Nicky stared at the ceiling for forty minutes before moving.
The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. Morning light painted sharp lines across his floor, filtering through the blinds like judgment. His mouth tasted like guilt and stale wine. His stomach flipped when he remembered the bathroom. Her. The soft, awful pressure of her back against his chest. Her breath catching. His cock, hard, unforgivable. The way they moved together in silence, like animals. Like sinners.
He hadn't even kissed her.
And yet his body was still humming.
He couldn't do this. Couldn't fall apart over something he didn't understand.
So he showered. Got dressed. Texted a boy.
Nothing deep. Nothing meaningful. Just someone he'd hooked up with a few times before. Pretty. Sweet. No expectations.
You free tonight?
A minute later:
Always for you 😉
Perfect.
He needed this. To remember who he was. To prove to himself that what happened with Eliana was a fluke. A fever. An accident.
He took the train. Wore something casual but good. Smoked half a cigarette outside the boy's apartment before going up.
When the door opened, the guy greeted him with a lazy grin and a wine glass.
"Hey, stranger."
Nicky tried to smile. "Hey."
The lights were low. Music soft. The guy leaned in, kissed his cheek, then his mouth. Nicky let it happen. Let the wine be poured. Let himself be touched.
It felt... good. Familiar.
They moved to the couch. Then the bedroom.
Hands. Tongues. Skin.
It wasn't bad.
Nicky got hard. He got sucked. He came.
It worked.
But it didn't feel.
Not the way he needed it to.
He lay back against the sheets afterward, heart slowing, skin warm.
The guy rolled over, smiling. "Missed that cock."
Nicky laughed weakly. "Yeah."
But his mind was elsewhere.
Back in the van. Back in the bathroom. Back to the feel of Eliana's hips rocking back against him like she didn't care that he wasn't hers. Like she owned him anyway.
His stomach turned.
"You good?" the guy asked, brushing his fingers down Nicky's chest.
"Yeah. Just tired."
A pause. Then: "You wanna stay?"
Nicky shook his head. "Nah. I should go. Got an early thing."
The guy didn't argue.
He left quietly. Took the stairs. Lit another cigarette outside and stared at the skyline.
His dick worked. His body worked.
But Eliana was still in his blood.
And that scared him more than anything.
Because he was still gay.
But maybe desire wasn't that simple.
Maybe nothing was.