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I try to step away, but Hunter grabs my hand, keeping me close. “Why are you so fun?” he asks, his voice soft, almost like he’s not really asking me but himself.

“You need to get out more.”

“Sometimes, with other people, I feel like every important thing about me has to do with football. It’s not their fault, really, or maybe it’s a combination, their fault and mine,but…not with you. It’s not like that with you, and I didn’t know I needed that, so thank you.”

Ellis. He’s talking about Ellis, and maybe my father.

The fist around me is getting tighter. As conflicted as I am about it, I want to be that person for Hunter. I want to be whatever he needs me to be for him.

“You don’t have anything to thank me for. Just be you, Hunt. That doesn’t have to only be one thing.”

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t even move for a long moment…and then Hunter King is kissing me again. What is this strange world I’ve found myself in?

“Come on. Let’s cook,” he says, and that’s exactly what we do. He asks about my day and the shoot and listens as I give him all the details. Hunter isn’t the kind of guy who listens passively either. He asks questions, always wanting to learn, actually caring about the things other people do.

I ask him about his day too, make sex jokes when he talks about his massage, and he pops me with a towel. We laugh and end up kissing against the counter again. Is this what he’s like in a relationship, silly and touchy-feely and playful?

Even though dinner is good, I pretend I’m miserable eating it, and he pretends not to know I’m pretending. We wash the dishes together, and as much as I want a cigarette, I don’t go outside to smoke. We end up on the couch I was admiring earlier, lying down, Hunter the little spoon despite being bigger than me, my arm around him. We watch a comedy I only half pay attention to, instead focusing on the feel of him, the scent of him. Hunter, Hunter, Hunter. He’s now the only frequency my brain hears.

When the credits start rolling, I feel the press of Hunter’s ass against my groin. At first, I think I’m imagining it, but he does it again…and again…

My hand slides up his torso. I grab his muscular pec,squeeze it while I rut against him, meeting each of his movements. Hunter King is a horny boy, and I’m living for it.

I grab his head, turn it so he’s looking at me, not letting go as I slowly drop my lips to his. Hunter’s mouth opens, welcoming my tongue inside. It’s a slow exploration of mouths, like neither of us is in a hurry, like what we’re doing has nothing to do with fucking or anything else other than simply kissing. God, he’s fucking good with his mouth, good with his tongue, giving and taking, quicker before easing off and kissing lazily again.

When he rolls to his back, I move easily with him, resting on top of him, holding his face and kissing his lips, sucking his tongue, and letting him do the same with me. Our bodies move together, groins thrusting unhurriedly. It’s not the kind of sex I’m used to having. It feels like something you do with someone you care about, someone you’re with for more than a good time and an orgasm, but what do I know? Maybe all of Hunter’s sex is like this.

When my lips travel down his throat, needing to taste more skin, he asks, “Will you fuck me?”

I freeze on top of him, not having expected that. I let him fuck me last night, and he said he’s vers, but still, something in my brain doesn’t compute, doesn’t believe Hunter is asking me to be inside him.

“If you’re not into it, that’s fine. I haven’t been fucked in a long time. Not since…”

I close my eyes, not wanting to think about him. Not when we’re like this.

“Fuck. That was stupid. Jesus. What’s wrong with me?” Hunter says.

“Yes,” I answer his original question. It’s not like there was ever a chance I’d say no. “Have you seen your ass? Of course I want a piece of it.”

He snickers, then kisses me again. Hunter is a kisser. I haven’t been with anyone who kisses as much as him.

“Give me a couple minutes, then meet me upstairs,” he says, and I nod, rolling off him.

I watch as he makes his way upstairs, then bang my head against the couch a few times, needing to make sure I’m not sleeping and this is really happening. I try to slow down my breathing. My dick is softening, and I need a distraction, so I take our glasses to the kitchen and rinse them, then turn the lights out, grab my bag, and go upstairs.

I don’t know where the main bedroom is, but it doesn’t take me long to find it. Hunter is naked, coming out of the en suite, all sexy with his sculpted muscles, his thick cock hanging soft between his legs, and again, the best set of balls I’ve ever laid eyes on.

“I fucked someone,” is the first thing out of my mouth, which…I could have eased into it.

“Today?”

“Shit. No. After the blowjobs and before last night. I don’t know why I need to tell you. I probably should have last night, but—”

“You don’t owe me that,” he interrupts. “I appreciate you telling me, but I literally got off with you, then bailed and ignored you all week. You had no obligation to me.”

“I was safe. I used a rubber. I’m on PrEP and plan to get checked.”

“I’m negative. I’m checked regularly.” Hunter wraps his arms around my shoulders. “Don’t fuck anyone else, though. Not now. Not while we’re doing this. After, you can do what you want, but if we’re doing this, I don’t want anyone else to touch you.”