My Anti-Boyfriend

by D. J. Jamison

  He sat up and groaned. He had his own aches and pains, mostly in his hips and lower back, which he’d overworked by thrusting into Brad like a jackhammer and manhandling his full weight around. Brad packed enough muscle to acquire some bulk, not that Riley would ever tell him that. He preferred his balls still attached.

  He grabbed a glass of water to rehydrate, drained the lizard, then sent a text message to Brad after checking the time. Shit, it was 2 in the afternoon.

  Riley: Cruise again tonight?

  The phone sat dark and still. Riley frowned. Usually Brad was quick to respond. He might as well have his phone sewn into the palm of his hand because it was always there.

  He shook off the sense of wrongness and jumped in the shower. By the time he’d cleaned off last night’s sex and rubbed one out — because hey, he was satisfied, but he was still a man in his prime — a notification blinked.

  He grinned, snagging the phone.

  Brad: Not tonight

  Riley: Hot date?

  Brad: With the TV. Wiped out

  Riley: Wanna do a movie?

  Brad took a long time to answer. Longer than it took to type yes or no. Longer even than it took to write a whole damn paragraph. Or page.

  It wasn’t like Brad to turn down a night of drinking and dancing, even back-to-back. They spent all their weekend evenings that way. He must be coming down with something. That, or Riley had exhausted him more than usual. He grinned, liking the thought he’d used up all of Brad’s plentiful sexual energy.

  Bet your other sexual partners have got nothing on me.

  Finally, Brad answered.

  Brad: Not tonight

  Riley: Dude, are you okay? Do I need to bring you chicken soup?

  Brad sent over a rude gif of a face blowing a raspberry.

  Brad: Not exactly your style to play nurse

  Riley: Who said anything about that? You just want to play doctor with my sexy ass

  Brad: You got me

  Riley: Seriously. You good?

  Brad: Yeah, just need to veg. Someone kept me up late and my body feels used and abused

  Riley: That’s a compliment coming from a cockslut like you

  Brad: Fuck off

  Riley: Later

  He put down the phone, a smile still on his face. He loved that he and Brad could have great sex and rib each other about it. So many guys couldn’t separate sex from emotional bullshit if you hit it more than once. There were always guys game for a fast hook-up, but sex was way better when you got to know a person’s body and all its quirks. He’d be willing to bet he made Brad come harder than any one-night stand he pulled. Riley knew the sex was better for him, too. It was the perfect situation with Brad. When he wanted great, reliable sex he went to Brad. When he wanted to try something new, he found a hook-up.

  He got to eat his cake and have it too.

  Except tonight. He kind of wanted another slice of Brad cake. Looked like he’d have to make do.

  He thought about going out or calling up some other friends to see a movie, but he just wasn’t feeling it without his wingman.

  Maybe Brad will be back in fighting – or fucking – form by next weekend.

  Not that Riley couldn’t handle it if Brad needed space. They weren’t boyfriends or anything. They were friends, though. Best friends, even. Riley didn’t like to go too long without a Brad fix, but he was totally fine if Brad needed to recharge.

  He’d find something to do. Someone to entertain him. He had other friends.

  With that thought as consolation, he grabbed his keys and headed out. He’d hit the gym to work out some restless energy, then cruise television channels instead of single guys.

  ***

  Monday was a bitch. Brad was sluggish after a weekend spent wallowing.

  He woke from a fitful doze Saturday after Riley did his run of shame. Brad was in such a funk, he ate allll the carbs. Seriously. There wasn’t a carb to be found in his apartment by the end of the day. He felt bloated and terrible.

  He didn’t shower all weekend. He didn’t exercise, which was a daily need for him — every bit as addicting as sex and alcohol. Instead, he’d languished in bed, unable to erase the negative feelings that he wasn’t enough. Wasn’t sexy enough or smart enough or good enough for Riley.

  He knew logically it was all bullshit. Riley had baggage, and he didn’t get attached to anyone. It had nothing to do with Brad. But that hurt, too. At least if Riley was rejecting Brad for Brad, he’d be treating him differently from all the other guys he fucked and left. As it was, Brad was just a warm body, wasn’t he? Not special enough to reject and not special enough to love.

  Brad wanted Riley to get attached. He wanted Riley to miss him when he was gone and to choose him first, instead of as a last resort, when they went out.

  He could no longer fool himself. He wasn’t even sure he could fool anyone else. Not now that he’d let himself acknowledge the truth: He wanted Riley to be his.

  Plenty of people are sluggish on Mondays, but when your job is to be the peppy aerobics cheerleader guy, it doesn’t work out so well. He couldn’t motivate himself, much less anyone else.

  After class, a slightly overweight but seriously sweet guy named Wes approached. He’d told Brad once he was a lawyer, which was so tough to believe because he was seriously the nicest guy Brad had ever met. He couldn’t imagine him going cutthroat in a trial, but then maybe he was one of those lawyers who wrote up wills and managed estate trusts.

  “Wow, Brad, you make my heart race,” he said.

  Brad chuckled. “How long did you work on that one?”

  Wes had a bit of a crush on Brad. Every class he hit on him with some sort of lame pickup line or joke. He did it with humor, though, and no expectations.

  “Eh, it just came to me. You’re downright inspiring.”

  Brad grinned. “Glad I inspire someone,” he said. A gusty sigh escaped him.

  Wes frowned. “You seemed a little down today. I could almost keep up with you. Are you coming down with something?”

  Brad made a face. “You don’t want to know my drama.”

  “Ah, man trouble.”

  Brad rolled his eyes. “Something like it.”

  “Well, I’m here if you need a rebound,” Wes said. He poked his stomach. “See? I’m bouncy!”

  Brad slapped his arm. “Stick with me and you’ll be hard in no time, babe.”

  Wes laughed. “I better go before I’m embarrassingly hard in front of everyone here. Chin up. I miss my happy Brad.”

  When Wes walked off, Brad grabbed his belongings. He had a break before his next class, and he wanted to spend it alone. He raised his phone, fingers poised to tell Riley all about Wes’s hilarious pickup line. They usually texted off and on through the week, teasing each other and cracking jokes. But today, he hesitated.

  If he’d realized anything over the weekend, it was that he couldn’t continue being Riley’s fallback guy. He had to find the willpower to resist Riley, and until he could do that, it might be easier to withdraw and create a bit of distance.

  Riley would probably want to know why Brad didn’t want to fuck anymore, and that brought a new wash of anxiety. He couldn’t tell Riley how he felt. He’d never understand, and worse, it could kill their entire friendship.

  No. Better to give himself some time and space to think. He’d find a way to keep their friendship and free his heart to attach to someone more willing.

  He slipped his phone into his bag and headed for the break room. Maybe it was time to think about dating instead of picking up. Hell, maybe he should just shock Wes and take him up on one of his offers sometime.

  A nice guy like that would definitely sleep over and eat breakfast.

  Chapter 3

  “Man, I can’t believe how whipped Harry is,” Riley groused as he and Chris walked out of a movie Friday night after parting ways with Harry and his boyfriend Bret.

  Harry used to be like the rest of them, up for a good time when
ever it presented itself. But after he’d met Bret, he’d cashed it in for a relationship. Riley couldn’t understand why anyone would want to do that.

  The sex was probably great. He could understand that part because sex with Brad was awesome. Having sex with him all the time would be no great loss. Cruising for guys could be fun, but it could also be frustrating. It took effort and energy, and then it didn’t always work out as planned. So yeah, maybe the convenient sex would be nice. But spending every waking moment together? Sharing all your meals, sleeping in the same bed every night, asking fucking permission before you went out for a drink or a movie? No, thanks. He liked his freedom — and besides, who needed the fallout when your boyfriend inevitably left you?

  “Yeah, Harry’s a goner,” Chris agreed with a chuckle.

  They’d seen a high-brow art film because Bret wanted to see it, and Harry wanted to please Bret. Chris was game, and Riley went with the flow, wishing Brad was there to back him up. Their tastes ran to the three C’s of cinema: comedy, comic book hero or crime. Bonus points for hot actors. But Brad had been fucking MIA for a week now, not outright saying he was sick, but acting like it. He refused to go out, he didn’t answer Riley’s calls and he only responded to text messages when Riley threatened to send paramedics to his apartment for a life check.

  Riley might have gone over to his place to check on him anyway, but Chris said they’d done lunch during the week and Brad had seemed a bit tired but otherwise okay. He still might go. He needed to see Brad with his own eyes.

  “Who do you think will be next?” Chris asked.

  Riley blinked at him a moment, so distracted by his own thoughts he’d forgotten their subject. Relationships. Right.

  He snorted. “Why does anyone have to be next?”

  “Way of life, I guess. We all settle down eventually.”

  “Think like that, and I’d say you’re next,” Riley said. “You pick out the big bad man you want to tie you down and spank you yet?”

  Chris jabbed him with an elbow. “Shut up!” He hissed. “That was totally humiliating!”

  Riley laughed again as he recalled the hook-up that got out of hand when Chris found himself tied to his bed facedown and spanked until his partner came on his back and then left him there with no joy of his own. Somehow he’d managed to use a foot to unlock his phone and use voice to text. Riley was kind of amazed at his dexterity, actually, and even more so that out of all his friends he’d chosen to ask Riley for help.

  It was funny in retrospect, but it had woken them all up to the dangers of going home with strangers. After that, they made sure to tell one another – in front of their prospective partners – where they were going.

  “You’re an asshole,” Chris grumbled.

  “Harry would have been much nicer about the whole thing,” Riley said.

  “Maybe, but you’d already seen everything. I figured I might as well limit my exposure however I could.”

  Riley and Chris had fucked years ago, before they hung out as friends. It was so long ago, he tended to forget it ever happened.

  Riley snickered. “Man, that was a sight to behold. I almost wish one of our other friends would call me in for a sex rescue.”

  “You’re a sadist,” Chris said. “And you’re just saying that because you want Brad tied up and at your mercy.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Unless you’d like to see Harry—”

  “Fuck no! That’s like wanting to see one of your parents in a compromising position.”

  They tossed their half-full sodas because who could really drink a gallon in one movie? Then headed outside to the car.

  “Harry is the same age as you,” Chris said dryly. “Twenty-eight. Brad’s the baby of the bunch. What is he? Twenty-six?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “Dude, you’re robbing the cradle.”

  “Whatever. I’m just borrowing the cradle on occasion,” he said with a laugh. “But Harry’s practically married. I’m not going anywhere near that.”

  “True. Want to go out for drinks?”

  Riley considered it, but it wasn’t going to be any fun without Brad. Half the entertainment was seeing what outrageous outfit Brad would pull out and how much of his ass cheeks he’d show everyone in the club. Not to mention watching him dance. If the aerobics instructor job didn’t work out, he’d make a great go-go dancer. The man was seriously fit … and flexible.

  “Riley?”

  He jolted to awareness. Thoughts of Brad’s hot body could be distracting. He shifted in his seat.

  “I think I’m gonna head home.”

  “Okay,” Chris said. “Drop me at Ozone?”

  “You don’t want to pick up your car?”

  “Oh, I’m sure I can find a ride.”

  “Just watch out for those daddy types,” Riley teased.

  “You watch out for those wedding bells.”

  “What the fuck?”

  Chris gave him a pointed look. “You were like a lovesick teen missing his boyfriend tonight.”

  “Was not.”

  “Was too.”

  “Was not.”

  “Was—”

  “Not not not not!”

  ***

  Brad was jolted from his zoned-out state in front of the television by a pounding at the front door. He checked the time on his phone: 11:30 p.m.

  Three guesses who that is …

  He struggled with whether to answer. It wasn’t like Riley had done anything wrong, exactly. They’d been friends and fuck buddies a long time. But Brad felt vulnerable around him right now. Like one wrong word and he’d crack, spilling all the feelings that Riley would never want to hear.

  The decision was taken out of his hands when Riley opened the door and strode in, a carton of mint chocolate ice cream in his hand.

  “Hey, brat. You turning anti-social?”

  “No.”

  “Good,” Riley said, heading for his kitchen. Brad stayed on the couch, unwilling to trail after him despite the urge to do exactly that. A moment later Riley reappeared with bowls and spoons, mint chocolate ice cream heaped up and waiting. Brad’s mouth watered at the sight.

  “Fuck knows why you like this crappy flavor, but here it is,” Riley said, handing him a bowl.

  “If it’s so crappy, why are you eating it too?”

  “If I ate something different, it would taste weird when we kissed later.”

  Brad swallowed hard. “About that …”

  “Yeah?”

  Brad shook his head. “I’m not really up for fucking. I would have gone out if I was.”

  Riley studied his face for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then shrugged a shoulder. “Kissing isn’t fucking,” he said.

  “I guess.”

  To prove his point, Riley leaned in and pecked a playful kiss to his lips. “See? No fucking in sight.”

  Brad rolled his eyes. “Fine, but why are you here? Shouldn’t you be out looking for an easy lay?”

  His words came out more sharply than he intended. Riley’s eyes narrowed on his face before he answered.

  “Not in the mood for an easy lay.”

  Brad turned his attention to his ice cream, spooning in the mint chocolate and savoring the flavor. He couldn’t explain why he liked it either. He almost didn’t like it. The first moment it hit his tongue, the flavor was strange — something foreign he didn’t experience anywhere else. In the next moment, he craved more. So he ate spoonful after spoonful, humming appreciatively and licking off the spoon after he’d eaten it all.

  Riley sat quietly next to him the whole time. As Brad licked the final drop of ice cream from the spoon, Riley’s hand landed on his thigh and squeezed.

  “Fuck,” Riley said, “you’re so hot.”

  Brad turned to him, startled. He’d been enjoying his ice cream, not trying to seduce Riley. But he seemed to have gotten him all hot and bothered. He glanced down at his lap, seeing the huge erection tenting his jeans, and he couldn’t help himsel
f: He licked his lips.

  Riley pulled him into a cold, minty kiss. Their tongues slipped and slid together, and Brad moaned into Riley’s mouth. He’d missed this.

  Missed everything about Riley.

  All the times over the past week that he’d wanted to call. Wanted to text, even. Share funny tidbits of his day or just check in to see what Riley was doing. The way his body had craved exactly this, but he’d been too afraid to see Riley and he hadn’t wanted anybody else. That was fucking weird after so many years of casual sex, but once his heart decided to deliver the fatal news that it was in love with Riley, all bets were off.

  Brad couldn’t fool himself anymore. He hoped like hell he could fool Riley, though. At least for one more night.

  When Riley pushed him down on the sofa and covered his body, Brad surrendered.

  ***

  The sex was weird.

  Not bad, Riley thought, but different. Each kiss seemed to linger, lips clinging and caressing more than bruising and nipping at each other. Brad’s touch was almost tentative as his hands slid under Riley’s shirt and along his flanks. Riley savored the touch in a way that was new too. He chalked it up to the full week they’d been apart. They’d gone that long, and longer, without sex before, but it had been a long time since they’d gone so long without seeing each other as friends. Talking on the phone or texting or hitting a movie. Riley was used to Brad being a part of his life every day.

  He pulled back and slid off his shirt, then turned his attention to getting Brad out of his clothes. They kissed again, getting lost for long moments, before he remembered he was supposed to be moving this toward something more.

  He wrestled off Brad’s shirt, taking the time to pull each of his nipple rings into his mouth, tugging until Brad cried out and clutched at his hair. That was the stuff. He moved on, kissing down Brad’s stomach and across his hips as he tugged down his pants. He loved making Brad squirm under him, desperate for more.