Chapter 8
Joey
I’m not in the habit of trying to seduce straight men.
There’s a difference between helping someone who’s curious to explore their sexuality and outright disrespecting a person’s spoken truth.
But Brad has given me the green light to touch him during a goddamn boudoir photoshoot while we’re in our underwear, and I’m not going to pass up that chance. If nothing comes of it, that’ll be that, and I’ll find a way to get rid of this kernel of hope I’ve held on to when it comes to Brad.
But while I have the opportunity, I’m going to do everything in my power to make him see me in a different light.
It might be fruitless. It might not lead to anything changing.
But what if?
I have to try.
Brad has a grin on his face as Gianna positions him atop the chaise. He looks…stunning. Drop-dead gorgeous. Like everything I want and thought, however briefly, I might be able to have.
It doesn’t escape my notice that, in the beginning, when I thought Brad was flirting and being overly forward, I wished he would slow down enough that I could get to know him before intimacy came into play.
Now? It’s all I can do not to kiss my way up that bare stomach of his. Fuck , he has an outie. The cutest little outie belly button I’ve ever seen on the most wickedly beautiful man.
I’m doomed.
“All right,” Gianna says, giving me a little tug. “Right here, sweetie.”
I go where our photographer tells me, sitting beside Brad’s legs. He’s on his back on the chaise, an arm behind his head, his other along the low back of the chair. One leg is out straight, the second bent. Gianna brings my hand to his bent knee, and everything in my core draws tight.
“You’ll stay here,” she tells me. “And look at your companion as if you want to eat him. Which shouldn’t be hard.”
Not in the least.
“Perfect,” she says, stepping back. “Stay there, gentlemen. Smaller smile, please, Mr. Bradley.”
Brad tempers his smile, his face twitching a few times until he seems to manage something that looks less like a manic grin. I flex my fingers against his skin, and his smile pops wide again.
Gianna huffs a small laugh, but she starts taking pictures. I can’t look away from Brad. His briefs are the same rusty red color as my suspenders, his socks dark gray. The garters that run up and down his thighs are black leather. And his bow tie. I want to replace the material with my hand. Or, even better, my tongue.
“Dude,” Brad says quietly. “Have you done this before?”
“No,” I say thickly. “Why?”
“You’re a natural. You look intense, man. Hold up. Let me just…” He clears his throat and closes his eyes, attempting to blank his face, but as soon as he opens his eyes again and looks at me, that smile returns. “Fuck, I suck at this,” he says around a chuckle.
“I like your smile,” I tell him, sliding my hand a little further up his thigh, fingers hooking in the garter straps.
He shivers, and my pulse takes off.
“You guys are doing great,” Gianna assures us, coming in to move Brad’s foot atop my thigh. I take in a centering breath as his legs spread wider with the movement. I want to grab hold of his garters and tug him onto my lap.
“Can you imagine doing this with a stranger?” Brad asks me. “I guess I can see why it’d be a good test, you know? To see whether or not you have chemistry.”
“And us?” I ask, my fingers drifting over his skin.
He frowns slightly. “Well, we’re not strangers,” he says, this man who’s known me for all of a few weeks. “So it makes sense that we’re smashing this.”
I huff a laugh as Gianna continues to move around us, taking pictures.
“I’ll have you two switch now,” she says, letting her camera hang around her neck. “Here.”
I let go of Brad’s leg as Gianna repositions us. This time, she has Brad kneel on the chaise, his legs braced a good foot apart. She has me go down to the floor.
My blood heats as I kneel in front of Brad, the position incredibly intimate with his cock so near to my face. Gianna sets my hands right where I want them: on either side of Brad’s hips.
For once, he’s not smiling. He’s looking down at me with a small frown, the space between his eyebrows furrowed. He seems distracted as Gianna moves his arms, having him cross his hands behind his back, leaving him at my mercy.
I can’t decide whether or not I want him to notice I’m half-hard.
Brad swallows as Gianna steps back, the shutter on her camera making a soft click. Neither of us speaks this time. I graze my thumbs along his hip bones, my gaze shifting down from his face to his chest. Down to his defined abdomen. To that little outie belly button and the way his briefs cover his cock. I inhale a soft breath, wanting so badly to lean forward. To nuzzle against him and run my nose along his cock. To shift his underwear to the side so I can take his balls into my mouth the way he likes.
I want to touch him. To taste. To swallow whole.
But I don’t. I never would, not even close. Not unless he wanted me to.
Bringing my eyes upwards, I find Brad watching me, his mouth parted the tiniest bit. He doesn’t break my gaze, isn’t self-conscious about being appraised or seemingly bothered by said appraising being done by a man. He’s open and unabashed, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to add curious to the list, but I pray for it.
“Mr. Delgado,” Gianna says softly, breaking through my thoughts. “Why don’t you grab his wrists?”
Gladly .
I run my hands around Brad’s hips to the curve of his ass, where his hands are resting. His skin is warm as I encircle his wrists, the move bringing me closer to his crotch. I can feel his pulse feathering beneath my thumb, the crack of his ass beneath the other.
If this were real, he’d already be naked. I’d hold him here as I showered him with affection. I’d take his cock into my mouth, let him thrust his hips, but I’d control the pace, not allowing him to come until he’d been edged for long enough that his orgasm would be crushing in its intensity. He’d shake and shiver in my arms, falling apart for me and me alone.
He’d smile when it was over. I know he would.
Brad’s eyes slip down my body. I have no doubt he can see the erection tenting my briefs.
“Dude,” he nearly whispers, eyes flicking to Gianna before coming back to me. “It’s okay. Perfectly normal response.”
I hum, letting my thumb stroke over the top of Brad’s ass. His eyes widen.
“Okay, we’ll move on now,” Gianna says.
She has us do another few poses, each one having Brad and me connected in some way. He never once shies away, never flinches. The entire session is an exercise in restraint.
When our hour is nearly up, Gianna has me sit on the chaise, my feet touching the floor. She has Brad settle on my lap.
“Okay, Mr. Bradley, you’re going to wrap your arms over his shoulders,” Gianna says. “Yep. Like that. Have one hand splayed on his back. Yep. The other in his hair. There you go.”
Gianna heads around behind me, and I close my eyes. Brad’s soft breaths pass near my ear, and my fingers hold tight to his back. For a moment, I let myself enjoy the heat of him and the feel of his chest against my own. I let myself imagine, even, that the possession I feel in his grip is real.
Knowing this is it—my last chance—I slip one hand down to his ass and turn my lips against his neck. It’s not so much a kiss as a press, but it’s enough. I inhale him. Breathe him in. The scent of the pomade in his hair overwhelms his usual smell, but it’s still there, a subtle note underneath it all.
His grip in my hair tightens, his chest rising against my own.
“You guys did wonderfully,” Gianna says, her voice as good as glass shattering for the way it causes Brad to flinch away from me. He carefully steps off my lap, and I let him go. “You can go ahead and change back, and I’ll get a flash drive ready for you to take home with you.”
“Thanks,” Brad says before giving me a small smile. “That was good, right? Kinda fun?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, cataloguing every inch of him while he’s still in front of me. Even though I know I’ll have pictures to remind me, it won’t be the same. “This was a really inventive date idea, bub. You did good.”
He flushes with happiness, looking so lovely it physically hurts.
“Shall we?” I ask.
He nods, and we head out through the curtained doorway. I watch him slip inside his changing room before stepping into my own. As I unclip my suspenders and toss my briefs into the provided laundry bin, my mind stays on Brad. It’s pathetic, really, the way I imprinted on him like a duckling. I don’t know how to turn this infatuation off. How to stop wanting .
I told myself this would be it. That, after this, I’d let it go.
I don’t know how.
Could it work, being friends with Brad? Could my feelings fade, given some time? Surely they would.
I hang on to that hope as I leave the dressing room, waiting for Brad in front of the sample photographs I first assumed were art on the walls.
A boudoir photoshoot.
Only Brad.
“Hey,” he says, joining me, a grin on his face. His hair is still wavy and styled, quite the visual contrast to his t-shirt and jeans. “I can’t wait to see our pics, man. I’m gonna hang one on my wall.”
It takes a second for his words to compute. “You…want to hang a half-naked picture of us on your wall?”
“Yeah, why not? I’ve never had my picture taken professionally before. Feels like a big deal.”
“What if someone sees it?” I ask.
He cocks his head. “And?”
“I mean…they’d probably assume we’re together.”
Would that not bother him?
Brad simply shrugs. “Sounds like a them problem if that’s an issue.”
I can’t formulate a single response before Gianna sweeps through the curtain. “Here we go, fellas,” she says brightly, holding out a thumb drive. “Your photos.”
Brad accepts it with a thanks.
“I have to say,” Gianna goes on, “you two were wonderful to work with. I think Mr. Delgado is lucky his date didn’t show.”
Brad shakes his head. “Nah, I’m the lucky one.”
Ah, God .
“Thanks again,” he says. “I know who to call if I ever need more pictures taken.”
Gianna gives me a smile as she squeezes Brad’s shoulder. “Maybe an anniversary session?”
I want to scream he’s straight! Instead, I bite my tongue as Brad huffs a laugh.
“Maybe someday,” is all he says, his face falling slightly. He recovers quickly, shooting me a smile. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, even though I want to know what that flicker of sadness was about. Is a long-term relationship something he wants? Something he’s looking for?
We thank Gianna one more time before heading through the door.
“Hey, you doing anything tonight?” Brad asks, unlocking his car with the fob.
Don’t do it. Fuck, don’t you dare.
“Hanging out with you?” I propose.
His grin is swift, and it hits me with the force of a sledgehammer. “Yeah, man! We can check out our photos. And then wanna play Run, Run, Ricochet ? I think I found a glitch earlier, but I didn’t have time to investigate it before I picked you up. We should probably get some dinner, too, huh?”
I nod weakly, getting into the passenger seat as Brad suggests different food options and gets us on the road. There’s a smile on his face as he drives, chatting animatedly and glancing over at me every once in a while when it’s safe to do so. But he’s not looking at me any differently after having spent an hour nearly naked in my presence. There’s no longing in his gaze or intentional innuendo in his tone when he mentions an Italian restaurant he likes with meatballs that are small enough for him to fit two in his mouth at a time. Or, as he calls it, double balling. He doesn’t seem remotely affected by the fact that I was touching him in a way friends rarely ever do and looking at him with what I’m sure was unrestrained lust. I don’t think he even noticed.
Nothing has changed. Not for him.
Which means, somehow, I have to find a way to let it go.
If only I knew how.