Page 33 of Deviant Need

“We do.”

“Apparently not. Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? Because you thought I’d be weird about you liking men?”

“No. That’s not why.”

He stares at me. “You need to be careful. You know what happened with Alexei and our father. He’s not going to let it slide if you do the same thing.”

“I know,” I say, swallowing against the tightness in my throat.

He shoots me this look, and I’m so screwed. Because he’s so worried, and I can’t tell him the whole thing without ruining us. He’s hurt, I can see it written all over his face. He always takes care of everyone else, always puts himself last, and right now he just wants to know why I’m pulling away.

I wish I could give him better answers. I wish I could explain that it’s not him, it’s me, it’s this thing I’ve been carrying for eight years that I can’t let out. But saying it out loud would ruin everything, and I’d rather suffer in silence than lose him completely.

“Kelly said maybe you wanted a girlfriend and I thought maybe you’d found someone and were keeping it from me, but now you’re saying you like men and I just don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Kelly doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Then explain it to me. Please, Danya. Just tell me what’s going on because this is killing me.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how? I want to fix this.” His eyes search my face desperately.

“We can’t fix this.”

“Why not?”

I shake my head, unable to force the words out.

He sees it happening, and his expression shifts from frustrated to concerned. “Okay. Okay, it’s fine. You don’t have to say it right now.” He pulls me back against his chest, arms wrapping around me tightly. “But eventually you need to talk to me, Danya. Because this distance thing isn’t working for either of us.”

I press my face against him and try to breathe through the tightness. His heart beats steady under my ear, and his hand rubs slow circles on my back.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs into my hair. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Except we won’t.

Turning around, I face away from him and settle into the mattress.

He wraps his arms around me immediately, his bicep sliding under my head like a pillow, his other hand coming up to my mouth with the joint still burning between his fingers. I part my lips, and he pushes it gently between them. The smoke fills my lungs, and I hold it for a moment before exhaling slowly into the dim room.

He takes another hit, his chest expanding against my back, then twists slightly to stub the joint out in the ashtray on the nightstand. When he settles back down, he wraps himself completely around me, cocooning me in warmth.

“What’s the appeal? With guys, I mean.”

Heat crawls up my neck, and I clear my throat. “Just the way they are. Taller. Broader. The size difference.”

“Size difference?”

The words slip out. “How much bigger they are. How solid they feel.”

There’s a beat of silence. “So like, do you think about what it would be like? Hooking up with a guy?”

My face is burning. “Can we please stop talking about this?”

“No, wait, I’m actually curious.” His voice shifts, suddenly serious. “Like would you want to be the one getting fucked?”

I want to die. “Yeah.”