Chapter 8 #2
Hudson sighed. “I know he has to be willing to do it himself, we can’t force him to.
The heart attack scared him so bad he stopped smoking—even though I have to say I won’t be at all surprised if he starts back up—but he’s not taken the other steps.
” He shook his head, shoulders slumping.
“Baby steps I guess, but I worry he doesn’t have the luxury of baby steps if he doesn’t take control of shit. ”
Lance pulled Hudson close to his side and pressed a kiss to the younger man’s temple. “We’ll keep at it.” He glanced at me. “See you there?”
“Yeah, we’ll be there. Just gotta shower.”
Hudson and Lance left, and I locked the door behind them before heading to the back. I stopped dead in my tracks when I found Casey Joe with only a towel around his waist holding up a pair of my jockstrap style underwear.
He needed to put on some weight, but his back was broad; firm and sinewy, hard lines, and soft shadows.
At fifty-four, he looked damn good. Maybe not body builder fit, but the wide shoulders, thick torso leading down to a trim waist, and solid thighs under the white terrycloth were all definitely enough to have my imagination getting all sorts of lusty.
I must have made a sound—oh god, I hoped it wasn’t a whimper—because Casey whirled around with my underwear in his fist.
“What the fuck is this?”
“A jockstrap.” I grabbed it from him and shouldered past to get the rest of the laundry from the dryer.
“But for what?”
“It’s called underwear. Most people wear it under their clothes.” One thing about whatever Casey Joe and I had been building, I wasn’t one to back off when he got mouthy. I gave it right back, and I truly thought it was one of the reasons we’d kinda hit it off right away.
His family wasn’t scared of him, but they sometimes let him get by with shit. Folks around town were maybe slightly hesitant when Casey was running his mouth. Those who loved him thought it was…endearing? Those who weren’t a fan used it as a reason to keep their distance.
But me? Hell, no. I liked the guy. I enjoyed spending time with him. We’d figured out we were pretty good roommates and co-workers. But there was no way in hell he was going to shoot off at the mouth and get me to back down.
Throwing the last piece into the basket, I slammed the dryer shut. We’d opted to throw our clothes in together recently since neither of us were doing huge loads of laundry. I hadn’t thought about Casey seeing the jockstrap or any of my other underwear.
“Most people wear boxers or briefs or even boxer briefs.” He frowned. “Don’t they?” Casey pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hell, I had the misfortune of once seeing Jack in this skimpy little pair of pink bikini shit.” He winced. “Don’t know what’s wrong with regular underwear.”
“These are regular underwear.” I shook the jock. “People can wear whatever they want. Damn man, what would you do if I was one of those guys who likes silk or lace?”
The look on Casey’s face had me snorting.
I tossed the jock in with the rest of the clothes and hefted the basket.
“Wait, what? Do you?” Casey crossed his arms over his broad chest as I turned with the basket, and I tried my best to avoid looking at the smattering of crisp, brown hair over his pecs, down his abs, and disappearing under the towel.
“No, I stick to mostly boxer briefs, jocks, and the occasional bikini depending on…” I paused and considered my words. “…things.”
“Things?” Casey Joe scowled. “What things?”
I turned to go, and he grabbed my arm.
“No. What fuckin’ things?” His skin burned on mine, and we both looked to where our bodies joined.
“I’m askin’ for damn real. What fuckin’ things?
I’ll be damned if I’m doin’ underwear wrong.
I got some boxers, and I got some briefs.
I wear them until I’m almost out, wash ’em, and start over.
And now you tell me I gotta think about silk and lace?
Jocks? And certain times I need to wear certain types?
Never thought about which ones to wear when; just put on whatever I grab. ”
Taking a deep breath, I put the basket back on the dryer. Letting the breath out slowly, I turned toward Casey. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”
He snorted. “If I didn’t want the fuckin’ answer, I wouldn’t’ve asked the fuckin’ question.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Sometimes I wear certain underwear depending on what type of…activities I think I might be getting up to.”
“Like basketball? Or working out?”
“Sometimes, or sometimes other things.”
Casey stared at me.
I stared back.
And sighed.
“If I think I might have reason to be seen in something a bit sexier, or I think I might want something that provides easy…access…” I let my words trail off.
For a moment, my words had zero effect. And then realization flashed over Casey’s face, and I had to bite my lip from laughing.
He appeared to be thinking over my words for a bit, but then he said, “Wait. You just wore those? Who was seein’ your fuckin’ drawers? Easy access? Who the fuck you givin’ easy access? You on that ClickC*ck app? You gotta be damn careful with those guys. Hudson and Lance have told me some stories.”
At that point, I did laugh. “Calm the fuck down. I wore them recently because I was out of clean laundry. But I like the way my ass looks in them. Some days are made for jocks, some days are perfect for bikinis, and some days are just right for whatever I grab from my drawer.” I grabbed the basket and headed toward the back door. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”
A split second later, Casey Joe was following me up the stairs. “Wait, what do you mean you like the way your ass looks in them? Doesn’t an ass in a jock just look like an ass in a jock? What do they do for your ass?”
I just chuckled as we made our way through the door. “Hurry up with your shower.” I walked into my room, letting the door click closed behind me, and moving quickly to close the bathroom door between our rooms.
“Damn it, Bryce!” Casey Joe yelled from the hallway. “What do they do to your ass?”
I hoped he took a long enough shower for me to deal with the damn problem he’d caused in my pants by talking about ass and underwear.