10 comments/ 39988 views/ 5 favorites Intimacy Ch. 01 By: sampound Introduction: It's funny- a lot of times when people meet us they think Jeff is the gay one and I'm the straight one. He's not effeminate, but he is an art history major with a David Bowie obsession. He dresses like he's ready for a party at Andy Warhol's Factory at any moment. He even LOOKS gay- practically hairless and very slender, with pouty lips and high cheek bones. Hell, it took two years of being his best friend before I really believed he was straight. When I first met him freshman year, I did everything I could to get into his pants, but he resisted the smoldering looks, the hand on his thigh, the friendly wrestling, showing up at his place in my skimpy running shorts dripping in sweat from a long run. After a few months I'd resigned myself to the fact that all the beer, the weed, and the blow in the world wouldn't make him the least bit... flexible. And by the time I'd figured it out, we'd somehow ended up best friends. I don't really have a type. But if I did, he would be it. I mean, I'm into all kinds of guys, but what really gets me off is a smooth, toned, slender guy, masculine without being macho. I also like guys who are a little smaller than me- I like feeling like I'm in control, like I'm driving the car. When I decided to move in with Jeff junior year, I knew it would be torture to watch him walking around the apartment in his boxers every morning, but I didn't know I'd start to fall in love with him. If I'd had any idea, I would've suggested he find another roommate. I can't afford to lose him. At this point, he's probably the best friend I've ever had. I tend to be a little closed off from people until I know them pretty well, but Jeff was good at drawing me out of my shell. I mean, it's not like I don't have a lot of friends, but I'm not really close to that many people. He just has this way of listening to you, like you could tell him anything and he wouldn't blink. Jeff knows I think he's hot. After I've had a few drinks and he has his hand on my thigh, I can't help but look at him with unabashed lust. I think it gratifies him to feel wanted, to feel sexy, to know I'd fuck him, let him fuck me, in an instant, even if he's not interested. I think he likes the power he has over me, the fact that he knows I can't refuse him anything he asks. He likes to tease me though, to push his crotch into my ass while I'm cooking something on the stove. He comes and sits close to me when I'm watching TV, just close enough so I know how his skin feels against me, long enough for me to smell him and imagine wrapping my arms around him, pushing him down and straddling him. Sometimes, when I say something that pleases him, he grabs my face and kisses me on the cheek- in that guy-friend, joking kind of way. It just makes me obsessed with the thought of actually kissing him, fucking his mouth with my tongue, taking control of him, punishing him for teasing me. He's become more affectionate, too. When we go out to bars together, he sits close to me and touches me in these little unconscious ways until I'm so worked up I have to go find somebody to fuck. I've been a generous lover lately, so the boys I take home will scream and moan loud enough for him to hear them. I want Jeff to hear how good I make them feel. I want him to know that even if I want him, I don't need him. When we first got to be friends, it was fine, but lately it makes me feel helpless, and I've started to resent him. Chapter 1: When I get back to the apartment on Saturday night, Jeff isn't there. We'd gone to a party together, but I'd lost track of him. I'd been dancing with this guy, Craig, and was hoping maybe I'd take him home. I had just met Craig a few months ago. He was a transfer student from Cornell- a junior, like me. He's a little bit femme, but definitely cute. We've made out a few times, but I haven't fucked him yet, and I'm dying to. Last night, dancing with him was like getting a lap dance. He'd bend over and slide his ass up my legs, and then gyrate his little butt against my crotch. When I slid a hand around to his chest he'd start bucking his hips against mine, making my dick thicken up inside my jeans. I wanted to slide my dick into his ass and listen to him make those breathy moans all night. I went to get a drink, and I lost track of Craig, and then I couldn't find Jeff anywhere either. There wasn't anybody else interesting there, at least nobody I hadn't had already. So I went home, alone, on a Saturday night. In bed by two am, with a nasty case of the spins. So it's Sunday morning, and I'm hung over and feeling like shit. I'm in the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee for me and Jeff when I hear Jeff's bedroom door open. But it isn't Jeff that walks out. It's Craig. I try to not act shocked. There are any number of reasons he could be leaving my straight best friend's room. At 10 AM. On a Sunday. Craig walks over to me and gives me a kiss on the cheek. "Morning, Alex," he says. "How you doing?" "A little hungover," I say. "What are you doing here?" "Your boyfriend took me home last night." Most of my friends refer to Jeff as my boyfriend, which I used to think was funny, but has started to get a little old lately. "Really?" I ask. I'm too tired and shocked to try and pretend I'm not. I mean, Jeff has been known to get fucked up and make out with a boy once or twice, but as far as I knew he wasn't all that interested in the male anatomy. I mean, he's never mentioned anything to me about it before, and I'm supposed to be his best friend. "Yeah," says Craig, "and let me tell you, straight boy ain't so straight." "How was it?" I don't want to know, but I can't help asking. "You ever seen his cock?" Craig whispers conspiratorially. "Not hard," I say. Craig makes a gesture with his hands. It looks... big. "Really?" "Honey, you have no idea. I'm gonna be limping all day." I resist the urge to punch him. I pour Craig a cup of coffee, and change the subject, because I'm starting to feel nauseous, and I'm pretty sure it's not the hangover. Craig has a study group to get to and he leaves before Jeff wakes up. I'm fully dressed and starting on my homework by the time Jeff crawls out of his room. He looks like shit. I don't know what to say to him; I don't even know if I can look at him. I feel like he's betrayed me, which he hasn't I guess, but I can't believe he went home with some guy. I can't believe his first time wasn't with me. If it were anyone else, any other straight guy, I'd be congratulating him and asking when I'd get a turn. I try to tell myself it's not a big deal, and there's no reason for me to be upset, but it isn't working. I can feel a tight little knot in my chest, and I can't look at him. Jeff doesn't look at me or talk to me either. I can't imagine what he'll say, what he'll tell me, how he'll talk his way out of this one. He drinks his coffee and has his cereal, and goes to take a shower without even looking at me, without saying a word. The article I'm reading isn't making sense, and I have to re-read every paragraph three times. He comes back into the kitchen with his laptop. Our Sunday afternoon tradition- doing our work together at the kitchen table. I can't believe how disgusted I am with him. Rationally, I know he was just wasted and curious. Craig had asked me if I wanted to blow some lines with him at the party, but I had a paper to write and I needed to get some sleep, so I declined. I'm sure that's how he lured Jeff home. Hell, it's probably responsible for a few of the straight guys I've managed to bag. It's not Jeff's fault. It's not like he'd been planning it and keeping it from me. But that's what it feels like for some reason. Like he's cheated on me. I don't know if I'm more upset that it wasn't me he went home with or that I had no idea he'd be open to it. I mean, we've been friends since the beginning of freshman year. If he wanted to experiment, why the fuck did he do it with some fucking slut he barely knows? He's staring at his computer screen, and I'm staring at my article, but it's clear we're not getting any work done. "Did you see Craig this morning?" he asks, finally naming the elephant that's taken over the apartment. I nod affirmatively. He looks at me, and neither of us know what to say. "How was it?" I ask, finally. I don't know if he expects me to be bubbly and gossipy the way I am when he brings a girl home. I'm not though. I'm curt, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. "I don't know," he says. "What do you mean, you don't know?" "It was weird, ok? I don't know what to say." "Did you like it?" I ask, my voice full of bravado. "It was fine," he says. "It was just sex. I was totally coked up out of my head, anyways." I'm embarrassed at the relief I feel when he says that. We stare at each other, and it's the first time there's actually been an awkward silence between us, maybe ever. The silence just gets more and more awkward, so there's no comfortable way to end it anymore. "Craig said you're hung like a horse." It just slips out of my mouth, maybe out of nervousness. There are twenty different ways I could have said it. Admiringly, sexually, light-heartedly. But I know the way I say it is completely degrading. Like Craig and I have been talking about him behind his back. Like Craig's my best friend, and Jeff is some slut we've been dishing about. I can read him like a book, and I know how to push all his buttons. I want him to feel as humiliated as I felt this morning when Craig came out of his bedroom. But when I see his face drop and the blush spread across his face, it's not as gratifying as I'd hoped it would be. We go back to doing our work, but I can't pay attention, and this paper is due on Tuesday and I've barely started the research, so I go to the library, and when I come home, Jeff is already asleep. The next few days are weird. I'm avoiding him, because every time I see him now, it's like all my circuits fire at once, and I can't function. Wednesday night, I'm at home watching TV. Jeff comes in and sits at the opposite side of the couch and we watch together in silence. He gets up during the commercials to go to the bathroom, and when he comes back he sits close to me. "This is fucked up," he says. I turn to look at him and he's staring at the TV. "Yup," I say, and I'm relieved my voice doesn't crack. "If I'd had any idea it would upset you this much, I never would have went home with him. I never would have even talked to him." "It's my fault," I say. "I don't really know why I got so upset. I don't know what's wrong with me." Jeff lifts my arm and puts it around his shoulder, and snuggles in close to me. The first time we sat like this was when his ex-girlfriend dumped him, but now we sit like this sometimes when one of us is having a rough day. With his body this close to me, all is forgiven. In spite of myself, I run my fingers through his hair. He lets me. "Alex," he says, "I'll do anything to fix this. You're my best friend." "Let me fuck you," I say. It's out of my mouth as soon as I think it, and I immediately regret it. He pulls away and looks at me. "You know I would, right? Let you fuck me." Hearing him say it makes my gut churn, and I force myself to push the image out of my head. "I know, Jeff." I know he isn't pissed at me, and he knows I didn't really mean it, and I know he really would let me fuck him if he thought it would fix anything. We both know it won't though. He's still straight, even if he did fuck Craig, and it would just make everything more complicated. I'd still be in love with him, and he still wouldn't be in love with me. Intimacy Ch. 02 Over the next few weeks, we get back to normal. On the surface at least. Things are still kind of strained between us, but we put on a good show for each other of pretending they're not. We don't mention Craig or what I'd said when we were watching TV. It's a Saturday night again. Jeff's gone to a party, but I don't really have the will to go out. Ever since the whole Craig thing, whenever I'm about to take some guy home I seem to lose interest. I haven't slept with anyone in weeks. If Jeff is sleeping with anyone, he hasn't been bringing her back to our place. "Or him"- the thought crosses my mind briefly, but it makes me feel ill, so I push it back out again. I turn the heat up in our apartment so I can get stoned and strip down to my briefs. I want to lay around naked and pretend I'm in the tropics. I roll a few spliffs so I won't have to deal with the mechanics once I'm fucked up. I put on a new album I've just bought, and enjoy getting stoned and letting the music wash over me. Around midnight I hear a knock on my door, and then Jeff peaks his head in. "Can I come in?" he asks. I pat the bed and tell him to come join me. I grab my jeans from the floor and slip them on. "It's a fucking sauna in here," he says. "How high did you turn the heat on?" "I was in the mood for a tropical vacation," I say. The words fill up my mouth like pudding and seem to slip out slowly without my knowledge. Fuck, I am so stoned. I spark up the last joint and hand it to him, letting him smoke most of it. I can't help myself from staring at the elegance of his long, slender fingers, the smooth confidence of his inhale, and the curling smoke slipping back out through his pink puffy lips. It's weird to have him in my room. We mostly hang out in the kitchen and the living room. The heat really is up pretty high, and he's starting to sweat a little bit. He starts to unbutton his shirt, giggling as he fumbles. He isn't wearing anything underneath, and I'm completely hypnotized by his smooth, olive skin. I can feel myself starting to bone up, but suddenly I don't give a shit if he can tell. I lay back on my bed with my arms over my head. Jeff looks down at me, and then lays down beside me. He curls up next to me like we do when we're watching TV sometimes, except now we're lying down, shirtless, in my bed. We lay there together for what seems like hours, the sides of our bodies barely touching, although every brush feels like electricity to me. We linger together in companionable silence, occasionally speaking- not saying anything important, just catching up on the week, on the night, on our friends. "I wish you'd come with me tonight," Jeff says, but I can't respond because as he says it he snuggles up close to me and puts his head on my chest. My breath gets caught in my chest. I can feel his warm, naked flesh against mine, can feel his heartbeat against my side. I'm afraid to run my fingers though his hair, afraid to touch him. If I touch him just a little bit I don't know if I'll be able to stop. I've always thought body odor was kind of gross. I know some guys get off on it, but I prefer the smell of a freshly showered man. But for some reason the combined smell of our sweaty bodies is intoxicating. It's like a drug, and my dick is hard now, caught uncomfortably in my briefs. I can only see the top of his head, so I don't know whether or not his eyes are open, whether or not he can see. His head is rising and falling with my breath. I fucking hate this. I hate the intensity of the attraction I feel and my completely inability to control it. I hate how helpless it makes me feel. I can smell his shampoo and his sweat and cigarette smoke, and the heat of his body is driving me crazy. Our sweaty skin is sticking to each other, and I feel like my entire body is alive and on fire. Like I'd just kicked the heat up another 10 degrees. He raises his hand to my chest and I stop breathing. It's just laying there, on top of my right pec, right above my nipple. I know he can feel the way my heart is beating a million miles a minute. It's like time stops, and I have no fucking clue how long we're laying like this, unmoving. I haven't had sex in weeks, and I'm so fucking oversexed I feel like it's consuming me, like all that's left of what used to be me is a giant engorged cock that's taken over the rest of me. Jeff starts playing with my chest hair. He doesn't have any, and he's always been curious about mine. Sometimes when I have my shirt off he playfully rubs it. But this isn't like that. He's stroking my chest, but he might as well be stroking my cock. When he brushes my nipple, I have to grab his wrist to make him stop. "Jeff, what are you doing?" "I don't know," he says. "Well you better figure it out," I snap. The teasing I can deal with, but now he's just fucking with me. Jeff sits up, and I suddenly feel incredibly naked, even though I'm still wearing my jeans. I sit up too, and pull my knees to my chest. "Why won't you talk about what happened with Craig," he asks. "It didn't happen to me, it happened to you. You're the one who isn't talking about it." "Whenever I try to you get so fucking tense." "Look, I overreacted, ok. I'm sorry. I'm over it now." "No you're not." "Don't tell me how I feel," "If you don't lie to me, I won't have to." I lean back against the headboard and stretch my legs out. "I was jealous, and you know it. Do you really need me to say it out loud? Do you really need me to stroke your ego that bad?" I feel humiliated, and terrified of how he'll react. "Alex," he says, and brushes my hair behind my ear. I pull away from his hand. "So what, are you like, into guys now?" I ask. I had mostly meant it as a joke, but Jeff seems to take it as a serious question. He looks at me and pauses, clearly trying to figure out how he wants to answer. "I don't know. I've always been curious about it, I guess, but I'd never wanted it bad enough to actually go through with it. If I hadn't been so wasted, I probably would never have done it." "What are you saying?" I ask. God, I feel like a fucking awkward, insecure 15 year old. I haven't felt like this since I was in high school. "Now that I have... I don't know. I liked it, Alex. More than I thought I would. I don't know. I guess it wasn't as scary as I thought it would be. I just wish it hadn't been with Craig." My chest hurts from wanting him so much, and from knowing that I'll lose him if we go through with this. "I guess I always thought that if you wanted to experiment with a guy, you'd do it with me," I say, in spite of myself. "Yeah, I used to think so too. But I guess once we got to be so close it got kind of complicated. And the thought of being one of your many conquests wasn't particularly appealing." "Jeff, you know I'd never..." "I know, Alex." He moves closer to me and leans against me. The heat of his skin touching mine makes it hard for me to think. "You haven't fucked anyone in a while, have you?" he asks. I shake my head no. "It's been like, over a month, hasn't it? That must be a new record for you." "Six weeks. I'm going out of my head," I say. "I want you to fuck me, Alex," he says into my neck. I can feel his warm breath on my skin. I think I've misheard him, but the way he's holding his breath, waiting to see how I respond.... "It won't fix anything," I say, my heart pounding so hard my chest might break open. If I don't have a heart attack first. Jeff straddles my lap, and his ass rests on my cock. I know he can feel it. "I don't think you understand," he says, looking into my eyes. "I don't want you to fuck me because I think it's a good idea. I want you to fuck me because I think about it when I beat off. I. Want. You. To. Fuck. Me." Oh. Fuck. I almost come when he says that, and again when he punctuates it by grinding his ass against my hard dick. "Oh God..." I groan. I'm beyond cohesive thought. "Alex," he says leaning into me, "Craig might have been the first guy I fucked, but I want you to be the first guy to fuck me." He leans in closer and whispers into my ear, "Think about what it would feel like to be the first guy to slide his cock inside me." The thought of it makes me tremble. He's grinding against me and talking in this low, breathy voice I've never heard him use before. I can't believe Jeff is fucking seducing me. He can tell how much the thought of it is turning my mind to mush. He licks my neck right below my ear. "I've never had a dick in my ass before," he says, quietly. I raise my eyebrows, and he blushes. He's told me all about how much he loved it when his ex-girlfriend used to rim him and fuck him with her dildo. "Not a real one, at least," he says, and I laugh. It breaks the tension a little. "I don't think I could last 30 seconds, Jeff," I say, and it's true. Like a flash, Jeff's hands are on the button of my jeans, and next thing I know my pants and briefs are down at my knees, and Jeff's mouth is on my cock. Jeff's fucking lips are around my dick. This isn't happening. I've dreamt about this so many times, and now that it's actually happening, I'm too delirious to pay attention. I don't know where he learned to suck cock, but he's actually good at it, and he goes down on me, sucking like a vacuum, only a few times before my orgasm hits like a fucking freight train, and I don't have time to warn him. He chokes on my cum, and it spills out the side of his mouth. I don't think I've ever seen anything hotter in my life. He stays down there until I'm done, trying his best to swallow as much as he can. When my dick gets too sensitive, I pull him up and lick my cum off his face, and then we're kissing, his tongue in my mouth, mine in his, sharing the taste of me. I'm kissing Jeff, devouring him, as if he were going off to war. The reality of him is heat and warmth and real and I'm practically shaking from wanting him so much. My desire for him terrifies me. It's taking every ounce of control I have not to rip his pants off, hold him down, and pile-drive into his ass. My need to dominate him, to rut him forcefully, mercilessly, threatens to consume me. Calm down, I repeat over and over in my head, take it slow, don't hurt him, make it good for him, make him cum harder than he's ever come before, make his eyes roll around in his head from the pleasure. I think part of what held me back from really going for him until now was a fear that there was no way it would be as good as in my fantasies, that there was no way he could possibly live up to my idea of him, and that there would be no way I'd be anything but disappointed. But somehow the reality of him is actually better than anything I ever could have imagined. I've kissed more guys than I can count, but it's never been like this before. It's hot and needy and hard and passionate, but there's something else there, too. It's how well I know him, and how much he knows me. He knows me better than anyone else and he wants me, he wants this. I'm kissing him, and he's kissing me back. I'm touching him, trying to touch and memorize every inch of his body- not just the sex parts, his calves and forearms and neck and every part of him. This might be my only chance with him, and I won't waste a second of it. He pulls my pants the rest of the way off, and then slips his own down his hips. Jesus. He really is big, and hard as steel. I take him in my hand and stroke him while I kiss him. "Are you sure you want me to fuck you?" I ask, trembling, wanting to bury my face in the heady smells coming from his crotch. He nods. I push him down on his back, and get down between his thighs, but instead of going for his cock, I go straight for his balls. I torture them with my lips and teeth and tongue and take them in my mouth. When Jeff tries to reach down and relieve his aching cock, I push his hand away, and tell him firmly, "Don't touch yourself." He whimpers. Good. I want to work him up until he can't stand it, until he's seeing stars, until he think he'll go crazy if he doesn't touch himself, and I still won't let him. I move down to his perineum and push my tongue hard against him, and then I move down to his ass. He's writhing and moaning on my tongue and the sound and smell and feel of him is waking my cock up again fast. I'm obsessed with the idea of being inside of him, and I slide a saliva-slicked finger into his ass, satisfied with the sharp intake of breath and deep groan he makes. He's tight, but not drum tight. He knows how to loosen up for me, and soon I've got two fingers inside him and he's squirming and panting as I find his prostate and fuck his ass with my fingers. I'm wondering if I should go for a third, but Jeff pulls me up to his face. He's a little red and he's breathing hard and then his tongue's down my throat and his hands and arms and legs are wrapped around me, pulling me tight against him. Jeff's ex-girlfriend was into a little bit of power play, and Jeff was definitely the submissive in their relationship. He used to tell me about what they'd do together, and occasionally I'd allow myself to beat off imagining myself in her position. As we're making out and grinding against each other, I'm starting to remember all of the little hints he's dropped about his preferences over the past few years. I know his nipples aren't particularly sensitive, except for when he's really turned on. That he likes being tied up. I remember the involuntary blush that spread down from his ears across his cheeks the first time he told me how much he got off when Kate spanked him. He gets off on feeling like he's being taken control of. Kate used to make him feel that way with her words and her attitude, but I don't know if he's ever been with someone big enough to make him feel physically taken control of. I can sense somehow, by the way he's reacting to my arms wrapping around him, the way I'm holding him down on the bed, the way one of my hands practically covers one of his tight little ass cheeks, that it's flipping all of his switches. I wonder if maybe he's fantasized about this before, or if maybe he's never even let himself think about it, but it feels so right to him now that he's realizing just how much he's always craved it. So I step it up a notch, and really let him feel the size and weight of my body, the strength of my hands and power of my muscles. And he's starting to breathe even harder and frantically grinding himself against my thigh, and that's setting off all my buttons, but I'm running the show here, so I pull away from him, and look at him lying on my bed, dazed and confused with swollen lips and a rock hard cock. I stand up and stroke my cock slowly, looking at him, barely believing that this is real, that it's really happening. He's looking up at me, his gaze flicking between my cock and my face, his eyes big. I can tell he didn't expect it to be quite like this, didn't expect to be so out of control so quickly. My first impulse is to comfort him. He looks so unnerved- any other time if I saw him looking like that I'd be doing everything in my power to calm him down. But sex is different. This is my game now. I reach into my night stand for a condom, and his eyes get wider as he watches me roll it on. He's realizing that the fantasy of getting fucked and the reality are two very different things. I remember the feeling. I'm caught between two impulses- there's part of me that wants to wrap him into my arms and be gentle and sweet and cover him in kisses while I'm sliding into him, to really make love to him, to show him how much I love him with every touch. But the other part of me, the bigger part, is getting off on the dominance of it, and knows how much he's getting off on the submissiveness of the fear and the uncertainty and the newness of it. And also knows that it's safer this way- as much as part of me wants to be tender and raw with him, I'm terrified of what that would mean, not sure I could ever recover from whatever it might lead to. "Get on your back," I say, my voice rough and curt. I'm gratified by how quickly he follows orders and the flash of lust in his eyes at the command. I squirt some lube into my right hand and coat my dick with it and then move over towards him. I put my left hand on his chest and push him gently against the bed, letting him feel my strength, feel me in control, knowing that it makes him feel safe just as it makes him feel powerless. With my right hand, I slick up his hole with what's left of the lube, and ease my two fingers back inside of him. He's tight and hot and he squeezes his muscles around my fingers. "Are you ready?" I ask him. He nods silently. I line myself up with him, and slide in. I'm pretty sure he's taken dildos as big as my dick, so I'm not worried about hurting him. He can take it. I only have to stop once- pause briefly while he adjusts to me, and then I'm all the way inside him, and I wonder if my eyes are as big as his are right now. "Oh, God," He says, his voice trembling, just as I'm thinking the same thing. I pull out slowly, losing myself in the feeling of his tight hole sliding along my cock. I push in again, and look down in wonder at the way his eyes roll back in his head. I'm entranced watching how he reacts depending on the angle and speed at which I thrust into him. He's so beautiful, like an exotic plaything. I can't believe it's really him writhing and sighing and panting underneath me. I can hear myself panting and moaning too, and then slowly I lose myself in him, stop being able to think or plan or understand what's happening. It's just our bodies our cocks his ass his smell his sounds his skin. I'm so overwhelmed with what this feels like, I almost tell him I love him, but I stifle the words into a moan. It's never been like this before. I've never fucked someone I was in love with before. I've never wanted to completely merge with someone else. I've never wanted to please someone so completely- not just because I love good sex, or because I want to prove my sexual potency, or because of the way it feels to make another guy delirious with pleasure, but because I'm so devoted to him, because his pleasure is my pleasure. Because for a second I almost believe that I would be ok if I could never cum again, if I could just give him the greatest orgasm of his life, if I could give him endless pleasure. By now I'm thrusting fast and hard into him, and he's bucking and gyrating his hips against me, trying to get me deeper inside him, gripping my back, holding onto me as if he were drowning. I grab onto his hips and start slamming into him like a jackhammer, because the harder and faster I go the more he pants and moans and I'll do whatever I can to make those sounds come out of him. I hold his waist steady so he can't move his hips and slam into him over and over, harder and harder. And then he starts moaning into my ear, "Oh fuck, I need to come, oh God, let me cum, I need to cum." He reaches his hand between our bodies and starts stroking himself off. I move my hands up to his stomach, his face, his chest, pinching and twisting his nipples. I'm on the brink of coming, and I try to hold myself back- I want to feel him cumming, his ass spasming around my hard cock- but I'm teetering on the edge and I can't hold back, and I grab onto him and hold him close, our sweaty torsos sticking to each other as the cum shoots out of me. It takes me a minute to recover. I slowly extract my sensitive cock from the tight grip of his ass and tie up the condom. He's still hard as a rock, and looking at me needily. I scoot down the bed and run my tongue up from the base to the head of his cock, savoring my first taste of him. He tastes pungent and sweet and salty and fleshy. I let myself get lost in his cock, take it all the way down my throat, silently giving a prayer of thanks for the years of cocksucking that have prepared me to deep throat every last inch of him. I have no idea how long I'm down there, licking and sucking him, tasting him, worshiping his beautiful cock. I slide two fingers into his hole and fuck his prostate, trying to fuck the cum right out of him. Intimacy Ch. 02 He comes in my mouth and I swallow it, pulling back up so only the head is in my mouth. I don't always like the taste of cum, but I would savor anything that comes from him. I can't seem to stop myself, and lap at his cock until he pulls me off, saying he's too sensitive. And then I pull myself back up, our sweaty bodies sliding against each other, and take him in my arms and kiss him, kiss him like I've always wanted to. We kiss, our bodies pressed against each other, for ages. I can't get enough of him. We make out until his tender skin is raw from my scruffy, unshaved cheeks, until my lips are numb, until we both need to come up for air. And then he covers my face and my neck with kisses. I can't believe how tender he is with me, especially after I've treated him so roughly. We fall asleep wrapped around each other. * * * * * The next morning I wake up and he's in my bed. My heart swells and everything feels right with the world as I watch his back rise and fall and feel the warmth of his body near mine. I feel so confused and overwhelmed at this unexpected occurrence, I don't know if I want to laugh or cry or scream. He is so perfect and so beautiful; I don't know what I've done to deserve such a perfect moment. But slowly, as I start to wake up, a subtle nausea starts to creep in. How could this possibly turn out well? Where could we possibly go from here? I need to get out of the apartment. I throw on my running shorts and my sneakers and go out for a run. I run five miles before I really feel like I've started to work the anxiety out of my system, before I feel like I'm ready to head home. But as soon as I'm back at the apartment, it's even worse than before. I actually take a minute to plan out a life that would involve never having to go back into that apartment, never having to face him again. As I stand outside our apartment complex, my heart starts beating faster and I kind of want to vomit, so I start running again. I run the same route, getting lost in the burn in my lungs and my legs, in the sound and the feeling of my feet pounding the gravel. By the time I get back to the apartment complex for the second time, I'm too tired to be anxious. My legs are wobbling and all I can think about is getting upstairs and getting a big glass of water before I sit down. When I get to the door to our apartment, a wave of nausea rushes over me. I must be too tired to keep the thoughts from crossing my mind- the ones I haven't allowed myself to think before. That Jeff is the only person I've ever been this close to who hasn't hurt me. That I've fucked it up. That even though I don't deserve someone as good and kind as he is, I need him. That after last night, the odds are I've lost him. Even if we stay friends, we'll never be as close as we were. Or maybe we will be, but now that I've had him, I won't be able to be in the same room with him, maybe even the same state, if I can't have all of him. That I'm even more in love with him that I thought was possible, and that the pain of not having him is more than I can stand. I stand paralyzed in front of the door to our apartment, waves of anxiety rushing over me, but my legs are so tired they practically buckle from the effort of standing and I force myself to go in. I can hear him fiddling around in the kitchen when I come in. He hears the door open and shouts, "Hey Alex!" at me, as if nothing were different. "Hey Jeff!" I shout back. "You go for a run?" He asks, as he walks out of the kitchen and into the front hall. He's wearing these little blue running shorts and a grey tank top and he looks as sexy as he's ever looked. I imagine the way he looked last night, his muscles straining, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat, his face red, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Yeah," I say. "I'm fucking beat. I need some water." "I'll get you some," he says. "Come into the kitchen, I'm making lentil soup," "Yeah, it smells incredible," I say, because it does. I sink into a kitchen chair, and Jeff hands me a glass of water. After I've gulped it down, he pours me another glass and hands me a bowl of soup. The soup is amazing. I was definitely a pizza and McDonalds kind of guy before I moved in with Jeff, but his hippy food tastes have started to rub off on me. He gets a bowl for himself, and we sit at the kitchen table eating together. I can't figure out what I'm supposed to say to him. "This is kind of weird, isn't it?" Jeff says, breaking the silence, but not really making anything less awkward. "Yeah," I say. "Last night was pretty intense." "Yeah," I say. "I've never had sex like that before," he says. "Me neither," I say, but now I can't look at him anymore and I'm staring bullets through the kitchen floor. "Jesus, Alex, don't shut me out. I promise I will do everything I can not to hurt you, but don't you dare get fucking distant from me." I don't know what I'd do if anyone else said something that condescending to me. But it's Jeff, and I know he's only saying it because on some level I need to hear it. I need him to tell it to me. He knows me so well it makes me want to strangle him, but he's right. I can already feel the brick wall starting to build up, to protect me from how fucking vulnerable I feel to him. "I don't know if I can do this, Jeff," I say. "Alex," he says, "I knew what I was getting into when I asked you to fuck me. I wouldn't have slept with you if I didn't think we could deal with it." He's so fucking in control of everything. And as much as I hate him for it, I trust him, I realize I can trust him with my life, and I want to be like him as much as I want to have him. And what if he's wrong? What if I can't deal with it? I want to kiss him. That little taste of him last night didn't satisfy me, it left me wanting more, wanting everything. I tell him, "I feel so fucking possessive of you right now it terrifies me." He gets out of his chair and sits in my lap. I can feel the burn in my sore legs as his weight rests on them, and I'm suddenly aware of how sweaty and gross I am. He doesn't seem to mind, though, as he wraps his arm around my shoulder, and uses his other hand to brush my sweaty hair back off my face. It's bizarre- I never thought that just touching someone like this could be so erotic. "I smell disgusting," I say. He sniffs the air, my neck, my armpit and just shrugs, smiling, as if to say he doesn't mind. I'm practically trembling from having him this close to me. I hate how quickly and spontaneously my erection arrives, how little control I have over my body. "What if last night was a mistake?" I ask him. "Then we'll deal with it. You're my best friend, Alex," he says, "I don't want to lose you. I won't let it be a mistake." I try to pull away from him so he won't feel my hard on. This is so not like me. "Hey, hey, hey, where you going, big guy?" he asks. He straddles my legs and pulls me into him even harder. He grabs my cock through my shorts, and a tiny moan slips through my lips involuntarily. I wrap my arms around his back for support as he starts to stroke me. "Jeff, what are we doing?" "Can you just shut up and enjoy it?" I look into his eyes and lean in to kiss him, and when our lips meet everything is right with the world again. At first it's soft and tender and he's completely in control, but it only takes a minute before I feel the need to take over. His strong, sinewy leg muscles are pressed against mine, and the feeling of our leg hair rubbing against each other is driving me over the edge. I wrap an arm around his torso and keep the other hand on the back of his neck. When I hear him whimper, I think my heart might shatter into a million pieces. When we're just talking, I'm completely out of my league. The whole love thing, fuck, even the whole friendship thing, is not really my strongest area, but sex I can do. I slip my hands into his shorts and grab his bare ass. He groans as my fingers brush between his cheeks, and whimpers again when I start to play with his hole. I know he's probably sore from the night before, and he's getting off from that dull, stinging pain that's mingling in with the pleasure. Jeff pushes our shorts and underwear down low enough so that our dicks are rubbing against each other. I scramble to pull our shirts off, hungry to be in contact with as much of his bare skin as possible. We beat each other off while we make out. I'm too exhausted for anything else, but I can't believe how intimate and erotic it is- more than I ever thought a hand job could be. He whimpers and squirms and moans and it makes me frantic- the way he sounds, the way he looks, the way he smells. Afterwards he practically has to carry me to the bathroom and we get in under the hot water and it soothes my sore muscles. We slip into sweatpants and curl up on the couch together. He roles a joint and we get stoned and just lie there on the couch. "I don't think I can deal with this just being a casual thing with you," I say. I know I shouldn't have said it the moment it slips through my lips. It's true, but it's not something I want him to know, and it's not something you're supposed to say after you sleep with someone for the first time. "I know," he says. He's silent for a while before he continues. "You know, once we started to get close, I knew you'd pull away from me if I slept with you. And then when I realized you were in love with me, I knew I'd break your heart." What a weird, shitty thing to say, I think. It sounds rehearsed and arrogant and angsty, but as much as I want to laugh at him, the sound doesn't seem to come. In fact, I can't say anything for the longest time- every time I try to, it gets stuck in my throat. I want to argue with him, to protect my dignity, but the thing is- he's totally right. "But, I don't know," he continues, "these last few weeks... you've been different. After the whole thing with Craig, and then when you said that thing about fucking me, I started to think that the only way to make things right was to let you do it. But then once I started thinking about it... I don't know. I sort of got into the idea, and then it kind of took on a life of its own. And I guess, after the past few weeks I've realized that I don't have to hurt you. We can do this however it works for us. We don't have to follow any body else's rules about it." I'm glad he kept that part about not being in love with me to himself. I mean, it's not like I don't know, but it would have hurt to hear him say it out loud. Ironically, perhaps, this is part of why I'm in love with him. Because he understands people- because he understands me- better than anyone else I know.