mr.smith Otherwise I don’t think it’ll end well
mr.smith And I don’t want to see my sweet boy with a broken heart
thick boy in lace Thanks <3 You’ve been so great about all this
mr.smith No worries
thick boy in lace Sooooo any ideas on how to tell him?
mr.smith Nope. You’re on your own here lol
thick boy in lace So mean!
thick boy in lace Btw, I meant to ask, how are things going with your roommate?
mr.smith Honestly? I’m in the same boat as you. I’m crazy about him. I just don’t think he knows it yet
thick boy in lace We’re both idiots, aren’t we?
mr.smith Probably!
I smiled and shook my head as I typed out a couple more messages before putting my phone down. Talking it out had definitely helped, and it was nice to know I wasn’t the only one who felt like this. Now all I had to do was figure out how to tell Taylor I wanted him as more than a fuck buddy.
Did I start with the “can we be boyfriends” question or did I go straight to the fact I was in love with him?
And how did I even bring the question up in the first place?
Maybe it would be best to ask after we’d fucked. I could put on my sexiest panties and stretch out my hole, then lie on his bed face down, ass up, waiting for him. I’d wanted to try that since Mr. Smith had suggested it, but I’d never managed to find quite the right opportunity. Perhaps now was the time to do it? I could melt Taylor’s brain with sex and then bring up the whole dating situation.
My cock throbbed in my boxers at the idea of waiting for him like that—open and ready for him to use me. Fuck, I wanted that so badly. A tiny groan slipped from my lips as I slipped my hand into my boxers, grasping my hardening cock tightly between my fingers. My hips bucked up, thrusting my cock deeper into my fist as I imagined Taylor’s reaction, the dirty words he’d whisper in my ear as he pulled my panties to the side and realised he could slide straight into me.
“Shit.” The word broke the silence. I imagined Taylor not even removing his jeans, just sliding them down enough to pull his cock out before teasing my hole and pushing inside me. I wondered if he’d wait for me to adjust or just take me, fucking me hard and fast until I was begging to come, crying out as he nailed my prostate over and over and filling the room with my moans.
“Taylor…”
“You know, I think you’re too sick to be doing that.” Taylor’s voice sounded from the doorway, and I yelped, practically leaping out of bed in shock. Taylor laughed softly, and I saw the outline of his body against the doorframe.
“Y-yeah?” I asked, trying to calm my racing heart. “What should I do instead? Have a heart attack from you sneaking up on me?”
Taylor chuckled as he moved across to the bed, and I felt the mattress dip as he climbed in next to me. His body was warm as he pressed up against me, dressed only in tight boxers and a t-shirt.
“I wouldn’t suggest it,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to my neck that had me moaning. “I just think I should do that instead.” His fingers snaked over my chest and across my stomach, sliding into my boxers alongside my own.
I gasped as he caressed my balls before gently pushing my hand away and wrapping his fingers around my cock.
“So, you want to play nurse?” It was meant to be a joke, but the words came out breathy and needy. I groaned, fisting my hand into the sheets as Taylor began to stroke me. I didn’t know how he managed to take me apart with something so simple as a hand job, but he managed it every time. Maybe it was because I’d been thinking about him fucking me. Or maybe it was because I knew there was every chance he was motivated by so much more than the desire to get off. That he thought I was more than just a hook-up.
Maybe there was a chance he’d never thought like that at all…
“Maybe,” Taylor said. There was a dark edge to his voice that sent shivers down my spine and had my cock pulsing in his grip. “Maybe I just want to suck your cock… maybe I’ve been thinking about it all night. Thinking about stretching my lips around you, feeling you on my tongue… having you try to hold back and be good for me while I tease you. Making you wait until I tell you to come.”
“Fuck. Please, Taylor.” I leant forward and desperately searched for a kiss. Then I hesitated. Kissing was probably not a great idea… at least if I wanted some vague form of plausible deniability if Taylor caught my bug.
“Please what, baby?” Taylor asked, leaning in close, his breath ghosting across my face. “Use your words. Tell me what you want.”
“P-please. Suck my cock. Make me come.”
“I don’t know.” Taylor ran his thumb over my slit, making me whimper. “I don’t know if you really want it.”
“Please. Please, Taylor. I need you. Please.” My voice was raspy, and I probably should have been sleeping instead of begging for an orgasm, but I was past the point of caring. I needed him to make me come. “Please suck me. Please make me come.”
“Good boy,” Taylor said, pressing more kisses to my neck. “You always ask so nicely.” He pulled his hand out of my boxers and disappeared under my duvet, sliding between my legs. I groaned as he nuzzled at my erection, mouthing it through the fabric of my underwear.
I opened my mouth to beg, but no sound came out except for a hoarse moan.
My dick throbbed under his lips. I wished he’d just take my boxers off so I could feel his mouth on me instead of through the material. But I’d forgotten how to speak, and all I could do was groan and fist the sheets impatiently.
I felt Taylor’s fingers sliding inside my boxers, pulling my cock out between the folds. He jacked it slowly, his grip loose and teasing, and when I tried to thrust up into his grip, he put his other hand on my hip, holding me still.
Fucking hell, that was hot. I was his plaything, and all I could do was take whatever pleasure he gave me. I couldn’t even see him, so I had no idea what he was going to do next. My whole body felt like it was on a knife-edge.
Then Taylor licked over the head of my cock, his tongue hot and perfect. I groaned, my lungs gasping for air. He wrapped his lips around the head, sucking gently, his tongue flicking over my slit. It was something that always drove me crazy, and every time Taylor did it, he had me whimpering and desperate.
His fingers toyed with my balls as his mouth slid lower, taking my cock into his throat. I loved that Taylor could do that.
“Oh shit,” I gasped as Taylor swallowed around me. “Fuck, Taylor.”
He hummed around my dick in response, and all I could do was whimper. His other hand was still holding my hip, keeping me still for him. Even when he was going down on me, he was still in control. I was Taylor’s toy, and I loved it.
Taylor swallowed around me again, and then began to move. His movements were slow and teasing, but everything was so wet and hot and tight I couldn’t even find the words to complain about how maddeningly slow it was. And even if I could find the words, I knew I wouldn’t get what I wanted. Not until Taylor was ready to give it to me.
I groaned again, then coughed and sniffed. I was almost glad Taylor couldn’t see my face, because I felt decidedly unsexy. My body was clearly reminding me that yes, sex was great, but I did have a cold, and three hours ago, I’d been complaining I was dying.
There was a rustling sound from underneath the duvet, and I whined as Taylor’s mouth released my cock. “Are you okay?” he said, his voice muffled.
“I’m fine.” I sniffed again. I hated this. All I wanted was to focus on the amazing blowjob I was being given, not on the fact that I couldn’t breathe properly through my nose.
“We should stop.” Taylor was already moving from between my legs.
“No, I’m okay,” I said, or at least tried to say, because then I started coughing again. Taylor appeared beside me, his hair ruffled and lips wet and swollen. Concern was written across his face as I casually hacked up my lungs. He slid across the bed, flicking on the lamp beside my
bed and grabbing the bottle of water next to it.
“Drink this,” he said, thrusting it in my face. I took it gratefully, but my heart sank. This was definitely not how I’d pictured things going ten minutes ago.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I ruined it.”
“Don’t worry.” Taylor smiled at me, taking the bottle and putting it back on my bedside table. “I got a bit carried away when I saw you. You just looked so fucking sexy, and I needed a taste. Probably should have thought that through.” He laughed and wiggled down in the bed, opening his arms. It was what he always did when he wanted a cuddle.
“Are you sure?”
“Eh, I’m probably gonna catch what you’ve had anyway. Might as well get a cuddle out of it.” He pulled me into him, pressing a kiss to my forehead as I snuggled into his chest. “You feel a little cooler now. You’re not burning up.”
“I think I’m over the worst of it.” Now that I was snuggled into him, I was starting to feel sleepy. We very rarely shared a bed, usually going back to our separate rooms. Our excuses had always been that we both got up at different times, or that Steve would notice. The only times we’d shared had been when Steve was away for the whole weekend, and we’d spent most of the two days fucking. There hadn’t been much point in separate beds when we woke up wanting to fuck again.
That had been different though.
Those times, we’d slept on opposite sides of the bed. If we ended up snuggled up it had invariably involved one of us grinding into the other until we’d both woken up horny and desperate.
This was far more intimate. We hadn’t had sex, but that didn’t seem to matter. Taylor wasn’t here for sex. He’d come to check on me. And now we were cuddled up together, his hand stroking my back as I listened to the rhythmic beating of his heart.
It was everything I’d ever wanted.
I woke up warm, comfortable, and unwilling to move.
Something in the back of my mind told me it was Tuesday, but it was too dark to tell what time it was. I was vaguely aware I didn’t feel quite as sore and headachy, and for the first time since Saturday night, I could breathe through my nose again. That probably meant I should go to work today, but I was too cosy, and I didn’t even want to think about leaving my bed.
A hand tightened around my waist, and I froze for a second. Then Taylor’s voice came from behind me. “Go back to sleep.” He sounded slightly hoarse and sniffly, but I couldn’t work out whether that was because he’d just woken up or because he was coming down with my cold.
“What time is it?” I asked, leaning back into Taylor’s embrace.
“Don’t know. Don’t care.”
“What about work?” I was attempting to be the responsible adult here, but I knew I sounded half-hearted at best. I just wanted to stay here forever, wrapped in Taylor’s arms. Work would manage without me for one more day, and I didn’t want to pass the bug on to anyone…
“You’re still sick, and I’m getting sick,” Taylor said. “My head is killing me, and I can’t breathe. So I’m making an executive decision. We’re calling in sick, staying here all day, cuddling, and watching Netflix.”
“Sounds like a good plan.” I grasped Taylor’s hand in my own and interlaced our fingers. His skin was a little cold to the touch. It was probably better to be safe rather than sorry.
We spent the whole day in bed doing very little.
We watched a couple of movies snuggled up together, and I periodically got up to fetch water and pills for Taylor, and at lunch time I made us some cheese toasties. Taylor looked ridiculously surprised when I handed his to him, like he’d never had someone make him food when he was sick.
The flare of emotion in my chest confirmed everything I already knew.
I was utterly and truly in love with him. I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it. And I needed him to know that.
All I could do was hope he loved me too.
Part Five: Love
Taylor
Standing outside Putney Bridge Tube station while it poured it with rain was not how I’d envisioned spending my Friday afternoon.
Luckily, I had both a large umbrella, courtesy of Simon, and an awning to stand under. That meant I was relatively dry, but considering I was just recovering from a bad cold, I wasn’t sure standing out in the freezing November rain was healthy. If I got sick again, I was one thousand percent blaming Connor.
Connor was my childhood best friend, who I’d met when I was twelve and we’d been forced to sit next to each other by our new high school maths teacher. We’d spent the first six weeks ignoring each other and then eventually bonded over a shared dislike of the band McFly, when all the girls in our class had been fawning over them. We’d been thick as thieves ever since, and our friendship had survived everything from family illnesses to bad breakups and Connor’s fake tan and glitter lip gloss period. Although to be fair to him, we’d been teenagers in Essex in the early 2000s. I was one of the only people in our class who hadn’t gone through being various shades of orange.
Thankfully, Connor’s make-up skills had improved a fuck-ton since then.
My phone flashed in my hand and a message from the man in question popped up on the screen, telling me his train was just pulling into the station. I smiled at the number of little sparkling hearts that followed his words. I hadn’t seen Connor since the summer when he’d come down to London for Pride, and I’d missed him.
He was easy to spot as he walked through the crowd. He was petite and looked like he’d just stepped off a runway in dark skinny jeans, knee-high heeled boots, a cream sweater, and a loose, black wool coat. His make-up was flawless as usual, and I wondered how he managed to look like a million bucks after spending three hours on a packed train while I looked like a sweaty mess after just ten minutes.
“Taylor!” Connor launched himself at me, wrapping himself around my waist and giving me an enormous hug, squeezing me so tightly I thought I was going to pass out. For someone so slim and petite, I was pretty convinced Connor could flaw me in a single punch if he wanted. He could probably take Simon too.
“Hey, babe! It’s good to see you again,” I said, once he’d let go and allowed air to return to my lungs. Connor flashed me a warm, cheeky smile.
“I know. However have you survived without me?”
“Drinking mostly.”
“I missed you too.” Connor laughed, kissing me lightly on the cheek.
“That better not leave a mark.” The days when Connor had worn sticky lip glosses had been the bane of my existence. My cheeks had been permanently covered in glittery pink goo that refused to be wiped off.
“Please, I use better products than that,” Connor said, then he smiled deviously. “Why? Got someone in your life who wouldn’t want you being kissed?”
“No,” I said, but even I heard the catch in my voice. Dammit! I’d already asked Simon if we could keep the whole whatever we were doing away from Connor because he could be ridiculously nosey when he wanted to be, and I didn’t want to spend my whole night being given the third degree. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t told Connor about what we were doing, since I’d never been shy about my sex life before. It was probably because it involved Simon, and he deserved better.
There was also the fact I didn’t even know what to call our arrangement anymore. It was abundantly clear we’d moved on from just hooking up, but we’d never actually talked about what we were doing. We’d spent the whole week sharing a bed for Christ’s sake. And not in a sexy way either. I mean, we still had sex, but we also cuddled while we slept. Simon made such a good little spoon and it was amazing waking up with him in my arms, his beautiful ass pressed against me.
“You have!” Connor exclaimed gleefully. “Who is it?”
“Seriously, it’s nothing.” I turned to head out of the station, flicking up my umbrella. Connor watched me with a calculating look before producing his own umbrella and adjusting the bags on his shoulder. I held out my hand and Connor sighed, handi
ng one over. We’d had this argument several times in the past, and I always won.
“You’d be mad if you dropped your shoes,” I said, hefting the bag of Pleasers on my shoulder. How a single pair of dance shoes could be worth nearly a hundred pounds still baffled me, and that was before you started looking at the boots Connor owned. “How many pairs did you bring this time?”
“Only three,” Connor said, following me out into the rain. “Because I don’t know which ones are going to work best.”
Connor was a dancer and taught everything from ballet to pole dance, although he largely preferred the dancing part to the teaching part. He’d come to London because one of his favourite pole dancers was over from America to teach a two-day workshop at a local studio. Connor had managed to bag one of the highly coveted places and then promptly rang me up to tell me he was coming to stay.
We chatted happily as we walked down the road, casually avoiding the puddles as we filled each other in on any details about our lives we might have missed. That was the thing I loved most about Connor—no matter how long we were apart, we just picked right back up where we’d left off as if no time had passed.
“You know,” Connor said as we approached the flat. “If there is someone in your life, I really hope they’re not the kind of guy who’d get jealous over me kissing your cheek.” He looked almost sad for a moment, and I remembered what he’d said about one or two of his past boyfriends getting mad about how close he was to some of his male friends, myself included.
“Never, babe.” I dug in my pocket for my keys. “I’d never want someone like that. You’re too important to me.”
I already knew Simon liked Connor. They’d met a couple of times, and we’d all gone to Pride together. Connor had covered Simon in rainbow glitter and given him red lipstick to wear. He’d looked gorgeous, and I remembered thinking how sexy he was, even though we hadn’t started hooking up at that point.
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