Carlos ran to grab the phone. “Hello?” “Hey babe.” “Hiii Johnny. How’s work?” “I swear the view is the only reason I stay here.” “Not good huh.” Carlos moved the bag on the chair and sat down. “So annoying. But like, my co-worker’s girlfriend came to pick him up for lunch, and the receptionist was like confused because another girl came two days ago, and she let that slip, and there was a huge fight. And I’m just calling to let you know I love you a lot, and I’m feeling really smug that it’s not us.” Carlos laughed. “Smug that your secret homosexual love life is better than the straights as theirs goes down in flames?” “Exactly. Especially because my co-worker has made some snide comments about our ~lifestyle~. He deserves getting caught.” “Being attracted to you definitely isn’t a lifestyle, Johnny. I had no choice in the matter. I was completely helpless.” “You poor thing,” Johnny said dryly. “Must be hard being under duress.” “Well,” Carlos said, “The hard thing is definitely true. I was out shopping – I finally found a tie to match that odd colored shirt I found at the thrift store, but the salesman at the store was so hot that I’ve been just like turned on since then. I’m really impatient for you to get home. I’m just pacing around in my underwear.” Johnny made a frustrated noise into his hand. “How can you say things like that casually when I’m stuck here for the afternoon, Carlos.” “Why don’t you take a long lunch?” Carlos asked with eagerness in his voice. “I’ll send a taxi. Tell your boss the fight was disruptive to your focus and you’re taking a break until the air is cleared.” There was silence on the phone. When Johnny spoke his voice was in a low whisper. “Are you suggesting I skip out on work to come home and have sex”? “That is exactly what I’m suggesting. Selfishly, of course.” Carlos was now pacing with the phone cord wrapped around his fingers. “Is that in line with our lifestyle?” Johnny asked. “Absolutely it is. We must keep up with the standards.” Johnny giggled. “We must. I shouldn’t have a problem grabbing a taxi on 5th ave this time of day. Be home soon. And be ready.” “Goddamn do I love you.” “Love you more.”
Carlos hung up the phone. “Holy crap I can’t believe that worked. I am a lucky man.”
As bizarre as it was to see Johnny show up to their condo mid-day in his work clothes, it was even stranger to send him back to work freshly showered and freshly fucked. Carlos got nothing done for the rest of the day thinking about it – tossing Johnny’s jacket over the chair, yanking down his slacks, doing it right there over the dining room table. Redressing him after a quick shower. Sending him back to work with an interesting gait to his step and kiss swollen lips. Carlos didn’t even mind having to do the clean up himself. Having a secret homosexual love life could be a blast.
__________________________ Captions are fictional.
Joseph made a soft groan as he awoke. The pillow was really hard. He lifted his head to see he’d fallen asleep on Dominic’s shoulder. Joseph drank in the luxury of seeing shirtless Dominic first thing in the morning. Joseph ran his palm up Dominic’s sternum. Joseph shifted and was reminded he was going to be a little sore. Joseph liked how it felt to know he wasn’t a virgin anymore. He was no longer a boy, but a man. They’d rented a hotel room last night – by themselves! – using Dominic’s credit card. They ate out at nice Italian restaurant. No one gave them a second look holding hands together. Joseph carefully turned and looked over his shoulder. The sun-washed city was spread out into the infinite horizon in the long, narrow gap between the open drape panels. Joseph decided he liked New York City a lot. He liked the idea of making it part of his future. A man in front of him, the city behind him. Couldn’t be a more perfect way to start every day.
Joseph resumed cuddling Dominic’s body. Dominic cracked an eye. “Hey,” he croaked. “Mornin.” “Sleep well?” “Mmhm. You?” “Amazing,” Dominic exhaled.
After a moment, Dominic spoke again. “Did we really have sex last night? Or did I dream it?” “I hope it wasn’t a dream. I tried to get up. Doesn’t feel like it was a dream.” “You can feel it? Did I hurt you?” “No… it feels nice. Reminds me it’s real.” Joseph squeezed Dominic’s torso. Dominic turned his head toward Joseph and kissed his forehead. “I’ll remember how your body felt for the rest of my life. It was just amazing. Thank you for uh, doing that. With me, I mean.” Joseph chuffed. “You’re welcome? I mean, I wouldn’t have wanted it to be anyone else.”
Dominic smiled. “I hate that we have to check out in a couple hours and go home.” “Well, just because we check out doesn’t mean we don’t have to go home. We still gotta get bagels for breakfast. And we have the whole day ahead of us. The city is ours.” “Why Joseph, I think you are right. Can we lay here a little while longer though? This is nice.” “This is nice,” Joseph agreed. “And I’m quite comfy.” Dominic nuzzled him. “Good. Just a while longer.” “Then can we shower together?” “Uhh yeah. I like that idea a lot.”
I closed the door to the sun porch. “Marc. What the hell? This – this is supposed to be you meeting my parents. Like, you know, the next serious step in our relationship.” Marc folded himself on the sofa and propped his head up with his hand. “He was disrespecting you.” “But that doesn’t give you the authority to punch my father!” “Well I had to do something!” Marc nearly shouted. “No one was going to do anything. You think by just saying ‘dad’ between your teeth has any repercussion?” I was pacing at this point. “My dad is an old boomer who is getting older, Marc. He’s not going to magically change his boomer thinking, and he’s not going to magically see the light of day. I told you my dad has some conservative ideas.” “But those weren’t conservative ideas!” Marc retorts. “That was negging. He was putting you down. Passively aggressively. You look hurt. It upset me.”
I paused my pacing at the tone in his voice. “I looked hurt?” “Yeah, you looked wounded. You pulled back a little.” “Oh.” “Yeah,” Marc gestured. “See that’s the thing. If some hot guy dissed you at a bar like that? I’d punch him. Hands down.” “There are other ways to react than violence, Marc.” Marc sighed. He looked at his red knuckles. “I’ve made Thanksgiving a little awkward haven’t I?” “A little.” I crossed my arms. “Listen, I don’t mind you standing up for me. But this cannot be a trend. Cause if we are going to stay together, we’re gonna run into my parents sometimes. They’re not cool and liberal like your parents.” “You think my parents are cool?” Marc asked with one eyebrow up. “Um yeah, your dad’s got that Corvette and all those birds. He’s super cool.” Marc chuckled. “He’ll be happy to hear that.”
“I bet. But Marc, seriously. You need to think about how you want to move forward with this. Starting with apologizing to my father for hitting him.” Marc’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not apologizing for that.” “So we’re just never gonna bring this up over Thanksgiving dinner? It’ll just sit on the table, next to the turkey, taking up room?”
Marc sighed again. I walk over to where his bare feet are propped up on the arm of the small sofa and began to rub one of them. When I dug my thumbs into his sole he groaned. “Goddammit,” Marc said. He leaned back. I watched until his shoulders relaxed. I let Marc think. I had moved on to the other foot when he broke his silence.
“I will apologizing for hitting him,” Marc says. I lifted my head. “You will?” “Yeah. Cause this isn’t the hill I want to die on. I don’t want this to be the crack that crumbles this relationship.” I smiled as relief flooded through me. “I’m pleased to hear you say that.”
After a bit more talking, we left the sun room and walked back into the kitchen. My father was sitting at the kitchen table with his ice to his cheek. My mother was stirring gravy. When we came in, they both looked up at us. I felt like a little boy whose friend had thrown a ball in the house and broken a lamp.
“Dad, Marc has something he want to say to you.” “It better be-” My dad started. “Bob. Hush. Let him speak.” I gave a glance of gratitude to my mom.
Marc exhaled. “Sir. I apologize for punching you in the face.” “Damn straight-” “But.” My attention snapped to Marc. Oh no, this wasn’t in the script. I think my mother could see the panic on my face. Marc didn’t waver at all. “I am dating your son. And you did a fine job of raising him. Jeff’s successful, thoughtful, creative, funny, and sweet. I care about him a lot. And he cares about you both, and I understand that as we’re dating, that means sometimes it involves Bob and Helen. But I will not stand by and listen to you disrespect him, unfairly, because he doesn’t confirm to whatever standards you think should define his life. You don’t get to choose who he dates and what either of us does for a living. We do.” My jaw dropped. I must have looked like a fish. “The audacity of you telling me what I can and can’t do in my own house! What I can say or not say to my son is not your decision to make.” Bob stood up from the table, face red.
I was torn between wanting to fling myself into Marc’s arms like a fairy tale princess and jumping between them for damage control.
“It’s not, but I wouldn’t be a good boyfriend if I stood by while someone hurt his feelings.” Marc replied. “It’s constructive criticism. I didn’t hurt his feelings.” “You did, Bob.” Helen said. “You did. You say hurtful things sometimes. You mean well, but you could be nicer. Who cares what Marc or Jeff does for a living? Jeff pays his rent. He bought me that nice Hermes scarf for Christmas last year. He’s fine.” Bob gawked at her. Helen harrumphed. “This is all so silly. It’s Thanksgiving. My son is here, we have company, I’m starving, and the turkey has been sitting enough, Bob. Carve the damn thing so we can eat ok? Please? I don’t feel like mothering three sons tonight. That’s why I only had one.” She slammed the lid back on the gravy, making everyone jump.
Marc met my gaze and mouthed. “I love her.” I smothered a giggle. Bob sighed. “Fine. I’m hungry too. But we’re going to talk about this later.” Bob pointed a finger at Marc. He walked into the kitchen toward the turkey, muttering.
I pulled Marc into the hallway outside of the kitchen. “Sorry, it just kind of came out-” Marc stammered. I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him hard. “Mmnn!” Marc squeaked in surprise, but quickly got with the program. I slid my fingers around the back of his neck to deepen it. We both reluctantly broke for breath. “That. Was amazing. No one has ever stood up for me like that before.” Marc blushed. “Well, I, it kind of just came out….” “When we go to bed tonight, I’m checking the size of your balls because I do not remember them being that huge.” Marc blushed. His stomach grumbled.
I adjusted his shirt and we walked back into the kitchen together. Marc swooped in with helping plate the table, and he complimented my mother on how great everything smelled. When we finally ate, he complimented how juicy the meat was. Even Bob looked pleased about that. I spent most of the meal watching Marc instead of anything else. I think I missed putting the fork in my mouth once, because I was just so utterly smitten with him. How did I get so lucky? A little butterfly started fluttering around my mind. If he could handle Battleax Bob, then …well, maybe there was a chance Marc and I could get married one day.
___________________ Captions are fictional. It turns out if you want to find a photo of a guy in a shirt, just search for “men in shirts” on Tumblr.
Todd could barely look him in the eye. Joe was so intimidating. Todd had been attractive to him the day he starting hanging out at his friend’s frat house. All the guys there were jock-types, even the big bear-ish ones were strong and reeking of testosterone. There was something different about Joe. He carried himself with a quiet sense of superiority. He wasn’t brash and loud and a raging drunk. Despite being the same age as the other guys in his frat, Joe had an aura of wisdom and maturity the others lacked.
Todd just liked being near him. After a couple of times being around Joe, Todd began to think there was something else different about Joe from the others. And it wasn’t just his taste in movies.
After a party one night, Todd crashed on a sofa bed with his friend on the floor . Shortly after dawn he went downstairs for a snack, but ran into Joe going upstairs. And when he saw Joe, Todd nearly tripped. Joe was just wearing his underwear. All skin bare. The curve of his bulge filling his boxer briefs. It was too much. Todd froze and gawked. “You finding something worth looking at?” Joe asked. Todd should have apologized and scurried up the stairs. What came out of his mouth was, “Can I suck your cock?”
Joe looked real surprised. Then he looked amused. “I had an inkling,” he said. “Alright. You want it? Kneel and suck it right here.” “Right here? On the stairs? Anyone could see us…” “You best be quiet then.” That turned Todd on something horrible, and he knew right then he was going to do it. He sank to the steps of the stairs and gazed up at this god of a man. After a few seconds ticked by, Joe’s face began to firm into a look of displeasure. Does he think I’m hesitating? Todd thought. Is he thinking that I’m changing my mind? I wish I could tell him what I was actually thinking. I wish I had the courage to tell him that I was real, real glad I didn’t kill myself as a teenager over being gay. Todd ran his palms over Joe’s thighs and groaned. His fingers sought Joe’s waistband to pull down. Todd wished he could have shown Joe to his past teen self. His eyes would have bugged out past his head – even further than the immediate erection! Todd wondered if he was hard right now, but he didn’t care to check. The important thing right now was getting Joe’s beautiful penis to full mast and those full balls drained before anyone else saw them. With men like Joe, you service them well the first time, and or you won’t be doing it again.
“I think I’m a little drunk,” Angelo said with a giggle. “I think I may be too. Cause I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself.” Cyrus pulled himself up by his arms until he was hovering over Angelo’s chest. “I want to kiss you now.” “We both know what a bad idea that is…if anyone saw us…” “Normally, I care. But somehow, I don’t give a shit right now.” Cyrus murmured. He dipped his head in to press a delicate touch to Angelo’s lips. They were soft, welcoming, and he returned for a deeper kiss. Their beards made a faint scratchy noise as they brushed together. When they parted, Angelo searched Cyrus’s face for any sign of regret. His cheeks were flushed, eyes wide and bright, mouth turned up at the corners.
Angelo groaned. “God, Cyrus, we’re in trouble now.” “Why?” he whispered. “Cause I want more.” Cyrus smiled. “Just you and I on this boat. No one is stopping us.” “Then I think I’m going to start by kissing you this time,” Angelo said. He reached up and palmed the back of Cyrus’s head to bring them together.
When he tells you kneel in front of him, naked, and baring your chastity cage, he savors a moment in gazing down at you until you’re thoroughly in the headspace of submission. When he undoes his belt and unzips his pants, without breaking eye contact with you, an electric current of fear, intimidation, and excitement courses through you. Your cock throbs between your legs. You don’t know what’s about to happen, but you have a feeling you’re going to be desperate to serve and please him to earn his cock. You hope he’s a bit rough in the process.
“You look down at your cock a lot only to say negative things about it. It is beautiful, as are you. The physical appearance of your cock matters little to me anyway. Its function is what I yearn for the most. And it performs so very well. So responsive to my hands. It is almost like it is trained to respond to my touch. Or is it my voice? I can feel its heat right now. But why do you disparage it so much? Perhaps I need to put your in a collar that prevents you from looking down until your opinion changes. Or maybe force you to stand in front of a mirror? or lock it away from your sight? Maybe not…preventing you from looking at it won’t stop you from hating it. But something must be done. I must somehow teach you to see how lovely you are, boy.”
Mitch was in his zone. He was connected to the music, and his body was warm and elastic. The energy in the room was electric. He went through his routine, improvising here and there, moving up and down the pole, back and forth across the stage. He was trying to keep his mind off the fact that his boyfriend had come to see him at work for the first time.
Mitch had been evasive had been what he did for a living when he met Zach – “oh I work in a bar” – but Zach had some questions. Mostly, why did one man own so many shiny pieces of clothing? And heels. And cosmetics. The truth came out eventually. Mitch was sure Zach would just ghost him, but to his total surprise Zach was fascinated. He wanted to come see Mitch at work, but Mitch put his foot down at that. I mean, perhaps the only thing worse than a boyfriend who is disgusted that you’re a stripper is a boyfriend who thinks you’re his stripper.
It took a couple months for Mitch to make sure the relationship didn’t get weird, and it didn’t…it got, somehow, better. It was nice to talk about his day at work, vulgar as it could be sometimes, and it was nice to have a partner who understood his odd hours. A partner who wasn’t jealous of the attention he got at the club, and was still totally down for romantic snuggles on the couch. When they hit their six month anniversary, Mitch got his courage up to ask Zach if he still wanted to see him dance. Zach said “of course”.
So like that made him nervous, and Mitch was totally sure he was going to fuck up tremendously up on stage. Like, slip, or fall off the pole or something. He tried to make himself focus. He knew he performed best when he felt sexy, so Mitch tried something new. He thought of the way Zach made him feel in bed, the way Zach lavished him with attention and ran his hands all over his body, murmuring compliments in his ear.
Worked so well Mitch sort of forgot Zach was even there. And the moment that fact came crashing back, Mitch paused in pose to glance in Zach’s direction sort of as instinct to see if he was still there. Mitch was not prepared for the way Zach was looking at him. Lips parted, face frozen in awe. Mitch wanted to rub his eyes – did Zach look impressed? Zach smiled at him and mouthed, “wow”. Mitch quickly turned his back to the audience. He could do this strip tease part without everybody seeing him blush.
Mitch had his ass out when he realized he couldn’t remember the last time someone made him blush.
__________________________ Captions are fictional.
Adrian enjoys the paper as he waits the last few minutes for the washer to finish. Sir paid to get his favorite newspaper delivered all the way from France and Adrian reads every copy. It was a kind gesture. Adrian was hesitant to go with Sir abroad, away from everything and everyone familiar, but the idea of being apart from Sir was too painful to process. Although he was homesick at first, Adrian is glad he went. Keeping a house in a foreign country was a refreshing challenge. Any new way to impress Sir is an opportunity he will take.
The washer dings. Chores don’t change though no matter where you live though! Adrian isn’t a huge fan of chores, and yet, he is part of the reason the sheets kept getting dirty. It’s a vicious cycle.
____________________________ Captions are fictional.
Toby wiggled the cabinet door. “Yeah, this is off balanced for sure. The hardware wasn’t mounted properly.” “Mounted? That’s the right word?” I ask as my eyes trace every curve of his back and shoulders. “Yep. It wasn’t mounted properly.” Toby grins at me over his shoulder. “Pretty easy fix. This whole cabinet is wonky though. Who put the spice rack way up there?” “I dunno, but that’s where it goes apparently.” “Can you even reach those spices?” “Not well,” I admit as I ogle the beginning of his crack peeking out from his jeans. Toby studies it. “Probably installed that way due to the tile backsplash. Who-ever installed the cabinets over the backsplash was a silly person. Who designed this kitchen?” “No clue, I just moved in here.” “It’s very silly. Nice range though. Gas?” Toby pulls up his jeans. “Yep.” “Well that’s good at least. Not a fan of electric.” “Toby?” I ask. “Yes?” “Are you wearing underwear?” He flashes that grin at me. “Nah.” “That’s not uncomfortable?” “Nah. If I’m not working, I’m fuckin, and vice versa. When I got a man in my sight, underwear just gets in the way.” “Man.” I repeat. “Yep. Not real interested in women. I’mma go get my drill and fix your cabinets ok?” “Y-yeah, sure. One more thing Toby?” “Yes?” “Do you take tips?” Toby cracks his gum. “I sure do. Doesn’t always have to be monetary though…” “That’s what I was hoping for.” That perfect grin again. “Fucking excellent. I like you. Welcome to the building.” “Thank you. Remember my unit number, I have a feeling you’ll be here a lot.”
______________________________ Captions are fictional.
