Page 81 of 10 Ways to Accidentally Fall in Love

“What are you…”

I wrap my hand around our cocks, spreading the moisture and giving a squeeze. “Ride me, bub. Come on my stomach. Mark me up all you want.”

Brad mumbles another heartyfuck, his eyes feathering closed and then opening again as he shifts his hips, testing the movement. He settles into a rhythm easily, letting out little gasps, one after another, as he fucks into my fist, our cocks rubbing together.

“Why does that feel so—haa,” he breathes, words aborted. “Why—ahh. I’ve never…fuck, that’s good. Why is that so good?”

Brad’s eyes are fixed on our cocks, at my fist wrapped around us, at the way he’s grinding against me in an approximation of fucking. His hands plant on my chest, and an electric shockzings from the point of contact straight down to my dick. I start stroking us harder, grabbing his hip and urging him on. The way his body is moving makes it all too easy to imagine he’s sinking onto my cock instead. It’s too much. Too…

“Joey,” Brad groans, fingers flexing against my pecs. “I need you to come. Need you to—needyou.”

With a verbal shove that feels almost physical in its intensity, I fall blindingly over the edge, my cock pulsing in my fist, the rub of Brad’s dick against me making me feel as if I’m spiraling down a ravine. I’m weightless, for just a moment, caught in the quick snap of all-consuming pleasure that makes focusing on anything else an impossibility. There’s only the complete takeover of my senses and a single breadth in time where nothing else—not a single thing—exists except for this. Brad and me.

The fog clears just in time to register Brad’s excited moan as he swells in my hand. His cum lands on my stomach, his chest and abdominals heaving in and out as he works to catch his breath. A tremor wracks his body, motion followed by stillness like the tail end of a sigh.

I let go of our spent cocks, casing Brad’s face, not sure what I’m looking for. All I see is…happiness.

Brad lifts his hand slowly, cool air washing over my chest as he trails his pointer finger downwards. It takes me a minute to realize he’s not just rubbing our cum into my skin, but…

“Did you just spell out your name?” I check.

He makes a satisfied sound, patting the side of my stomach before hopping up with energy I’m not expecting. “I sure did. Now I need some coffee. Do you want any? I’ll start a pot. Hey, what time did you want to paint those boards today? Do you even have paint? If not, we can run to the hardware store after breakfast.Ooh. Dibs on asking for caulk. I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Brad is nearly out the door, sleep pants pulled back up over his ass, when he spins and heads back my way.

“Forgot something,” he says, one knee on the bed as he leans over me. Hand clasping the side of my neck, he gives me a quick yet enthusiastic kiss. He smirks when he leans back, eyes on my stomach, a smug expression filling his face. Then he twists my nipple and practically jogs out the door. “Goooodmorning!”

I huff a laugh. And then another. My stomach tingles, our cum drying on my skin, the butterflies below the surface caused by the very same man who casually branded me after coming hotly across my abs.

For a guy who thought he was straight not a week ago, Brad sure has fallen into bed with me with an ease that’s surprising and yet…not.

After washing up, I find him in the kitchen, the pot of coffee already brewing. He’s humming, looking inside my fridge, dancing a little on the balls of his feet.

“You like bacon?” he asks, shuffling the contents of my fridge around. “Eggs? I assume so because you bought them, but you never know. Maybe you just like cracking the shells and sorting the yolks from the whites, not actually—Oh. Hey.”

“Hey,” I say, wrapping my arms around Brad’s stomach and giving his cheek a kiss. He’s still warm, smelling a bit likeuseven though I can tell he washed his hands.

“Standing cuddles?” he asks, closing the fridge door. “I can get on board with that.”

I snort. “I think it’s called a hug.”

“Oh. Heh. Right. I guess I’m just not used to facing away from the person I’m hugging. I’m usually the aggressor, you know?”

I turn my nose into his neck and laugh. “The aggressor?”

“Well, yeah. I tend to be more touchy-feely than my partners. A little clingier, I guess? So this?” He slips his arms back so he can grab my ass, giving me a little squeeze. “It’s nice. Very nice.”

“Anytime you want a hug,” I tell him seriously, “I’ll give you one. Be it six seconds long or sixty.”

He lets out a happy sigh, leaning back and giving me his weight. His voice, when he speaks, is quieter. “Thanks, Joey. It’s underrated, you know? Just…holding someone. Being held. People take for granted what such a simple form of contact can do. But I’ve always thought… Well, I think I might like it more than sex.”

“Really?” I ask, trying to keep the surprise from my voice.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. Orgasms are awesome. Orgasms with you? Really fucking awesome. Like, top notch, dude. And we’ve only scratched the tip.” There’s a pause. “The tip of the iceberg? That’s a thing, right? Anyways, my point is I really love painting your abs. But…”

I huff another laugh, and Brad moves his hands from my ass to my arms, covering them and turning his face toward me so I can see his profile.

“But orgasms don’t last. They just don’t. It’s all well and good to want someone’s body. To enjoy getting off with them. But wanting someone past that? Outside of that? Wanting to share a moment of connection? I think that’s pretty great.”

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