10 Ways to Accidentally Fall in Love

Chapter 19

Brad

Things I’ve learned in the past several hours.

One. Joey looks just as hot in a tool belt as he does wearing a fanny pack. Maybe hotter, although honestly it might be a toss-up. The dude is fine , not a sentiment I’ve had the privilege of thinking before him.

Two. Woodworking is dirty as fuck. Case in point. There’s a machine called a bench grinder. I’m still not entirely sure what it does. Joey started explaining the high-speed flex shaft, and I tuned the rest out. Not my fault, really. My brain was…elsewhere.

Three. This Brad most definitely wants to be tapped. Maybe not fucked -tapped. Not yet, at least. But perhaps our dicks could tap together? A little meet-and-greet? That’s a thing, isn’t it? We could do our own bench grinding.

Oh, fuck. There goes my brain again.

“Brad?” Joey asks, pulling me back to the present. He’s wrapping the cord around his sander. “You okay?”

“Yep,” I reply quickly, wiping my hands off on my shorts. They’re a bit dusty, but not nearly as coated as Joey is. There’s a fine layer of sawdust covering the man’s entire torso and arms. Those thick arms that were rhythmically working the sander for the past hour. Back and forth. Stroking over and over and—

“ Oh ,” I breathe as Joey grabs the hem of his t-shirt, tugging the material over his head. I swear time slows as he shakes it out, the muscles in his arms and abdomen rippling, his tool belt pulling his shorts dangerously low as sawdust floats through the air around him like glitter catching the light. “It’s like the start of a porno,” I whisper.

“What’s that?” Joey asks, tucking his shirt into his waistband.

“I was…just wondering…when you want to start painting,” I say, not sure if I should admit to Joey that he’s officially replaced the cut-off-jean-shorts-wearing, tool-belt-wielding women from my fantasies with, well, the real-life image of him .

Is that bad bros-with-bennies etiquette? Fuck if I know.

“Painting can wait until tomorrow,” Joey says, plucking his protective eyewear off. “We’ve done enough for the day. Want to hang out for a bit? We could play games. Cook some dinner, if you want?”

“Uh, yeah. Definitely,” I tell him, a little distracted by the flex of his arms as he puts his tools away, not to mention that V that disappears below the edge of his waistband. I wonder if his cock is straight. Curved? Thick, like the rest of him? It sure felt thick pressed against my hip.

“Great,” he says, giving me a smile. “I’ll just head in and wash up real quick.”

“Sure, sure,” I say, licking my lips. “Um. Can I watch?”

Joey pauses.

I pause.

“Uhhh,” I manage.

“You want to watch me shower?” he asks, standing very still, the brown of his irises dark. Far darker than usual.

Joey said he’s here for whatever I want to try, right? Well, right now, what I want is him .

Steeling myself against my nerves, I admit, “Yeah, Joey. I want to see you. Touch you, maybe? And I definitely want to watch you shoot all over your abs.”

Joey huffs an almost disbelieving laugh. “Fuck, bub.”

“Maybe next time?” I agree.

He groans, head tipping back. When he meets my eye again, he stalks forward. My pulse jumps into my throat, my stomach hopping right along with it, as Joey comes to a stop in front of me. His work-roughened hands bracket my neck, his thumbs stroking over my jaw. He looks at me. Simply looks.

“Are you going to kiss me?” I ask, my pulse nearly drowning out my voice.

“Was thinking about it,” he mumbles, those same exact words he spoke all those weeks ago when we stood like this outside my apartment door after our non-date date, when Joey wiped whipped cream off my lip and looked as if he wanted to devour me.

It’s the same way he looks now.

“Well,” I say, breath coming short. “What are you waiting for?”

Joey’s lips curve into a smile, and then his mouth is on mine. He smells like sawdust, his skin warm beneath my palms, and I lose myself for a minute. In Joey. In the way his mouth feels impossibly familiar, as if we haven’t kissed a mere handful of times before. I lose myself in wondering how many more kisses we could have. How many more days just like this.

We agreed on a month. A month to…explore. To try this out without risking our friendship.

But does it have to end there?

I’m hard and aching by the time Joey pulls back. As if sensing it, his eyes drop straight to my crotch, and he lets out a small whoosh of air.

“Do you want to come upstairs with me?” he asks, giving me the choice. Giving me an out, I suspect.

I don’t want out.

“Yeah,” I tell him firmly. “I’m ready to make acquaintance with your balls now, if the three of you would be so kind.”

Joey’s responding laughter feels a whole lot like that future I was just envisioning. I can’t help but wonder if his moan will be the same.

Joey leads me up to his bathroom on the second floor, the air between us thick and anticipatory. He twists the shower on while I wait in the doorway.

“Good?” he checks.

I nod quickly.

He loosens his tool belt, the click of the buckle like a gunshot over the soft patter of water hitting tile. I wet my lips, watching as he drags the heavy belt off, setting it on the floor so it’s leaning against the wall. He pauses again, watching me, hands toying with his waistband.

“Keep going,” I tell him.

He pushes the button free. Unzips his jeans. I ease out a breath as the material drops to his feet, leaving him in black boxer briefs, his cock an obvious presence, tenting the fabric almost obscenely. He steps out of his shorts, shuffling them off to the side to rest near the tool belt.

“Still good?” he asks.

I step forward, the steam from the shower having started to warm the room. “Can I?”

Joey nods, his gaze more hooded than I’ve ever seen. It’s a rush, knowing I turn him on. Knowing he’s already hard, willing and waiting for whatever it is I have in mind. Which is, incidentally, a lot. Almost too much at once. Too many things I want to see and try. Too many ways I want to touch him or watch him touch himself. Places I want to taste. Tease. Tongue open.

I let out another breath, hands landing on his stomach before drifting down toward the band of his underwear. I slip my fingers beneath it, dropping down to a crouch as I tug the material down over his cock. It bobs once freed, waving almost proudly, as thick as I’d imagined and perfectly straight. I give the top of it a small tap, watching it dip a mere inch before popping up again.

“Hello, Greg,” I whisper. “I’m Brad. It’s so very good to meet you.”

Joey makes a choked sound above me. “Did you just…give my dick a handshake?”

“It’s only polite,” I say, tugging his boxer briefs down to the ground. He steps out of them, and I lean back onto my heels, taking him in. All of him, nude in front of me. Bared fully. “Fuck, Joey. You’re…you’re really pretty.”

He sucks in a breath, his cock jerking right in front of my face.

I let out a surprised laugh. “Oh, he liked that, huh?”

Joey swallows, the motion visible. “It’s not every day a gorgeous man calls me pretty, let alone while said man is down on his knees.”

My heart kicks in my chest, a near-painful thing. “You think I’m gorgeous?”

“More than,” he says seriously. “I thought that the first time I saw you laughing, bub. I was pretty stoked when you gave me your number.”

I groan, dropping my forehead to his hip. “Yeah, sorry about that?”

“I’m not,” he says, fingers threading through my hair. I look up again, and I’m taken aback by the sincerity in his eyes. The softness, even. “It led us here, didn’t it?”

Fuck .

I turn my face, eyeing Joey’s cock. From this angle, it looks huge. Far bigger than any banana I’ve had down my throat. I run a finger over the length of it, from tip to base, and Joey lets out a sound that’s near a hiss.

“Can I watch you jerk off?” I ask, wanting to see what Joey likes. Wanting to know how he pleasures himself.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Anything.”

He holds out a hand, and I let him pull me up. Joey steps into the shower while I tug off my clothes. His eyes stay on me, flushing my skin, making my very bones feel as if they’re vibrating.

When I step into the shower after him, he tugs the curtain closed. There’s a single showerhead situated in the middle of the spacious square stall. Water falls between us as Joey grabs his soap, squeezing some onto his palm. He offers it to me next, and I take the bottle, washing myself with half-focus as I watch Joey’s hands run all over his skin. He takes his time, suds forming with every swipe of his palms over his biceps, his pecs, his stomach, down further. His fist glides over his cock once, twice, a puff of air escaping me when he reaches lower still, cupping and washing his sac. He does his legs last before stepping under the showerhead to rinse off. When he moves back, I take my turn, letting the water soak me, my eyes closed against the spray.

“Do you know what I love about being with someone who has a dick?” Joey asks, prompting me to step out from under the showerhead and open my eyes. His hand is around his cock again, moving leisurely.

I shake my head, eyes glued to the movement, my heart racing like I’m on a track.

“The fact that I can feel whatever it is they’re feeling,” he answers. “If they stroke their cock, I can feel it in my own, a phantom touch. Can you feel it?”

He glides his fist up and down in a purposeful stroke, and my entire body rolls in a shiver.

“Yeah,” I admit, voice hoarse.

He smiles, a small, mischievous thing. “And this?” he asks, reaching for his balls and rolling them in his palm.

“Yes,” I rasp, tingles racing across my skin. I feel strung tight, overly aroused even though I haven’t even touched myself. Watching Joey’s hand move up and down, watching his dick disappear and reappear piece by piece, watching his thumb swipe over the head, and the hand he has between his legs… I can feel it all. Imagine it. It’s a circuit of pleasure from him to me in a way I’ve never experienced before.

But I want to be responsible for his pleasure, too. I want to feel him in my palm. Want to feel his pulse and the throb of his cock against my fingers. Fuck , I want to know what it’s like to cause his eyes to shutter in bliss. Want to make him tip over the edge and know it was me who brought him there.

There’s no dismissing who Joey is as he stands in front of me. He’s a man, yes. One I’m attracted to. Maybe that should scare me a little or make me pause.

But the truth is the idea of being with a man never bothered me. I just never saw myself with one.

Not until Joey.

“I want to touch you,” I tell him. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I just… I want it. Can I?”

In answer, Joey lets himself go, and I step forward, wrapping my hand around his cock. Feeling him in my grip is alarming. Not because it’s frightening or new. But because of how right it feels. This is my Joey. And touching him has never, not once, felt wrong.

He sucks in a breath as I stroke him, awkwardly at first until I find the right angle. His hand grips the side of my arm, his other on the shower wall for balance, muscles tensed and his breathing growing more rapid as the seconds pass.

“Bub,” he says, voice rough, uneven. My eyes flick up to his, and my breath punches from my lungs.

He looks…awestruck. Utterly bewitched.

“Fuck, Joey,” I whisper, his pupils so large the brown is barely visible. “Your dick is in my hand.”

“Yeah,” he breathes.

“It’s just…that’s your penis. Like, hello. I’m jacking your erect cock right now.”

He groans, fingers tightening on my arm.

“It’s a very nice cock,” I assure him. “Not that I’ve had many. Or any. But I like yours a lot.”

He sinks his face against my neck, biting lightly, and I jolt.

“ Fuuuck ,” I groan out, his stubble and lips dragging along my neck. Across my jaw. To my lips. He kisses me, hot pants against my mouth, his tongue meeting mine as I work him over. I can imagine what it’s like for him, just as he said, the ghost of it turning me on all the more.

When he stutters out a ragged breath like he’s close, my heart leaps.

“Can I touch you?” he asks, as if he wants nothing more.

“Yeah. Yes. Please .”

His hand leaves the wall to wrap around my cock, and we both stumble. I end up pressed against the tiles, Joey boxing me in, the tug of his callused grip making me gasp and shiver. It’s torture and bliss in one, as oversensitive as I am. As close to the edge already.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” I mutter, losing my rhythm on his cock.

“Do you know what it feels like to touch you?” Joey rasps, his hand tangling in my hair, his other a relentless dragging pressure that has my balls wanting to unload.

“Yes. Yes, I do,” I pant. “Because it’s how I feel touching you.”

He grunts at that, his cock jerking in my fist, the unmistakable swell of him giving me just enough time to look down before he’s shooting over my still-stroking hand. His cum hits his abs, one spurt, two, a third running down his slick skin. I suck in a breath and follow him.

My orgasm hits me like a goddamn medicine ball to the stomach, and I watch, almost out of body, as my cum joins his. It’s so fucking erotic, seeing it streaking down, watching it run along those gutters like I imagined that I come again. A second time? An aftershock? I don’t even know. But it races through me like a live wire, cascading energy pinging around every corner of my body from my balls to my cock to my fingers and toes. I curl into Joey, holding his shoulder for support, hanging my head and staring through bleary eyes as our cum rolls down his skin.

“Fu-u-uck,” I moan. “So very definitely queer.”

Joey huffs a laugh, the sound petering into a groan when I lift a heavy-weighted hand to his pec. I trace the firmness of the muscle, running my fingers over and around his nipple. Mapping the shape of him.

“I like these, too,” I admit. “I mean, I like a lot about you. But these are, uh…yeah.”

Joey’s hands slide to my lower back, settling on my ass cheeks and tugging me close. I pull in a breath, the sheer size of him so much bigger than I’m used to. Everything about Joey is different than what I’m used to.

“Would you stay the night?” he asks, his lips brushing the side of my head.

“Like a sleepover?”

Another laugh. “Mhm.”

“Yeah, okay,” I agree, grinning. “Can I use your chest as a pillow?”

A small pause. “If you’d like.”

“Very much,” I tell him. “But maybe let’s stay here for another minute, okay? Because I’m not sure if my legs are working yet.”

Joey chuckles, his lips pressing a quick kiss to my hair. I let him hold me against the wall. Hold me up, really. Like any time I’m in Joey’s arms, I feel safe. Cocooned.

Precious, even.

We’ll need to wash up again to remedy the sticky situation between us. Unfortunate, really, considering how nice my jizz looks on Joey’s skin. And then we should definitely make some dinner before either of us gets too hangry.

But for now? I’m content to stay right here in Joey’s massive shower, sharing the afterglow.

I just had sex with a man. This man. I think I can most definitely add that to my list.

Step six in Brad’s Guide to Finding Himself and Falling in Love:

Wade fearlessly into the unknown.

Big. Fucking. Check.