18. Will
WILL
Will
Wanna watch another movie?
Porter
Are you inviting yourself over again?
Will
I’ll take that as a yes
Will
On my way
Porter
See you soon, haha
When he opens the door, Porter’s in a cropped pink tee and gray sweatpants, blond hair messy in his usual way, and his bright blue eyes are shining at me with amusement. I love seeing him comfy and looking happy.
“Hey,” I greet, stepping inside. “How are you?”
“Hi. Good, I was just cleaning the apartment. Josie’s been spending a lot of time with her girlfriend, but I think she’ll be back in the morning, so I didn’t want her coming home to a mess.”
“So we have the place to ourselves tonight, huh?” I tease even though I do like the idea of having him all to myself.
“We do, so we can actually watch a movie in the living room,” he offers, and his cheeks turn noticeably red. Has he always blushed this much? It’s kind of adorable.
“We could. Orrrr we could still watch in your bed?” I suggest hopefully. “It is super comfy, and I’ve had a really long day.”
I could just ask him where his mattress topper is from, but I liked hanging out in his bed last time. I think I’ve been a little touch-starved this semester without my usual hookup routine, and he didn’t seem to mind that I basically ended up cuddling with him. It was nice.
“Is that so?” He eyes me suspiciously.
“Yes, feel bad for me.” I pout.
“Fiiiine,” Porter agrees with a smirk before turning and leading me to his room. “Let’s go.”
I follow him and throw myself onto his bed. “Thanks for letting me come over.”
“You didn’t exactly give me a choice,” he jokes, but when I roll over to look at him, he’s smiling in a way that makes it obvious he’s happy I’m here.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t want me in your bed, Porter,” I tease back, and then our eyes go wide at the same time as we realize how sexual that sounded.
Fuck. Something in my gut flips at the implication that Porter would want me in his bed for other reasons.
I’m still so confused about what it means that I was so turned on by that threesome video.
Images of the men flash through my mind, and my dick twitches.
I’ve rewatched it so many times by now, but I still feel so removed from it being on my screen.
Sex is hot, and porn is unrealistic and over the top, so I don’t know if it actually means anything.
Maybe in person men touching each other like that wouldn’t do anything for me.
Has Porter had sex with other men in this bed? Probably, right? Fuck, I don’t love thinking about that.
And not because he’s gay, like he was worried about the other day, but because… well, I just don’t want to think about him with random guys. I don’t need to worry about why that makes my blood boil. I know none of them were good enough for him, so I don’t want to think about it.
Is that why he was worried I wouldn’t want to share a bed with him though? Because normally when a man spends the night in his bed, sex is involved?
“Did you hear it that time?” he asks, pulling me out of my thoughts as he begins laughing.
“Yeah…” I trail off to laugh as well. “But you know what I mean.”
“Sure.” He’s still chuckling as he joins me on the bed, laying back against his pillows so he’s propped up, and he turns on the TV. His eyes are fixated on the screen now. Is he avoiding eye contact?
Did my comment inspire him to picture us having sex in his bed?
Is that why he’s being so quiet? Fuck, I wonder what he would even imagine.
My dick is certainly curious about the idea, probably isn’t helping that I’m thinking about that video again, and if Porter would be into it, which man he’d want to take the place of in the video and, yup, blood is now rushing to my cock, so I casually pull the covers up over my lap, hiding the growing bulge there as I sit up next to him.
“Did I make it weird?” I check.
“No, no. I just…” He takes a deep breath and looks at me. “I’ve never known anyone like you, Will.”
He says it fondly, like I’m special, and it makes my heart feel as though it’s expanding in my chest. Clearly, I love hearing even the slightest praise from him after worrying for so long if he even wanted to be my friend at all.
I reposition myself to actually look at the TV, our arms are brushing and our sweatpants are stretched out in front of us, but I have to fight the urge to wrap myself around him fully.
To tuck him into my chest and skip the movie altogether so we can just enjoy each other’s company.
What the fuck is happening tonight? I honestly had no idea why Porter was questioning me the other day about if I was okay sharing a bed with a gay man. Obviously, I had no reservations then.
But now? I feel like something’s shifted. After watching that video, I’m questioning who exactly I might be attracted to, and I’m hyperaware of the space between us, of the small contact we do have on our arms and legs.
What were we even talking about again?
Oh yeah. He was saying I’m special. “Well, I am pretty great,” I finally reply with a cocky tone and a grin.
“And not at all self-centered, huh?” he jokes, lightly elbowing me.
“Never.” I grin and find my gaze wandering to take him in again.
He’s only partially under the covers, and I notice a tattoo peeking out on his hip where his shirt is riding up, but I can’t make out what it is.
I’ve never noticed it before, and I want to ask him about it, but I’m already worried I made things awkward, so we should probably focus on a movie for a bit instead of a discreet tattoo.
But I also can’t look away. Fuck, he’s… pretty.
That’s such a strange thought to have about a man.
But now that I’ve thought the word, I know with absolute certainty that it fits him.
He is pretty. Not in a feminine way, either.
He just is, with his slightly flushed cheeks, blue eyes, long, dark lashes, and messy blond hair.
But am I attracted to him? Or am I just caught up in the idea of wanting to explore my sexuality more?
I don’t want to do anything to risk the friendship I fought so hard for with him, so even if I’m distracted by his appearance right now while I’m fighting an erection, I wouldn’t want to make a fool out of myself and act on these new thoughts.
“What?” he asks, and I realize I've been staring at him.
“Nothing, just happy to be here,” I admit, maybe a little too honestly because my mind is still attempting to make sense of him being pretty, and why my dick is hard in his bed, and what this all means.
He smiles softly, turning to watch the movie. I struggle to pay attention with how close we are, and eventually my eyelids grow heavy. I don’t fight it, sinking lower into his bed as I let them shut.