The Art of Hero Worship (10 page)

Daring is not an adjective I’d normally use
to describe myself. The most daring things I’ve ever done actually
all involve going along with the grand schemes of other people.
Following them
.
Daring
is simply not how I’m
programmed. But tonight I step out of my comfort zone, and I’m not
sure what I hope to accomplish by doing this. But strangely, I do
it anyway.

“You never told me if you have a
girlfriend.” The skin on my face burns with embarrassment at having
made such a bold statement.

He turns and looks at me very directly. His
high blond spikes are doing that slumping-to-the-left thing they do
at night, and his expression has lost some of its sharpness. “You
never asked.”

“Well, consider yourself asked.”

“I’m not sure there’s a clear cut answer.”
He turns all the way toward me and he lifts one arm to the back of
the couch.

“I want it anyways.” I’ve never been so
persistent in terms of getting the information I want from a
reluctant person. Usually, I allow people to unfold at their own
pace, in terms of telling me what they want me to know about them.
“So tell me.”

“I’m much better at showing than
telling.”

And with those cryptic words, where he fully
avoids the subject of his dating history, he leans forward and
kisses me squarely on the lips. It’s a chaste kiss filled with the
promise of more that will be far less innocent. But he pauses a
moment, probably waiting to see if I’ll punch him out or shove him
away because he made his move. And when I do neither—not because
the urge to shove him is absent, but because I’m so tangled in
confusion regarding my very sexual identity—he places his hands on
either side of my face and leans forward to kiss me again.

This time his kiss is soft and moist and
unrushed. He pulls back just slightly before he cocks his head and
comes at my mouth again from a different angle. I have no idea if
I’m responding or if I’m merely doing what I do best: riding the
wave. But thoughts of Ginny, of Lola, and of the first girl I
kissed in grade school behind the town baseball dugout, are
swirling around haphazardly like hurricane winds in my mind. And
when I notice the scratch of his beard against my chin, the single
word
gay
surfaces in my brain

Gay. Gay? Gay! Gay….

I’ve never before seen myself this way. Even
the night he got me off at the hotel hadn’t made me feel as gay as
sharing this kiss with Liam. And I want so much to deny it, but I
can’t—tonight, at least, I want to keep going in this “gay”
direction. And in the morning I’ll likely blame my actions on the
booze or the trauma or the loss of my girlfriend or a serious case
of hero worship, or on anything that comes to mind when I decide
it’s time to make my straight escape. But, right now I’m determined
to go along with this. I lift my hands to the sides of his bearded
face and pull him closer.

Liam establishes his dominance the very
instant I let him know that our kiss is okay with me. To be honest,
his control of this situation thrills me in a way I quickly realize
is a game-changer. The abandon with which he’s kissing me now—the
sureness and direction and desire he’s struggling to reign in—leads
me into pleasure, without allowing for the kind of second thoughts
or doubts that have previously inhibited me. He leads, I follow. It
actually
is
that simple.

I’ve never felt comfortable in the sexually
aggressive role that’s expected of me as a “healthy, red-blooded
American man.” I struggled with Ginny to find the place I wanted to
be when in bed. But Liam seems to already know this, as I’m
currently living my secret passive fantasy in his arms.

“You need to lie flat beneath me and be
still,” Liam tells me when our passionate kiss finally comes to its
breathy conclusion. “Because I want to take in every inch of you,
and I can see you better when your body isn’t moving so much. You
will do this for me?”

I’m surprised at how easy it is to lower my
eyes and nod.

Liam pushes me down flat on the bold,
flowery fabric and studies my fully clothed body. I can’t remove my
gaze from his face, as he’s so totally absorbed in me. It’s more
than flattering; it’s addictive. Then without a hint of hesitation
he reaches for the hem of my white T-shirt, and wordlessly enlists
my cooperation as he pulls it cleanly over my head. My chest is
bare and exposed and I feel vulnerable, so much so that I try to
cross my arms in front of me, but Liam pushes them to my sides.
When his lips, surrounded by the scruffy bush of his beard, brush
the skin on my ribcage, the rush of arousal makes me gasp.

“Stay still… and take what I give you.” Liam
pins my arms to the couch and proceeds to feast on my chest. When I
feel his sharp white teeth nibbling on one nipple, then the other,
I begin to writhe and I forget the very last of my
reservations.

“You’re mine… I saved you, so now it’s my
job to take care of the big stuff and the small stuff—everything
you need. No one’s gonna hurt you or scare you… I won’t let anybody
harm so much as a hair on your head, Jase… I won’t.” Liam rambles
on and on—vows of how he’ll always protect me—as he unbuttons and
then unzips my jeans. As soon as the fly is open he slides his hand
inside and cups my balls. I struggle mentally with the knowledge
that it’s a man’s hand on me, but this doesn’t diminish my
erection. “You’re gonna be mine and you’re gonna know it tonight.”
His face drops down below my waist and first he nuzzles my entire
crotch—as if he’s breathing me in—and then he mouths the tip of my
dick through the thin cotton of my boxers.

I gasp again at the sensation and the
knowledge that a man is giving it to me. “I’ve never felt like
this, Liam….” I say this with complete honesty because I’ve never
felt this turned on, even with Ginny. My come-clean candor
surprises me because it isn’t my style. “What now? What comes
next?”

Liam lifts his face from between my legs and
he smiles. My lack of comfort in this area seems to give him more
confidence, as well as to feed his passion, and he replies in a
deep, rumbling tone, “All good things, Jase. Only good things.”

I lift my ass more eagerly than I can
believe so he’s able to easily pull down my shorts and when they’re
on the floor beside us, he bites the elastic of my boxers and tugs
at them with his teeth. I reach down to help him pull them off, but
Liam’s huge palm stops me. “I want to undress you myself. Stay
still.”

Complying is easy and freeing, and at this
moment, exactly what I want. He reaches for the waistband of my
boxers and peels them down quickly, causing my dick to pop up,
right into his face. For a moment only, his action seems
experimental; he licks the moisture at the tip and hums as if the
flavor is unique and wonderful, like nothing else he’s tasted. His
reaction is unexpected and stimulating.

The contrast of being naked when Liam is
fully dressed further fuels my arousal; for some reason I feel even
more helpless to the desire of the man beside me. I begin to
tremble, not from cold, but from the awareness that I’m not the one
in control, that I must wait and stay still until the moment he
chooses to move this experience forward.

“Keep your hands by your sides,” Liam orders
gently as he releases my arms. He then proceeds to examine my stiff
dick, and I want desperately to cover myself, but Liam is the king
here tonight and he wants to do things his way. So this is how it
will be.

“Have you ever been sucked by a man?” His
attention shifts from my dick to my eyes. When I shake my head, he
says, “Neither have I, but I know what I like when I’m with women.
So, I’d say you’re gonna need to brace yourself.”

His words alone send a spasm of chills up my
spine, and in obedience, I clutch the flowery fabric on the couch
in my fists as Liam roughly parts my legs and climbs between them.
His shoulders are broad, and the fit on the couch is tight, but
that doesn’t deter him. He bends down and without a second of
hesitation swallows me wholly and enthusiastically. Nothing has
ever felt this good. I’m not sure anything ever will.

After sucking with rapt determination and
bringing me to the edge three times, Liam pulls his own T-shirt off
and I’m presented with the ripped muscles of a man who possesses
true physical superiority over most everyone he meets.

A man… a man….

He reaches down to unbutton his own fly, and
he pulls out his dick. It’s enormous and hard and as eager as I am
for what will come next.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he tells me with
urgency, and before I know it he’s again bent between my thighs. “I
want you to arch your back when you come, and then I’m going to get
up on my knees and finish myself off. I’m gonna come on your skin.”
He’s looking up at me again, trying to talk without gasping for
air. One of his hands is hard at work on his own dick, and I reach
out to touch his face but he says, “Hands at your sides,
please.”

My entire body quivers as I place my hands
by my sides, close my eyes, and accept how he pulls so assertively
on my dick with his tongue. In less than thirty seconds, I reach
down to touch Liam’s shoulder, giving him the signal that it’s
time.

“I want to see.” His voice is raspy, and he
lifts his head to watch me come, my back arched in ecstasy as he
requested. The instant I lower my back to the couch, he kneels and
jerks himself—once, twice, and then his warm come is splashing on
my belly.

Within a minute he’s up off the couch,
leading me to the bedroom, where he cleans me with his T-shirt and
pulls me into bed.

Can two men experience emotional and sexual
satisfaction with each other when they aren’t gay?

I wake up with this question burning in my
mind.

It was already over, romantically speaking,
with Ginny when the shooting took place in the theater. Ginny and I
had agreed that we’d spend the summer apart and when we returned
from break, it would be as friends. I was just too tame to fit her
idea of “the perfect man,” and my feelings for Ginny had shifted
over time from romantic love to deep admiration. And although our
impending break-up was decided by mutual agreement, it had been
difficult to accept. But there’s no doubt, I’d once loved Ginny and
had been fulfilled by our relationship, both emotionally and
sexually.
How can I possibly feel so complete this morning,
after having been pretty much possessed in bed by a man?

To be brutally honest, last night with Liam
I experienced a kind of sexual satisfaction I was unaware even
existed.

But, shit,
I loved Ginny.
I wanted
her body and I treasured her brain and I found her to be the
funniest, quirkiest, most fascinating person I’d ever met. I
loved
her, for Christ’s sake.
So I must be straight.
I’ve only dated girls in the past; I took girls to proms and to
homecoming dances and down by the lake to make out and home to meet
my mother. I’ve never looked at the masculine form—a scruffy beard,
massive thighs, a deep voice, ripped pecs, a powerful back—and
experienced sexual desire.

With one fucking humongous exception. And
right now he’s draped on top of me, literally. Lying on his belly
on the double bed, his sturdy arm is stretched out across my hips,
his legs entwined with mine. We’re both stark naked and I’m hard as
a rock; my quandary with regard to my sexual orientation doing
nothing to diminish my morning wood.

“You’re up.” He pulls my body tight against
his and one big palm comes down on my erection.

“In more ways than one,” I quip.

“I’ll take care of it for you.” His hand
begins to move as his mouth finds the hollow of my neck, and the
feeling of his scratchy beard, contrasted with his soft lips on my
throat, along with the steady pumping of my dick, has me coming
almost immediately. He watches closely as I arch my entire body
against his.
Uh…yeah… I do it again, as I know he liked it when
I did it last night.
When had I become such a
pleaser?

I’ve never touched a man with the intention
of pleasuring him, and the mere thought brings me back to
perplexity about my sexual orientation. It’s amazing how a morning
orgasm can make you see the big picture so clearly. It seems like
Liam senses my sudden reluctance and when I awkwardly reach for his
dick, he takes my hand in his and kisses it, then excuses himself
to the shower.

Part of me wants to trail after him, as I’m
a committed follower, but another part of me isn’t so sure it’s the
right thing to do. I’m completely out of my league here; I don’t
know what any of this
means
. I just know that he makes me
happy in a way I’ve never been happy before, but I doubt that it
can really be that simple. For a moment, I wonder how Liam can
perform so well sexually, with me, another guy.