by Matthew Lang
“Want to know what?”
“You’re going to make me say it, huh?” Patrick said, reaching up to trace David’s jawline with his thumb.
“Under the circumstances, yes.”
Patrick tapped him on the nose. “I want to know what it would feel like to be with a guy. Sexually.”
“So go post on Craigslist or something.”
“What, you’d give my very first time and possible life-changing experience to a creepy old man or stranger behind a glory hole blow and go?”
David paused, his mouth half-open in shock.
“Okay, I’ve looked more than once. I just… never actually replied to any of the ads.”
“What if you hate it?”
“I don’t think I will,” Patrick said, gently rolling his hips up against David’s ass. “But I know that if I do, I’ll still love you in the morning.”
“I thought you were after a once-off experiment?”
“I am,” Patrick said. “Doesn’t mean it can’t be special, right?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Pat, but I have a killer beer headache at the moment.”
Patrick chuckled and then winced. “Okay, me too. And I don’t think you want to kiss me given that I smell like a pub gutter.”
“I don’t want to kiss anyone right now,” David said, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back onto the pillow—or rather, Patrick’s bicep, as it turned out. “Right now I want it to stop being so bright.”
Patrick tightened his arms around David, bringing their bodies closer together until David could feel the light dusting of hair on Patrick’s chest press against his back. “Okay.”
Before David could process what was happening, Patrick’s arms and warm body were gone, and the mattress sprung back as his friend left the bed.
“Oh, head rush,” Patrick muttered before soft footsteps indicated Patrick was walking away towards the bathroom. Then there was the sound of curtain rings scraping across metal railings and the light dimmed mercifully to a less headache-inducing level. As he stretched out into the warm patch that smelt slightly like the inside of Patrick’s closet, David drifted back into sleep to the sound of water running in his bathroom.
Chapter 2
DAVID CAME around to the smell of fresh coffee and the sizzle of grease. After stumbling into the bathroom, he splashed water onto his face and made a cursory attempt at brushing his teeth. He fared better with the mouthwash and managed to find a pair of boxers to slip into before he braved the living area of his apartment. The beer bottles from last night were still present, lined up at the foot of the coffee table. Unusually, the lines starting from each side merged into a jumble where they met at the centre of the table, so he wasn’t sure how many he’d drunk. So much for keeping track of their drinking. Across in the kitchen corner, a shirtless Patrick was at the stove, wearing David’s novelty apron and frying bacon, from the smell of things.
“Coffee?” he asked hopefully.
“On the counter,” Patrick said, his voice cheerful as only Patrick in the mornings could ever be. David’s nose drew his attention to one of his red mugs that was perched on the living area side of the breakfast bar.
“Black and bitter like my soul,” he said with a smile as the caffeine hit his bloodstream.
“Your soul is hardly bitter,” Patrick said, turning back to the stove, and David reassessed shirtless to pantsless as well.
“You’re naked in my kitchen?”
“I’m still wearing underwear.”
“So? The way those briefs cling to you….”
Patrick paused, his shoulder muscles stilling in their dance beneath his skin before he answered. “How is this different to the last time I slept over and cooked breakfast? You’ve never cared what I was wearing.”
David tore his eyes away from Patrick’s ass and stared down into his coffee. “It’s what you’re not wearing,” he grumbled. “Feels a bit awkward.”
Patrick dished out bacon, eggs, and hash browns onto two plates and placed them on the counter. “It’s only as awkward as you make it, Zhang.” He leaned over the counter with the old mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Why don’t you just kiss me already and get that part over with?”
That was Patrick’s seductive voice. Low, suggestive, and with a slight furry rasp that David had never had turned on him before. It threatened to go straight to his cock. Actually it was going straight to his cock. But it wasn’t as though that was a genuine offer.
“Kiss the man wearing near see-through briefs and a ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron?” David asked.
“I could take them all off if you like,” Patrick said. His friend’s grin remained as he absently opened the kitchen drawers and pulled out knives and forks.
David glared at him through narrowed eyes. “This is you fucking with me for all the times I’ve flirted shamelessly with you after people think we’re dating, isn’t it?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Well, after the way I reacted this morning….”
“You mean, your erection?” Patrick asked, carefully drawing out every syllable of the last word.
“Yes, I know it happens in the mornings, but I’m not… trying to jump your bones because you’re now single, all right?”
“So… does that mean you are trying to jump my bones?” Patrick slid the two plates across the countertop and started to walk around to grab a stool.
“Well, no, Patto. I mean, you’re hot and all, but you’re… hard.” David stared down at the obvious bulge in the apron as Patrick’s lower body came into view around the corner of the bench. “Straight!” David yelped, jerking his eyes up from crotch level. “Sorry.”
“You know you caused that, right?” Patrick asked, his serious tone at odds with the smile tugging at his lips.
For a moment, David stared at him, wondering how far Patrick would push the teasing. Then Patrick’s stomach rumbled loudly, and David couldn’t help but laugh. “Shut up and eat,” he said, as he turned to his own plate, the awkwardness mostly gone, even if the mental image of Patrick’s erection remained.
Patrick sighed and pouted theatrically. “Okay, fine, have it your way, you spoilsport.”
“Where’d you find the bacon?” David asked as he picked up his knife and fork.
“Back of your freezer underneath the bag of peas you use as an ice pack,” Patrick said. “I stashed it there two months ago when you refused to believe that bacon was the food of the gods.”
“You were talking about ice cream.”
“Everything’s better with bacon,” Patrick said with a grin.
“What about the hash browns? I’d have seen a box of those.”
“Yeah, but you had potatoes, a grater, salt, and butter. It’s not deep fried, so it’s really more of a rösti.”
“You could make a fortune selling these,” David said, happily crunching through the crisp net of potato strings.
“Maybe,” Patrick said. “I don’t like the abuse they heap on you in commercial kitchens, though, and I can’t afford to open my own place. It’d be scary, managing anything of that size.”
“You still finished your apprenticeship, though. You could do it.”
Patrick shrugged. “Yeah, nah. In another life. Someone else’s life.”
The rest of the meal was spent in silence, and it wasn’t the comfortable silence of two friends that David was used to. Instead it was the silence where knives on plates were far too loud and the birdsong from the park sounded far too near, given the distance between his balcony and the treetops. He felt acutely aware of Patrick’s proximity, the way their arms occasionally touched as they ate. It wasn’t anything new or different, but he kept glancing down at the bulge between Patrick’s legs, which hadn’t gone down. Worse, he thought he noticed Patrick noticing his looks, and the only response he got was the briefest flash of a half smile before Patrick turned his head away and pretended not to have seen anything at all. Suddenly, instead of being embarrasse
d and blushing, Patrick had decided to turn the tables on David and flirt back with interest, and David was wishing it was actual interest rather than just payback. But he couldn’t help the treacherous thoughts that insisted it might actually be real and he should go for it, putting over a decade of friendship at risk.
“This is stupid!” David said finally, pushing his plate away.
“What? I thought you liked crispy bacon.”
“No, the food is great as always, it’s this,” David said, gesturing at the space between them. “It’s awkward. I feel like I’m on a first date and I don’t know what to say because I don’t know the person sitting opposite—next to me!”
“You do know me,” Patrick pointed out mildly.
“Yes, that’s what’s stupid,” David said. “You win, okay. I got really freaked out this morning because I don’t know how to handle you flirting with me. I know it’s just you getting your own back, and maybe you’re feeling like you can because you’re not with Li Ling any—”
Suddenly Patrick’s lips were on his, tasting of salt and fried egg and fatty meat. “Newsflash, Zhang,” he murmured. “I’m not getting back at you for anything. You’ve always given me a hard-on. I’ve just never done anything about it.”
Then they were kissing, and David’s blood roared in his ears as his hands gripped the solid muscles of Patrick’s shoulders, trailed down his back to the firm mounds of his ass. Patrick’s hands were roaming over David’s skin, and one slid into the back of his trunks, and Patrick was kissing his throat and along his jaw and….
“Pat, stop.”
“Dave, I want you,” Patrick said as his teeth tugged on David’s earlobe. “I really want you, and—”
“No, seriously stop.”
Patrick stilled, and he snatched his hands back almost as if burnt. “I… I thought you were enjoying that.”
“I… I can’t…,” David started. Suddenly the small distance between their seats yawned like a massive gulf.
Patrick’s shoulders slumped, and he swivelled on his seat to face the bedroom before walking off. “Okay, I get it. Sorry.”
David sat in stunned silence for a moment before striding after him. He found Patrick with his back to the door, T-shirt over one shoulder, and fumbling with the top button of his denim shorts. Forcing his feet into his still tied sneakers, Patrick turned around, phone in one hand and apron in the other, and paused when he saw David in the doorway.
“Please move,” he said, his tone hard.
“No.”
Patrick sighed. “David, you don’t get to reject me one moment and then stop me from leaving the next, okay?”
“Patrick, I didn’t…. I just don’t….”
“I get it,” Patrick said. “I’m not good enough for you. I know. I don’t have a degree or even a job, really, and I’m the big bogan uncultured oaf who’d be an embarrassment to be on your arm, and—”
“Will you shut up?” David snapped. “And don’t ever call yourself a bogan oaf again!”
“So, I can still be an uncultured bogan oaf?”
David rubbed his eyes. “I don’t want to fuck this up, all right? You’re the straight guy who I talk guy stuff with. What happens when we do this and it freaks you out and you want to stop? We won’t be able to go back to ‘just friends’ after that, will we?”
“You’re just friends with some of your exes,” Patrick pointed out. “Although if you don’t think we’re going to be able to go back in the future, what makes you think we can go back now? And Dave?”
“What?”
“I’m not and never have been ‘the straight guy.’ I’m the bi guy who’s been too chicken to make a move on any guy I find remotely interesting. I’m the bi guy who’s been in a relationship with the same girl since I was old enough to think about relationships and never explored my attraction to men. I’m the bi guy who you talk to about guy stuff, and I’m the bi guy who’s always been insanely jealous of every single one of your boyfriends.”
David stood there, jaw open and staring. “Seriously? That’s what the big, scary, tough-guy act you do’s been all about?”
Patrick flushed. “Maybe. Probably. I don’t really know. Li Ling always said that I was overprotective of you and was scared that the new guy would become more important than me in your life. I hate it when she’s right, but she was definitely right about that.”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“What if it does? I happen to think you’re worth it. Heck, I know you’re worth it.”
“You’re rebounding.”
“Possibly,” Patrick agreed. “Tell you what, come over on the fourteenth. I was planning a big dinner and have food on order, anyway. It’d be a shame to waste it.”
“You’re not going to propose to me, are you?”
Patrick walked right into David’s personal space, and for a moment, David was tempted to pull back, but then he changed his mind and stood his ground, stiffening his spine and staring defiantly up at Patrick, who stood a good head taller. Patrick leant in close enough to touch him, his mouth just by David’s ear, and David could feel the heat of his body tingling on his own skin. “No, but if I still want you, I will be propositioning you.”
“Really?”
“Oh hell yes. You, me, naked in bed and doing… everything,” Patrick whispered, the huskiness in his voice slipping over David’s neck and down his spine.
David shuddered and closed his eyes.
“Dave?”
“Mmm?”
“You’re sticking out of your boxers, and if you don’t want me to get down on my knees and start blowing you, I suggest you let me out.”
David stared into Patrick’s intense blue eyes, torn between lust and sanity. For the moment, sanity won and he stepped back to let Patrick pass. “What time’s dinner?” he asked, his voice slightly strained.
“Shall we say six thirty?” Patrick suggested, warm fingers brushing across David’s midriff in a gesture both chaste and intimate. “See you then, Zhang.”
Chapter 3
THE FOURTEENTH dawned bright and sunny and continued into the hot and boiling. By mid-afternoon it had settled into a slow roast and didn’t get noticeably cooler in what would normally have been the early evening. With the long days of summer it sometimes felt as though the afternoon stretched all the way to eight o’clock. As he rolled out onto the road, David could feel the sweat starting to seep into the armpits of his shirt despite the antiperspirant he was wearing. He’d thought about dressing up a bit more, but it felt silly to bike to Caulfield in long pants in this heat. Caulfield was an older part of town. Or at least, it felt like an older part of town, away from the glittering high-rise apartments in glass and steel that seemed to be growing everywhere around the perimeter of the park that gave the suburb its name. Caulfield had some glittery apartments, especially as developers raced to build student housing for the nearby university, but it still had swathes of detached single-storey suburban housing. There were enough old brick cottages with slightly crumbling fences to give the place a look of being comfortably worn and lived in.
Still, biking in the heat of the evening might not have been the best choice. The black asphalt of the road had spent all day soaking up the sun’s rays and even now sent the summer heat back into the air towards all who passed over it. Maybe he should have driven, but at that point, he was already in shorts—figure-hugging dark denim that he knew showed off his ass. Come to think of it, Patrick had convinced him to buy them for exactly that reason. His stomach was a mix of excited and scared, and his cock was somehow rigid in anticipation of something that might never have been, but when he allowed himself to even think of the possibility… well…. It was dinner. And then he’d see which of his two heads ruled the night.
Arriving at the block of flats, David locked his bike to a nearby street sign that advised parking was allowed for two hours between 9:00 a.m. and 6:30 p.m. Monday to Friday and from 9:00 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. on Saturdays. After that
you needed a residential parking permit. Taking off his backpack, David let the warm breeze find his even warmer and sweatier back. He wouldn’t have brought a backpack normally, but he needed somewhere to put the beer.
David walked around to the back of the apartment block and took the faded grey stairs two at a time, avoiding the handrail that was basically bubbling black paint holding together a fine, crackling structure of mostly rust. As he ascended to the second floor, he glanced at the faded white of the stucco, with its hints of laundry-powder blue deep in the recesses where colour hid from the bleaching rays of the Aussie sun. He passed clotheshorses, heavy with T-shirts, shorts, and last week’s underwear, and small balcony herb gardens of plastic containers tied to the railing with wire and those thin nylon straps on backpacks that were like luggage straps but smaller. They probably had a name, but David had no idea what they’d be called. It was odd that he thought about it now, but then, his brain was racing ahead of itself and standing awkwardly outside Patrick’s front door.
And when his feet caught up with his brain, that’s exactly what he did. Which was stupid. Every other time he’d come to Patrick’s place, he’d just opened the door and walked in. It was one of their unwritten rules that had been in place for so long it didn’t even need to be discussed anymore—if David was expected, Patrick’s door was never locked. Now, there was a weird first-date vibe going, which was stupid, given they’d known each other forever and it wasn’t like they hadn’t slept in the same bed already. Naked, his mind reminded him. They’d slept in the same bed Naked. Capitalised and in italics and everything. Well, okay, not everything. And technically Patrick had been wearing briefs. Somewhere in that jumble of thought was probably the point David was struggling to find. He stood there for what was both an age and a few seconds as he tussled mentally with himself, hand poised halfway between opening the door and knocking on it instead, more sweat trickling down his back every second as his skin prickled with a heat that had nothing to do with the sun. What if Patrick expected him to knock? What if he went to open the door and it was locked? What if…?
