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A continuing story – I would suggest reading the earlier chapters.
Eugh. How can I possibly feel this rough? Sunlight is streaming through the window and I hide my head in the pillow. God, what time is it? I’m suddenly overtaken with nausea and rush to the bathroom, making it just in time. I feel better, though my head is still pounding.
I swallow a couple of headache pills from my bathroom cabinet and decide a shower might help. As I lean against the cool tiled wall letting lukewarm water wash over me I recognize a dull pain in my ass. The memories come flooding back. Shit. I did a very stupid thing.
I stumble back into my bedroom, sincerely wishing, for possibly the first time ever, that I had huge thick curtains to block the sun. I peer at the bed, hoping to find it empty. My luck is not in. Just then he rolls over and opens his light eyes.
“Tom. Why are you still here?”
He grins a lazy grin and reaches an arm up to pull me onto the bed.
“I would have thought that was obvious,” he drawls, rolling me onto my stomach, running his strong fingers down my back.
I can’t help it, he’s like a drug, and I arch my back as he works my muscles.
“All night, baby,” he answers.
“No, I know that. I mean, did we use a condom?”
I’m ashamed at myself that I was so out of it I can’t even remember.
“Of course, sweetie, always careful.”
I feel a moment of fury then. Not always careful. Not when we dated and I found out he’d fucked another guy without protection. And then come home to me and carried on as normal. Three months of soul sucking fear every time I got a call from an unknown number. But he pushes me down, scraping his teeth on my shoulder, down my side, making me shiver. He reaches the snarling black dragon head tattooed at the top of my ass.
“This is new,” he laps at it, “I like it.”
How can I tell him that I got it after he finished with me? Calling me clingy for getting mad about him cheating. Making me feel like less than a man. A lot less. When I vowed I wouldn’t let anyone make me feel that way again I got the tattoo to keep the thought at the front of my mind. And yet here he is, in my bed. His handsome Scandinavian face pressed against my body, his hand on my ass, sliding between my cheeks and running a finger across the ridges of my hole.
He’s scooped a glob of lube from the pot and is smearing it on me. I can’t help it, my body reacts on autopilot, and I lift to encourage him to increase the pressure.
“Aw, my hungry little slut,” he purrs as he pushes inside me.
How can any one person have the capacity to make me feel so good and so bad at the same time? He pushes a second finger in. I feel the ache; God I must have been way too drunk to let him pound me that hard.
He’s doing his special trick now, featherlight touches in the vicinity of my prostate. It’s like internal reiki and leaves me frustratedly gasping for more. He loves to tease me, make me beg. He likes to watch me lift and hump, desperate for release. He’s been known to keep this up for more than an hour, leaving me a drooling mess. He’s too impatient today though, thank God.
He rolls a condom on and pushes into me. I cry out in pain, at the ache and at his thickness. He puts his hand over my mouth.
“Ssssh, boy, you love this,” he growls, biting my ear lobe.
He stays close to me, grinding with his heavy body covering mine.
“You feel so good, boy, you stayed so tight for me.”
I don’t like being called boy, but he does it anyway. Used to say it was because I was his. I don’t think he has ever used my name when we’ve fucked. It’s making me mad that he still thinks he can do that. I try to shift, to push him off, but he’s strong and barely seems to notice, his hand still over my mouth.
I can feel myself starting to relax around his shaft, and the ache is moving to the background, being replaced by pleasure. He rolls, still inside me, so I’m on top of him. I press my hands back on his broad shoulders as he pulls my legs back and out, thrusting up into me, hitting my spot over and over again.
I’m moaning now, feeling my orgasm rise, and he lets go of one leg, reaching round to grasp my cock in one huge hand, jerking me hard until I finally twist, bending my back in release.
He likes that, moving to hold me in that arched position as he rams up inside me. The pain is back, and I’m relieved when he cums loudly, rolling me to the side. He flicks the condom off and rolls to go back to sleep. I stumble to the bathroom again. My headache hasn’t abated, and I need to get this man, who I love and hate in equal measure, out of my room and out of my house.
After another shower I go downstairs to the kitchen. I need coffee. And sanity. Andy is at the table, working on his laptop.
“You have a good night in the end?” he asks.
I shrug, non-committally. I’m not sure how to address the elephant in my bed. Andy is going to be pissed. He picked up a good amount of the mess that was me after the relationship ended.
“How demetevler escort was Spence?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” Spence walks into the kitchen wearing running gear. He is too. Doesn’t look even tired.
“You want to come for a run with me?” he asks.
I feel nauseated again.
“Not today,” I put my head in my hands.
“Whoa, how much did you drink after we left?” Spence looks surprised.
“Too much,” I whine.
Andy looks concerned. I consider how to raise my stupidity.
As if on cue, Tom swaggers into the kitchen, looking like a Viking fresh from battle, tying his thick blond hair into a bun. I rest my head onto my arms, waiting for the fallout.
“Tom,” Andy intones, “what are you doing here?”
“Ask Grayson,” Tom drawls smugly.
Tom leans down to kiss my forehead and I shift away. My brain is squirming.
That infuriates Andy. He knows, probably better than anyone, the weird hold Tom has over me.
“You know what, get out Tom. You aren’t welcome here.”
I’m grateful to Andy for standing by me. It gives me the impetus I need to stand up for myself.
“Andy’s right, Tom. I want you to go. I don’t know how last night happened, but it isn’t happening again. Leave.”
Tom’s face is a picture of fury for a moment, before it relaxes it back into its usual smug countenance. I’m relieved that Jay and James come in then. I see in Tom’s eyes that he knows he’d lose a fight, verbal or otherwise, so he leaves, telling me that he’ll message later.
“So, seriously Gray, you wanna tell us what that was about? You brought Tom home?!”
Andy spits his name and throws up his hands in despair.
My cheeks are flushed with shame.
“I’m sorry guys. I guess I was feeling… I don’t know. He just reminded me…”
“It’s okay, Gray, we all have a trigger, sounds like yours is Tom,” Spence lays a hand on my shoulder. “It’s just clear you can’t be trusted on your own,” he jokes.
“Too soon,” I complain, and stumble back upstairs. I need to sleep the horror off.
I just want to collapse, but my bed is a mess. I strip the covers – I need fresh sheets before I can think about resting. Moving the sheets off the bed releases the scent of Tom; a musky, masculine cologne that he always wears and I used to love.
Right now, it just brings back the feeling of nausea and I run to the bathroom to vomit. I’m so pissed at myself. I never get that drunk. Never lose control. The fact that I would do it on the night Tom is around, Tom who I haven’t set eyes on in so many months… So, so stupid.
I turn the shower on as hot as I can take and stand under it, trying to wash this feeling of disgust at myself away with my third shower of the morning. I’m getting flashbacks of Jay and James dancing close, Vic making out with some male model-type – an Abercrombie and Fitch this time.
Of getting a sense of loneliness that, now in the cold light of day, I recognize as unwarranted. Or maybe not, but I do know that if I wasn’t so hung up on Spence I could date, find someone who wasn’t a big, hulking dickhead who treats me like shit. Instead, I remember Tom approaching me, buying me drinks. Calling me ‘boy’ and for some reason that sparking memories of us being together instead of thoughts of murder like it should have.
When I dry off I’m overtaken by exhaustion. I pull on loose tracksuit pants and go back into my bedroom. Spence is there, looking a little awkward. He’s made my bed and I’m overcome with gratitude for him. I can’t say anything. I know I’ll cry or otherwise do something stupid. He can tell and I love the fact that he doesn’t need me to respond. He approaches me and guides me to the bed, pulling the sheet over me.
“Do you want me to go?” he asks softly.
I shake my head, and he climbs onto the bed, close but not touching. As we lay side by side I feel like my senses are dulled and I don’t want to talk about this mess I’ve gotten myself into, so I ask him about his night instead.
“Yeah, she rang and messaged. I’m ignoring it for now, though. I’m pretty angry. You saw that the guy left with them? Proves it’s not just some accidental one-time thing, which is what she’s claiming.”
“Do you know what you’re going to do?” I ask, tentatively.
“Not get back with her, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he laughs.
I can’t believe how relaxed he seems about this whole thing.
“I was, a little bit. She just never seems like a nice person. I think any outside person looking in could tell you that you deserve better.”
“I feel a little bit guilty,” he sees the look on my face, “not enough to forgive her, don’t worry. But things have been bad for a long time, and if I was braver I would have finished it years ago. I just kept waiting for her to go back to how she was, and it’s taken until now for me to accept that if she ever does, it won’t be because of me.”
“Andy has said I can stay with you guys until I sort something else out. Well, actually, he just said I can otele gelen escort move in, but I’m not sure that’s a great idea.”
He glances at me and I wonder if my attraction might become a problem for him now that he’s single.
“Well, it’s up to you, but you’d be more than welcome,” I try to reassure him.
“Well, I don’t know, I might wake up to the sight of a lummoxing great gay man in my face,” he jokes.
“If you mean Tom, don’t worry, you’ll never wake up with him in your face. But if you mean me, then yeah, watch out,” I joke back, but then I’m reminded of my shame and lapse into silence.
We lay quietly and I begin to feel sleep crawling up on me. I wish he’d hug me, and I almost laugh, figuring I’m probably already starting to feel more like myself. He shuffles down, laying parallel to me, and as I lose consciousness I feel him gently take hold of my hand, and I feel safe.
After that fateful night I decide I’m going to be a lot more careful. I swear off one-night stands and stay home on the odd occasion the others go to the club. I don’t quite feel like trusting myself yet. I even try a dating app, but that doesn’t work out. There’s only so many dinners with accountants one man can take.
Tom does message me but I have no idea what he says. Andy must have updated his contact details to Giant Douchebag, so after chortling at that I just delete it without reading. I won’t get drawn back into that mess. I decide to focus on being a better friend instead, though I do think I’m starting to freak them out with my overbearing positivity toward anything they say.
It’s early and I’m in the kitchen, working at my laptop, when Andy comes in. I’ve been doing that a little, pushing back on needing to be constantly in the office. He’s been surfing and his hair is salty and windswept. He looks concerned as he pours himself a glass of juice, waving the carton at me to see if I want some.
“I’m good buddy,” I gesture to my coffee mug, “You okay?”
“Message from my dad. He wants to take me to brunch… will you come with me?”
“Today?” he nods. I look at my work. We’re mid-way through a project so it’s nothing that can’t wait a couple of hours. “Sure.”
I change into smart-ish clothes because we’re going to Barcino and I don’t think they’d appreciate my lounging trackpants. On the drive over, Andy is quiet and I don’t want to push him. in the six years I’ve lived with him, Andy has never asked any of us to meet with his dad before, and I wonder if he has something big on his mind. But Andy is never one to react well to pressure so I’ll just have to wait.
When we arrive, Andy’s dad seems ecstatic to see me.
“Well, Grayson, it’s really wonderful to meet you at last. I was beginning to wonder if you were a figment of Andrew’s mind!”
He insists I call him Brian and chats to me animatedly while we wait for our food. He asks me what I do, and seems genuinely interested in my answers. He’s a big, florid man, and I am having a hard time connecting him, both to laid back, narrow Andy, and to the idea I’d built up in my mind of him being an evil capitalist.
While we’re eating, he turns to Andy.
“So, Andrew, how is the coffee cart doing? Are you ready to expand?” Andy shakes his head ‘no’ with a mouthful of food.
“Is there anyone special in your life at the moment?”
He glances at me for a moment as he speaks, much to my surprise.
“Dad, how many times… I’m not gay.”
“I know, son, but I wouldn’t care if you were.”
Andy rolls his eyes and excuses himself to go to the bathroom. Brian turns to me.
“He doesn’t talk to me you know. Well, you can see. It’s my own fault. I wouldn’t say I’m a bad father, but I’m certainly not a good one either. I’ve always been … not really there. Especially after his mother died. I imagine I’ve left it too late to show an interest. Andy confuses me, you see. His brother has always sought my approval. He works with me now and we have a reasonable relationship. But Andy doesn’t seem to care.”
I take a breath. I’m not sure I should say anything, but Brian has certainly opened up to me and I do have a thought.
“Have you considered that Andy pulls away from you because he thinks that you don’t care? He only sees you occasionally, for a few hours. He doesn’t feel as though you’re genuinely interested and Andy’s not the kind of guy to waste his time. If you want him to know you do care, then you’re going to have to show him.”
Just then Andy returns, but his father has a thoughtful look on his face. I don’t know if what I suggested will actually work, or if Brian is capable of doing what’s necessary, but he looks as though he’s willing to try.
As we leave, Brian shakes my hand and awkwardly hugs Andy. He looks at me nervously and turns to Andy.
“Andrew, do you still like snowboarding?” he asks. Andy nods dully.
“I was thinking of having our next company retreat in Colorado. It will be balgat escort pretty dull for my board, sadly, but I’d love it if you would come. You could bring a friend and we could spend some of the time together.”
Andy looks surprised, but then he can’t help look a little pleased.
“Okay, dad, I’ll think about it. Send me the details.”
“You could take Vic, she loves snowboarding,” I suggest, and to my interest he looks even more pleased then.
At the weekend we hang around our place, having a few drinks and playing cards. It’s nine pm when James comes in, having finished a shift at work. He collapses onto the sofa and I hand him a red concoction.
“Bad week?” I ask.
“Yes, we diagnosed an eight-year-old with stage three today. She’d already beaten it once and it’s back worse than ever… Can we go to the club? I want to dance,” he’s addressing the room, but he’s looking at me.
“You guys should go, it’ll be fun,” I say.
James looks disappointed. Vic gets a stern look on her face.
“Gray, are you ever going to come out with us again? You have to stop letting one mistake rule your life. I promise we’ll have your back,” she looks at the floor.
I realize that Vic has been feeling guilty, feeling as though she let me down that night. She didn’t. I’m a grown man. But I’m going to have to act like one and step up.
“Okay,” I announce, “I’m in.”
When Vic, Troy and James return from theirs we’re ready to go. James is in a sexy pvc and mesh combo and I see him doing a spin to show it off to Jay, who looks very appreciative. Vic is wearing a tight red dress that is cut so low on the back it’s unlikely she’s wearing any underwear at all. I see Andy’s eyes bulge and grin to myself. I know he’s asked her to go with him to his father’s retreat and she enthusiastically agreed, so suspect he’ll be trying to get her to take that dress with her.
I’m dressed pretty conservatively, just slim-fit trousers and a shirt. I’m certainly not on the prowl, or feeling like being hunted. As everyone’s milling around, Spence approaches me.
“You should at least undo a couple buttons,” he says, looking into my eyes.
“No need,” I say, grinning at him, thinking he’s joking around, as he’s dressed very similarly.
“I think there’s need…” he reaches forward and pops open the top three buttons, and then does the same to his shirt.
I catch Jay’s eye as I’m standing, mouth slightly agape, and he shrugs and grins. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to cope if Spence gets too much more relaxed around me. I already feel like I might combust.
We arrive at the club and get straight in, as usual, thanks to James. I’m determined to have a good night, but I’m taking it easy on the alcohol. I feel okay though; I have my whole clan at my back.
We’ve been dancing and chatting and having a great night when I head to the bar to grab some water. Spence comes with me; he has barely left my side all night – he’s taking his duty of looking after me very seriously. As I sip my water, I see the last sight I wanted to see over Spence’s shoulder, heading straight towards me. I feel the color drain from my face.
“What’s the matter, Gray?” Spence asks, concerned.
He follows my eyes and sees Tom, pushing through the crowds to get to me. He leans into my ear and speaks rapidly.
“You want to get rid of him?” I nod. “Do you trust me?”
“Well, follow my lead.”
Spence snakes his arm around my waist and leans into my body. My eyes leave Tom instantly and look at Spence’s face, which is oh so very close to me. I can smell the sandalwood cologne he wears and want to bury my face in his neck. Well, this is a whole different danger for me.
“Is he still coming?” Spence whispers.
“He is,” I respond.
“Well, we’d better make it clear you are not available for him.”
With that he turns his body, still pressed close to me, and places his hands on my face. Holding gently, as though I might break, he moves his head forward and places his lips on mine very softly. I barely react; I can just feel my heart thumping in my chest. I can feel the bar pressed into my back, and at the front, Spence’s hard body leaning into mine.
He pulls his head away, leaving his chest against mine, and grins.
“He get the picture?”
I glance up; he’s still heading this way and looks annoyed. I shake my head, no. Spence smiles softly, and I can see the shine in his silver eyes.
“We need put on a better show then.”
He comes to me again, pressing his mouth into mine. This time, he gently tickles my lip with his tongue, requesting entry. I part my mouth, allowing him inside, and I can feel his tongue sliding into me. I respond, tackling him lightly, tasting the bourbon on his breath. My heart hasn’t let up, still pounding, and I’m sure he must be able to feel it as he slides his hand up to rest on my chest.
Just in that moment, I have to take what I can; my hand snakes up his back and I gently grasp the back of his neck, feeling the short hairs at the nape, letting them brush against my fingers softly. My mouth is pressing hard against him now, my tongue gliding along his, determined to explore everything while I have the chance. I know my cock is beginning to harden as he shifts slightly against me, but I feel no embarrassment or need to hide it – I just want to make the moment last.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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