12
Frankie
There’s a strange sort of sizzle beneath my skin as I kneel next to my Pup Runt. Evan’s hazel eyes twinkle through the hood but in this moment, he’s not Evan…he’s a pup. Or at least, he’s on his way to being one. There’s a mixture of apprehension and excitement in his gaze. He wants this; there isn’t a doubt in my mind about that, but I imagine it’s hard to completely let go and put yourself into pup space.
I stand and take a few steps away.
“That’s it?” Evan asks, and I look down at him, cocking a brow.
“Pups don’t talk, remember?”
“Shit.” His voice is again muffled. “Sorry. I…” When I cross my arms, he gets the message and whimpers instead.
“It’s okay, boy. You’re doing real good. Now, stay.” I back up slowly, watching him. In some ways, he’s a natural. His hands are positioned correctly, mitted and in front of him. His arms are just the way a dog would have them, but I see the wheels turning in his head. I see it in the tenseness in his body. As much as he craves this, he can’t fully let go. Right now, he’s Evan in a hood trying to be a pup, instead of letting go, finding pup space, and being the little runt I know he’s dying to be.
Still backing up, I don’t stop until my legs touch the couch and lean against the arm of it, watching him. We’re only about ten feet away, but there’s not a doubt in my mind that he wants to come closer. That he’s yearning to crawl over, rub his head against my leg and earn some scritches.
Still, I wait, count it out in my damn head, each second that goes by making my heart beat faster the way I figure his is too. It can’t be more than a minute that he asks, “Frankie?”
He reaches for the hood. “Wait,” I tell him before walking back over. “No, no, sit,” I say, and he puts his hands down, getting back into position.
I kneel, grab the sides of his hood, and look at him in the eyes. “Let go, Ev. You gotta shed everything else to do this. Stop thinking…stop worrying…just be a pup. You allow me to worry about everything, okay? There’s no one here except me and you. There’s nothing to worry about. I fucking love doing this with you. You’re not going to do anything wrong. You just gotta…surrender to it. Turn that brain of yours off and let your master take care of everything.”
It’s almost as if I can actually see the tension lift from his muscles, see it pull free and sort of…float away. I let go of him and he drops his head. I wait, count, get scared to fucking death I did or said something wrong and then…then he whimpers again. Pup Runt’s snout noses my hand and the gentle growl he gives me doesn’t sound as much like Evan trying, but more like Pup Runt.
“That’s a good boy. Such a good pup.” I scratch his neck, then bring my hand around and give his belly a quick rub. “Now, stay.” My damn pulse is beating like crazy against my skin when I stand up, walk backward until I’m in the same position, leaning against the couch.
I wait…count…watch. One minute, two minutes. I wonder if the time is killing him as much as it’s killing me. I’m hoping it helps him get into his own head, that he becomes that pup learning how to stay when he wants nothing but his person’s attention.
Patting my leg, I say, “Come’ere. I’m so proud of you. Such a good boy.” I hardly start to kneel before Pup Runt runs over to me, and Christ, I can’t help but imagine him in a jock, a tail tucked firmly between his ass cheeks wagging at me, but I have to admit, his ass looks pretty fine in his Andrew Christians, too.
“Such a good boy. Aww, I’m so damn proud of you.” I rub his sides, give him scritches, genuine happiness radiating off me. He leans in, nuzzling his snout into my neck, against my ear and damned if a laugh doesn’t tumble out of my mouth. There’s something so…fuck, so pure about this moment. All pretenses are dropped. No worry about how we look or what we say or what someone thinks. It’s genuine affection and happiness that I can tell he feels but that I experience too. Since I’m not the pup, I didn’t expect that part of it, but in this moment, it feels like he’s the happiest person in the world just to see me, to get attention from me. Like I’m his fucking air or something and the world revolves around me…well, I guess the way a real pup would do. You’re their world, and right now with Pup Runt feels that way too.
“Someone’s an excited boy. Do you want a treat?” I ask, and Pup Runt just whimpers, pushing his nose into me again, the way he’s supposed to. After pulling out another Reese’s, I put it in his mouth, the whole time telling him how good he is, how proud of him I am, and damned if there isn’t a real burst of pride in my chest. He did good, and I truly am pleased with him.
We practice sit for a little while, and I get him to stay again. This time, while he waits, I go into Evan’s room and grab the rubber bone we got at the leather store.
I swear his damn ears perk up, and he lets out a playful bark. “Does someone want his bone?” I ask. A shock of pleasure shoots through me, and damned if I’m not sort of wishing I could give him my bone to suck and play with.
I toss it and Pup Runt sits there, watching me as though he’s not sure what to do. Cocking my head, I study him trying to figure out if he really did manage to sink that deep into puppy space already or if he’s a little unsure playing fetch for the first time. I honestly can’t tell.
“Go get it,” I tell him. “Go on, go get it.”
Pup Runt takes off, running after it. He leans down, puts it in his mouth and scurries the other way. Laughter jumps out of my throat, genuine pleasure fueling me. “No, silly boy. Bring it here. You gotta bring it to me.”
The pup jumps onto the couch, bone between his teeth. Playfully, I roll my eyes as I walk over. “You’re missing the point of fetch, Pup. You’re supposed to bring it back to me.” I grab it and try to pull it free but he doesn’t let go, shaking his head. “Drop it,” I tell him but he still doesn’t. “Fine. You win this time.” Reaching around, I rub his neck. “You can keep it.”
I sit down next to him on the couch, wondering if I’m reading his cues correctly. Pup Runt curls into a ball next to me, bone in his mouth. Is this his way of saying he just wants to relax? He’s tired of training? It’s been over half an hour like we’d discussed when he was Evan.
Picking up the remote, I turn the TV on to a recorded episode of Drag Race. Feet on the coffee table, I reach over and rub Pup’s belly while watching the show. He turns slightly, giving me better access to him.
He drops the bone from his mouth, keeping it in front of him like I imagine a dog would truly do with his toy. A gentle “Ruff,” surprises me, Pup’s head rubbing against my thigh.
“Someone likes belly rubs.” I continue to pet his belly as Pup Runt lies against me while I watch the show. It feels…fuck, it feels nice. Relaxing. I like doing this for him, being this to him; spoiling him and giving him affection fills a need inside me too.
When the show’s over, I ask, “Can I get Evan back?” Again, I have no fucking clue if I’m supposed to say that. If he’s supposed to come in and out of pup space himself, if he was truly there or what, but Evan sits up and cocks his head at me before giving me his paws.
I take one mitt off, then the other. I move to his hood next and then it’s him, looking at me. For a moment, I consider reaching for the collar, but I don’t. It looks hot as fuck against his skin, and I’m not ready to lose it yet.
“Ev?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He looks down at the bone, and I immediately see his body language change as though he’s remembering what he did and feeling embarrassed.
“Hey, none of that.” I pull him onto my lap, and he comes easily, straddling my legs as he faces me. I turn the TV off and say, “Don’t be embarrassed by that, okay? Fuck, I loved it. I really fucking loved it. Did you? Did I do okay?”
“What? Oh my God, Frankie. You were awesome. You’re really worried about that?”
“Of course I am. You’re putting a lot of trust in me, and I don’t want to let you down.” Even the thought makes my gut clench.
“Shut up.” He swats my chest. “You could never let me down. That was…that was perfect.”
“What did it feel like?” I rub my hands up and down his thighs.
“It’s hard to explain. I could feel myself slipping in and out of it. I don’t think I went as deep as I’m supposed to. In fact, I know I didn’t but…it felt good. It felt freeing in a way I can’t really explain. I wanted to make you proud, though. Like, I could feel this need to please you. When you told me…” He looks away, shyly.
“Hey, none of that, remember?” I hook my finger beneath his chin and turn his head back in my direction.
Hazel eyes firmly on mine, he says, “When you told me I was a good boy, a good pup, this jolt of pleasure, of happiness and pride rushed through me. I felt like a good boy, like I’d done a good job and I wanted that. Oh, God. That sounds stupid.”
My dick hardens, my skin tingly and on fire. “That is about the furthest thing from stupid there is. That sounds hot as fuck. Christ, Ev. You really don’t know, do you? You don’t know what seeing you like that does to me, or hearing what you said does to me? What it would do to any man with a brain in their head. You are sexy as hell. I’m so damn proud of what you just did, and I’m honored I get to do it with you. It brings me pleasure to call you my good boy too…and to know what that gives you.”
Something changes in the room then, as if some snap of electricity fills the air, a current zipping between us. Evan looks at me, licks his lip, sucks the damn thing into his mouth, and suddenly, I’m wondering what he tastes like.
He’s been what I consider my best friend for months, and of course, I’ve always known he’s fucking gorgeous, but this moment feels different—both heavy and light at the same time.
“Frankie?” he says softly as though he can sense the change too. His hands rest on my shoulders. He moves his left one closer, brushing his thumb against my stubble.
Then my arms are lifting and I’m cupping his face and pulling him closer. I have no idea what in the fuck I’m doing, why I suddenly need to kiss him, but I do. His eyes close and he whispers, “Frankie,” again, making me realize we’re so damn close, I feel his breath against my lips. It’s a second later, and my mouth is on his. My tongue slips inside, and he lets me. Evan tastes like Reese’s Pieces, which I’ve never been fond of, but in this moment, they might be my favorite.
He moans into my mouth, and I pull him closer. His arms tighten around me; my dick hardens more as he rubs his ass on my legs. Evan’s hands slip under my beanie, and he threads his fingers through my hair.
I lower my arms, cup his tight ass, and then I’m groaning into him and he’s swallowing it down.
This is stupid, really fucking stupid, but I can’t seem to help myself. I don’t know what it means or even if I need it to mean anything. We’re friends, close, who cares if we share a kiss?
My hold tightens on him and just as I move to put him on his back and cover his body with mine, riiing breaks through the moment, and we both jerk away from each other.
Evan reaches up and touches his mouth, and damned if it doesn’t make me smile.
Riing! My cell goes off again. It’s as if it shocks Evan into action and he jumps off my lap. I pull the phone from my pocket and answer, “What?” My voice comes out a little too gruff.
“We’re heading to dinner. You and the Karaoke Kid wanna go?” Cody asks.
“Yes! Let’s go!” Evan says, obviously hearing Cody’s question. “I’m starved.”
“Yeah, okay. We’ll meet you guys downstairs.”
I hang up and Evan is already standing and gathering his pup gear. “I’m gonna go”—he points to the room—“put this stuff away and get dressed. We can go or whatever. I’ll just be a second.”
“Ev?” I ask, and he stops in his bedroom doorway, back to me. “We’re good?”
Turning he looks at me and smiles. “Yeah, Frankie. We’ll always be good.” Thank God. I don’t know what I’d do if I fucked up this friendship.