Chapter 5 Sworn to Secrecy

"Some secrets are heavier when they're shared. Others? They taste better on someone else's lips."

The first time Ezra kissed Mateo, it wasn't planned.

It was after a party, half past midnight, on the roof of their dorm building. Mateo had a bottle of rum and a bruised ego. His girlfriend had dumped him in front of half the lit class that afternoon. Ezra had followed him up without saying a word, just sat beside him and waited in the dark.

"I'm tired of pretending," Mateo had said, his voice rough.

Ezra lit a cigarette. Took a long drag. Passed it over without meeting his gaze.

"Pretending what?"

"That I only like girls."

That was the moment.

No buildup. No dramatic music. Just a shared silence, a flick of flame in the dark, and the tension that had always lingered between them suddenly breaking like a dam.

Mateo leaned in. Ezra met him halfway. Lips met lips. Soft at first, hesitant. But then, hungry.

It tasted like rum and regret and something more dangerous than desire.

That was three weeks ago.

Since then, it had happened again. And again. Always in secret. Always behind locked doors or beneath the covers in the middle of the night.

They didn't talk about it.

They didn't need to.

But it was driving Ezra mad.

He wanted more than the dark. More than whispered kisses and hurried blowjobs when the roommate was out. He wanted to wake up next to Mateo in the daylight. Wanted to hold his hand. Wanted to not feel like a mistake.

But tonight was different.

Mateo came over, jeans low on his hips, hoodie unzipped. Ezra's throat tightened just seeing him. That familiar ache pulsed between his thighs like a warning.

Mateo closed the door behind him. "Roommate's gone," he said.

Ezra stood. "Mine too."

They were on each other before another word passed. Clothes hit the floor. Teeth clashed. Ezra's back slammed against the wall as Mateo dropped to his knees, pulling Ezra's briefs down with trembling hands.

Ezra's head hit the plaster. "FuckMat..."

Mateo's tongue was warm, eager, worshipful. He licked like he meant it. Like it was an apology. A confession. A prayer.

Ezra threaded his fingers through Mateo's hair, breathing hard, thighs shaking. "God, you're good at this."

Mateo looked up, lips wet. "I think about it all the time."

"What?"

"Sucking you. Every time she kissed me, I imagined it was you."

Ezra groaned and dragged him back up, pulling him into another kiss, deep, messy, full of things neither could say out loud.

They didn't stop until Ezra was gasping into the pillow, Mateo's hips pressed tight against him, their bodies moving together in perfect rhythm. Every thrust was a promise Mateo couldn't say with words.

They finished with their fingers interlaced, panting into each other's necks.

Sweaty. Spent. Still hidden.

Later, when the room was quiet and their breaths evened out, Ezra finally asked:

"Why don't you tell anyone?"

Mateo looked away. "Because I don't know who I am yet."

"You're mine when we're like this," Ezra said softly.

Mateo turned back to him, eyes haunted and full. "Then let me be yours just like this. Just for now."

Ezra nodded.

They made love again slower this time.

Not as a secret.

But as something worth keeping.