by Chase Potter
As we eat, a gradual realization sneaks up on me. I kind of envy Alex. In some ways, it probably sucks to be gay, but in other ways…
Guys are so predictable, simple, easy.
He glances up, and there’s sour cream on his cheek. “Um.” I point at his face. “You’ve got…”
Alex's eyes grow concerned, and it strikes me as sort of… cute. So instead of just pointing, I reach a little further and wipe it off his face. His eyes follow my finger with the dab of white on the end. Since I don’t have a napkin and I like sour cream, I lick it off.
Did I just do that?
Alex finally swallows, and he’s wearing an amused look. “Gross.”
“What?” I ask innocently. “You don’t like sour cream?”
He just grins back, and it occurs to me that I really am enjoying the time with him. I’m also starting to realize that Alex isn’t what I ever imagined it would be like to hang out with another guy when you’re… uh, involved.
I guess I just didn’t expect it to feel so normal. Like right now, he’s back to stuffing the hell out of his face with no regard for how much of a mess he’s making. Maybe he just really loves burritos, but I don’t think that’s it. Like James or any of the other guys I’ve known over the years, I think he just doesn’t care.
This whole situation might turn into a train wreck. But for the moment, I feel like I’m just spending time with a buddy. At least until Alex asks through a mouthful of food, “What’re you thinking about?”
His wet shirt sticks to his shoulders, and he’s watching me like he knows something’s up. I don’t know if I trust myself to be convincing. “Just had a long week,” I say quietly. Actually I can’t stop thinking about how much I’d like to finish what we started on that balcony.
His answer comes after he shoves another bite of burrito into his mouth. “Hmm.”
My desk is covered with bits of lettuce and rice and cheese when Alex finally balls up our foil wrappers and tosses them into the garbage. Moving his chair around my desk, he plops it down next to me and plants his elbows beside my laptop. “So, show me what you’re working on.”
We’re close now, just inches apart. I shift my position and my hand accidentally nudges his arm. “You’re actually interested?”
For a second time tonight, I’m met by those raised eyebrows. “Of course.”
I’m incredulous and it must show. “I mean,” he says, backpedaling, “I don’t know much about architecture, but I’ll try to keep up.”
The cynic in me wants to brush him off as trying too hard to be nice, but I can’t ignore his eager expression. The one that’s begging me to tell him about what I do. Trying not to blush, I start to explain what I’m working on anyway. I walk him through the loft project, the current layout of the building, and my plans for it. I tell him about my ideas for exposed concrete and rebar and the industrial chic style and the kitchens I want to put in that even Carson would be jealous of.
My descriptions run long, but Alex is a great sport about it. He asks questions and he compliments my designs and he says I can visualize in a way that he’s never been able to. Sometimes our fingers touch when I’m pointing out details on the hard copies of the blueprints, and once while leaning forward, his leg gently presses against mine.
By the time he scoots his chair back a few inches, I’m both thoroughly flattered and a little bit turned on.
“You going to work all night?” he asks, and it’s clear that he’s hoping for a certain answer.
I know where this is going, and despite the last half hour, my answer is guarded. “Not much longer.”
“We could hang out at my place if you want. Watch a movie or something.”
Yeah, or something. I try to swallow away the temptation that’s been growing since he got here, but it doesn’t budge. My mind — or maybe some other scheming part of me — is already planning everything out. With Carson gone at his friend’s place tonight, he wouldn’t notice if I didn’t come home until late. And I’ve busted my ass this week with work, so haven’t I kind of earned this?
“I could probably manage that,” I tell him. After all, just hanging out doesn’t mean that I’m going to end up doing… other stuff. That’s naive as hell, but the thought makes it a little easier to pack up my work and follow Alex out of my office.
* * * * *
As I survey Alex’s living room for the second time, it seems different. It’s still tastefully decorated, but unlike the last time I was here, it has lost the sense of the unfamiliar.
“The TV is in my room,” Alex explains, and in an instant I realize that this isn’t the living room sort of movie watching. I follow him, keeping my eyes down. Somehow I still manage to notice that his ass fills out his jeans really well. No matter how many squats I do at the gym, I’ve never had results like that.
“Is this okay?” he asks as he climbs onto his bed. “You seem… nervous.”
“I’m fine,” I say, and it’s mostly true. I join him, leaning back into a pile of pillows. Without prelude, James’s warning courses through my thoughts, the pitch and cadence of his cocky voice recreated perfectly in my mind — stay away from him. I bite down hard, suppressing the memory.
At that moment, Alex leans over, and for a long second I’m convinced he’s going to go for my crotch, but he grabs the remote instead. I release a tense breath.
He picks something on Netflix, and I’m barely paying attention as he sets down the remote and leans back next to me. His arm brushes up against mine, and he just leaves it there. The memory of the cold and wet outside lingers in my skin, and his warmth feels good.
I wish he’d move a little closer. I swallow, and everything seems to stick in my throat.
Alex adjusts his position and when he’s settled again, his arm is pressed a tiny bit more against mine.
Okay, now is when he’s going to grab my dick.
But he doesn’t, and the movie begins. It’s some sort of action flick, and he nestles himself into me. He slides his fingers through mine and pulls my hand toward him. His head comes to a rest on my shoulder, and I catch a familiar scent.
“You… use Dove?”
He glances up, and in that moment it doesn’t seem to matter that he’s a guy and just as strong as I am. He still looks so… vulnerable. “Shampoo? Yeah.”
I feel an urge to look away from those eyes, but I ignore it. “Me too.”
Alex's gaze heads back to the movie, and he nuzzles a little closer to me. Out of nowhere, I feel a distant edge of guilt. Alex is a really nice guy, and he deserves another nice guy. Someone who doesn’t have to worry that they might be busted for a felony, and someone who knows what they want. I’m really not sure that I do.
But as the scenes flit past, I notice myself relaxing too. Alex might be noticeably shorter than me, but he’s warm and built of muscle, and it feels good to just lean back into him. I even start to get into the movie, but not because I’m trying to escape from anything else. I’m legitimately enjoying myself, and when it seems like hardly any time has passed, I realize the action flick is mostly over. The hero shoots some people, saves the day but only barely, shoots some more people, saves the girl too.
The late evening has faded deeper into night, and when the screen turns black for the credits, we’re thrust into darkness and an action theme song. Alex shifts his position, and the back of his hand skates across my t-shirt. After so long cuddled up together, I don’t even think twice about the touch. Until he tugs lightly on my shirt to draw me closer.
I’ve thought about this a hundred times since the night on the balcony, But now I’m here and he’s leaning in and there’s nothing more to think about as he places a tentative kiss on me. Just like when we started cuddling earlier, his touch isn’t fast or forceful. His lips and tongue nip at mine, and somehow this feels completely different than when I went down on him. Alex is being neither aggressive nor overly careful, and as his lips massage mine, I realize the casual mood from earlier hasn�
�t gone anywhere. Alex is easy to be around, whether we’re busting into a pair of burritos or starting to get a little hot and heavy.
I steal a breath, and a thought streaks through my mind. This is pretty awesome.
Eventually he breaks the kiss, and when I try to meet his eyes, I realize they’re already on me. But… lower. He glances up at me, and his voice has a husky undertone. “I still owe you.”
Damn it if I can’t feel myself getting harder by the second, and a temptation tiptoes through me that I’m still hesitant to condone. Still, with how hard I’ve been working this week, I haven’t gotten off in days, and… I want this.
Alex's hand comes to a rest on my crotch, and he smiles. “Seems like you agree.”
“If you want,” I say coolly even as another insistent tug of desire ripples through me.
He clicks off the TV with the remote, and his breath is hot in my ear as he leans close, “I want to.”
I let my eyes drift shut, closing out the faint bits of light still clinging to the corners of the room, and I stretch out to give him better access. That last thought tries to guilt me into stopping him, but his fingers are already undoing the button of my jeans. It would be rude to stop him now.
Alex pulls me into a kiss as he unzips my jeans. Eyes still closed, I find solace in the darkness that’s built from him and his touch, and I cling to its starless black velvet. It coats the inside of my mind, whispering a promise that being with Alex is something unique.
My shirt gets pulled over my head, a breath trespasses against my skin, and lips brush over the thin line of hair leading down over my stomach. My jeans get eased down, my briefs too, and my dick is free. The cool air laps against it, and a moment later so does Alex’s tongue. Along with his hands, he starts working me over, and holy hell does it feel good.
"I know you like this,” says a murmur. “Let me hear it.” The masculine edge to his voice is a turn on, a reminder of what I’m doing and how much I’ve been looking forward to it.
Tilting my hips upward, I do as I’m told. A sound comes from somewhere in my chest, from a place I rarely hear from. And there’s no longer a doubt in my mind how much I’m enjoying this. The warmth and the wet and the movement continue.
He pulls away just long enough to breathe a question in my ear. “This good?”
“Yeah,” I say, but it comes out more like a grunt.
“I’m not convinced,” he says, and I open my eyes to see a playful smirk. He lets go of my dick and crosses his arms. “If you want more, make me.”
My answer is to slide my fingers into his hair, closing gently. “Like this?” I ask, trying to push his head slowly downward.
He doesn’t budge, and in a moment of panic I let go.
“Doesn’t seem like you want it enough,” he says.
My dick is throbbing, demanding more attention that Alex refuses to give. Frustration starts to build as he watches me and leans in. Pressing his cheek to mine, he whispers, “You can be rough.”
It takes me the space of one second to throw out the playbook on being gentle with my sexual partners. Alex meets my eyes, and the coy expression is gone, instead replaced by a competitive fire.
I grab a fistful of his hair and force him down toward my crotch. He resists at first, but then he complies and my cock starts getting what it wants again.
I keep my fingers locked in his hair, but I don’t stop him from changing positions as he rotates just a bit. He keeps working and now his shoulders are pushing against my shins, getting me to bend my knees. Reacting to the new and different way I feel exposed, my eyes flick open. Alex glances up at me with a mix of innocence and desire. I’m inexperienced and I don’t know Alex that well, but what he’s doing feels too good for me to worry.
I barely notice as the sound of a plastic bottle opening, and when Alex brings slippery wet fingers against my asshole, I don’t try to dissuade him. He scoots a bit closer yet. I’m lying on my back and my knees are bent as far as they’ll go. He’s still got my dick in his mouth, working my balls with one hand. And with the other… his fingertips are circling my hole, pressing softly, and I’m starting to lose the ability to think straight.
Finally he pushes right in the center, and one of his fingers slides inside me.
Still I hold on to his hair, even though at this point I’m not sure who’s in charge. Maybe it doesn’t matter.
That finger he has inside me, he’s got it buried up to his knuckle, and he’s… touching my…
With a rush, I realize that’s what it feels like. Hot and wet and kind of like I have to pee but like I’m just going to come really fucking hard instead. My hand loses strength, letting go of him. I can’t compete with what he’s doing, and I realize too late that Alex is the one completely in control here. And he’s not just trying to get me off. He’s trying to make me feel amazing, and I’m powerless to resist.
He still has his finger buried in my ass, and it’s pushing me over the edge. I can’t hold out any longer, can’t hold back the cresting wave rushing into shore. I slide my fingers back into Alex's hair, urgent because I want him to know. Tightening now but still much too gentle. With what little influence I still have, I want him to stay on me until the end. Until that wave crashes into the back of his throat.
He knows what’s happening, he’s ready, but time stretches out into a precious gift. Each second becomes more than that, deeper, wider, and it feels so goddamn good. “Jesus,” I growl, and in a rush of ocean and surf, with his hair in my fist and his finger inside me and my cock in his mouth and my world wrapped in a dark starless velvet, I finally come.
He stays on me, in me, slowing down as I empty my load into his mouth. My stomach is riding up and down on my breaths, and my fist loosens and releases him. I wince as he pulls his finger out of my ass, but it’s more of a surprise than a hurt. I don’t want to open my eyes, but that’s not really a choice. When I do, I see Alex. I don’t know what I’m expecting, but the only thing I can think is, this guy made me feel that?
My breaths slow, and my heartbeats settle into a more regular rhythm. “You didn’t spit,” I observe.
Alex puts on a sly smile. “Nope.” He lies back beside me as I pull my jeans back up. “You going to bolt again?” he asks bluntly.
“No.” It’s an easy answer, but I’m not sure why. It’s… simple being around Alex, and right now at least, I have no desire to leave.
“Good,” he says, moving closer to me. Except unlike before, he’s sitting up a little higher than me, and he pulls me into him. I don’t resist, and I let him draw me closer until my head is resting on his chest and we’re both staring at the ceiling.
“Don’t you… uh, want to get off?” I ask.
He glances down at me with a hint of amusement. “I’m okay.”
My skin tingles, and I could swear it’s getting colder in here. Maybe the temperature is finally starting to fall as we get closer to winter. I let go of a breath I didn’t realize I was holding inside, and my chest sinks with the loss. Alex tightens his grip on me, and I wiggle closer into his warmth.
We stay silent for several minutes, and then Alex begins to talk. He talks about his parents and his sister and his friends he met in college. He talks about a life that I have no business knowing anything about. Alex is a good guy, and ever since the first night we hung out, I can’t shake the feeling that everything I’m learning is stolen knowledge. I have no right to it, and I don’t deserve to know. I haven’t been completely honest with him, and I can’t be.
So mostly I just listen to the cadence of his voice. Usually it’s deep, but when he gets excited about something, his enthusiasm drives it higher. And sometimes he even laughs at the humor of his own stories. It’s an innocent sound, and I like it.
Alex pauses, ending his disjointed monologue, and silence spreads between us once more. The void compels me, demanding to be filled.
“I don’t think my dad was ever proud of me. For anything.” I almost think the words be
long to Alex, but the confession is mine alone. My insides tighten with anxiety.
A pause, a breath, and a question. “Why is that?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I always thought if I was just a little more successful, that maybe then he’d change.”
Alex sighs. “So you poured everything into your business.” It’s not a question.
How true that is. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
Two decades of frustration and disappointment rest on my lips, threatening to well up beneath my eyes too. “Thanks,” I whisper, and part of me clings to his sympathy. And even though I shouldn’t, I want to share more. “That’s not even the worst of what he did,” I confess.
Alex's response is measured. “What was?”
“It had to do with my little brother, Carson,” I bite my lip. Even mentioning his name feels like a betrayal of Carson’s trust, but I’m not sure why. “It was one thing for my dad to be shitty to me, but… Carson isn’t tough in the same way I was.”
Alex watches me, searching for something. “Is he the one who lives with you?”
“Since he was a kid.”
“Oh. So you’re like his guardian?”
I nod, and my breaths come smoothly, but inside I’m wondering if I’m making a terrible mistake by letting Alex in like this.
My eyes sink shut, but only because it’s easier to think that way. The night’s chill whisks fingers over my skin, and it makes me appreciate Alex's closeness all the more. I lean into him, and his warmth pours into me from everywhere we’re touching. I listen to his breathing, and I let my own fall into the same rhythm. It’s such a small thing, but it’s also… not. It makes me want to sprint out of here. And it makes me want to admit I’ve never felt close to someone in quite the same way as I do with Alex.
I swallow hard, knowing I should reject that thought because it’s not going to lead anywhere for me.
“I have to go,” I say. The words are quiet, inconspicuous. “Carson will wonder where I am.”
