Someone once said most people would rather deny a hard truth than face it.
Harry wasn’t in denial. At least he didn’t think he was in denial. He was honest enough with himself to admit that he couldn’t be completely straight after a year of taking it up the ass and…not hating it.
He certainly couldn’t be completely straight after what happened in the park yesterday.
The problem was, Harry didn’t identify himself as gay, either. Men did nothing for him. Harry had even checked out the guys at work, but he didn’t feel even a glimmer of attraction to any of them, no matter how good-looking they were.
Hell, he had even bought some gay porn. And gay porn was gross. And boring. At least that was the conclusion Harry came to after an hour of watching it.
Bored out of his mind, he leaned back against the pillow and watched the movie disinterestedly. On the screen, two men were fucking. It didn’t turn him on in the slightest. There was nothing arousing about watching a dick move in and out of some hairy asshole.
Definitely not gay, then. Still straight.
But instead of making him feel relieved, the thought just made him uneasy and confused. He didn’t get it.
Sighing, Harry turned the TV off.
Closing his eyes, he thought of Laura. Her plush, soft lips. Her silky skin. Her full breasts. The way she felt under him. Her wet, tight opening. His dick remained soft.
Solid, masculine body pinning him down, strong hands pushing his thighs apart, firm lips kissing him, bruising him—
Harry opened his eyes, glanced at the bulge in his shorts and swore through his teeth. For fuck’s sake.
* * *
“All right, what’s going on?”
His girlfriend’s voice was very even. Controlled. Her lovely face was inscrutable as she stared at him from the doorway.
Reluctantly, Harry stepped aside, letting Laura enter his apartment. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, awkwardly, unable to meet her eyes.
His stomach churned. He’d never thought he’d be that guy. Laura laughed. It was an empty, jarring sound.
“I’m not stupid. You’ve been avoiding me for the past week. Ever since—ever since the sex.” He grimaced.
He’d already completely forgotten about their unsuccessful attempt to fix their sex life. “It’s not that.”
“Then what?” she snapped.
Sighing, Harry turned away, walked to the couch, and flopped down onto it. Stretching out on his back, he closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face.
“Don’t you dare ignore me!”
“I’m not ignoring you,” Harry murmured. “Just trying to man up and tell you the truth.”
A pause. “The truth?”
“Yeah. I didn’t tell you something.” Harry bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. “You’ve probably heard the rumors—about things that happen in prison.” She inhaled sharply, but he continued before he could lose the nerve, “When I was in prison, I had sex with a man. I was his—his bitch. He fucked me whenever he wanted. He ordered me to do things. He used me. He basically owned me. And everyone knew.”
The minutes stretched on, the silence weighing heavily between them in a way that it had never had before.
At last, Laura spoke, but her reaction was different from what he had expected.
