Wilder, Winona - Choosing Love [Coming Out 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour ManLove) (3 page)

“I’m not going to hit you, Cal.”

“Say my name! It’s Calvin, the gayest fucking name in the world.”

“Stop it,” warned Waylon. “You’re too drunk to think straight.”

This time when he swung, he managed to land a solid blow to Waylon’s jaw. His friend bulldozed him into the brick wall, one hand around the offending wrist, the other around his neck. “I told you to cut it out,” he growled.

“Fuck you!”

Waylon shifted his hand from
Cal
’s neck to his jaw, holding firm, and leaned in close. His entire body pressed against his now, strong and solid. No witnesses occupied the dark, empty alley. It was just the two of them. Two ill-fated friends. The last thing in the world
Cal
expected was for Waylon to lean in and kiss him on the lips, which he did, boldly. The wild mix of adrenaline and testosterone quickly morphed into a lust
Cal
had never known. Was he too drunk to know what was happening? Did Waylon really just kiss him?

Too scared to try and find out the truth, but even more afraid to deny his urges and not accept the advance,
Cal
kissed him back. Waylon’s mouth was exactly how he’d imagined, and he had played the scene over and over in his head over the years. His lips were thick and firm, and he dominated his mouth with hunger and passion.
Cal
sucked on Waylon’s tongue, thrusting his pelvis forward to grind against his friend’s body. He was too scared to open his eyes. Maybe he’d be back in the club and discover he was wasted and still kissing Macy. How could this be real? Was Waylon testing him? Did he fail by willingly kissing back? He supposed he could blame it on the booze. But when Waylon’s strong hand reached around to squeeze his jean clad ass, his doubts began to fizzle away.

Chapter Three

Waylon tried to rein in the beast within him, but once he had let it out he couldn’t control it.
Cal
was the sexiest man alive, and damn he loved him. All he ever thought or cared about was
Cal.
Denying his true feelings all these years had been torture. He had built a carefully constructed image to keep his family and friends in the dark to his true nature. Waylon was the college football hero with the hottest girlfriend. His body was solid muscle and intimidating. No one would dare question his sexuality. But in the span of a few seconds he threw away all his guards and gave into his desire—Calvin Waters.

Standing there sweat glistened and shirtless, his dirty blond hair in disarray, his lips swollen from too much drinking—how could he be expected to hold back?

When
Cal
had willingly accepted Macy, Waylon knew he should be happy for his friend. The whole plan was to get him laid. But the possessive instincts that erupted inside him were shocking. He needed to separate the two lovers before things got out of hand, not because
Cal
was drunk, but because Waylon couldn’t stand seeing him with anyone but himself. Their fight had been a dance of raw passion and energy, both letting go years of pent-up feelings in a sudden burst of energy. Watching his usually shy, laid-back friend erupt in a savage burst of violent passion only forced his own deep seated feelings to the surface.

He finally managed to pull back from their kiss, which took a Herculean effort considering the younger man rubbed his steely erection against his hip. “I’m sorry.”

“But you didn’t drink, did you?”
Cal
asked, slightly breathless. No, Waylon stayed sober to be the designated driver. There was no excuse for his actions.

“No.”

They stayed close, both lacking the right words in the awkward moment. Did he just ruin their friendship forever?
Cal
was drunk and couldn’t be blamed, but Waylon knew full well what he did. While part of him regretted his actions, a stronger part felt relieved, like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He pulled slightly away, giving himself enough room to look at the length of
Cal
’s partially nude body. He already had a one-way trip to hell, so why not go all the way? Waylon placed his hand over his friend’s hard pec, squeezing slightly, enjoying the feel of his goose-bumped flesh and pebbled nipple. As he explored his lean, ripped torso,
Cal
never pulled away.

“Does Stephanie know?”

He assumed he meant his sexuality. “No.” He reached his waistband, his fingers curling around
Cal
’s belt. “Tell me to stop.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

“You’re drunk.” He should stop before his friend really hated him in the morning.

“True. That doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.”

Cal
licked his lips. His slight stubble and shadows highlighting the sharp planes of his face made him look irresistible. Waylon wanted to kiss him again, but held back. “But you’re not gay.”

Cal
flinched at the sound of the word, and then he shrugged. “How do you know?”

“Don’t tempt me. Like I told you earlier, anyone would be a fool not to want you.”

“Do you?” His voice was deep and throaty, making Waylon’s cock even harder. Rather than answer the man, he grabbed
Cal
’s hand and cupped it against the dominant bulge in his jeans.

“What does that tell you?” His eyes lolled back in his head as
Cal
kneaded his cock. His friend’s hot breath against the side of his neck sent shivers skittering through his body.

“So, you’re bi?”

He shook his head. “I’ve never liked girls. I’m just good at hiding it. How I’ve held back this long when you’re so fucking fine, I’ll never know.” His words appeared to undo
Cal
at the same time as Waylon. He couldn’t hold back any longer. Shoving
Cal
against the bricks, he crushed his mouth to his in a brutal, masculine kiss. He loved the strength and sturdiness of the male body, unlike the fragile feminine form.
Cal
combed his hands through Waylon’s hair, pulling his head closer. With his arms free, Waylon spared no time in unbuckling his friend’s belt and unzipping his pants. His balls ached with the need for release, for a release he craved since he first set eyes on the hunk that now melted against his mouth.

Waylon pulled out
Cal
’s erection. “Oh, fuck!”
Cal
muttered against Waylon’s lips. It pleased him to know his touch excited his friend. He wrapped his hand around his length and broke their kiss to peer down between them.

“You look full grown to me,” he said with a grin.
Cal
’s cock was thick and ready. Nothing to laugh at.

“Nobody can make me hard like you can.” He reached down to help Waylon pump his shaft. His pre-cum coated Waylon’s fingers, and he had the urge to lick it off with his tongue. “I want to touch you, too.”

Waylon moved fast, unbuckling his own pants, desperate to feel his fantasy man touch him skin to skin. How many nights had he dreamt of this? All the years wasted that they could have shared together, but there was no way of knowing until now. Once free of the restricting confines of his boxers, their dicks slapped against each other.
Cal
dropped down to a crouch and swallowed Waylon’s erection before he could blink.

“Shit!” He braced both hands on the brick wall as his friend, now lover, sucked his cock like a pro. It seemed he knew exactly how to pleasure him, the perfect amount of pressure and suction to drive him over the edge. Waylon’s balls pulled tight against his body as he braced for release. Watching
Cal
’s beautiful head bobbing back and forth beneath him was the perfect ammunition to bring off the orgasm of the century.

Just before he reached his peak, the boom of the metal emergency door opening brought
Cal
jumping to his feet. They both tucked themselves in their pants and put distance between them.

Macy and Stephanie spilled out into the alley, their heels clicking on the asphalt. “What did you do to him?” Macy squealed as she raked her eyes up and down a partially nude
Cal
.

“Nothing. Just a little disagreement,” Waylon reassured. “Everything’s fine now.” He shifted his gaze from each woman and back to
Cal
.

“Should we leave?” asked Steph with an air of disappointment in her voice.

“Maybe I should drive
Cal
home—”

Cal
cut him off. “No. I’ll walk. The fresh air will do me good.”

“You’re not walking home alone in your condition.” Waylon grabbed
Cal
’s arm as he walked away, but his friend shrugged him off and disappeared down the alley, becoming consumed by darkness. He desperately wanted to follow, not just to finish what they started, but to nurture the germinated seed of acceptance between them. Their relationship was fragile and could go either way, and Waylon still wasn’t sure if
Cal
’s advance was real or booze-induced.

* * * *

Nearly two weeks passed, and neither of them said a word to each other. It was crazy considering there hadn’t been a day they hadn’t shared since becoming friends years ago.
Cal
never felt so alone and confused in his life. It was better when he lived in denial. At least then he had his best friend.

Cal
assumed Waylon regretted what had happened between them. Although
Cal
had been hammered, he remembered every erotic and beautiful detail of that night. How could something so good, be so bad? It was one thing to lust over a man, but it was another to actually suck a man’s dick. Now he was well and truly gay, and he felt smaller than a piece of shit. He was going to hell in a handbasket, just as his stepfather guaranteed him when he had kicked him out of the house.

American History class was brutal because he had to see Waylon sitting three aisles over from him. He was also looking sexier than sin and never made eye contact.
Cal
wondered if he told his jock friends about his
gay
ex-friend.

As class was dismissed, Mr. Hawke called out over the bustle of students packing up and exiting the room. “Mr. Matthews and Mr. Waters, I’d like to see you both for a minute after class.”

Both of them? Why?
Cal
remained in his seat looking disinterested. Waylon paced the aisle like a caged lion.
Cal
couldn’t help but sneak glances at the man’s thick, powerful thighs and tight ass.

Mr. Hawke closed and locked the door after the last student left. As usual, Mr. Hotness made
Cal
’s dick stir. The teacher returned to his desk and sat on the front of it, one leg bent up. He exuded an air of confidence and authority that was strongly masculine and, to
Cal
, erotic.

“What’s going on with you two?” He looked alternatively to each of them. “I’ve given out one assignment so far, and you’re the only two students not to hand it in. Is the class too difficult? I thought it was a mindless assignment myself.”

“Sorry, sir. I’ve had a lot on my mind,”
Cal
offered. He had no excuse, besides his suicidal desires and broken heart.

Mr. Hawke tapped the desk in front of him with the tip of his shoe. “Come closer, please.”

They both changed seats, creating a small bubble of space for conversation.
Cal
still kept his eyes off Waylon. He feared finding rejection or revulsion in his friend’s eyes.

“I’ll have it to you tomorrow,” said Waylon, fidgeting to get out of the room.

“It’s more than that. I haven’t been teaching all these years without developing a bit of perception. If either of you think you’ve gone under my radar, you’re wrong.” He stood, hands clasped behind his back as he paced the area between the two men. “I see how the two of you sneak glances at each other during class. The energy between the two of you practically sizzles. In fact, it’s distracting.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,”
Cal
insisted.

“Don’t bother getting defensive, Calvin. I wasn’t born yesterday, and you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“What are you saying?” asked Waylon, crossing his arms over his broad chest.