Whereas this isn't weird?
Until Jamie said it, it hadn’t occurred to Dylan that what he had in mind was weird. Continuing with more of the same on Sunday morning made perfect sense if you enjoyed it the night before. Dylan hadn’t considered how this might affect their friendship and he felt Jamie’s doubt hit him with physical force, like a tidal wave breaking on the last of the seawall defenses.
"Sorry mate. It’s all right if you don’t want to mess about this morning. We can get breakfast and forget it. I didn’t mean to weird you out." Dylan stilled his hand and held his dick instead of stroking. He wondered whether to pull on clothes or jump in the shower and sort out his erection in private.
A silence seemed to stretch out across the whole morning even though it lasted only seconds, until Jamie pushed the duvet off him and sat up. "No. I’m fine. I like your plan." Jamie evidently felt the same. Previously hidden under the duvet, his erection glistened with precum, ripe for sucking. "I think you should come back to bed, Dylan. We did last night so, yeah. We're both single. Why not?"
On his next breath, Dylan let out a slight whimper. Why not indeed. There was no good answer.
Much as he was always up for casual cock sucking, that wasn't his only motivation. After last night, he knew how good Jamie tasted, not just his cock and his cum. Though that was fucking delicious and the same, unfortunately, can't be said for all men. More than once, when a guy turned out to taste not so good, Dylan had gone from hyper turned-on to gagging on an unexpected prickly bitterness and trying politely to hide it.
Walking around the bed to Jamie’s side, Dylan didn’t plan to await a further invitation. Without hesitation, he climbed on top of Jamie, slipping legs between each other and taking hold of his hands as if they were regular lovers. Their fingers knitted together and Dylan held Jamie’s hands down on the pillow, either side of his head.
Chest to chest, stomach to stomach, groin to groin. Warm skin against warm skin. Comfortably, they slotted together and kissed. The flavor of desire and passion. The effect: Dylan’s entire body throbbed with need, greater than expected. Dicks brushed and squashed against stomachs.
Casual sex had never been like this before. There was a chemistry between them. Dylan recognized it. Had sensed it the night before and couldn’t ignore it this morning. There were metaphorical fireworks when they got close enough to touch, taste, and smell. His body buzzed with desire and all varieties of yes, please, fuck me.
Releasing his grip on Jamie, Dylan raised his body slightly and moved a hand between them. His cock ached for attention, but he was filled with the need to taste Jamie’s as soon as it was in hand.
Desire for Jamie’s cock in his mouth competed with the very real pleasure gained from kissing. Dylan’s tongue had discovered Heaven in Jamie’s mouth, and it was reluctant to leave.
Who’d have thought there could be this physical attraction between them? Weird? Yes, the magnetism between them was very fucking weird. Jamie wasn’t Dylan’s type, not in that way. Or was he? Because Dylan couldn’t understand what he felt at that moment. More than something casual between buddies.
With his hands free, Jamie took control. They rolled together, propelled from below, until Jamie was on top with their mouths still sealed tightly.
It was fucking weird just how much Jamie turned him on, but Dylan wasn’t going to spend time thinking about it when he could act on it. His hips thrust up of their own accord so he gripped both of their dicks together.
Pulling his head away, Jamie finally broke their kiss. With lips wet and slightly puffed, his face a little flushed, and sexual arousal burning in his eyes.
Recognizable: mutual fucking desire.
Deep breath: fuck me.
Casual hookups were never like this.
The ideas didn’t solidify into words Dylan could actually use.
Jamie was sucking on a nipple. Not sucking. Nibbling. With teeth. Biting.
Groaning with pleasure, of course, Dylan didn’t have sentences. Just solitary words: "Oh. My. Fucking. God." Punctuated by his breath. And if his words didn’t give him away, he was damn sure his body did.
He could feel the precum flowing from his cock, which was now in Jamie’s hand. A hand that gripped tightly and dragged the foreskin back, all the way back, and forth. Slowly, too fucking slowly. Fingertips skillfully swiping around the exposed sensitive head in just the right way to combine pleasure with a sensual overload that bordered on torture.
Wetness pooled on Dylan’s stomach.
How much could Jamie turn him on?
Jamie!
Un-fucking-believable. This guy. Jamie.
He feared he’d go out of his mind when Jamie moved further down the bed. Without time to mourn the loss of their close contact, Jamie’s mouth, and hands, and fingers were around Dylan’s dick and balls. Sucking and pulling. About to wring that orgasm right out of him. And there was no chance he was going to hold it together.
"That’s so fucking good," Dylan called out. It was so loud that he surprised himself.
Jamie stopped, pulled away, and sputtered before he giggled. "I’ll bet Mike and Gary wanted to know that. Where exactly is their bedroom?"
Dylan chuckled, pleased to have something to bring him back from the edge. "They’re at the other end of the house. Don’t worry, I’m sure they heard how fucking good you are."
Jamie licked along the shaft from root to sensitive tip. Then he spoke. His lips brushed the head as if he were talking into a microphone. "I’ll carry on then."
Dylan swallowed. He’d never imagine Jamie as such a tease in bed or such a turn on. "I’m so close."
If Dylan were with someone else, he’d have begged them to fuck him through the mattress. He’d have opted for on his stomach, probably. On his back could seem a bit too intimate for a one-time thing and the myriad other positions were too much hassle when he was already on a bed and ready to be pounded through to well done. He couldn’t ask that today. Not with his friend, an anal virgin, and a bottom. Probably?
Jamie didn’t slow up or ease off. He continued, sucking Dylan’s cock with great enthusiasm and handling his balls until it was all too fucking much.
"I’m so," Dylan mumbled again. He’d already warned Jamie. If the boy wasn’t going to stop… Dylan clawed at the sheets and howled as the climax pulsed through his entire body. Time must’ve slowed down because his cock pulsed for hours, it seemed; it continued pumping into Jamie’s mouth.
It felt like they’d been in unison all morning when, with an extremely smug smile on his face, Jamie sat up and moved on top. Jamie’s balls nestled against the sated, softening cock when he confidently straddled Dylan. Using slow and deliberate movements, Jamie wanked. His eyes locked on Dylan’s chest. The chest that he coated with jizz a few seconds later.
Even though he’d already come, Dylan still thought that was the hottest cum shot he’d seen in forever. From the expression on Jamie’s face, from the way he moved his hand, from the way the white ribbons snaked through the air. All erotic. Instinctively, Dylan did something he’d never done before. He ran his fingers through the fresh, cooling cum on his chest. Coating them in gloop. Then scooped some up and put his wet finger in his mouth.
Watching, Jamie looked surprised.
Hell, Dylan was surprised.
And then it happened.
An awkward moment when they both seemed to freeze in position, wondering what the fuck they’d just done. Dylan wasn’t a mind reader. He had no idea what Jamie was thinking, but if they were sharing a moment, then they were both a little freaked out. Mutual fooling around was fine, but this didn’t feel like that. Beyond turned on. He’d never expected to feel that he would’ve done anything with Jamie.
Absolutely fucking anything.
For Jamie.
No matter how dirty or embarrassing.
Jamie got off Dylan and the bed. "I’ll get a towel," he said as he turned and walked toward the bathroom.
Maybe Jamie didn’t feel it? Maybe he was freaked by Dylan’s weird behavior. Maybe he could see Dylan was into it way too much.
Dylan wasn’t going to act like a prat and make too much out of it. It was done. Move on.
Jamie went to shower first.
Guys shower together in the gym, after all. It was a big bathroom with a shower enclosure big enough for a football team. Communal showers are a real thing.
Such was the intimate and tactile nature of their friendship, before the party; it would have been stranger if they’d have put a greater distance between them.
Dylan followed him. He knew the shower cubicle was big enough for two. No, big enough for four. They could share together—why not, after what they had just done. He opened the sliding door and stepped in.
"I enjoyed last night. And I enjoyed this morning. And you've got a great body."
Although they didn’t speak further about what had happened, Jamie and Dylan showered together.
Dylan coated his hand in a large double dose of shower gel, and just as he was about to wash himself down, he had second thoughts and placed hands on Jamie's shoulders. Moving his hands up the neck, massaging Jamie's skin with the soapy shower gel, digging fingers in enough to elicit a moan, but not so deeply that it would hurt.
"That feels good."
"It's meant to."
The suds ran down Jamie's soaking, soapy body.
Dylan moved closer so that their bodies were in contact. The soapy water acted as a slick lubricant as they slipped across each other.
After stripping the bed and gathering all the towels for laundering, Jamie and Dylan hung out with Mike and Gary for the morning. They tidied the house, but the deep cleaning was saved for Monday and the paid cleaner, Tom.
Mike and Gary asked no questions, and everything between Jamie and Dylan was back to best friends as usual.
Except.
Dylan couldn’t shake off the knowledge of how the bed-play had made him feel. How horny and dirty, in a very unexpected but good way. He absolutely refused to think rude thoughts as Jamie opened his mouth to bite into a warm croissant. Dylan didn’t contemplate licking up the bittersweet dark paste that oozed from the pastry. Licking Jamie’s chocolate-drenched fingers was exactly the sort of thing Dylan may have once done, just to muck about. But they would both remember the last time those fingers went in his mouth. And what happened next.
And next.
And next.
Dylan’s mind was filled with thoughts about sex, and fingers in his mouth, and Jamie. The three things had become closely related. Three things that should not go together.
"Do you want to travel with us to Colin and Greg’s place this afternoon?” Gary asked as he refilled his glass with orange juice.
The four men sat around the breakfast table for a well-earned brunch. Dylan felt famished. Four pairs of hands had made easy work restoring order to the after-party mess before breakfast.
"We should probably go home first and get fresh clothes." Dylan shrugged and held out his arms.
"They don’t know me, perhaps I shouldn’t come," said Jamie.
"We all know you, and we know them," Mike replied.
Gary added, "I know you’ll be very welcome."
Dylan nodded in agreement. "And loads of people who were here last night will also be there. So we’d best go get some different clothes on, or they’ll know we didn’t go home."
Gary chuckled. "Questions will be asked. Speculations will be speculated."
"Thanks for letting us stay last night." Jamie looked down at himself. "I suppose no one’s going to believe I have a walk-in wardrobe full of pink flannel shorts and clashing Bermuda shirts."
Dressed in the same bright, beach-themed clothes that he wore last night, Jamie looked much the same as usual. Always in bright colored clothes, pink was either a statement about his sexuality or a color that suited him. Or both.
"They might believe it about you, but not me." Dylan was always the more conservative looking of the couple. Not that he was thinking of them as a couple. If he were to let his mind wander down that train of thought, which he wouldn’t. But if they were a couple, Dylan was obviously the butch one who more easily passed for straight. Not that he'd want to, he just did. "I don’t want to be the guy who turns up looking as if he never got home the night before. And thanks for letting us stay."
"Anytime." Mike and Gary exchanged glances; considerately, they passed no comment and asked no questions about Jamie and Dylan’s night together.
Gary lifted a tray with more high-calorie breakfast pastries.
Jamie must have worked up quite an appetite as he took a cinnamon swirl. "It’s a lovely home you have."
"Thanks."
"And nice and quiet," Jamie added.
Dylan squirmed. Had Jamie meant that quite so innocently as he said it, or was it a sly reference to just how much noise they’d made earlier? Or specifically how much noise Dylan had made. Time to change the subject.
"I’d like you to come out this afternoon. It’ll be our last time out for a while. From tomorrow, you’ll be working, and I’m traveling back to university in a couple of days." Dylan winced at how much he sounded like a desperate lovesick boyfriend, pining when they weren’t even apart yet. And they weren't boyfriends.
Jamie nodded. "You win. So we’ll walk home first and get into fresh shorts and T-shirts."
Gary threw his arms out behind himself, stretching out. "More shorts and T-shirts weather. What a fabulous September." It was already another hot day outside.
When they finally left, they went to Dylan’s home first, as he lived closest to Gary’s place. After following Dylan through the front door and directly up the stairs to his room, Jamie sat on the bed and pulled out his phone. The tool that provided a multitude of apps to while away a few minutes.
A distraction. A reason to not talk to each other or watch each other.
"You know, you could borrow something of mine, so we don’t have to swing by your place." Dylan opened the door of his wardrobe, pulled out a few pairs of shorts, and dropped them on the bed.
Despite the difference in appearance, which Dylan was well aware of, they were about the same size.
"Are you suggesting I go in butch drag?" Jamie stood up to pay more attention to the clothes on offer.
"As if butchness is measured by volumes of plaid, squared." Dylan gave him a gentle shove. "I don’t have a vast collection of flannel shirts." As extremes went, Dylan was no more extremely butch than Jamie was extremely femme. They both just slipped onto either side of the central point of the femme-masc continuum. They could both glam it up when they wanted or tone it down to pass in survival mode when they needed to.
"Okay, I don’t think it’s so much the clothes as how you wear them. So let’s see what you’ve got that would suit a femme boy." Jamie took the denim shorts and turned to look at the tops hanging in the closet.
Dylan took off his shirt and shorts then picked up another pair of shorts off the bed. Thumbing through cotton clothes, Jamie seemed oblivious to Dylan undressing behind him, which was normal. Yet it didn’t feel right. Inexplicably, Dylan longed for Jamie’s gaze on his body and to continue the playful flirting that had occurred earlier.
Still shirtless, he coughed to clear his throat.
"Jamie." Important and difficult sentences begin with stating someone’s name, followed by an agonizing pause, at least that was what happened here. "I’m going back to uni in a few days, and I’m pleased my final weekend is with you. You’re my best mate."
Jamie had turned. They were so close and all Dylan wanted to do was bury his face in the crook of Jamie’s neck. Or against any other part of Jamie’s body, for that matter. The surface of Dylan’s skin tingled in anticipation of contact as they stood close enough to feel the heat from each other’s body.
Dylan had to say the words first. "Look, I really enjoyed last night and this morning. Really enjoyed, like, not as a casual hookup. I mean it was, but that’s not how I thought of it."
Unsurprisingly, Jamie didn’t react in any way. He certainly didn’t make things easy by reading Dylan's mind.
"I just wondered if you wanted to spend this last day together as boyfriends and not just mates?"
Jamie looked away. He glanced toward the wardrobe and then at the shorts in his hands. His lack of enthusiasm broke Dylan’s nerve.
"Sorry, it’s a weird suggestion. Forget it," said Dylan.
"No. It’s a great suggestion. I’m just not exactly sure what you’re asking?" Jamie stepped closer. There was very little space between them to start with, so he closed the distance of inches, invading Dylan’s personal space. With negligible amounts of fabric between them, Dylan felt the heat from Jamie's hard body.
"Just for today. I’m not asking for long-term commitment, as God only knows when we’ll see each other after this. And I fully expect you to be out chasing guys when I’m gone." Dylan slipped his hands around Jamie’s waist. "I like holding you like this," he whispered, and they kissed. A light tap of their lips.
"Boyfriend for the day then? Kisses and cuddles and being seen together at the barbecue? Is that what you’re asking?"
"Yeah. Is that all right? I’m obviously not asking for a long-term relationship or your hand in marriage."
"So you’re not really thinking boyfriends? More like friends with benefits?" Jamie raised his hand and brushed Dylan's cheek. "Is that what we’re doing?"
Dylan tried to think about the question. Friends with benefits implied it could continue when they met up in the future. Not remain as a one-weekend-only event. But brain power began to short circuit as blood drained south and he was more inclined toward instinct than logic. "We’ll always be friends. Friends with benefits sounds good to me, what about you?"
There was a slight nod of his head before Jamie thrust his tongue inside Dylan’s mouth. With only the thin cotton of his underwear covering Dylan’s interest, the temptation to undress completely was great. They’d never get outside again if they stoked the fire.
A sudden rap on his bedroom door startled them. They jumped apart, but only an inch or two. The moment was well and truly ruined by the voice of Dylan’s mom.
"Dylan, can I come in?"
"Hold on, Mom; I’m changing."
"Hopefully for the better," she called out. "Your clean laundry is in my room when you are ready to collect it."
Dylan spoke to Jamie in a hushed voice, "Come on. There are some charcoaled pieces of meat with our names on them in a garden just a quarter of an hour from here."
Utilizing incredible self-control, Dylan turned his back on Jamie in order to compose himself and get dressed. He sensed Jamie choosing clothes behind him.