I woke up the next morning with a warm body curled around me. I didn’t know if Justin had pulled me close and tucked me up against him or if I had snuggled up next to him, but either way, it was wonderful. So wonderful I knew I had to get up. Last night wasn’t about hugs and snuggling, last night was about two months of want boiling over into some really hot sex.

I slipped out of his hold and headed downstairs. I was pretty sure I had some clothes in the dryer, so I could find something to put on down there and let him sleep. Sure enough, I found a pair of sweats in the dryer. Of course, there were no boxers though, so I guess commando was the word of the day.

Making coffee and cooking some breakfast seemed like the perfect distraction from all the thoughts going through my mind. I had no idea where last night left us. On one hand, nothing had changed, but on the other hand, everything had. Justin still didn’t want to be involved with a man who had kids. Em and I were still a package deal. But I couldn’t imagine this being a one-time thing. Honestly? I wanted to go in there for a repeat right now, but I wasn’t sure where his brain was going to be this morning.

I decided waffles would be great for breakfast and got them started. I was cutting up the strawberries to go on top when I heard Justin coming down the stairs. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would he be dressed and ready to head out the door or would he be ready for coffee and food? When he came around the corner, I was happy to see he was only half dressed and didn’t look like he was going anywhere just yet.

“We have waffles and bacon. It’s almost ready if you want to eat,” I said, trying to sound casual. Like waking up with him in my bed and cooking him breakfast was no big deal.

He just smiled at me. “Waffles sound wonderful, but coffee sounds better.”

“Well, lucky for you, I have a fresh pot. There’s sugar in the sugar thingy on the counter and cream in the fridge if you want some, but you’ll have to get it yourself because my hands are full.”

He came around the corner of the bar and went to the fridge to grab the cream. “Where will I find a cup?”

“Oh umm, second cabinet to the left. The one just over the coffee pot.” I was concentrating on the strawberries like I was performing brain surgery instead of making breakfast.

“I’m surprised you have a coffee pot,” he said like this was just a normal morning. Guess we were both playing that game. “I took you more for a single cup pod kinda guy.”

“I thought about getting one of those, but I buy my coffee locally roasted, and that doesn’t come in prepackaged pods. Besides, when I bring work home, I can go through an entire pot.”

I didn’t even realize he had moved until I felt him behind me. “Do you do that often?” he asked right in my ear as he pressed my body between him and the cabinet. “Bring work home, I mean.”

I sighed and leaned against him. I swear if I were a cat, I would be purring. He reached around me, putting his hands on my abdomen, and my breath caught. His hands slid down inside the waistband of my sweats, and then he growled. “Going commando, huh?”

“I was afraid I would wake you up if I looked for clothes. Umm breakfast is ready,” I said with effort as he rubbed my stomach with one hand and stroked my cock with the other. “We should eat it before it gets cold.”

“Mmmm, wouldn’t want breakfast to get cold,” he whispered in my ear as he continued to kiss my neck. Then he was gone, leaving me hard and breathless. “Let’s eat. We have plenty of time for other things later.”

“You, sir, are an evil, evil bastard,” I told him with a smile.

“True. But you love it,” he laughed.

I pointed down at my dick, which was tenting my sweats. “Well, at least part of me does. Here, help me get all this stuff to the table, and we can eat.” I handed him the plate of waffles, and I got the rest.

We sat down to eat, and I was thinking how rotten it was of him to leave me hard like that when he said, “You know, we’re probably going to need to talk about last night.” And just like that, being hard was no longer a problem.

* * *

“You know, we’re probably going to have to talk about last night,” I said. Not that I wanted to talk about it. I didn’t. But we had to talk. I wanted him five minutes ago in the kitchen, so this was no one and done. No, this thing with us was not finished. But it couldn’t last forever. I wished I didn’t know how things would end. I wished I could just dive right into a relationship with him. The idea that I even wanted to consider a relationship with anyone was weird enough, but to want that with someone I couldn’t allow myself to care about was even worse. It was clear that just being friends wasn’t going to work. But I wasn’t ready to walk yet, so just where did that leave us?

If I were a good guy instead of a selfish asshole, I would tell him that we needed to go our separate ways. I mean, anyone who had ever met Mark could tell he was a relationship guy. So, I should tell him it had to be a one-off and let him get back out there and find the right guy for him. But the simple truth was I was not a good guy at all.

What was I? A selfish asshole who wanted more. More of last night. More hanging out and being friends. More Mark.

“Let’s eat breakfast and then we can talk,” Mark said, looking at me with a sad smile. I knew he expected me to say we couldn’t do this again but since I had no idea what I was going to say, I had no idea what I could do to reassure him.

We ate, and we talked about everyday things. The upcoming baseball season, the ending hockey season, and work. Then, when we finished, I reached across the table and took his hand. I just needed to touch him. One of the things I liked the most about Mark was that he wore his thoughts on his face. I hoped he never tried to play poker ‘cause he would give himself away every time. “Now that I’m not sleeping upstairs, why don’t you get changed while I clean up, then we can sit out on the deck and talk.” He looked like he was going to argue with me but then just nodded and headed back upstairs.

As I cleared off the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher, I tried to figure out what to say. I wanted to continue this, but I didn’t want Mark to get hurt. I thought of what he’d said last night about how he hadn’t asked me to move in and be Emma’s stepfather, and he was right. I was acting like I knew what he wanted instead of giving him a say in what we did.

I decided I would just lay it all out there. What I wanted, what I didn’t, and see what he said. I wanted to continue to be friends with him and to keep hanging out with him. I also wanted to keep having sex with him. I didn’t want a relationship. I would just tell him that and see what he wanted.

I finished straightening up and poured myself another cup of coffee. Then I went out on the deck to wait. A few minutes later, Mark came out the back door with another pair of sweats on. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt, and apparently, he still didn’t see the need for underwear the sneaky fucker. I wasn’t sure how he expected me to have a logical conversation with him standing there like that, but I needed to make sure we were both on the same page before this went any further.

“Okay, so we need to talk about what we’re doing. I really, really like you, Mark, but I need to make sure we are both clear on what we’re doing here.”

“Well, Justin, I’m pretty sure we are fucking, or at least I hope we are.” This was a different Mark than the one who went upstairs. He seemed calm and resolute, like he had made up his mind about something in the ten minutes he was up there.

“Oh yeah, we are,” I said then I rushed on. “At least as long as we want the same thing we are. First of all, I want my friend back. I’ve missed hanging out with you. But I also want to have sex with you again, because holy shit, dude, last night was hot, and I don’t want that to be the only time we do that. I like you a lot, but I think you are a relationship guy, and I don’t want to screw you over. I need to know up front that you understand that friends that fuck is all we are. I need to make sure you don’t have expectations of more because I can’t offer you more.”

“Okay,” Mark stated simply.

“Okay? That is all you have to say to that. Okay.”

“Yeah. I mean I like you. You’re fun to hang out with. You kick ass at Zoran, you’ll go to hockey games with me, and you said you could show me some great biking trails, so yeah, let’s be friends. And as far as the sex goes, yeah, let’s do that too. I mean the sex wasn’t half bad, so why not,” he said with a teasing smile.

He was full of shit ‘cause last night was way better than half bad, but I refused to rise to the bait. “Okay, so hanging out like before, but we’re adding in ‘not half bad’ bed sports.”

“Or not half bad couch sports, floor sports, or shower sports. I’m not picky.” He shrugged.

“Good lord, man, any place else you want to add?” I laughed.

“Seriously, Justin. I’m okay with this. I am tired of random hookups, but I don’t need forever. Let’s just enjoy this while it lasts and agree that we’ll stay friends after.”

“So, friends with benefits then?” I asked. “Nothing more.”

“Friends with benefits,” he agreed.

A vision of Mark last night grinding with that little blond twink flashed in my mind, and I was annoyed all over again. Before I even thought about it, I said, “But only us. I mean as long as this lasts, I don’t want anyone else touching you.” What the fuck was that? He had my brain so fucked up. Basically, I was saying, I don’t want you long term, but I don’t want anyone else to have you. Man, I was an ass.

“I agree,” he said quickly “If either one of us decides we want to be with someone else, we’ll let the other one know and that’ll be the end of the sexy times.”

And just the thought of him wanting to be with someone else pissed me off and made me want to stake my claim, which was also stupid. But once we had fucked a few times, the newness would wear off, and that possessive shit would go away. Yeah, Justin, you just keep telling yourself that.

But in the meantime, I didn’t see any reason to waste any more time. “So where do you want to start?” I asked. “Couch, floor, bed, or shower, ‘cause it’s game time.”

“Bed,” he said. “I just got out of the shower.”