Chapter 22
Luke
Lying on my back in my bed, my thoughts drifted to Oliver, the same as they had all week.
There’s no denying it. I am into him. In a big way.
In an I want you to have more boners around me kinda way.
In an I want to be the cause of those boners and those stupidly sexy moans kinda way.
My own boner, making itself painfully known through my boxer briefs, had become a regular feature these past seven nights as well.
I’d tried to ignore it, shove it aside. That had proven to be a wildly unsuccessful tactic, as it only seemed to reroute everything straight into my dreams. Dreams that left me waking up damp with sweat, breathing hard, Oliver’s face lingering in my mind long after I woke.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, attempting to relax myself into sleep.
Bad move. With my eyes closed, the image of him sharpened.
Those ridiculous blue eyes bored into my mind.
His smile followed, bright and breathtaking, lighting up the darkness behind my eyelids.
That smile in real life had become so radiant I joked with myself that I needed sunglasses to gaze at it without squinting.
My fingers flexed with the urge to reach out and touch him.
To take his face into my hands and trace every line, to brush over that sweet little mole on his cheek that I couldn’t get out of my mind now that I’d noticed it.
I pictured his puffy, pillow-soft lips. Unconsciously, I wet my own, wondering what it would be like to press into that soft flesh.
To feel him respond beneath my touch. The thought shot straight to my dick, twitching hard against the confines of my briefs.
Damn appendages, acting with minds of their own.
I rolled onto my side. Guess it wasn’t just my dick acting like it had free will tonight, because my heart decided to jump in too, tightening with a sharp ache. I wanted Oliver here. Wanted him against me. My king-size bed had never felt so empty.
Needing to get my shit together, I dragged myself out of bed, pulling on a pair of plaid lounge pants so I could brew a cup of sleepy time tea. I slipped into the hallway, eyes on the floor to avoid the extra-creaky board outside Oliver’s door.
I successfully dodged the floorboard . . . and then walked straight into Oliver.
A soft mmpf left him on impact. The sweet nutty smell of his shampoo filled my nose. He reached out instinctively, steadying himself, his palm landing flat against my bare chest. Zaps of electricity zipped through me.
He glanced up, our eyes locking in the faint glow of the motion sensor nightlights I had plugged into the hallway outlets. His grew wide. He pulled his hand away, glancing to the ground.
My eyes dropped as well . . . another mistake. His pants clung to the lean lines of his thighs and my body had opinions about that. Loud ones. Unhelpful ones that reminded me of my current situation. My own pants weren’t going to do a thing to disguise my dick’s rebellion.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“No, that was my bad,” I said, shaking my head, trying to clear the haze clogging my brain. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“Couldn’t sleep?” Oliver asked.
“Something like that. You?”
He shrugged. “Bathroom.”
“Ah, right,’ I said.
The strain in my voice must have been obvious, because Oliver’s gaze lifted again, concern creasing his brow. “Are you alright?”
“Uh-huh, totally fine.” I nodded, meaning no in about ten different ways.
“You, um. You look . . . tense.”
That was one way to put it. “Guess I’ve got a lot on my mind lately.”
Oliver tilted his head, studying me. “Anything you want to talk about?”
Everything I could talk about stood right in front of me, barefoot in the hallway looking all comfy and inviting with his baggy shirt and messy hair and sleepy eyes.
My brain scrambled trying to come up with something, anything, that wasn’t “I think about you constantly and it’s making me lose my damn mind, and sometimes, like right now, control of my body. ”
“Just, you know, like, stuff,” I muttered, evasive and totally lame.
“Stuff? As in how you lose all linguistic prowess at two in the morning?” Oliver said with a little smirk.
“Yeah,” I said, managing a weak chuckle. “Let’s go with that.”
We stood there, the hallway narrowing by the second.
“Right, well . . .” he began, right as I said, “I won’t keep your bladder waiting.”
Instead of smoothly passing each other, we mirrored the same sidestep, then corrected in the same direction again. Our shoulders bumped, then our hips.
“Wow,” Oliver said, with a little laugh. “We both apparently lose all ability to move around each other at two in the morning as well.”
“Apparently,” I said, far too aware of how close he stood.
“Alright well, goodnight, Luke.”
“Night, Ollie. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
Tea forgotten, I retreated straight back to my room, ditched the pants, and slid under the covers. Nerves going haywire, my hand settled suspiciously low, touching the waistband of my underwear.
Welp, I guess I was doin’ this. I’d give myself a quickie, since my erection had plans to stick around until I did something about it other than will it away. Then I could sleep. In theory anyway.
Sliding my palm under the fabric, I wrapped my hand around the base and squeezed.
A small relieved gasp left me. After a slow stroke upward, I paused, thumb circling the head, already slick with precum.
Instead of the vague, faceless blur that usually accompanied my jerk-off sessions, tonight Oliver’s face, his voice fueled my desire.
I gave another pull from root to tip, a hiss of pleasure leaving me at the dry friction. Reaching into my nightstand for lube, I squirted some into my hand, slathering it over my shaft and across the crown, the strokes turning into a smooth, obscene glide.
Continuing to work myself over, I wondered what Oliver’s hands would feel like on me. Probably all soft and warm, not marked by the callouses that textured my own. I shivered at the thought of his slender fingers curling around my shaft, taking over and pumping me. A muffled groan left me.
My hold tightened as my pumps grew harder and faster. The thwap of my full dick hitting my lower abs and the slick sounds of my aggressive stroking filled the room. My entire body tingled.
I couldn’t believe the out-of-this-world surge of arousal crashing over me just from thinking about Oliver, about how badly I wanted him here with me, to tuck him into my side and kiss the bejeebus out of him.
The frantic rhythm of my heart synced with the erratic thrusts of my hand, or maybe it was the other way round, the thrusts of my hand matching the racing beats.
A voice in the back of my mind screamed to stop, to pull back before I crossed some invisible line, but I was too far gone, barreling full-steam ahead.
I chased my release with a rare, desperate urgency.
My hips bucked up into my hand. I’m not especially vocal when I jerk off, but tonight my characteristic breathy sighs turned into grunts and groans.
“Oliver,” I moaned, his name tearing out of me before I could stop it. One more twist of my fist, one final, punishing pump, and I shattered. Pleasure ripped through me, cum shooting from my dick, dribbling down my shaft and onto my fingers as I shuddered hard against the mattress.
Breathing still ragged, I stared up at the ceiling, stunned.
Oliver hadn’t just wandered into my solo sesh, I’d invited him in.
All the new ways I’d been noticing him this past week, all the want I’d been trying and failing to shove down, had piled up into that moment.
Any lingering doubt I had about the depth of my desire?
Yeah, gone. I wanted Oliver, in every conceivable way.
I had no idea what to do with that, or if I should do anything with it at all.
I’d make that a problem for tomorrow, one I’d bring up with Ez.
He was always a solid sounding board. We were both on shift at Opal and Obsidian, and we’d planned to hit the diner a few blocks from the club once we got off.
Seemed like as good a time as any to admit I might be gone on my housemate.
Once our food hit the table, Ezra leaned forward, forearms braced against it. “So, what is it you wanted to tell me?”
“I’ve been having dreams about Oliver, like dick dreams, and last night I jerked off thinking about him,” I blurted, oh so tactfully. Oh well, it’s Ez, no shame existed between us.
His eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Wow, okay.”
“Yeah, what I mean is, something happened a week ago that made me realize I have feelings for Oliver. Emotional and apparently physical ones, and it’s kinda throwin’ me.”
“I can understand how this has taken you for a bit of a whirlwind. For what it’s worth, it doesn’t surprise me you might be developing feelings for Oliver.”
“It doesn’t?”
“Not really. You’ve been living with Oliver for months now, he’s let you in, and you’ve made space for him in ways you probably didn’t notice.
Maybe without realizing it you’ve established every condition with Oliver that needs to exist before you can feel something more for someone.
Perhaps because of how you form attachments and develop attraction, those feelings, when they do arrive, aren’t driven by gender at all.
“That tracks. I mean, I’m not so locked into the whole straight guy thing that I can’t call this what it is.
Before I had ace language, I wondered. I thought if I didn’t like women that way maybe I liked men.
But I didn’t feel anything beyond friendship towards the guys I knew back then either.
When desire finally showed up, it was toward women, so I kinda defaulted to thinking that was my deal.
But there’s no pretending you’re straight when you’re actively jerking off to another dude. ”