Elijah #2
I snorted softly as I left him on the floor and went on a hunt for the coffee he’d promised me.
It was strange and funny how little and yet how much had changed.
Him waking me up, much to my annoyance, and me responding with harmless violence?
Perfectly normal and something that had been happening since we were about eight.
Both of us getting turned on by the wrestling?
That was definitely new...well, newer for me than it probably was for him.
Being comfortable semi-naked was old hat for us too but being completely naked on purpose? That was new.
The smell of coffee was rich and complex as I wandered into the kitchen, and I snorted when I saw it waiting in one of Milo’s fancy carafes.
Apparently, he had done more than simply drip-brew it.
I let the smell wash over my face as I poured a mug, musing over the little, but important things.
The things that were different, the things that were the same, and the things that were both different and the same in their own ways.
Leaning against the counter, I took a sip and ran the list through my head. I had always felt my attention pulled to him, even...and maybe especially when I wasn’t consciously meaning to. Now, though, there were other notes that... That was really what it was, wasn’t it?
Notes. Changes in pitch. Changes in beat.
The addition of sex and romance into our relationship hadn’t drastically altered it, but it had added new notes, new sounds to things we had known like the back of our hands not long ago.
Now his touch wasn’t just comforting because the man knew me inside and out and would never abandon me; it also lit a flame inside me that had never been there before, a light that I wanted to follow and never stop.
Now he was more than just my best friend, though saying just my best friend was grossly underestimating what he’d meant to me since we were kids.
I could dimly recall that it had been my mother I’d been closest to when I had been really little.
I had never connected with my dad after the loss of my mom.
Not that I didn’t or hadn’t loved my dad, but it was.
..different. Sometimes there were people you loved and were close to, people you would do anything for and knew they would do the same for you, but there was still something missing, some connection.
And then Milo had come along, reminding me what it meant to be connected to someone.
I was pulled from my thoughts as a humming Milo came into the kitchen and literally slid to a stop, staring at me as I sipped my coffee.
I blinked, wondering why he was staring so intensely.
It was only after he jerked his gaze up to my face that I remembered the state I was in and laughed.
It was one of those things that was new, completely new, both for me and from him.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t had a partner who was unashamed of expressing their desire for sex, or showing that I turned them on, but like most things, Milo did it differently.
He approached it with typical enthusiasm, how he approached anything he was passionate about, but his normal passion was the average person’s overly ecstatic.
Not that I had ever doubted he was attracted to me, and it wasn’t like I desperately craved the ego boost of being found attractive by someone else.
Still, I thought someone would have to be emotionally mute not to feel some sort of way with the attention Milo could give.
The man had literally come to a sudden stop in the doorway just at the sight of me, naked, rumpled, and not even remotely interesting in the standard sense.
All he had needed was the sight of me nude, sipping coffee, and he had been forced to pull his eyes away like a starving man looking at a banquet.
“Doing alright over there?” I asked, with a smile, knowing he was trying to stop himself from staring while wondering if his initial look had been too much.
He had a level of insecurity with me that I couldn’t remember seeing him have with anyone else.
Sometimes I had to remind myself that it wasn’t because of anything I’d said or done but because.
..well, it was complicated. There was bound to be insecurity after years of having a big gay crush on me that had gone unnoticed and unreciprocated.
Only time, reassurance, and consistency in my affections and attention would eventually get through the thick layers of his skull to make him stop second-guessing everything.
“Me?” he asked, his voice a couple of octaves too high before he hurriedly cleared his throat and grinned. “I’m great. Definitely. Totally normal.”
“I have never heard anyone, not even you, describe yourself as normal.”
“Okay, sure, I’m normal for me, okay?”
“Better, but I’m not sure I believe you.”
“What the fuck...why?”
“Because you were staring at me like the first glass of cold water after a long trek through the desert.”
He blinked and almost looked offended. “And? You put your...everything on display and expect me not to look?”
“I’ve still got crust in my eyes, hair that probably looks like I met the business end of a socket recently, bound to be sheet and pillowcase imprints on my body, dark circles under my eyes, and my dick is softer than...well, I can’t think of anything clever and imaginative, actually. It’s soft.”
He seemed to give that some thought, approaching slowly before stopping to rest on the counter next to me, reaching to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Mmm, and tell me something?—”
Oh, he was waiting until I goaded him to continue. That had to be good. “Tell you what?”
“Well...you know how you like burgers?”
“I think we both know that’s an understatement,” I told him dryly. Burgers were the one food I was so passionately into that I’d not only learned to cook them well, but also beat Milo in terms of the best burgers.
Milo nodded. “Right, well, when you see a burger patty sizzling away on the grill, not quite cooked and not put with anything, not even a bun...do you think ‘that’s not interesting?’ Or do you think it’s just there? Or just a waste?”
“No, that’s a damn fine burger waiting to happ… oh. Alright,” I said with sudden realization. “I don’t know if I should give you hell for using a meat analogy or be impressed you made your point so well.”
“Your soft dick is just a burger that hasn’t been realized yet.”
“Yes, thank you, I caught that on my own, believe it or not.”
“Hey, just making sure.”
“Just so you know, comparing my dick to a burger is not going to get you laid.”
“Blowjob?”
“The only thing I’m blowing right now is this cup of coffee, so it doesn’t burn my tongue.”
“I was thinking more of me blowing you while you drank your coffee.”
I probably wouldn’t have been blamed for taking it as a dirty joke.
But with Milo, I knew instinctively that he was absolutely serious.
If I gave him permission, he would drop to his knees in a heartbeat and have my dick in his mouth.
I’d be lying if I said the thought wasn’t tempting, and I could feel heat stirring in my groin.
Snorting, I set the cup aside and reached to pull him closer. His brow rose, trying to read my body language to gauge why I was touching him. Hooking an arm around his waist, I drew him closer so we were face to face. After a moment’s hesitation, I felt him relax and give me a shy look.
“Hi,” he said nervously.
“Hi,” I said warmly, holding him tight. “I’m happy you want to suck my dick just because you saw it.”
“I...okay, that’s good?”
“It is, very good.”
“But?”
“But right now I’m enjoying this more than the idea of you kneeling on this uncomfortable floor just to give me head.”
“Just,” he said with a frown. “I don’t like that word. It’s more than just giving you head.”
“What is it then?”
“It’s about making you feel good. About showing you that you mean something to me, that I like making you feel good, and being the center of attention. Of my attention.”
I suppose that was essentially what anyone wanted to convey to their partner when it came to sex.
Sure, there was always wanting to get off, wanting to experience your own pleasure, but with a partner you were connected with and planned to spend long periods of time with?
Well, yeah, you wanted to make them feel good, not only give them pleasure, but share in the pleasure you gave them.
“You make me feel good by having patience with my grumpy ass in the morning,” I began, shushing him with a look when his mouth opened.
“You show me I mean something to you by putting in the extra work to make not only the good coffee, but in the good way. You make me feel good by showing me the attention you do. And while I know I’m not the only thing in your life, I’ve always known I’m a core part of it, and that hasn’t changed.
I don’t need blowjobs to know all that; I have years of experience. ”
His expression was conflicted before he swallowed his protests and nodded. “Yeah.”
“You’re not convinced,” I said because it wasn’t a question.
He gave me a sheepish smile. “I know you mean it.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re so...you.”
“I’m going to pretend that’s a good thing...or an okay one at least.”
I sighed, tightening my grip on his waist to turn us around and push him against the counter with absolutely no warning.
His eyes widened, and then my mouth pressed into his neck, breathing in the faint smell of the lotion he’d used earlier and dragging my teeth down the sensitive skin to hear him breathe weakly.
“No one knows me like you do, and no one treats me like you do, before the sex and after.”