So Rare (Boys of South Chapel #3)

41. Greedy

Chapter 41

Greedy

NOW

Levi and Hunter are both out by the time Sione approaches the bed. He pauses, despite the space clearly reserved for him on Hunter’s other side.

It’s dark in the room, but not so dark I can’t make out the sharp lines of his face or the shadowy ink decorating one side of his body. With his brow furrowed, he analyzes the space, then scans the bed until his eyes connect with mine.

“Okay?” I ask quietly, tilting my head in question.

“Once I join you, there won’t be any space for the Brit.”

Damn. It’s impossible not to like the guy. He’s the epitome of a team player.

“It’s fine,” I assure him. “Spence will take my place. I’m usually ready to get up by the time he comes to bed.”

With a nod, Sione slips under the covers, and once he’s settled, he turns onto his side and cocoons his enormous body around Hunter. Or at least the parts of Hunter I haven’t already claimed, seeing as how I’m snuggled up just as close on her other side.

As he situates himself, Sione’s hand brushes against mine. I don’t withdraw or even concern myself with the random touch. What he shared with us around the bonfire that night went a long way in explaining how he fits into Hunter’s world.

His authenticity makes him easy to like. His clear boundaries and distinct sense of self have made his introduction into our dynamic smooth. If anything, it’s helped define facets that, until now, had been left unnamed and undiscovered. Sione knows who he is. What he wants. How he operates. There’s a pureness that comes with that sort of self-awareness. I respect it. Hell, I might even envy it.

“Are you a lousy sleeper?” he asks, pulling my attention from my rambling thoughts.

I snicker. The guy really is perceptive as hell. “Not usually. Just have a lot on my mind these days.”

Understatement of the fucking year.

“Hunter always amazes me with her ability to sleep after pleasure. If I orgasm, I’m awake for hours. Perhaps you’re wired in a similar manner.”

I grunt a noncommittal reply.

“Is Levi your first male partner?”

The question seemingly comes out of nowhere. Yet it’s aligned with one of the many errant thoughts plaguing my too-busy brain and making sleep elusive. This is not where I was expecting the conversation to continue.

I glance over my shoulder at my best friend. He’s been out for a while. I swear he can sleep through anything. When I turn back, I study the smooth, rhythmic rise and fall of Hunter’s chest, concluding she’s deeply asleep, too.

“Yeah,” I finally answer, seeking Sione’s gaze in the dark. “My first and only.”

“You haven’t experimented?”

I shake my head. “I had only ever been with Hunter until recently.”

For a moment, Sione is quiet. Considering. Then, he asks, “May I ask when you knew you were bisexual?”

A choked cough catches me completely by surprise, but I muffle it to keep from waking Hunter and Levi.

“I—shit…” Exhaling, I force my jaw to relax, along with my hold on Hunter. “That’s not something I’ve thought about before,” I admit. “I’m not sure I even am. Bisexual, that is.”

Brows raised, Sione breaks into a knowing smirk. “I’m sorry for assuming. I should not have even commented on your sexuality unless you broached the subject first. Please forgive me. I did, however, just watch you get sucked off in record time by a man while our girl rode your face. My mind filled in the blanks based on what I witnessed.”

Yeah. Okay. Fair assumption on his part.

“No worries,” I mumble, despite my own mind swirling with a vortex of fresh concerns.

I’ve never thought of myself as bisexual. Not once. As ridiculous as it might sound, considering I’m currently sandwiched between a man and a woman post-coitus, I’ve never given any real consideration to my sexuality.

I just am .

Levi’s bisexual, and he’s always seemed so sure of it. Me? I’m not sure of my sexual identity in the least. I’ve never been outright attracted to a random man. Hell, I’ve never experienced true attraction to anyone other than Hunter, and more recently, Levi.

“I just… I just like that it’s Levi, I think.” I say the sentiment out loud, sharing my inner thoughts with a man I only met days ago.

“How long have you known him?” he asks.

“Over a decade.” Levi’s been my best friend since middle school.

“And how long have you been in love with him?”

It’s another outlandish assumption. One that stuns me into silence. When I find my voice, I prepare to tell Sione as much, but the denial is sour on my tongue. A deep-rooted sense of knowing stops me from rebuffing the idea.

“I… I don’t know how to answer that,” I finally admit.

Hunter stirs but settles without waking. I adjust my hold on her, then check over my shoulder, confirming Levi is still asleep as well. Once I know they’re okay, I let my gaze drift back to Sione’s.

“Would you like to stop talking about this?” he asks.

“No.” My answer is fast and definitive.

I don’t want to stop. Hell, I want him to keep going, to keep pushing, to keep unlocking truths inside me I wasn’t aware existed.

“Very well. You said you don’t know how to answer the question about loving Levi. Is that because you’re unsure, or because it’s not true?”

I don’t even have to consider the question. Maybe it should surprise me, but it doesn’t. “It’s because I’m unsure,” I confirm. “I don’t know when things changed, but now, I can’t imagine not being with him or with Hunter.”

Silence blankets us once more. My mind doesn’t war against itself like it did earlier, though. If anything, I feel more settled, more calm and secure, having shared the revelation about my love for my best friend.

Sione shifts, sitting up a bit so he can see me over Hunter’s sleeping form.

“May I share about my journey?”

I nod my consent.

Stroking Hunter’s side affectionately, he keeps his attention fixed on her. “I didn’t know the truth of my sexuality until I experienced all the things that did not work for me. I spent several years thinking I was broken or that something was fundamentally wrong. Sex with women felt like a chore, so I tried to be with men. I couldn’t top. But I didn’t enjoy bottoming, either. I had an embarrassing number of misfires before I gave up on sex altogether.”

My chest constricts as I process his story. It feels like an honor, to hear his truth.

“By the time I graduated from high school, I assumed I was asexual. It was the best label I could find at the time.” He glances up at me, then quickly back at Hunter. “Then I met her.”

Clearing my throat quietly, I, too, keep my gaze fixed on Hunter. “How did you figure it out?”

“It started as a low simmer. I can appreciate a beautiful person, both physically and spiritually. I noticed Hunter’s beauty the moment I laid eyes on her. From there, we became friends. Secret-sharers and keepers. Partners in nearly every sense of the word. I’d known her for almost a year when the first inklings of my sexual attraction made themselves known. We were doing hot yoga. Have you ever watched her stretch? Or heard her moan during a massage?” His words are hushed but reverent. “One time I was so hard watching her work her body over a foam roller, I came in my pants.”

“Been there,” I chuckle quietly. The number of times I felt so viscerally charged by Hunter that I couldn’t control the arousal is embarrassing. “She’s magnificent, isn’t she?” I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear as I admire her sleeping form.

“She really is,” Sione confirms. I don’t have to look up to know he’s gazing lovingly upon her as well.

After a few breaths, I find the courage to ask the question niggling in the back of my mind. “So… you’re demisexual. That means you just want to have sex with one person?”

With a thoughtful hum, he stretches his neck from side to side. “For me, yes, that’s mostly what it means. But there’s no hard and fast rules that apply to all humans who identify as demi. For me, being demisexual means I have to foster a deep, passionate, emotional connection to my partner before I can indulge in a sexually gratifying experience. I’m lucky to have found that in her.”

A pregnant pause fills the space between us.

A minute, maybe two passes before he murmurs, “Just like you’re lucky to have found that in both of them?”

It’s not a statement, but a question.

It’s not a limit, but an invitation to finally adopt a label that works for me.

Sione’s question percolates in my mind as I close my eyes, intent on drifting off to sleep. The question doesn’t stay a question for long, though. My mind grapples with the idea for a short time, then eventually calms, granting me a sense of inner peace that allows me to truly rest.

I’m demisexual.

I’m also really fucking lucky.