by Avery Aster
“You’re not spoiling anything by telling me more about your folks. You never speak about them.” Blake pressed on. “We’ve been friends for ten years, yet I feel as if I’m meeting you for the first time. You don’t go deep with anyone about anything.”
“Ouch.” His words hurt. He spoke the truth, but Miguel had never heard his standoffishness packaged as his demise.
“Take your birthday, for example.”
“Don’t start.”
“Taddy nor I, not even Lex or Vive, have a clue when it is.”
He put his hand on Blake’s leg, nudging him to change the subject. His attention shifted to M2 in hopes he needed care. Nope. The infant was zonked out. Darn. Miguel didn’t want to go there with him. His friend had revealed so much about himself already. He hadn’t shared as much. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“Why?” He crossed his legs.
“I don’t celebrate my birthday, you know this.”
“The Santana’s are Catholic, not Jehovah’s Witnesses.”
“Meaning?” He tried not to laugh at his friend’s sarcasm. It was always light and funny.
“You have no reason not to have a cake and let us celebrate you. Even if for a day.”
“Stop. I don’t care for the attention.”
Blake rolled his blue eyes dramatically. It reminded Miguel a bit of Thor.
“You never talk about your childhood. None of us know much about your life before college. You have no friends from when you were little,” Blake listed as if he’d stored the items away, waiting to unleash them over the last ten years. “I don’t know what your favorite meal was growing up.”
That last one was a stretch, but he’d entertain it. “I hear you.” Opening up for him wasn’t natural. Miguel knew as a boy he was different. He didn’t make much of an attempt to have friends. Artwork was his focus and what he enjoyed. It was his haven to escape. “I’m flattered you’d take an interest. No one ever does. Most guys who come out later in life, or those who don’t come out at all, don’t have real friends, ones they can be themselves with.”
“I get that. But you’ve always been out to me, Lex, Taddy, and Vive. Thor, too.”
“Sí. I’m thankful every day to have you all. But before college, I only had Diego in high school as a friend. We had a connection because we both knew we were different. Not like the other boys in class. We became friends, but Diego and I never really talked. Not the way you like to talk.”
“I was married to the man. I know what you mean.”
“After you two got married, Diego and I didn’t speak anymore. And you were busy with your career at Brill, Inc., and I had my art.”
“I’m sorry we grew apart. But please, share something.” Blake grabbed at his arm.
He realized his friend didn’t just want to know something about him, he needed to know.
“My favorite dish is chicken mole. What’s yours?”
“Hmm, Eggs Benedict for breakfast, a good BLT for lunch, and for dessert, it’s—”
“Angel food cake.” Miguel remembered because he’d watched him eat it every summer in the Hamptons. He thought it was the blandest thing he’d ever tasted. “I don’t talk about my folks. You know I don’t celebrate my birthday.” No cake meant zero wishes. Why set up false expectations?
“Why?” Blake’s eyes hooded with hawk-like intensity, trying their best to get him to open up.
Miguel was close. He wanted to share, but he couldn’t. “Stop.” He didn’t know where to start. He didn’t seek pity as a kid or now. Talking about his early years was something he just didn’t do.
“Fine.” He sighed with defeat and slouched back against the bench. “Tonight, I’m cooking us pork loin and corn on the cob. But I’m happy to try and make your chicken thing.”
He understood that all Blake ever wanted was for Miguel to feel as if he belonged and was cared for by the group. But what about his friend without Taddy, Thor, or Vive? Just the two of them. Would they stand a chance?
“You reminded me. I’m giving you the night off from all household duties and cooking us dinner.”
“Why the change?”
“I figured we’d take turns.” He didn’t have the heart to tell him his cooking sucked.
M2 started to cry. Without being asked, Blake reached into the stroller and picked him up. “He’s wet.”
“Here, let me.” He grabbed a diaper.
“I got it.” More confident than he was that morning when they’d picked M2 up, Blake took charge of changing M2.
I’m impressed.
Lower East Side
That evening, Miguel did as promised and made chocolate chicken mole with yellow rice. He’d dropped M2 off with Birdie who’d called and asked that her grandson come to her place. She said Lex and Massimo wanted privacy after their long day. He figured the TV show taping must’ve wiped them out. Poppy could be exhausting when she wanted to be.
After supper, they watched the movie Y Tu Mamá También. He pressed his naked body against Blake’s backside and started to give him a hot oil massage scented in vanilla.
Brutus laid by the window asleep. In thirty-second intervals or so, he released a windbag of air from his flapping jowls.
“I’ve never seen a dog snore before.” Blake smiled warmly toward Brutus.
Could that be affection he caught in his friend’s blue eyes?
“Do you want me to wake him up to stop?” Miguel asked.
“No, it’s fine. He’s growing on me.” Blake started to laugh. “He must get his snoring from you.”
“I don’t snore.”
“Yes, you do. None of your boys who’ve stayed the night ever told you that before?”
“No. No one sleeps over.” He realized the guys he’d hosted in the past came over, got fucked, and left. Blake was possibly the first guy ever to sleep on his pillow until morning. He pressed his friend’s shoulders firmly. “How’s that feel?”
“I’ve never had a massage in bed.”
His body responded to every touch. “Your shoulders are tense. You anxious?” He pressed his fingers harder, sensing worry between his fingers.
“Watching this erotic movie and straining my eyes to read what they’re saying is stressing me out,” he joked.
Turning his head on the gray pillow, Blake revealed a sweet grin. On his stomach, he stretched out, comfortable in Miguel’s arms. He felt his friend’s entire body go limp. He worked his thumbs down the spine toward his ass and realized he should have a bigger TV. His small screen was from way back. Then again, he wasn’t one for sitcoms or at-home movies. Not when he was in bed with the hottest blonde he’d ever known.
Blake arched his ass upward for him to play with. He spread the buttocks wide with his slippery hands and admired the tight pucker in the center.
“I can’t wait to be inside you.” He settled his cock between the ass cheeks and ground.
“I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be. I’ll be gentle.” He wanted to bust his nut inside him right then. Their ten-year sexual build-up was enough to make anyone explode. Blake was worth the wait. One more day and his friend would be his.
“You, gentle?” Blake tightened his ass cheeks and hugged Miguel’s cock as if it were a hot dog enclosed by a bun and said, “Yeah, right.” He shuffled his legs and hands under his frame.
“You’ll see, my bebé. I’ll make you hum.” He finished the session with reflexology to the feet.
In approval, Blake arched his heels and asked, “Who taught you the pressure points of the feet?”
He hesitated. He’d never kept anything from his friend, so why start now? “My lover from last summer, the one who worked at The Healing Institute down on Canal Street.”
“The tall Irish guy who lived in the East Village? The one with the orange hair?”
“Sí, the dirty ginger,” Miguel confirmed. “Gillian Neeson.”
“What happened with you and Gil?”
“It ended.”<
br />
“Why?”
“New York has a lot of men to choose from. Gil got what he wanted and then went on his way.” Miguel didn’t examine men’s actions too much. What was the point? He didn’t love them. He only loved one man.
“Mig, what happened to all these lovers?”
“What do you mean?” he asked as if the answer was obvious.
“You’ve had your handful over the years. I’ve seen guys throw themselves at you over and over again.” Blake flexed his toes.
“No one’s ever stuck around long enough to get serious with me,” he replied huskily in his ear.
Miguel’s cock swelled thick. I must fuck you soon, buddy. Dipping the head of his dick against Blake’s anal starburst, his asshole closed tight. Taking his hands, he split the ass cheeks wide and rubbed his cock vertically against his crack, teasing him.
“Ooh,” Blake moaned as he pressed deeper. “You have magic hands.”
He leaned down and kissed his friend on the ass cheek. “Muah.” It was a sweet gesture and created a loud sound against his skin.
They laughed.
The tune changed as he spat a wad—dead center—into the asshole. He buried it further with his fingers.
“Mig?” Blake squirmed.
“Bebé, I’ll give you a sample for what’s to come.” Miguel kept him flat, chest down, and sat on the backside of his legs. He slid his cock alongside Blake’s crack, building up friction.
Gripping down on the pillow underneath, Blake prepared to be impaled. “Put a condom on.”
“I’m not going to fuck you.” Not without a commitment. He leaned forward and prodded his cock at his friend’s opening. He’d never gotten that close to raw sex. “Keep still,” he ordered and pushed the head of his dick in, just a little. “Yeah, you are…tight.”
The pressure against the asshole felt wonderful. He sat there for a second, taking pleasure in having his friend under him, watching his cock’s head press shallowly into his asshole. The temptation to drive his cock to the core was strong.
Blake’s ass rose higher, causing his cock to swell and sink further into his ass. He arched himself under Miguel. “Mig…get a condom.”
“Hot.” He pulled his head out.
Blake dropped his head back down onto the pillow and mumbled something, but he couldn’t understand what he’d said.
Ass cheeks squeezed together, he rested his cock on Blake’s crack. He placed his hand over his cock while his base grinded against the asshole. Humping him, he sped up as his nuts slapped back and forth. “My cock rubbing your virgin ass is intense.”
Reaching under himself, Blake started to jack off.
“No, bèbe.” Miguel grabbed his hands and pulled them up behind the small of his back, holding him down.
“I have to come tonight.”
He shook his head. “I want your load full for tomorrow.”
“Why?” Blake turned back, staring up at him in confusion.
“For extra lube.” He humped him, not giving in to his friend’s urge to jack himself off. “Your virgin hole is going to require a lot of elbow grease.”
“Please,” Blake cried in need.
He could hear it in his voice. His friend wanted to be pounded so hard he was aching for it.
“I said no.” Miguel let go of Blake’s arms and lowered his lips to Blake’s ass, rimming him for a few minutes, ramming his tongue in and out, going deep. “You enjoy getting your ass eaten, don’t you?”
“Fuck, Mig, yeah,” Blake encouraged, screaming in pleasure. “I can’t wait to have you inside me.” He reached behind him and held on to Miguel’s hand.
No one ever held his hand when he was in bed with them, ‘til then. Sweet.
Finished rimming, he pulled on Blake’s hair, holding his head back and pressed into his body. He shifted under him, possibly trying to position his ass to take Miguel’s cock. He humped his cock faster, going back and forth against the crack.
“I’m going to come.” He lifted his body up a bit then shot his hot seed over Blake’s back.
He leaned over him. “Let me get a towel and wipe you down.”
As he went into the kitchen, he thought about what Blake asked him, about the guy from the East Village, convinced he’d given other guys a chance. Maybe he’d gone after the wrong men in the past. Guys sought him for his cock and alpha intentions. Bad habits remained his demise.
He’d do whatever was needed to put a stop to it, hoping his friend felt the same way. Hard to tell; he wasn’t the best at reading people. Everything about Blake’s body said why not? Yet, the previous night’s conversation rang caution in his mind. “Jury’s out on having romance. But I don’t think it’s in my cards.”
He couldn’t make sense of Blake’s behavior. At times, he was resistant, not wanting to be intimate and struggling with his walls, with letting him in. He could tell. But then they’d get comfortable and there was a hunger inside of him, emptiness, a desire to be loved and wanted so badly. It almost pained him to watch it. He’d do whatever it took to fill those desires, but his heart had to come with the entire package. Miguel needed his love; more than ever before, he wanted his friend to love him, and be in love with him...only him.
When he went back to clean Blake up and turn off the television, he was curled on the edge of the bed. He’d dozed off. He noticed he always slept with one foot off the mattress as if he was going to get up suddenly and make a run for it. Did he sleep like that at home, too? And if so, why?
Miguel held him in his arms. I love you. If he spoke out loud, he’d choke.
He thought about what would happen if Blake said no to a relationship with him. He’d have to end the friendship. Seeing him would be too complicated as friends. He wouldn’t go through it again. The week required courage to carry out the Seven Desires. They’d barely gotten the list started, and already he’d fallen harder for him, more than he imagined.
He was in way over his head with this one.
I Love Blake
“Whoever said ‘speak your mind’ was high, drunk or partying with our girl Vive Farnworth. Sentiments like ‘I’m in love with you’ are better left…unsaid.”—Miguel Santana, kinky bastard, dog lover.
Gin Showers
Blake was on his back, looking up at him.
Miguel hovered over him. Intent with his stare, focused with his control, his shoulder muscles appeared tight. His arms were flexed, ready to move into action.
“I want you and me to be as one.”
He was the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen.
They kissed, sending a chill over his body. He spread his legs wide.
“To have a family together. To make babies together,” Miguel said as his full and hungry lips glistened.
“Silly, two men can’t make babies together,” he said, though he knew this was just a dream.
He wanted…babies.
He wanted…a family.
He wanted…love.
Unconditional. Accepting. Forever.
“We can try,” Miguel joked then pulled his long legs up over his shoulders. He stroked his cock, telling him how magnificent his body was and how sexy his muscles were.
Was this his second chance at love? If so, he’d get it right this time. Blake felt reborn just being with him.
“Relax.” He massaged the tight puckery rim of his asshole.
“I will. Give me time. I need more time.”
“Let me inside you.”
“Now?”
“Sí, right now.” His lips curled up with encouragement. He was going to top him that time. Slowly, he inserted one finger. “Bébé, you are a tight ball of nerves.”
“I want you to…” He swallowed hard at his friend’s determination.
“Will you let me cum inside of you?”
“Never.”
Reaching for a condom, Miguel sheathed his cock, pressed at the tip, and repositioned himself over Blake. His mouth tightened into a tense smile as his eyes glittered fo
r him. “You belong to me. I’ll take care of you. Let me love on you.”
“I’d like that, Mig. I want that. I do.”
“Do you want me?”
“Yes, I do.”
“You are so fucking sexy,” he almost growled as he penetrated deep.
“Mig…” He shuddered. He’d never had a cock inside him. It was as he’d always dreamed: full, warm, and intense. Though he knew this was a dream, it still felt real. “I want to know more about you.”
Thrusting up inside him, Miguel suddenly became quiet. His face hung low at Blake’s nape, kissing him while he focused.
“I need more time with you. Share with me.”
He shushed him to be quiet. His body picked up speed.
Feeling the moan from the back of his throat, he held on to him. This was special.
“I’m going to come.” His friend grabbed him by the hair. Hard. Unexpected. Almost violent, and not in a hot-please-dominate-me way.
He felt the burn and unexpected wetness shoot inside him.
A haunting laugh erupted, filling the room with a grave intensity.
His hand went down to his ass. “You came inside of me,” he cried, sitting up to see the condom on the mattress, torn off and unused. “You tricked me.”
“Stupid faggot.”
That voice. Demented and twisted. Miguel brought his face up. It wasn’t his friend at all.
Diego. It was his ex-husband laughing again.
“You wanted my seed, my gift, and my love. You got it.”
This is just another bad dream, he told himself over and over. A nightmare.
Again, he woke to Brutus. The dog edged himself onto the mattress. His snout licked Blake’s fingers which hung off the bed.
He pushed the furry alarm clock away. He wasn’t keen on cuddling notions with the dog just yet. Not even after the nightmare he’d just had.
He turned around on the pillow to see Miguel wide awake and staring at him.
“Morning,” he said softly.
“You okay?” Miguel pulled him in for a kiss.
