Jo groaned and leaned in to lick some of the red jam off Mr. B’s lip. It exploded with a rich kind of sweet and sour, urging him to all but push the rest of the donut into Mr. B’s mouth. It all fit in, but Mr. B looked up at him, cheeks full and reddish like a ripe apple. He seemed happy with himself, even though he couldn’t speak.
“This is my guilty pleasure. You look so happy when you eat.”
Mr. B moaned and tickled Jo under the arm all of a sudden, making him fight to keep the donut box stable.
“Oh no, let me put them down at least!” Jo cried, breathlessly struggling against the urge to just drop the box and curl up to protect himself.
Mr. B grumbled something through the donut he was chewing, and didn’t stop his assault, but Jo managed to put the box on the side.
“Happy when I eat?” Mr. B asked in outrage once he finally managed to swallow. “You’ll regret this!”
Jo cried out, rolling into a ball to protect the sensitive spots on his body. The uneven ground punched at him through the blankets, but with Mr. B’s hands pushing against his ribs and squeezing his stomach, he could hardly breathe from forced laughter.
“Stop! Oh, God! No!”
Mr. B sat back on his heels in the end, panting and grinning like a madman. He must have only now remembered to tuck his dick back into his pants, because he was just zipping up. “Served you right. What you really want is to sabotage my Crossfit goals.”
Jo lay flat on the ground and laughed, patting Mr, B’s arm with his foot. “Crossfit is for health, but the donuts... those are for the looks,” he said, knowing he was smiling like an idiot. He couldn’t help it. Were Mr. B a hunk with chiseled muscle, Jo would likely fall for him too, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t prefer him so gloriously thick all over.
“Donuts are for looks?” Mr. B shook his head. “I guess I have to have another one then.” He grabbed one from the box and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth with his eyes so smily Jo could barely see the whites.
He kneeled and hugged Mr. B from behind, pulling him to half sit, half lie in Jo’s lap, his head propped against Jo’s chest. “You just look so delicious.”
Mr. B stroked Jo’s thigh. “What do you mean though? All jokes aside, I don’t really wanna get like one of those people who can’t leave their bed.”
Jo scowled and rested his chin on top of Mr. B’s head, but he couldn’t stop his palm from appreciatively petting Mr. B’s stomach. It was so adorably soft to the immediate touch, and he could sense a padding of hair through the shirt too. “I’m not a feeder. I’m just not like... into those chiseled guys with 0 percent body fat.”
Mr. B grinned widely. “That works. For you, I can keep my fat. But not because I love donuts at all. Just for you.”
Jo shouldn’t feel honored and gooey inside, but he kinda did. “You’re the greatest. When I touch you, I feel like you’re this... real guy, you know? Not a weird mountain of muscle who weighs his every meal and gets fake tan.” He kissed Mr. B’s forehead and started gently swiping off the crumbs and broken glazing pieces off Mr. B’s beard.
“You on the other hand…” Mr. B looked at Jo with such awe it was making Jo’s stomach roll with happiness. “You’re so cool on the outside. With the topknot, and the clothes… You have this serious resting face. So I love to know that with me, you’re such a goof. When someone sees you in the street, they have no idea. But I know.”
Jo’s heart burned, and he embraced Mr. B tighter, pulling close one of the folded blankets. “I am all in now. Sorry you had to wait until I came to my senses.”
Mr. B passed Jo one of the sticks with a marshmallow at the end. “Are you sure though?” He wasn’t laughing anymore. “This could change your life in a big way. What I feel for you, Jo… I can’t be half-in, half-out with you. I know you came out on the jam label, and that’s really cute, and you totally melted me, but I want a serious boyfriend.”
Jo scowled. “Dude, I came out to my ex and had to listen to her comment about why I liked her fucking my ass. Nothing’s gonna be as scary,” he said, leaning against Mr. B and hovering three marshmallows over the fire. “Or so I thought—”
Mr. B snorted. “Oh, yeah? What was even more scary?”
Jo pursed his lips, watching the hot glow dance over Mr. B’s face. He could sense the fire’s pleasant heat at his jaw, and neck, and exposed arms. “I take it you’ve been too busy to check your social media tonight.”
“I’m still working on getting the Wi-Fi.”
Jo licked his lips, increasingly nervous now that he once again thought about the things he left behind in town when he came to hide away in Mr. B’s train. “I didn’t just make this label. Juniper also helped me set up a website for the brand. And I shared it everywhere,” he said, wishing he had some liquor to soothe the nervous ache in his throat. “My phone got so crazy with notifications I needed to turn it off altogether.”
Mr. B’s eyes went wide, and he put his gooey marshmallow between two pieces of sourdough bread that had been toasting on a rock by the fire. As soon as his hands were free, he hugged Jo tightly. “Oh, my God! Jo. What if I didn’t take you back?” he asked, but his voice made it clear he was just teasing. Jo hadn’t thought about that option, and his stomach clenched so tightly from just pondering it that he needed to curl up further.
“Then I’d have to disconnect and move to the East Coast.”
Mr. B laughed out loud, stroking his arm. “I guess that would be the only option you’d have left. I’m impressed though. I was fifty-fifty at best about you being willing to be with me for real.” He leaned away to add Nutella to the pseudo-s’more and passed it to Jo like a reward.
Jo pressed his lips into a thin line and pulled the sandwich to his chest. It stung to hear that Mr. B really doubted his feelings in the long run. “I fucked up hard, didn’t I?”
Mr. B made another sandwich for himself, almost as if he simply wanted to avoid looking into Jo’s eyes. “I don’t know if it’s your fault. I thought I could go with the flow, be the cool and chilled out guy, but I’m not. I’m not the guy who will be happy in an open relationship...or escorting for that matter. I don’t like sex with strangers, and I like to know that the person I’m with is really with me.”
Jo bit into the sandwich, closing his eyes with pleasure when the sweetness intermingled with the dry taste of the bread, and the crunch of its crust. “It is my fault if I made you feel like we weren’t real.”
The coziness under the blanket, next to the fire, with no Wi-Fi, and the scent of pine around them, made Jo feel like any secret could be revealed.
“I’ve kinda made up with Mr. A today.”
The statement was like needles scratching against Jo’s skin—not outright hurting it but irritating nevertheless. “Oh? Made up as in...” Please, don’t tell me you fucked, cried Jo’s brain, but he kept himself steady. Or so he hoped.
Mr. B likely had no idea of the anxiety he’d caused, because he just lazily chewed his sandwich, watching the flames like the God of all lumberjacks. “We talked. Seriously. He made me realize that I’ve been pining for you long before he suggested we open up our relationship.”
Jo exhaled loudly and closed his eyes. “Oh, okay. But... you two are definitely over?” he asked in the end, biting more of his sandwich and wondering if he should get more marshmallows toasted.
Mr. B frowned. “What? Of course. We’ve been over for longer than we’ve been over… I mean, what I’m saying is that this thing with you... I want it to be more. We might have been sexual with each other for only over a month, but I feel like we’ve been dancing around each other for much longer. I—” Mr. B licked his lips. “How would you feel about moving in with me?”
Jo gave a surprised chuckle, for a moment not knowing what to answer. He knew several people who’d take this chance to make a joke about lesbian couples and U-Hauls in response to such a question, but Mr. B looked at him with such hope, such sincerity that for a moment he was deemed speech
less. Did he want to spend all the time in the world with Mr. B? Yes. Did he want to spend over an hour riding his bike to work every morning? That was a tough one. But then again, he wasn’t living that close to his workplace now either. They could move into town at some point, too. He also could try to negotiate with his boss and work from home on some days if Mr. B finally sorted out the Wi-Fi.
Wait. Was he really considering this after just over a month of being a sort-of-couple?
Mr. B kissed Jo’s cheek, which only made focusing on all those questions harder. “Jo? I’m sorry if I’ve sprung this on you too quickly. But visiting Mr. A made me remember how good it felt to know that this other person would be waiting for me in a place we both called home. Even though Mr. A and I drifted apart much sooner than we actually broke up, I lied to you when I said I didn’t care. I was hurting, because this massive part of my life crumbled, and even though I don’t miss Mr. A romantically, I missed all the things we used to do as a couple. The breakfasts, the showers together, not having to do everything myself around the house.”
Jo exhaled, watching Mr. B for the longest moment. He had all those doubts, but hadn’t he had them every time his relationships had gotten serious in the past? With Mr. B, he really knew what he was getting into, having already known him as a friend for a long time. And when he imagined himself in the vision presented by Mr. B, it did feel good. Cozy, warm, with a Christmas tree on one end of the train car in winter. Gosh, they needed a more efficient heating system, were they to live here full-time.
“Will you be doing my laundry? I really hate it.”
Mr. B snorted and started laughing. “You shit! I open up my soul to you, and you’re worried about who’s gonna do your laundry? Yes, I’ll do your laundry, if you take out the trash.”
“Fine,” said Jo and grabbed Mr. B’s hand, shaking it firmly before tugging it to his lips on impulse. The rough knuckles rubbed against his lips when he kissed them, one after another.
Mr. B’s eyes glistened in the yellow glow of the fire, so rich with excitement and happiness they made Jo’s heart skip a beat. “You think your mom will be happy, or annoyed that you’re not moving to a ‘real house’?”
Jo smirked and put down the sandwich to lean closer, opening Mr. B’s palm and nudging it with his nose. “You can see for yourself when we go to her’s for lunch on Sunday.”
“Are you okay with that? I don’t want to impose… Then again, you have come out on a jam website, so I guess that’s settled, right?” Mr. B stroked Jo’s hair.
Jo looked up at him, and his heart clenched with pure emotion. This amazing man wanted to be with him, ready to entrust his heart into Jo’s hands, despite all the times Jo had disappointed him in the past, despite knowing of the many times Jo had walked out of relationships when they got too serious. Those kinds of fuckups needed to end now. Jo could not play with Mr. B’s feelings. For the first time in his life, he felt he needed to be completely real. It was a responsibility that scared him, but he would meet it head-on and make sure Mr. B never fell out of love with him.
“Nothing makes a relationship as steady as a jam label,” said Jo, smirking.
Mr. B leaned closer for a kiss that Jo felt he’d waited for too long. The sweet taste of marshmallow and chocolate spread was still on his lips as he invited Mr. B’s tongue to explore, yet then he couldn’t wait and was the one to overpower the kiss.
He leaned in and felt Mr. B give, until they both lay on the blankets, stretched out by the buzzing fire, lips locked, arms wandering all over, looking for places that still remained unexplored. Mr. B’s knee rubbed against Jo’s side, prompting him to come closer, to rock their hips together and have the beard teasing his neck as they kissed.
“I promise to work on this. I won’t get lazy about us,” he whispered, suddenly needing to reassure Mr. B that their relationship would not quietly disintegrate like his previous one, with Mr. A.
Mr. B smiled into the kiss. “Me too. We will be other people’s #relationshipgoals. We’ll start a Jornard Instagram.”
Jo laughed and pushed his fingers into Mr. B’s thick hair, locking his head between his elbows and slowly but surely rolling his hips against him. “Promise you’ll tell me if some handsome guy catches your eye at Crossfit, so that I can dispose of him in due time,” he said, smiling, even though knowing their history it was something that irked him. He did not want to be another Mr. A.
Mr. B wrapped both legs around Jo’s hips, engulfing him in the beefy thighs, and making Jo’s thoughts increasingly frantic between having a serious conversation, and wanting, needing, to fuck. “Jo, we’re on a jam label together. That’s commitment.”
Jo laughed and grabbed one of Mr. B’s thighs, massaging it where it squeezed around his waist. “Changing the topic, I see,” he said and pulled on Mr. B’s lips with his teeth.
Mr. B wrapped his thick, inked arms around Jo’s neck. “You’re the only handsome guy I notice at Crossfit, or anywhere else.”
Jo’s heart melted, as if Mr. B had smothered it with gooey marshmallows. He rubbed his cheek against Mr. B’s beard and trailed soft yet urgent kisses all over his neck, which felt warm and sensitive after the shave it had been subjected to just hours earlier. “I’m counting on it.”
“I’m so relieved I won’t be fucking some ‘William’ tonight. This really drove home I don’t want anyone else.” Mr. B rocked his hips against Jo, and just hearing him talk of fucking had Jo’s excitement spiking. He was glad they had a quick fix before, because he might have not lasted long otherwise, since just imagining how tight and soft Mr. B’s ass would be had his blood pumping faster.
“That’s right. It’s gonna be just me from now on,” Jo whispered, raising the front of his body while keeping his crotch firmly pressed against Mr. B’s ass, hips settled between the thick thighs. In this position, Jo could see all of his lover, from the flush on his cheeks to the erection starting to form in his jeans once more.
He pulled his fingers through the chest hair uncovered by the open buttons of Mr. B’s shirt, all the way down to where the folds of fabric were gathered by the buttons. “Open it.”
Mr. B’s smile became a bit smug as he pulled his arms off Jo’s neck to fulfill the request in an agonizingly slow motion. “Are the donuts working yet?” he wiggled his eyebrows.
Jo snorted and gave Mr. B’s thigh a gentle slap. “You’re such a shit. Sure, mock my tastes. Why not?” He leaned down, licking his way up Mr. B’s breastbone. The coarse hair tickled his tongue, but he groaned, sensing the salty taste of Mr. B’s skin.
“No, it’s great. I get to eat donuts, and you have to sweat it out at Crossfit twice as much. Works for me.” Mr. B arched under him, tensing his thighs around Jo, as if he wanted to remind him that he was open and ready for anything Jo wanted to do. His whole body was such a treat Jo barely knew where to start touching and kissing.
Watching the pecs that emerged from the open shirt, he started slowly humping Mr. B’s buttocks, eyes fixed on the flesh that was strong and yet slightly plump, like the most delicious of pastries. His hands rubbed against the backs of Mr. B’s thighs, experimentally spreading his them to whet his appetite for what he intended to do later. The woolen socks stuck out of Mr. B’s boots, teasing him with images that existed only in his mind.
“Is that so...”
“There’s a reason why I jerk off thinking of you.” Mr. B arched up and lapped at Jo’s lips. Many of Jo’s past girlfriends had technically been much chubbier than Mr. B even in his plumpest phases, but none of them were as big as him. Taller, so wide in the shoulders, his body was a feast Jo wanted to smother his face with.
Jo’s breath caught, and he turned his head to kiss the denim-clad calf before pulling away just enough to comfortably access the hiking boots. His fingers brushed over the soft wool of the socks before carefully unwinding the laces. His first instinct was to toss the boot away, but he didn’t want to damage Mr. B’s things, so he put it down by the blanket, pulling
the long foot against his neck. “I have this porn drawing on my computer, of a guy in just those thick socks, and with his hard dick peeking out from his underwear. He reminds me of you every time I look at it.”
“That’s why you wanted me in the socks?” Mr. B snorted, but raised himself on his elbows. “Let me take off my boots then. I can’t leave you wanting, can I? What do you like about it?”
Jo grinned and pulled off the other boot before carefully placing back Mr. B’s foot on the blanket and leaning forward. “They make you look so cozy. Like it’s winter and you want to fuck but are too cold to take them off.”
Mr. B’s smile widened. “That is so ridiculous. I don’t mind though. I already told you I’m a pleaser.” He curled his toes in the sock against Jo’s neck, right under the ear, starting a fire that traveled to Jo’s balls in a flash.
“Oh, fuck, that feels so good,” he whispered, quickly opening Mr. B’s pants again and tugging them down. “That’s right. You in just your socks, wrapped in a blanket, and drinking hot cocoa. I am so kinky.”
Mr. B’s breath quickened as soon as the jeans were off along with the ax-patterned briefs, and his dick was out in the warm summer air, hard and ready. “If your kink is keeping me cozy and fed with donuts, I don’t mind one bit.”
Jo groaned, moving his hands over the thick thighs, possessively curling his fingers into the flesh. He wanted all this for himself. He didn’t want to ever let go, and the world needed to deal with it. “Touch your dick, babe,” he whispered, watching his lover lie on the blankets, naked except for the socks and the open shirt that already rolled off one of his shoulders. He looked deliciously dishevelled, but by the time Jo was done with him tonight, there would be no trace of order remaining anywhere on Mr. B.
Mr. B bit his lip, pulling a big pillow under his back before wrapping his fingers around his cock. “Like this?” he slowly pumped his tool up and down. Jo could hardly bear that he’d been missing out on this part of Mr. B. That they’d been just friends when Mr. B might have been open to be this sexual with him all along. But then again, maybe if they had gotten together too early, their bond would not be as strong as it was.
Hipster Brothel (contemporary gay romance) Page 13