My Straight Husband by Spencer Spears
Brooklyn
“Do you want to come back to my hotel?”
I stared at Gabe, not entirely sure I’d heard him right.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“My hotel. I mean, it’s more of a bed and breakfast, I guess, but, um, yeah. Do you—do you want to come back there? With me? Tonight?”
I blinked.
“Fuck, I’m usually smoother than this,” Gabe said, raising a hand to his forehead. “Or better at reading my audience. It’s fine, don’t worry about it. You don’t have to—”
“Yes.”
It came out more vehemently than I’d intended, but it had started to sound like Gabe was rescinding the invitation, and even in my state of shock, I knew I wanted to stop him from taking it back. When was I going to get a chance like this again?
I mean, okay, sure, there were a thousand bright red flags waving in my face. The kid was only twenty-four. He’d as much as told me he’d never been with a guy before. For all I knew, I was his fucking experiment. I was supposed to be smarter than this.
But suddenly, I didn’t care. Gabe was hot. And he was right here in front of me, looking up at me with eyes so blue I could swim in them. Wearing an expression that said that even if this was an experiment, he wanted me. And he hoped I wanted him.
Sure, I was tired. Ready to pass out on the table from sheer exhaustion, actually. But dammit, maybe Jeff was right. Because suddenly, everything he’d said this afternoon seemed completely, one hundred percent true. I needed to get laid.
And I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Really?” Gabe smiled slowly like he couldn’t believe his luck. I stifled a chuckle. I couldn’t believe mine, but it wouldn’t do to show him that.
“Yeah.” I stood, pulling him up and wrapping an arm around him tightly, my mouth finding his earlobe. He sucked in a harsh breath of air, then whined in pleasure as I bit it gently. “Wanna go now?”
“Fuck, yes.”
Getting to the inn where he was staying was a blur. We walked, I think, but we kept stopping to make out along the way. Every time I felt the urge to ask questions, to pause and tell Gabe that maybe we should think this through, that he didn’t have to rush into things, I squashed the impulse by kissing him instead.
No questions. No second-guessing. No wondering why the hell Mark’s straight friend was propositioning me or worrying about what happened tomorrow.
Gabe had said yes. Gabe wanted this. Gabe had suggested this. I wouldn’t push him to go farther than he wanted, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to push him away either.
We stumbled up the stairs of his bed and breakfast and down the hall to his room, dodging the knick-knacks and doily-covered side tables that reared out of the darkness like they were trying to trip us. There was a framed cross-stitch of kittens in a washtub on the wall next to his door, and I stared at it until he got the room unlocked and tugged me inside.
“This is almost too cute,” I said, my eyes taking in the flowered wallpaper, the four-poster bed, and the lace curtains lining the window. I set my jacket down on the back of a chair. There was a quilt on top of the bed, and I ran my hand across it. “Do you think this is handmade?”
“Probably. They’ll probably have a grandmother-for-hire at breakfast tomorrow, offering knitting classes along with tea and scones.” Gabe laughed and walked towards me. “This place definitely has more character than the faceless chain hotels I usually stay in, even if I’m not getting points for—” He broke off and shook his head. “You know what? Never mind. That’s a boring topic of conversation. I think there are other, much more interesting things we could be talking about right now. Or doing.”
“Stop worrying so much about being boring,” I chided.
I put my hands on either side of his face and leaned down to kiss him. He wasn’t short, exactly, but he was shorter than I was—not that I was complaining. I nipped at his lower lip and suppressed a grin when he gasped. I’d noticed he liked that.
“Then stop asking me questions about my linens.” He looked up at me, blue eyes almost black in the dim light, a smile flickering across his lips. “Unless that was just a ploy to get me over to the bed.”
He stood up on his tiptoes to kiss me, and the sudden movement knocked me off balance. I stumbled backwards, falling onto the bed and bringing him along with me.
“I know you might have heard some stereotypes about insatiable gay men,” I laughed, my hands tracing their way up and down his sides as I spoke, “but really, I’m just happy to sit up all night and play cribbage if you wanna take things slow.”
Gabe pressed another kiss onto my lips. “I don’t know how to play cribbage. But frankly, I can’t think of a less sexy-sounding game.”
“Even if I tell you there’s a part in it called pegging?” I grinned wickedly.
“Well, when you put it like that…”
“I’m serious, though.” I pushed up onto my elbows and looked him in the eye. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to—”
“Fuck you and your being so solicitous. Go back to being insatiable. You have my consent to be insatiable.”
“Can do.”
My hands went to Gabe’s hips, gripping him firmly. Then I shifted, pushing both of us further up the bed while rolling him over so I was lying on top. I liked the feeling of him pressed up against me in any position, but I wasn’t usually a bottom and I figured I might as well begin making that clear with body language as soon as possible.
Not that I assumed we were having sex tonight. But Gabe had asked for insatiable. And dammit, it had been a long time since I’d been with a guy. If he wanted insatiable, he was going to get it.
Something buzzed underneath me, and I glanced down. Gabe looked confused, then annoyed.
“Fuck, my phone.” His hand went to his back pocket and he pulled his phone out to look at it. “Ugh. My brother. It’s fine. I’ll call him back.”
He silenced the call and turned his face back to me. I was waiting for him and caught his lips with mine. He moaned as I slid down to kiss his neck, slipping one hand behind his head and the other one underneath his shirt. He arched his back, pressing his stomach against mine.
I found a nipple and pinched it with my fingers, drawing a gasp from his lips. I checked his face to make sure that had been a gasp of pleasure and saw his eyes roll back in his head. He certainly seemed to be enjoying it.
“That okay?” I murmured, pressing my tongue along his Adam’s apple.
“Fuck yes, it’s fucking okay,” Gabe growled.
I pulled back a few inches so I could look into those intense eyes of his. His pupils were huge, dilated with lust, which was gratifying, but still. One of us had to be responsible, and as the older, surer, gayer one, that probably fell to me.
“Hey, it’s your first time with a guy, right?”
Gabe flushed. “Yeah, so?”
“So sue me for wanting to make sure you’re into this.” I ran a finger along his cheek. “Let me set the pace. For all you know, gay sex is always like this, nothing but talking about our feelings and mandatory checks for consent every minute and thirty seconds.”
“Gay sex?” His eyes went wide at my words, and something—was it fear?—flashed through them.
Fuck.
“Gay anything,” I amended. “But see, this is a good example. We have to communicate, talk about the things you want, or we won’t—fuck.”
Gabe drove his hips up into mine so I could feel his erection pushing up against me. “I want you.” He looked at me, eyes serious. “I promise.”
Fuck it.
Fuck my better judgment telling me to take things slow. Fuck my hesitation over that look in his eyes. Fuck every single one of those glaring red flags screaming, ‘Danger! Caution! Don’t do something you’ll regret!’
Gabe said he wanted this. My body said I wanted this too. Maybe that was enough.
I used my thigh to push his legs apart, then ground down onto him, feeling his cock slide against me. I couldn’t wait to get him undressed. I slid my left hand down his side and squeezed his ass. I licked along his jaw, then up to his lips, parting his mouth with my tongue, then claiming it.
Gabe moaned into the kiss, his cock pressing into my groin, straining through his jeans. I ground my hips onto his again, bringing a whine as I thrust against him. Goddammit, he was hot. And so fucking responsive, his breath coming faster now, his lips seeking mine.
A low buzzing sound interrupted us again, and I glanced down at Gabe in confusion. He looked as frustrated as I felt. He picked his phone up from where he’d left it lying on the bed and made a face when he saw who it was.
“Your brother again?”
He nodded.
“Do you need to answer it?”
Gabe shook his head emphatically. “No. He’s probably drunk dialing me. He can wait. I’ll call him tomorrow.”
He silenced the phone and pushed it away, then looked at me with a grin.
“So,” he said, smiling wickedly, “were we done with the foreplay, or did you want to keep torturing me for another hour or so? Not that I’m not enjoying myself, but if you wanted us to get a little more naked, I wouldn’t say no.”
I shook my head as something between a laugh and a growl erupted from me. Then I kissed his neck again, reveling in the soft skin there. Maybe I’d been wrong, when I thought I saw fear in his eyes. Or maybe he was a little nervous, but wanted me anyway. For some reason, that thought was hotter than anything else.
And to think I’d been ready to just go back to my hotel and go to sleep early. Thank God I’d pushed the exhaustion away. Even if I could still feel it lying latent in my muscles, lurking behind my eyes, I wasn’t going to let it keep me from missing this.
Maybe it had just been too long since I’d been with anyone, but I was pretty sure this qualified as the hottest hookup I’d ever had. And we still had all our clothes on. The idea of being Gabe’s first gay, well, anything, was driving me crazy. Blow job. Hand job. Even just more making out. I’d take what I could get.
Buzzing erupted from his phone for a third time, and he groaned. “I’ll just turn it off. He’ll get the picture.”
“No, no.” I sighed. Wasn’t I supposed to be the responsible one? It wasn’t fun, but somebody had to be, and it clearly wasn’t going to be Gabe. I rolled away, making room for him to get out from underneath me. “You should take it. He’s called you three times now. What if something’s wrong?”
Gabe rolled his eyes. “Fine. But don’t you dare fall asleep on me.”
He grabbed his still-buzzing phone with one hand and sat up, then pushed himself off the bed. “Aiden?” I heard him say as he headed towards the bathroom. “What’s up? This had better be important.”
The bathroom door shut behind him, leaving me alone in the bedroom. I sat up and stretched, then looked around. Part of me was tempted to explore the room, just to see how twee it really was. But that seemed rude, somehow, so instead I fluffed some pillows up against the headboard and lay back on them, crossing my arms above my head.
What a weird turn of events this night had provided. In a million years, I never would have guessed that Gabe would be—how had he put it?—at least ten percent interested in guys. Whenever Mark had talked about Gabe in the past, I’d always gotten the mental image of an overgrown frat boy.
But Gabe himself, now that he was in front of me, solid and tangible? Sure, there were hints of frat boy. But he was more complex than that. He was clearly driven, and passionate—even if he didn’t think so—and motivated to make something of his life. Funny. Smart. And, apparently, the world’s sweetest older brother, since he was still on the phone.
His energy was infectious. That happy, puppy-dog enthusiasm and eagerness to laugh had wormed its way into my brain. This was just a one-night hookup, but I still felt lucky to have gotten to know Gabe a little. And I wanted to make sure that his first time doing, well, whatever we did tonight, was amazing.
It was like the responsibility of representing all of gay-kind now rested on my shoulders. Gabe’s interest in hooking up with another guy might depend on how good tonight was for him. The idea made me smile. If only he would get off the phone and come back to bed.
A chill ran through me. He wasn’t avoiding me, was he? Using the phone call as a stalling mechanism while he tried to figure out a way out of this, or an excuse to get me to leave?
I tried to push the thought away. That was insane. I knew he wanted me. For God’s sake, only a few minutes ago, I’d felt his cock poking into my stomach and his tongue tangled up with mine.
And yet, wasn’t that what people did sometimes? Set up a system where their friend called them in the middle of a first date, in case they needed to bail? What if Gabe had somehow texted his brother while we’d been at the bar, or on our walk home?
Or, God, what if he’d walked into the bar tonight planning on hooking up with someone, anyone, as long as it was a guy. He might have told his brother to call him right now no matter what, just in case he needed an out.
It didn’t matter that most of my brain was telling me that I was being paranoid. The paranoid part was louder than all the rest. I slipped off the bed and padded over to the bathroom door, praying the old wooden floorboards wouldn’t creak under my feet.
I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. Knock? Slip a note under the door saying, ‘Knock three times if it turns out you’re disgusted by the idea of kissing a guy, and I’ll leave?’ Before I could decide, I realized I could hear Gabe’s voice on the other side of the door.
“Aiden, Aiden, listen to me. I swear to God, he’s not that important.”
That pulled me up short. I knew eavesdropping was pretty shady, but suddenly, I couldn’t move. What was Gabe talking about?
“Because I’m telling you, he doesn’t matter,” Gabe continued, responding to something Aiden must have said on the other end of the line. “It’s not—he’s not—none of this has to be a big deal.”
Fuck. That didn’t sound good. The rational part of my brain was telling me not to jump to conclusions, but the paranoid part was already in overdrive. Was I really hearing what I thought I was hearing?
“It’s just temporary. I promise. It’s not gonna last.”
No, no, no, this wasn’t good at all.
“Can’t you try?”
Gabe sounded frustrated, then paused to listen to something his brother said.
“Because I’m asking you to. Try looking at it from my point of view. Think of it as an experiment.”
Fuck. And. No.
How could Gabe say something like that? I’d literally just told him at the bar that I didn’t want to be his experiment. And he’d told me, or at least, he’d acted, like it was more than that to him.
Jesus, what an idiot I’d been. Gabe was straight, and just looking to fool around with a guy for woke bragging points or whatever. And, sure, maybe I was just out to get laid tonight too. But I had no interest in being the one gay conquest in his straight-guy sex diary.
Gabe’s voice brought me back to the present. “Because I’m telling you, this is all gonna be a funny story someday. I promise. The guy’s just not that important.”
My stomach turned. The guy? I didn’t even get a name? Fuck, I had to get out of there before I puked.
I pushed past the bathroom to the hallway door and opened it, thanking God that it swung open silently on its hinges. I slid it shut behind me and hurried down the hall to the stairs, taking them two-by-two. I couldn’t handle the idea of Gabe realizing I’d left and coming out to see me running away. I didn’t think I could face him right now.
I was too hurt, too angry, and too embarrassed. I didn’t even realize I’d left my jacket up in his room until I stepped outside and felt the night air on my forearms. But fuck it. It wasn’t that cold.
Gabe could keep the jacket, along with the remains of my self-respect. Even if it had been cold, I had the anger and shame roiling in my gut to keep me warm on the walk back to my hotel. I felt gross and used, even though we’d barely done anything.
And the worst part was, I had only myself to blame.