Mike had been back to the Jungle three times, once even at night, but no matter how many men he looked at, none of them attracted him like Johnny. Several times he was flirted with or out right hit on and he found that the pickup tactics that the men used were not at all that different than what he had used to pick up chicks.
As flattered as he was by the attention from the men, they just didn't do anything for him. He was seriously starting to doubt that he was gay but he could not make any sense of how he felt toward Johnny or why his body reacted the way it did when his best friend made innuendos, which just happened to be all the damn time. Mike gave up trying to figure it all out.
He was done with work early and after a shitty shift, all he wanted was a beer. If he wasn't in uniform, he would have hit up the bar, maybe even the Jungle, but that wasn't an option so he would just go home and be content with a cold one from his own fridge.
Mike let himself into the house and didn't see Johnny in front of the TV. He wasn't too surprised since his best friend sometimes took a nap after his PT sessions. So, Mike just made his way to the fridge to grab a cold one. He drank his beer as he climbed the stairs, a shower the next thing on his to do list before he made them dinner.
Mike was going over the ingredients to make meatloaf in his head as he stepped into his bedroom and stopped dead in his tracks. The beer that was halfway to his lips slipped from his fingers and crashed to the floor, shattering glass everywhere, but he did not notice.
His full attention was on the sight before him, on his best friend who was lying in his bed practically naked. Johnny was splayed on his bed, T-shirt pulled up to show his six pack and one small dark nipple while his track pants were pushed down to mid thigh. His head was tilted back exposing his corded neck as his hand stroked his cock furiously.
Johnny's eyes opened slightly and seemed to lock on Mike as his leg muscles tensed and his toes curled in pleasure before hot stream after stream of cum exploded from his cock to cover him.
Everything happened so fast. Johnny seemed to get off just as the beer bottle shattered on the floor. It was like a train wreck that Mike could not look away from and that he knew Johnny could not stop. Mike's eyes remained glued to the streams of white that were now mixing with sweat and all he wanted to do was run his tongue along those cum-gutters.
"Shit!" Mike exclaimed and time seemed to reassert itself as he turned on his heel. The image of Johnny getting off on his bed would be forever burned into his retinas and into his mind.
Mike couldn't take his ass downstairs fast enough and when he reached his kitchen he paused, arms on the counter to hold himself up. He couldn't get the image out of his head and his cock throbbed painfully, the head pushing stubbornly against his equipment belt. All he could do was breathe and close his eyes but the image would not go away.
Fuck! Mike released his belt and laid it on the counter before pulling the Velcro straps to undo his Kevlar vest with the hopes that he could breathe better. It didn't help. He needed something to do, something to take his mind off the image of his best friend that would just not stop replaying itself before his eyes.
Food. Mike pulled out the makings for the meatloaf and tried to focus... Bell peppers, onions, shredded cheese, bread crumbs, ground beef, eggs. Everything he needed. He didn't remember removing his vest or getting the cutting board and knife. Mike dumped the diced onions on top of the ground beef and wondered how he would face his brother without his body betraying him. He had no clue.
"Hey bro," Johnny's voice reached him from the kitchen archway as he dumped the bell pepper into the bowl but he didn't turn around.
Just make dinner. Don't think about it. It was useless. All he could do was think about it and even if he could focus on dinner, his aching cock would be a reminder.
"What's the grub tonight?" Johnny asked and Mike felt him move into the room as he added the breadcrumbs to the mix. "Meatloaf, huh?"
Johnny was looking over his shoulder and Mike felt like he had to shield his groin from view. "Yeah," Mike replied.
Add eggs. Mix. Just get the fucking thing in the oven.
"Go relax and watch TV," Mike suggested and tensed when he felt Johnny's hand settle between his shoulder blades.
"Sorry about that," Johnny said softly and there was no doubt in Mike's mind what he was apologizing for.
"It's all good." Mike lied as he formed the loaf and put it into a pan. There was no way to put it into the oven without turning around. Johnny was between him and the damn stove. "Dinner in about forty-five," Mike said without turning.
"You okay, bro?" Johnny asked and sounded genuinely concerned.
"Yeah," Mike replied but still didn't turn. "Rough shift."
That seemed to satisfy Johnny because he moved his walker back and Mike didn't feel nearly as trapped anymore.
"Take a shower, bro. That usually helps." Johnny said and Mike could almost hear the grin in his voice.
Fuck, how can he not know what he is doing to me? Or does he? Mike gave himself a mental shake at the stupidity of his thought.
"Good plan," Mike said and chanced to look at his best friend without turning his body around.
"Always is," Johnny retorted as he turned and began to maneuver toward the living room. "Just put the grub in the oven first, eh?"
Mike waited until he was sure Johnny was settled in the living room before he threw the meatloaf in the oven and bee lined for the stairs.
Chapter 8
Mike cleaned up the mess from his shattered beer bottle before he jumped in the shower. The shower hadn't really helped. Even after getting off and standing under the cold water, Mike felt like he was a teenager whose hormones had run amok.
They ate dinner with the usual amount of small talk about Mike's shit shift and Johnny's brutal physical therapist. So domestic it was scary. Mike's mind was split between their usual banter and trying to banish the image of Johnny on his bed. He thought he was succeeding until he found himself on the couch and out of the blue Johnny gave him a proposal.
"Bro, you know you don't need to be sleeping on this couch."
Mike's dick twitched as the image of lying in bed with his best friend flashed through his mind. "We've already talked about this, Johnny." Mike reminded him. "You know I am all over the place when I sleep and you need your rest." Mike had always been a mover when he slept and Johnny used to bust his balls about being a bed hog the few times they were forced to share as kids.
"Bro, I know you love this big assed couch for watching the games but you can't tell me that is comfortable to sleep on night after night." Johnny argued. "Hell, the few times I've passed out here my back was screaming the next day."
"That was because your ass was hung over, not because of my couch," Mike lied.
"Whatever, bro." Johnnie grunted. "Suit yourself. It's your back."
My sanity, Mike thought.
***
Two more weeks passed with Johnny being Johnny and Mike battling his constant arousal from his brother's presence. It was a Saturday and Mike was finishing the drywall in the second bedroom and bath when Johnny appeared in the door precariously balancing two beers.
"You're looking hot there, bro." Johnny grinned and Mike grunted as he drove the last nail into the panel of drywall he was hanging.
Mike didn't read anything into Johnny's comment as it was just another one that could have multiple meanings depending on who heard it and what they wanted to make out of it.
Johnny was moving around with only the help of the crutch, thanks to his physical therapy. For the most part he was mobile again and he had stopped taking his pain meds over a week ago. Technically, he could go back to his apartment but as much as it tortured Mike to have his best friend living with him, he wasn't ready for him to go home yet.
"Thanks," Mike said as he took the cold beer from his brother's hand. He ignored the brief contact their fingers made as the bottle passed between them. He was getting good at that. "I needed this." Mike took a long
swig from his beer and rubbed the sweat from his brow with his forearm.
"You should let me help," Johnny said as he leaned on his crutch and brought his beer to his lips. Mike looked away so we wouldn't watch his best friend's throat as he swallowed.
"I'm good." Mike took another swig of his beer." You just keep playing waitress."
Johnny snorted. "You wish I was that hot."
I don't need to wish, bro.
Instead of replying, Mike killed his beer. He leaned over to place his bottle on the floor and rose too fast as he turned back to the room. He wasn't paying attention and stumbled over the toolbox at his feet. Before he had a chance to catch his balance, Johnny's firm grip grabbed hold of his arm. It wasn't until Mike was done stumbling and had regained his balance that he noticed how close Johnny was. Not only close but standing on his own without the aid of his crutches. One of Johnny's hands had a hold of Mike's arm while the other had wrapped itself around his waist to steady him.
"You're such a klutz," Johnny said and laughed. "And not even drunk yet." Johnny busted his balls and even though Mike had regained his balance, did not and let go.
Mike felt every inch of Johnny that was touching him and his body responded without thought. The warmth of Johnny's body next to his did not help and Mike tried to focus through his arousal. Something was not right. He glanced over Johnny shoulder to see his abandoned crutch lying on the floor... Too far away from Johnny to have reached him so quickly.
Mike wrenched himself out of the supporting embrace and turned to face his best friend. Johnny stood before him, barely in the renovated bedroom, and at least had the grace to look guilty. The look Mike gave his brother must have conveyed the surprise and shock he felt at his brother's quick and unassisted movement.
"Adrenaline," Johnny said as he appeared to stand solidly without the assistance of the crutch and Mike knew it for the lie that it was.
"How long?" Mike asked as he stood away from his best friend and tried to figure out if he was pissed off at being deceived or relieved that his brother was better.
Johnny glanced away before mumbling, "Almost two weeks."
"Why?" Mike was trying to wrap his mind around why his best friend would fake dependency.
Johnny shrugged and offered no answer which left Mike even more confused. He was at a loss for words and had no idea what to do so he just stood there. When Johnny didn't offer any more in way of an explanation, Mike frowned.
"I need another drink," Mike grumbled and pushed his way past Johnny to head down the stairs.
Once in his kitchen, Mike grabbed another beer and the bottle of Jack out of the cabinet. His confusion was quickly turning to anger at being lied to by his brother. As much as he knew that drinking anything stronger than a beer was a bad idea, he didn't stop himself from pouring a few fingers of the amber liquor into a tumbler.
Mike's surprise, shock, whatever, had worn off but in its place anger simmered. He couldn't understand why Johnny would fake the extent of his mobility. It was not like he would kick his brother out or anything even though his presence was both mental and physical torture to him sometimes.
Mike took the shot of Jack and enjoyed the burn as he contemplated what the hell was going on with his best friend. Three shots and two beers later, Mike looked up to see Johnny standing in the archway to the kitchen. His mind was comfortably numb from the booze and he had not come to any conclusions as he looked at his best friend. He wasn't even sure why he had such an urge to drink.
Johnny looked forlorn and uncertain as he stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. Mike only spared a glance before killing the Jack he had poured into the tumbler again.
"Look," Johnny began but Mike didn't raise his gaze from his bottle of Bud Light. "I just wasn't ready to go back to my place yet."
Mike spun his bottle of Bud between his fingers and wasn't sure what to say, if anything. He poured himself another shot, if for no other reason then to drown out the totally insane explanations his mind was giving him on why Johnny wanted to stay in his house. Mike remained silent and did not look up to his best friend. His mind went on with the possibilities of why his brother was lying and wanting to stay with him. As much as his heart and body wished that by some grace of God that his brother felt the same way, his mind knew better.
"What's the deal, bro?" Johnny said as he grabbed the beer from the fridge. "You've never kicked me out before."
Mike didn't look up as Johnny sat at the table across from him. Mike remained silent as Johnny took the shot from in front him and drank it down before pouring another. The silence drowned on and Mike finally took the shot that his brother had poured. No sooner had the tumbler rested upon the table the Johnny refill it with a shot.
"No, I haven't," Mike finally said. "Why would you think I would now?"
"Bro, you've been acting strange for months now." Johnny replied and Mike was too relaxed by the alcohol to tense for change. "You won't tell me what is up and blow me off when I ask."
Mike finished his beer and grabbed another from the fridge before he sat down and eyed the shot in front him.
"I'm worried about you, bro." The concern in Johnny's voice was almost more than Mike could handle so he reached for the shot and slammed it back. "You shut me out. I don't know how to deal with that. We've always shared everything."
Not everything. Mike took a swig of his beer.
"There is nothing to share," Mike replied and ignored his brothers intense stare. "I haven't shut you out." No. Not at all. Only to the point where I struggle not to become hard in your presence.
"I'm throwing the bullshit flagged down again, Mikey." Johnny replied. "I thought with enough time, you would tell me what the fuck the problem is."
Mike avoided the comment by pouring himself another shot. He knew it was a bad idea but the booze was the only way he could mute his desire toward his brother and tried to navigate the minefield that Johnny was forcing him to walk.
"There is no bullshit flagged to throw," Mike lied and hoped he was believable.
Johnny didn't buy it. "Something is wrong, Mikey. All I want to do is help."
Oh, you wouldn't say that if you knew.
Mike took another drink from his beer and finished the shot in front him. The booze continued to numb him and it was a welcome feeling. Numbness was preferred over the constant fight to resist his urge to touch Johnny in ways that no best friend or brother would. As the burning of the booze started to fade Mike thought, there is no help.
"What the fuck does that mean?" Johnny asked and Mike realized he had spoken aloud.
"It means nothing. Absolutely nothing. Nothing means nothing," Mike thought he replied and decided that he shouldn't say or even think anything else or he might just bare his soul and lose the only person that mattered to him.
***
Warmth. It was the first thing registered in Mike's mind. He was warm. Warmer than he should be. As consciousness crept slowly back to him, his pounding had decided to make an appearance. Without even opening his eyes, Mike knew that the throbbing pain in his brain was a hangover. Self-preservation made him remain still as he slowly came back to himself. Hangovers were nothing new but normally he wasn't so hot after a good drunk.
Mike started to move his leg, to kick the blanket away, and that was when he realized he wasn't alone. His eyes flew open only to be rewarded with light piercing into his brain. Fuck that hurt.
As Mike willed the pain to go away, he realized he was in the bed and not sleeping on his couch. He tried to recall the night before but all he could remember was that Johnny had lied to him and he had started drinking. Mike did not remember going anywhere and was pretty sure Johnny wouldn't have let him drive in that state. So, that had to mean he was in his own bed. Damn his head was pounding and he struggled to make sense of how he got into the bed and even more so, of how a warm body came to be currently sweating him out. There was only one person that could be in the bed with him.
; Fuck! Maybe this is all a dream and once I wake up I'll be down on the couch.
Mike cracked his eyes open and waited for the light to ice pick his brain again. The wait wasn't long and the pain wasn't nearly as bad. Mike focused his bleary eyes his and the first thing he saw was a tone arm thrown over his waist. How had he not noticed that before? Like he was in a dream, his eyes followed the arm to the body it belonged to and a groan escaped through his barely parted lips.
There was no mistaking the top of the head he saw. Johnny's blond hair was getting long and overdue for a cut. His best friend was snuggled down into the blankets where Mike's chest was and all Mike could see was his hair. Oh shit!
Mike began to panic even as his cock started to harden. Johnny was lying on his side and pressed against the length of Mike's body. Now that Mike was wide awake, he realized it was the heat of Johnny's bare skin touching his own that was making him hot.
Mike thought of all of the times he had thought about having his best friend in bed with him but now all he wanted to do was get away now that it had happened.
Oh shit, did anything actually happen? Mike's panic hit a new high and he groaned again as his breathing increased.
"Bro, the puke bucket is on the floor," Johnny sleepy voice sounded loud to Mike ears. "Don't puke on me."
Johnny grumbled but didn't move his arm from Mike's waist and Mike was afraid to move because there was no way his best friend wouldn't feel his erection. Mike groaned again as his panic made him nauseous. Mike closed his eyes and prayed not to puke.
"Fuck bro," Johnny's head popped out from under the covers and Mike felt his rough hand trail across his mid-drift to rest on a hip. Even through the waves of nausea that told Mike he was definitely going to get sick, his cock throbbed under the touch.
"Roll," Johnny commanded and pushed on his hip to get him moving.
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