrew’s head was spinning, his heart still racing, as Edwin captured his mouth in a kiss. Hurriedly, Andrew rubbed his wet hand on his pant leg and turned to more squarely face his companion. He placed a hand on Edwin’s thigh.

Inching it higher, he pulled back to nuzzle Edwin’s nose.

“Now you, Edwin.” His voice was low and needy and filled with desire, sounding foreign to his own ears. But, oh, hell, how desperately he wanted to watch Edwin pleasure himself. “I want to watch you as well.”

God Almighty, how intensely he yearned to see Edwin make himself come undone.

But then, before Andrew could even process what was happening, Edwin pushed him back and scrambled off the chair.

“I can’t,” he said, his shoulders curling forward as he spoke.

Andrew blinked a few times in rapid succession, his mind still foggy from his post-orgasm haze, his muscles still humming from the shock and excitement of having stroked himself to completion in front of another man.

“Wh-why?” he asked.

Even though Edwin was under no obligation to reciprocate, Andrew couldn’t help but want him to. His face flushed with shame. He prayed he hadn’t overstepped.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I know this is new for both of us. And I know new things are scary. I’m plenty scared, too. Already this has been so much more than I ever thought we’d have. I don’t want to ruin it. I just . . . I’d love to see—”

“Don’t be sorry,” Edwin clipped. “Please don’t be sorry. I liked watching you. And it’s logical that you’d want to watch me, too. But I can’t.” He let out a small, frustrated-sounding scream. “Andrew, I’m the one who should be sorry. I am sorry.” He sighed. “I should go.”

He spun to face the door and started away.

“No!” Andrew leapt to his feet. His pants fell to the floor, and he took a step forward, but almost fell. Pain radiated up his leg, and he cried out. “Ah!”

Edwin stopped walking.

Andrew let out a breath. “Please stay.”

After a pause—the longest pause Andrew had ever experienced, possibly the longest pause in the history of everything—Edwin turned around.

And he came back.

“It’s late, Andrew,” Edwin said.

He knelt down and took hold of Andrew’s pants and his drawers, which had both settled around his ankles. Andrew stayed frozen in his pain and confusion as Edwin pulled them back up. Edwin began to refasten the buttons, his fingers nimble. All Andrew could do was stand there feeling foolish and ashamed and afraid, his eyes filling with tears as his thoughts began to spiral.

Had he ruined things with Edwin? If he had, then why was Edwin helping him with his pants now? And if he hadn’t, then why had Edwin’s instinct been to run off? Did Edwin not trust him? Did Edwin not desire him in the same way?

Once Edwin was finished with the buttons, he lifted his chin and looked into Andrew’s eyes.

“It’s late,” he repeated. “And I need to go home to my mother and my sister.”