Marie Sexton - Promises

For a minute, neither of us moved. I was trying to catch my breath and convince my cock that there was nothing of interest going on. It wasn’t listening. My whole body was shaking, and my voice came out raspy. “Okay, well—”

I stopped short when he suddenly stepped forward again. My back was against the counter. My fingers had a death grip on its edge. He was so close. He was looking at me, frowning, his head cocked a little to the side like he was trying to figure something out. Like I was some kind of puzzle that he almost had the answer to. Then, slowly, he put both hands on the countertop, one on either side of me, pinning me in. “Matt?” It came out barely a whisper.

I could definitely see the green in his eyes tonight. They were full of surprise and confusion, but there was something else there too. “I guess I just want to touch you.” One hand came off the counter, onto my hip. “I think”—he sounded amazed—“I really like touching you.” Now his hand was sliding up my arm. His lips were only an inch away from mine. My whole body felt electric, like every nerve was straining toward him. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

I gave up, closed my eyes, relaxed against his tall, strong body, and thought about nothing but how good his hand felt. “Yes.”

He put his hand in my hair, pulling lightly on the curls. For a moment I only felt

fingers moving through my hair. Then he grabbed a handful of it and pulled my head back so that my neck was exposed. He leaned over and put his lips against my neck. Soft lips and rough stubble brushed up to my jaw and moved toward my ear. I was sure my heart was going to pound its way right out of my chest. Or that my cock was going to burst through the buttons on my jeans. His lips brushed my ear, and he whispered, “I just want to touch you a little more.”

I wanted to tell him that he never had to stop, but I couldn’t speak. I was afraid that if I touched him back, the spell would somehow be broken. But I reached out and put one hand on his flat stomach. He responded by wrapping his other arm around my waist. His tongue touched my ear. His cheek was like sandpaper against my own. I pulled up his shirt, slid my hands underneath, and ran them up his back. I felt the hard muscles there jump under my fingers, and he made a little moan against my neck that went straight to my groin.

I hadn’t thought there was any space left between us, but he managed to push closer. The entire length of my body was against his. His arms were tight around me, one hand wandering up and down my back, the other still tangled in my curls. I felt his lips on my neck. Not just brushing over the skin, like before. He was really kissing me now, nipping at my neck, his tongue flicking over my pounding pulse. Then both of his hands were on my hips, pulling my groin harder against his, and I felt his erection grinding against my own.

I heard myself moan, or maybe it was more of a whimper. Whatever it was, he obviously liked it, because the gentle nibbles on my neck suddenly became something much more insistent. He put both hands into my hair. All of his weight was against me now, holding me against the counter. He was pulling harder on my hair, pushing his hips into mine, and whatever he was doing to my neck was bordering on painful, but I definitely didn’t want it to stop.

It took me a couple of tries, but I finally managed to whisper, “Do you want to go in the bedroom?”

Me and my big mouth.

He froze, a breathing statue with both hands still tangled in my hair, and his lips still warm against my neck. “Matt?”

And then he let me go. Before I knew it, he was on the other side of the room. I was reeling. I felt like half of my body had just been ripped away.

“Matt?”

He sat down on one of the bar stools with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “Oh my God. What just happened? What the hell just happened?” He made a sound that might have been a laugh… or a sob. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I think I’m losing my fucking mind.”

I took a step toward him and reached out my hand.

“Don’t touch me!” It came out as a snarl.

He might as well have punched me, it hurt so much.

“Matt, it’s okay.”

“It is most definitely not okay! Oh my God, this is not okay. I wanted to…. How could I want that? How can I want you like this?”

“Matt, I want you too. I have for a long time. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

His only response was to shake his head in his hands.

“Matt, I know what you’ve told me. But be honest with me. This can’t be the first time you’ve been attracted to another guy.”

He was silent so long I was starting to think I had taken a serious misstep. But then, very quietly, he said, “You’re right. I’ve been attracted to other men before. Not many, but a few. But not like this. Nothing ever like this.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “It was always just a physical reaction, and I was able to just ignore it. Just tell myself no. Tell myself that it was wrong.”

He looked up at me, and the pain and confusion in his eyes was enough to break my heart. “Whatever this is with me and you, it’s so much more, and I can’t make it go away.”

How could those words make me so happy while hurting so much at the same time? “Matt, why does it have to go away?”

“I’m so confused, Jared. Even now, all I can think about is how much I want to touch you. And I just have no idea what to do about it.”

I went to him. Sitting on the stool, he was actually a little shorter than me. His eyes were wary as I approached, but he didn’t stop me. I stepped between his knees, took his face in my hands, and looked into his eyes.

“I do, Matt. I know exactly what to do about it. Come in the bedroom with me and let me show you what we can do about it.” I leaned in and kissed him, just barely brushing my lips against his. “Please, Matt? Trust me. Please don’t turn away from this.”

There were tears on his cheeks. “But it’s wrong.”

“You know I don’t believe that. I don’t see how it can be wrong.” His eyes were closed, and when I kissed the corner of his mouth, I heard his breath catch in his throat. “Does this feel wrong to you?” I kissed the tears from one cheek. “Because it doesn’t feel wrong to me.” The other cheek. “Nothing in my life has ever felt so right.” I pulled back and waited until he opened his eyes and looked into mine. “I love you, Matt. How can that be wrong? How can love be wrong?”

But it was too much. When I said that word, the doors slammed shut. He reached up and took my wrists, carefully pulled my hands from his face, shaking his head. He stood up, gently pushing me back away from him as he did.

“I have to go.”

“Matt. Please don’t. Please don’t walk away from this.”

But he didn’t even look back.

I WAS sitting in the shop, contemplating a crack in the countertop. To be honest, I had been contemplating that crack for over an hour. A couple of people had come in, but I let Ringo deal with them. I did make sure I kept my hand over the marks on my neck while they were in the store. No need to give the town gossips something else to talk about. I couldn’t remember ever being so depressed over hickeys before.

I heard Lizzy come in the back door and walk up to me. Then she laughed. “Oh my God, look at your neck! Looks like somebody had one hell of a birthday.”

But when I looked up at her, she must have seen the pain in my eyes right away. Her face fell and she dropped onto the stool next to me. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh Jared. After yesterday, the way he was watching you and touching you, I was just sure….”

“Still don’t want to talk about it.”

“Did the two of you have a fight?”

“Not exactly.”

“Did you break up?”

“Lizzy, we would have had to be together in order for us to break up.”

“Then what?”

So I told her. And the sympathy in her blue eyes was almost the worst part of it.

She hugged me despite her bulging belly. “I’m sure he’ll come around. He’s obviously as crazy about you as you are about him. Just give him some time.”

But I couldn’t believe her.

I CALLED him a few times over the next week or two, but he never answered. I left messages.

The first time, three days after my birthday, I tried to sound casual. “Matt, it’s okay. We both had a lot to drink.” I didn’t think that had anything to do with what had happened, but I was willing to give him that as an excuse if it would help. “It doesn’t matter. Call me.”

Three days after that, I was starting to feel desperately lost. “Matt, you don’t have to avoid me. Nothing happened. Let’s just forget it. See you on Sunday, okay?”

And when he didn’t show up to watch football on Sunday, I called again. I had carefully thought out what I was going to say after the beep—something glib about his Chiefs losing to the Raiders. But for some reason, the words died on my tongue. All I managed to say was, “Matt, I miss you.”

I didn’t call again after that.

The next few weeks were miserable. Matt continued to avoid me. And worst of all, he started dating Cherie. Not just sleeping with her, like he had over the summer, but actually dating.

I knew what he was doing. He was trying to convince himself that he could be happy with a woman. He was telling himself that his feelings for me were nothing more than the result of having spent too much time together and that if he just spent more time with Cherie, he could transfer those feelings to her. I didn’t think it would work, and yet I was terrified that it would.