10 Ways to Accidentally Fall in Love

Chapter 25

Brad

I’ve always considered myself a driven person. There haven’t been many real-life foes I’ve faced that I haven’t conquered in some form or another.

There was the Rubik’s Cube my grandpa gave me when I was in the fourth grade. It took me a few years, but I solved it.

There was that time I got my car wedged horizontally between two parked trucks with only two inches of wiggle room, but I damn well got myself out without so much as a scratch to either vehicle.

There was even that teacher I had in tenth grade, Mr. Barker, who told me I lacked the discipline necessary to code anything more complex than a game of Pong . I sent him a copy of Run, Run, Ricochet when it was released.

No, I’m not one to let an obstacle get the better of me. Which is why I’m standing proudly in my bathroom, butt-ass naked, determination spurring me on in the face of my most recent—and possibly wickedest—adversary.

“You. Will. Not. Win,” I say firmly.

The enema bulb stares back at me.

“Okay,” I breathe, going over the instructions inside the douching kit for the fourth, possibly fifth time. “Clean the bulb. Done.”

I give the fucker a squeeze so it knows I have the upper hand.

“Fill with water that’s just under lukewarm.”

I run the tap, waiting until it feels room temperature, and then I turn it just a touch colder like it says. Don’t want to burn the insides, I guess. Yikes .

As I fill the bulb, my imagination so helpfully supplies the little dude’s shrill shrieks of protest. Nooo, stop. I can’t breathe. You win. I’ll do whatever you wa — aaahglrglblr.

I snort and shut off the tap, checking the instructions again.

“Attach the nozzle of your choice to the bulb.”

Slowly, I look over at the nozzle options.

“ Yeah . I’ll take fine tip, thanks.”

Making sure not to spill the water, I grab the slimmest nozzle from the box and give it a little wiggle into place.

“There. That looks like the picture. Next up… You may lube the tip of the nozzle if you prefer. Hard yes.”

Juggling the items in my hands, I grab the lube, get it open, and squeeze out a small amount onto my fingertips. I coat the tip of the nozzle, my cock twitching as I remember the feel of Joey’s fingers pressing against me a couple days ago, back before our return trip to Vegas. That felt pretty damn good, so this should feel… fine at minimum, right? My dick is certainly cautiously optimistic.

Granted, it’s Joey’s cock I’m looking forward to having inside my ass, not this literal douchenozzle. But hey, one step at a time, right?

“Okay. Insert the nozzle. Hoo, boy . Not even dinner first?”

No, no. I can do this. Come on, Bradley . Easy peasy. Insert and squeezy. The question is… where do I do this?

“Standing or seated position,” I read. “Uhhh. So it’s either stick something up my butt while sitting on the toilet or stick something up my butt while watching myself in the mirror? That’s…a choice.”

Fuuuck.

“Standing,” I decide. “But, shit, what if I…drip? Is that a thing? Can I drip? Jesus Christ, I need backup.”

I swipe my phone on and call Jason. I’m more than certain Joey would be happy to help me if he knew I was doing this. But that’s the whole point. He doesn’t know. Because I want to surprise him. And, maybe , if I’m being entirely honest, I want to prove to myself I can handle this on my own. Or mostly on my own.

“Bee?” Jason answers after only a couple rings.

“Birdie! I need your help.”

“What’s that echo?” he says. “Are you…are you in the bathroom?”

“Sure am.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Please tell me you didn’t call while taking a shit.”

I snort. “No, dude. Of course not. I’m just about to anal douche for the first time, and I don’t know if drippage is a concern. But tell me fast because this water is quickly losing its just-under-lukewarm status, and you know how I don’t like to be cold.”

There’s a far longer beat of silence this time before Jason sighs. “I have so many questions, and I’m not sure I want answers to any of them. Hold on. I’m getting Cas.”

I bounce on my heels a couple of times as I wait, eyeing the douching bulb that I’m sure is mocking me.

“Shut it,” I mumble. “You’re about to go up my ass, so—”

“Hello?”

“Cat-man!” I call. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” he says. “You’re on speaker. Jason said you need help with…douching?”

“Yeah, man. So here’s the deal. I’ve got the bulb lubed up and ready to go. It’s time for insertion. I just don’t know if I should stand or sit.”

“Ah,” Cas says as Jason mumbles something I can’t make out but that sounds suspiciously like can’t believe I’m raising a baby bi . “First thing. You didn’t lube the bulb itself, right?”

“Oh, no. Just the tip,” I assure him.

“Good. Because you don’t insert the whole thing.”

“Right,” I huff, looking down at the rather wide bulb. “Yeah, no thanks. Although I suppose if it got stuck up there, Jason could—”

“Nope!” he shouts.

“But you’re a nurse!” I counter.

“And I’d refer you to someone else,” he says, sounding farther away.

“Where’s he going?” I ask Cas.

“Drink,” Cas answers. “So, personally, I like to stand in front of the toilet with one foot up on the seat, right? That way you have easy access and can sit right down after.”

“That makes sense,” I agree.

Better than the whole stare at my reflection awkwardly in the mirror plan.

“Another option is doing it in the shower,” Cas goes on. “Then you can wash up at the same time.”

“Multitasking. I like it. Question, though. How do I, like, hold the water in like it says to?”

Jason must be back because he says, “You just…hold it.”

“Right. But how ?”

“You hold it,” he says firmly. “Like…just hold it.”

“Right,” I say again, slower. “But how do I do that?”

“I got this,” Cas says calmly. “You know when you’re worried about passing gas in public?”

“ Ohhh ,” I say in understanding. “You just hold it.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Jason grumbles.

“Is he doing that angry, bristly cat thing?” I ask Cas.

“Sure is,” he answers, sounding fond.

“Your death will be swift,” Jason promises.

“Okay, I think I’m good, dudes,” I say happily. “I’ve totally got this. Wish me luck and a speedy clean-out!”

Cas sounds as if he’s saying goodbye, but the call clicks off too quickly to hear the full thing. Sweet, bristly Jason.

“Okay,” I say aloud. “It’s me and you, you…douche. God, that’s weird.”

Getting into position, I pop my foot up on the lip of the open toilet, the bulb in hand. I have to kind of…feel around for the right spot. Which is different. Not bad. I’m just not all that used to actively seeking out my butthole. Target acquired. So now I just…put it in.

Yep.

Here we go.

Aaand okay. That’s…also different. Just slipped right in there, didn’t it? Good, good. The instructions said not to go too far. So right there should be fine. I think? And then I’m supposed to just…squeeze the bastard for up to ten seconds. Which is a pretty big margin in which error could occur, if you ask me. Might as well err on the side of less. It said to flush a couple times anyways.

“Yep. That’s decided. We’re doing six seconds, bulby, just like any good hug should last. Okay. One, two, hoo , that’s weird. Three. Four? Ahh , five. Six. That’s probably good, right? Yep, calling it. Now I just…take you out?”

Hold it, hold it, hold it. And there . Nozzle is free.

I put my foot down, bouncing a little before deciding nope , no bouncing. No bouncing at all.

“This is so fucking weird,” I mumble, trying a shimmy. And okay, maybe no moving whatsoever. How long am I supposed to hold it? Because gravity is doing its job like a motherfucking champ, and this water wants to return to sea.

Leaning over, I grab the instruction sheet, skimming the directions.

“Why don’t you say!” I shriek. “What’s a ‘moment’? That’s not a goddamn standard unit of measurement. Are we talking seconds? Tens of seconds? Have I passed the moment mark? Ahh!”

I drop the paper and plop my ass down on the toilet.

“Oh God, oh God, oh—”

Five minutes later, I’m shoving a clean and dried douching bulb into its new home inside the drawer under my sink.

“I’ll concede to a draw,” I tell it grimly. “I think we can both agree there was no clear winner today.”

The bulb stares back at me. Smug bastard.

I flip it off, shut the drawer, and head into the shower.

Yeah.

Semi-nailed it.

“Good, good, right there!”

“You’re shouting again,” Joey says calmly.

“I can’t help it, man! You try being in my position and keeping quiet. Whoa, hold up. Stop.”

Joey stops immediately. “Something wrong?”

“This doesn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, a bit of concern in his voice.

“I don’t know. Can you just…look around back?”

“You want me to check the back door?”

“Yeah, man, take a peek at the back entrance. What else would I be—Oh, fuck . Need your hands up front. On me, on me!”

Joey’s character sprints over, already firing at the zombies quickly encroaching on our hiding spot. But it’s too late. We’re overrun with nowhere to escape to and not enough ammo to make it through the horde. The screen flashes red, and I drop my controller onto the coffee table.

“ Fuuuck ,” I moan. “I really thought we were going to make it to the cache that time.”

“We’ll get it next time,” Joey says, setting his own controller aside and propping his foot up. Our containers from dinner are still out, so I hop up to take care of those before rejoining Joey on the couch, landing with my head on his thigh. I give it a loving pat, and Joey huffs a laugh, his hand sinking into my hair as I scoot even closer, lifting his shirt enough to tuck my nose against his stomach.

True to his word, Joey has spent every night with me this week since we returned from New Hampshire. I’d feel guilty hogging so much of his time, except… He really doesn’t seem to mind it. And I’ve never slept so soundly in my life.

Emotional support cuddle-bro for the win.

Not that sleeping is the only thing we’ve been doing. In fact…

“Well, hello, Mister Gregory,” I murmur, turning my face to greet the erection trying valiantly to poke me through Joey’s jeans. “We meet again, my friend.”

“You can ignore him if you want,” Joey says, never one to push or presume.

I snort, even as my insides fizz. “Now that’d just be rude,” I mumble, giving Greg a kiss through the fabric. “So, Joey, I’ve been thinking…”

“Yes?” he says, his breath hitching as I skim my hand up to his pec. So nice .

I give him an appreciative squeeze, thumb rolling over his nipple as I go on. “I’ve been thinking I’d really like to see how much of your dick I can fit in my mouth. And then, maybe, we could try the same with my ass?”

Joey stills, and I turn my face up to see him. He’s blinking down at me.

“You’d put your dick in my ass,” I clarify, in case that wasn’t clear. “Like, fuck me. You…fucking me.”

“Yeah, I got that,” he says hoarsely.

“I cleaned myself out, dude, and it’s been over the hour mark the instructions say to wait, so we’re totally good to go. Probably. In theory . I gotta say, though, I have a whole new appreciation for bottoms. I mean, that shit takes some serious dedication, you know? Although I’m guessing it’ll be smoother sailing the next time around. Now that I know what to expect and all.”

“You cleaned yourself out,” he repeats.

“Yeah. Surprise? Why don’t you seem— Oh, hello.”

“I am happy,” he fills in, the hand he slipped into my pants grabbing hold of my ass. “You’re sure, bub?”

“So super sure,” I tell him, the feel of his fingertip unerringly finding its target infinitely more arousing than the impersonal plastic of the nozzle I shoved up my ass earlier. “I want—” I huff out a breath as Joey presses against me, just a little. “I want you to do what you promised. I want you to wreck me, Joey. To show me what it can feel like. I’m ready.”

Joey’s hand leaves my pants as he stands, dumping me unceremoniously onto the couch cushions. For a second, I worry I said something wrong. But then Joey scoops me up into his arms as if I weigh nothing.

“Holy shit,” I mutter, wrapping my arms around his neck as he carries me toward the bedroom. “That was impressive as fuck, dude. Is it just my loins, or is it hotter in here?”

“I’ll never wreck you,” Joey says, his voice rough as he maneuvers me through the doorway. “Not ever.”

“It’s just an—”

The word expression dissolves into a yip as Joey tosses me onto the bed. I bounce once, and then there he is, crawling over me, his crotch slotting against mine and his eyes so earnest I have no choice but to shut my mouth and listen.

“All I will ever do is worship you,” he promises, leaning down to press a kiss near my ear. The next one lands on my neck, his stubble making me break out in goose bumps. “I will make you feel good. Only good, bub. There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t give to you if it’s within my power to do so. Whatever you want. Whatever you need, it’s yours.”

Fuck .

“So,” I say a little breathlessly as Joey tugs my shirt aside to place a kiss on my shoulder, “if I asked you to put your fingers in my ass while I tasted your cock, you’d give me that?”

Joey’s answer is in the way his lips meet mine, forceful and sweet. “Anything.”

And maybe he’s talking about our arrangement. About him helping me explore sex with a man for the first time.

But the promise in that one word is enough to have my heart skipping a beat.

No, I don’t think he’ll wreck me. Not intentionally.

But I’m well and truly fucked when it comes to Joey Delgado.