Chapter 13 Chad
CHAD
Fuck yes.
Holy shit. Oh my god! It’s actually happening.
John is about to show me his dick! I know I’ve been asking him since basically the moment I found out his piercings existed, but I didn’t think he’d actually show me. John really is more fun than he pretends to be.
He pushes his black jeans, and what looks like black boxer briefs, down in one motion.
I immediately drop down to my knees for a closer look.
“What the fuck are you doing?” John asks, sounding alarmed.
I tilt my head back to look up at him. “Looking at your piercing?” I answer like it’s a question, because what else would I be doing? That’s the entire reason we came in here.
He mutters “Jesus” under his breath again, and I focus my attention back on his dick.
“Can you hold this up so I can see?” I say as I push John’s shirt up a bit so it isn’t covering anything.
John sucks in a sharp breath when my hand runs over his abs as I do.
My hands must be cold or something, so I pull away as soon as he grabs the shirt.
Much better. Now I can actually see him without the shadows from his clothes in the way.
The first thing I really notice is the way his non-tattooed dick stands out compared to the rest of his skin that’s covered in black ink—his upper thighs, his hips and stomach, all the way to the neatly trimmed dark hair at the base of his happy trail is covered in tattoos.
I don’t know why, but I’m kind of surprised he manscapes at all. I’m personally not a huge fan of body hair on myself, maybe it’s a vanity thing, but I think my dick looks bigger and better when I get rid of it.
I guess I had just assumed John wouldn’t care about that sort of thing.
But the more I think about it, he obviously does put a lot of effort into the way he looks…
all those tattoos probably took years to get, and his beard—although longer than I’ve ever grown mine—is well groomed, not wild and unkempt like some people wear it.
His long hair that he usually has tied up also looks healthy and shiny. So yeah, manscaping makes sense.
“You done?” he asks impatiently.
My hand automatically flies out to grab his thigh to stop him from moving as I loudly say, “Wait. What? No, I haven’t even looked.”
He jerks back a step so I’m no longer touching him. “Well, what the fuck are you doing down there?”
I shrug. “I got distracted by your tattoos.”
“Hurry up,” he growls. “This is weird enough already.”
“Okay,” I agree, taking a big breath as I focus my attention on his dick.
It’s big. Long and thick, even as it hangs soft between his thighs.
I can only imagine how much bigger he is when he’s hard.
Damn, his dick is probably bigger than mine.
Not that that matters, it’s not a competition or anything.
He’s cut, just like I am, and there, on the very tip, is a metal ball, almost like it’s coming out of the hole.
“Where’s the other side? Of the piercing? Or how does it stay like that?” I ask.
He sighs before answering in a tight voice. “On the underside. It’s a Prince Albert piercing.”
“Wait, didn’t you say there were multiple? I only see the one?”
“For fucks sake,” he groans before using his free hand to lift up his dick to expose the underside.
Not only is the other end of the piercing now visible, but there are also five evenly spaced bars going through his cock horizontally, one on top of the next up the length of his shaft, like a ladder.
“Holy shit, there’re so many! That had to hurt.” I lift my hand out toward them without thinking, and John lets out a low warning sound. I freeze with plenty of distance still between us.
“Sorry,” I say quickly, although I’m unable to tear my gaze away from his dick.
Is he… I think he’s getting hard now. The head looks a little more swollen than when he first exposed himself, and there are now obvious veins visible running up and down the length, and it’s a different angle, but damn, I’m pretty sure it is even longer now.
“You’re getting hard,” I point out aloud, which obviously I didn’t need to, but I don’t have the best filter on a normal day, let alone after as many drinks as we’ve had.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Chad!”
I bite my lip as I look up at him from my knees. “Is it because of me? Are you attracted to me?”
“No. Shut up,” he growls in that deep gravely tone he keeps using.
It sounds like it would hurt; I could never get my voice to do that.
He’s dropped both his shirt and his hold on his cock now as his dick thickens between us.
It’s practically reaching out toward me where I’m still kneeling in front of him.
I tilt my head to the side as I look at the piercing on the tip again. His cock looks fully erect now, and my own cock twitches sympathetically. “Did you need any help with that?”
John lets out a sharp laugh as he pulls his underwear and pants back up. “Any help? The fuck? Chad, did you seriously just offer to help get me off?”
Huh. I guess I did. I smile sheepishly as I shrug up at him. “I don’t know the etiquette here. I’m just trying to be nice.”
“Nice?” he repeats incredulously. “Is that something you do to ‘be nice’ with your other friends? Is that the real reason you seem so sad Blake is marrying Liam? Was that what you guys would do when you hung out in the city? ‘Be nice’ to each other?”
I burst out laughing, nearly falling over as I realize what he’s implying. I’ve never touched Blake’s cock, nor have I wanted to.
When I calm down, I finally stand up, shaking my head. “No, John. I’ve never touched another man’s dick before, and I have no interest in touching Blake’s.”
He scoffs. “Well, you could’ve fooled me with how quickly you offered.”
I shrug again. “That was the first time I had a hard dick in front of my face, John. I didn’t want to seem homophobic.”
“So you jumped from not homophobic to… What were you going to do, Chad? Put my dick in your mouth? Were those really the only options you could think of?”
In my mouth? I guess I hadn’t gotten that far. But now that he’s supplied that image, I can’t help but picture it. I… don’t hate the idea. I wonder what that would feel like, especially with all that metal. Would it feel good? Could it feel good for the person who’s sucking it? It must, right?
In fact, that sympathetic twitch my cock gave earlier happens again at the thought, and I realize I’m getting hard too. I look down at my pants, confirming the visible bulge there that mirrors John’s now, and let out a surprised “Huh.”
John notices too, staring at my crotch for a few moments before muttering to himself. “What the fuck is happening?”
He spins and opens the stall door, rushing out of the bathroom entirely. I hurry to keep up with him, nearly crashing into a man that was trying to enter the restroom as I do.
“John, hey! Wait up,” I call out when he doesn’t slow down, heading straight for the exit. Luckily he stops when he gets outside, looking around, probably trying to remember which way we came from, so I’m able to slide up next to him and slip my hand in his again. “Where are you going?”
He turns to look at me with wide eyes but doesn’t say anything.
I squeeze his hand, and we both stare down at the connection. I smile to myself again as I think about how he’s let me hold it all weekend. I really have missed having a close connection like this with someone.
Blake used to be that person, although we never held hands or cuddled.
I can’t believe John implied I was ever with Blake sexually, or wanted to be.
It was never like that. He’s just my best friend—growing up, he was more like a brother—we’ve done everything together basically since the moment we met.
And still, I had no idea Blake was attracted to men until the day I met Liam.
Blake didn’t even know he was bi until after he’d already established his connection with Liam on the blind dating part of Love Without Labels when he assumed Liam was a woman.
And I’m straight.
… I think?
I’m pretty sure. I mean… I did just get hard in the bathroom of a gay club looking at another man’s hard penis. But…
I’m, like, fifty percent sure.
Is it normal to like John’s attention this much, though? To hold his hand and want him in my bed wrapped around me? To want to spend every minute with him?
Wait, fuck… Is this what happened to Blake?
Not the hard-in-a-gay-club thing, but, like, he had never really thought about being attracted to another man until the show forced him to. Was that bathroom stall moment like when Liam opened the door and Blake realized he was a man?
Is this weekend to me what Love Without Labels was to Blake?
This weekend has allowed this giant, hilariously grumpy man with his tattoos that snake over all his exposed skin, to come into my life.
I take him in, raking my eyes over his face, with his trimmed beard and silver hoop nose piercing.
John is—if I’m honest with myself—ridiculously hot and so masculine in a way I know I never could be.
I think about seeing John naked just now, and even seeing him in a bathing suit earlier. I swear everyone at the pool today was staring at him.
It kind of pissed me off, actually. I don’t normally let things like that get to me, but even though I’m conventionally attractive, no one was looking at me because they were too busy checking him out.
Well, one person was looking at me now that I think about it.
John.
His attention is like a drug I can’t get enough of. I don’t even care if he’s only looking at me because I’m supposedly annoying him. I keep catching his secret little smiles after he claims I’ve done something to bother him, and each one feels like a victory of sorts.
I can’t help it. I want more. That’s why I keep draping myself over him. Honestly, I’m surprised he’s gone along with it as easily as he has. He grumbles, sure, but he lets me. Every time.