Rhys
I WOKE UP and experienced about three blissful seconds where I didn’t remember where I was or what I’d done the night before.
For the span of a couple heartbeats, I was just a guy waking up on a surprisingly comfortable couch, in a cool, dim room that smelled kind of sweet and fruity, under a cozy blanket with Hello Kitty printed all over it.
And then it all came rushing back to me.
I’d suffered through a date I’d pretty much immediately realized I didn’t want to be on, only to be called out for my lack of erection by a girl I didn’t even like.
And then I’d barged into Kendall Austin’s apartment uninvited to…
ask for a blowjob. That would have been bad enough.
But not only had I ambushed him to whine about how horny I was, I’d repaid his generous offer of assistance by blowing my load in his mouth with no warning, and so fast that it had to be some kind of miserable, humiliating record.
I had the most uncooperative dick in the world.
Extreme embarrassment prickled over my skin, and I felt my adrenaline ramp up to send my heart racing. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why had I done something so unbelievably stupid? How the hell was I going to look him in the face ever again?
On top of the nauseating level of humiliation, my brain was a complete jumble of confusion and uncertainty.
I’d let a guy blow me. No. That wasn’t even close to an accurate statement.
I’d begged him to blow me, and he wasn’t just some guy.
This wasn’t some anonymous hookup in a seedy bar where I’d never see the person again.
This was Kendall Austin. The guy my parents called their third son.
When they’d been eleven, he and Benjamin had done that stupid blood brothers ritual, slicing their palms open with a shard of glass and smearing it together.
My parents had a heart attack over it and dragged them to the emergency room, yelling about tetanus and staph infections and god knows what else.
By that point in time, everyone in my family knew better than to ever go to Kendall’s parents about anything involving him, because all they’d ever do was punish him and make his life even worse.
I wasn’t sure if they ever even found out about that.
I was afraid to move or get up, terrified that any tiny creak would alert Kendall that I was awake and that he’d come check on me.
I couldn’t handle seeing him yet. I couldn’t even figure out what was going on in my own fucking brain, let alone if he expected me to give him some explanation for my behavior.
I waited a bit, straining my ear so I could hear him shuffling around in some other part of the apartment, but besides my own breathing, it was silent.
As I sat up, my breath shuddered out in pure relief as I noticed a piece of paper on the coffee table, right next to my glasses.
I didn’t remember taking those off. He must have done it.
As I slipped them on, I wished a plane would fall out of the sky and land on me.
There was ibuprofen and a bottle of water set there as well, which I gratefully utilized, chugging most of the water in one go after swallowing the pills.
My hangover wasn’t too bad, but better to nip a headache in the bud.
The paper had tiny hearts and flowers edged around the border, and the words on it had been written with glittery pink gel pen. Who the hell even owned stationery and gel pens anymore?
Had work stuff to do. If I’m not back when you wake up, feel free to use my shower. Food in microwave and drink in fridge for you. If you need to leave, lock up with my spare key and give it back to me later.
And then at the bottom, in smaller letters, like he was speaking softly for my benefit so he didn’t scare me off, P.S. - We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Ball is in your court. I won’t mention it if you don’t.
Groaning lightly, I let the paper flutter back down to the table before dragging my hands over my eyes. Of course he would be like that. It was Kendall. He’d never demand an explanation from me, or chew me out for acting like such a horny, desperate moron.
The spare key he’d referred to in his note was sitting on the table as well, with a silicone cap over the top part in the shape of a bright cherry blossom.
It was like he went out of his way to make everything in his life as adorable as possible.
Why did I find that so… Attractive? He was so staunchly confident in who he was, never worrying about what other people would think or how they might react to his tastes and style.
Was I actually attracted to Kendall? Or had I just gravitated toward him in my time of need because I knew he wouldn’t turn me down? Cute or not… He was a guy. I’d never been into a guy like that. Never even questioned it about myself.
His attraction to me was more than obvious, and the way he talked to me…
I hadn’t been treated like that in as long as I could remember.
Possibly ever. Maybe it didn’t really mean anything beyond that.
Maybe I just needed the ego boost he could give me right now, and that’s why my brain had locked onto him like that.
I mean… I couldn’t randomly like a guy for the first time in my life when I was almost 30, right? That wasn’t a thing that could happen.
No. That was, like… A porno thing. Not that I’d ever watched gay porn.
But even having never watched it, I knew that was a popular trope.
Straight guys getting randomly turned by raunchy locker room rendezvous or getting horny while snowed in with another guy or whatever.
Jesus. If last night had been on film, it would be called Turned by the Twink; Blown by My Little Brother’s Best Friend.
With that unpleasant thought in my brain, I forced myself to stand up, the harrowing nausea and anxiety mostly abated by the fact that Kendall wasn’t home at the moment.
I used his bathroom, slightly dazed by his rainbow shower curtain and all the ridiculous, cutesy trinkets.
When I washed my hands in the sink, the soap dispenser was in the shape of a bunny rabbit.
There was a pleasant scent wafting through the whole apartment, which I quickly realized was coming from the fragrance plug-ins he had scattered throughout, all filled with a pale pink liquid.
As I made my way back through the small hallway and into the kitchen, I noticed his bedroom door was open a crack.
I tamped down on the urge to peek inside, chiding myself for even considering it.
Why would I have any interest in Kendall Austin’s bedroom?
I didn’t. Absolutely not one iota of curiosity.
And there would never be any reason for me to be in there, anyway. Ever.
I pulled open his microwave door, noting the handle was slightly loose.
I’d started carrying around a simple multi-tool on my keychain since coming back from the cabin, after finding so many things there that were in need of basic repairs.
His apartment was likely the same. I was somehow certain Kendall didn’t have any tools floating around this pink palace of glitter and fluff, and even if he had, he probably wouldn’t know how to use them.
I spent less than a minute tightening the screws to fix the handle, absently wondering if he’d even notice, before realizing what was actually in the microwave for me.
The neatly rolled-up McDonald’s bag sent a wave of nostalgia and amusement crashing over me.
Back when I’d gotten my driver’s license, Benjamin and Kendall would wake me up on Saturday mornings begging me to take them there so we could get breakfast for everyone with the money my parents would give them.
I’d acted annoyed, complaining about wanting to sleep in for once, but I’d indulged them every time because I’d felt so fucking mature and sophisticated driving the kids around in the rickety little sedan I’d gotten for my 16th birthday.
When I opened the bag, the muscles in my stomach clenched briefly, before my heart did a weird, frightening flop in my chest. A creature of habit, I’d always gotten the same thing, two sausage biscuits with egg and a large OJ.
And he’d remembered, right down to the two mandatory mustard packets.
When I snatched open the fridge door to see the big plastic cup of orange juice with the Mcdonald’s logo on it, the straw set tidily on top, I could have sunk down to my knees and cried.
How long had it been since anyone had bothered to go out of their way for me like that?
My parents didn’t count, they were basically legally required to love me.
And he’d remembered everything, like it was nothing.
Like it was effortless for him to be so sweet and caring and thoughtful.
He’d set out pain pills and water for me, just in case I felt like shit.
He was babying me and he wasn’t even fucking here.
Poor baby. That affectionate little phrase he’d mumbled against my swollen, throbbing cock bloomed back to life in my brain, nearly making me choke. Why was it so hot to be called that? Was I just craving affection and caretaking? God, how pathetic was that?
I wolfed down everything he’d gotten me, seated at the tidy little bar in his kitchen.
The egg timer perched on the back of his stove was in the shape of a baby chick hatching from an egg, and his refrigerator was covered in an array of colorful, eclectic magnets.
It was definitely the kind of place it should be hard to feel miserable in.
I let myself fully relax, for just a minute or two, breathing in the fruity scent and soaking in the silence, surrounded by all the kitschy items that Kendall had collected to curate his adorable little apartment.