Tag: gay couples

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

alllockedup:

*barks* puppy got bored :(.

Someone throw ball? 🐶

Julian looked at his pup. He looked at his laptop. He looked at his pup. He shut the laptop. He bounced the ball in his hand and threw it. It rolled out the door and down the wooden hallway. “Ok, go bring me the ball!” He laughed when the pup got so excited he half fell off the bed. Julian could hear the barking echoing down the hall. He had no idea when his boy had gotten into his pup gear, but he was glad he had. His boy always seemed to know when he needed a break.

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Captions are fictional.

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temptingdominance:

hornyjustfordaddy:

flashdoggy:

Throw a few big dogs on that bed and you have my typical Sunday afternoons.

@temptingdominance

Yes!

August shuffled to the front door, feeling thick headed and blurry eyed. Was it his neighbor giving him mixed up mail again? He opened the door, blinking and stunned, but deeply pleased. “Oscar! What are you here?”
He looked a bit sheepish and held up a bag. “I um, just wanted to see you again, you know. I’ve been wanting to see you since our last date, and when I heard you were sick and that you had to cancel our date tonight, you sounded so down. I brought you some soup, tea, and tissues and magazines and stuff.”
August looked at his boyfriend fondly and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Aww, that’s so sweet. I’m really happy to see you. I’m glad you came.”
Oscar smiled. “May I come in?”
“Oh sure sure. Watch Gordie there.”
August’s giant Rottweiler bowled Oscar over with a greeting. The dog was brimming with energy. “Oof! Oh hello big boy. Yes you are such a hyper dog!” Oscar looked at August. “Does he need to be walked?”
August looked at him. “Yeah he hasn’t been walked in two days,” he admitted. “Just so fucking sick and it’s so cold out there.”

Oscar nodded. “Well I’m still in my jacket. Why don’t you get started on this soup, make some tea, and I’ll check on you when I get back?”
August wondered if Oscar had been sent from heaven. “You are awesome. I’d kiss you if I wasn’t sick.”
“I’ll take a raincheck.”
August chuckled.

When Oscar returned with a tired and happy dog, he found August snuggled into the sofa with the empty take-out container of soup, a decimated cracker packet, and a nearly empty cup of tea. “Guess I was hungry?”
Oscar laughed. “Clearly.“

August’s body had been fighting its viral invaders all day, all now that it had fresh fuel, it was too much for him to stay awake and turn the food into energy. He quickly became drowsy. Oscar didn’t complain. He changed August’s sheets while August showered, and tucked him in. Oscar even risked getting sick himself by crawling in to bed with August to read him a bed time story.

August insisted on cuddling as close to Oscar as possible. He hoped Oscar could feel the love radiating from his body. He was still a bit shy about expressing his feelings, and found it easier to show them instead. Oscar put an arm over. August exhaled softly in contentment, and drifted off to the timbre of Oscar’s voice.

When he woke up the next morning, August felt marginally better. His fever had broken, but he felt warm because there was a giant dog on top of him. Oscar was no where to be seen, but there was fresh laundry in the basket at the foot of the bed. A quick check of the apartment showed it had been tidied. Dishes washed. August was stunned. His boyfriend had done this for him? A fresh lump appeared in throat. Fuck, he wasn’t worthy!

He found a note taped to his phone: Gordie’s been let out and fed. Went to run errands. Text me when you’re up, I’ll bring you breakfast 🙂

Why was that smiley face so cute? August checked the time. He texted Oscar. “I’m up for brunch now. Gonna take another shower. See you soon?”
As he was drinking last night’s cold tea, August got a response. “I’m bringing lox and bagels. See you soon!”
August smiled. He paused with his finger over his phone’s keyboard. Maybe it was the medication making him do it, but he responded. “Thank you, babe. Listen, um, I think …I think I’m falling in love with you.” He immediately panicked after sending it. The response time felt like an eon.
Oscar wrote back though. “Oh wow. Nice to hear you’re catching up to me. :)”

August couldn’t help it. He made it into the shower before he began to cry. After being abandoned by his mom, cheated on by a past lover, and scammed out of overtime at work, August finally felt like he was loved and cherished.

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Captions are fictional. D’aw.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

inordertobetterserve:

maxxie1129:

butt grabbing is very important in a relationship

Very

He’s watching Netflix on his tablet, on his belly. You’re reading the Wall Street Journal, propped up on pillows. Lazy Sunday morning in bed. Your eye drifts up to those tempting curves wrapped in grey cotton. They have shape now. They didn’t used to. Moving into a condo unit with a gym on the ground floor has been paying off. You decide your boy needs to know you’ve noticed. You lean forward a little to take a drink of water, just so it looks like you have an excuse to be moving. You set the water down, pick up your paper with your left hand, then reach over with your right and squeeze that firm meat. The boy’s ass tenses under your hand, and he looks over his shoulder at you. He raises an eyebrow. “Hey,” he says.
You give him a smirk and lean back with your paper. “Hay is for horses,” you reply, adjusting your glasses and turning the page.
He shakes his head and goes back to his Netflix special. Ten minutes later, a hand reaches up and squeezes your bicep. You glance over at his grip, then flex. He squeezes hard and rubs it, trying to hide a smile and look forward at the same time.

God he’s just the most precious thing. You bend to the side and kiss his fingers. That makes him look up at you.
“Hi,” you mouth, knowing he can’t hear you with the earbuds in.
He pops them out anyway. “What are you doing teasing me like that?”
“I can’t help it,” you say, “You make me want to kiss you.”
“Oh really? Cause if there’s kissing happening I want in on that…”
“Oh really?” you reply, mimicking him a little. You bend over the same time he pushes himself up and you meet for an awkward kiss that has you bumping noses and giggling.
“That’s not working,” he notes.
“It’s really not,” you reply, setting the paper aside and pushing his lifted shoulder down so he naturally rolls on his back. You set his tablet aside, pausing to pause it, and swing your leg over so you’re straddling his form. You have his attention now, eyes alert and glittering. You gather his hands and pin them into a pillow. He licks his lips like he’s nervous and you bend over and claim his mouth properly in a deep kiss. A groan percolates in his throat. Suddenly you can’t remember what that article was about, and you feel pretty stupid for reading that the whole time you could have been doing this. When was the last time you made out like teenagers again?

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Captions are fictional. Source is @maxxie1129.

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fuckyeahdudeskissing:

Fuck Yeah Dudes Kissing. A place to see men kiss on Tumblr. Submit a kiss.

There’s some important quiz thing you’re supposed to be taking, but you hate chemistry and you’re much more interested in physical reactions than chemical ones. Mainly, physical reactions named after elements like Peter, the strong jawed rugby captain of your high school team. Hot studs like Peter were always straight and resigned to fantasies of bulges in jock straps and fooling around in the shower.

You always showered in gym after most guys in your gym class left because you couldn’t bear the sight of all that hot, young cock strolling around the locker room. Teenagers are often far too casual with their nudity – boys especially – and you couldn’t take it.
But day after school you were showering, late as always, and Peter had stayed behind to run some laps after classes. Of course, he walked in on you jerking off in the shower, holding a jockstrap some kid forgot about. Humiliating.

Except – Peter then asked, in a nervous voice, if he could join you. You didn’t know what he meant by that, but it soon came about that he wanted to help you. you nearly fainted from nervous apprehension, but if Peter was curious about other guy’s penises then you were of course going to let him explore yours. Of course. Duh.

Peter though, was a wild boy. You fell totally under his spell. You both gave eachother an outlet for sexual energy, and Peter was spilling over with it. So when he texted you to duck out of class in the middle of a test so you could make out in the boy’s bathroom? Of course. Duh. It’s only a quiz. You could make that quiz up later when your thoughts weren’t full of Peter’s hardness in his slacks searing hot and throbbing against your hand.

You had a bit of an issue explaining to your parents why your chemistry grade dropped from an A to a B though.

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Captions are fictional.

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gaylovegalore:

Love love cuddling.

I know he’ll be embarrassed in the morning when my aunt comes downstairs and sees us like this – shirtless, spooning, my bulky arm possessively around his thin waist. I know Brazos doesn’t want to be a stereotype, and that he’s conscious of the gay image he projects. I also know he doesn’t believe me when my I tell him my aunt couldn’t care less.

Now really isn’t the time to be worrying about appearances though. I think it was just his sort of attempt at normalcy. 

I had been following the weather all day, tracking developments from my place on the other side of Lake Ray Hubbard in Rockwall. I told Brazos to leave Rowlett. He refused, stubborn, cocky, hiding his nervousness. I told him to pack a bug-out bag. He scoffed, but he packed. Then, a tornado watch was issued. Then a warning. I jumped in my pick up truck and sped over to get him. The wind was ridiculous; lightening forked through the dark. I sped into the apartment complex parking lot, leaving skids on the road. I was banging on doors, telling people to move, move, move. Brazos and I jumped into my truck and fled as the tornado roared in the distance.

The power was out in my neighborhood, so we drove a little ways to stay with my aunt near Wylie. Brazos was in shock. He cried for an hour, suspecting the worse. He would only sleep if I cuddled with him. It took a while to get him calm, but I eventually got him down on my aunt’s pull out sofa. By that point, I was so worn out from the adrenaline crash and from taking care of Brazos, I didn’t last much longer.

Tomorrow will be a rough day.

I withheld information from Brazos that came on the TV when he was in the bathroom earlier. His apartment complex was obliterated. I recognized the sign in front of it, but that was all. I’ll have to break the news that his home, and probably his car, are destroyed. We will have to salvage his life from over god-knows how many square miles the tornado scattered his stuff. Luckily, Brazos has his phone, his wallet, and his passport. He’ll manage. One thing is clear though – after this, he is going to be moving in with me. I won’t ever let Brazos be in a position where I can’t protect him again. I was still brushing tears out of my eyes as I fell asleep. 

This post is for anyone in North Texas dealing with the tornadoes. Hope you’re all safe.

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Story is fictional. 

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I know you’ve fallen asleep over there, which I’m kind of glad about, because I kind of feel like I’m going to cry. I mean – how dumb would it look to start crying in the middle of a park? Someone would probably go – what an asshole, dude thinks the sky is so pretty he’s crying. Or they’d think I’m on drugs. The truth is, I’m not on drugs anymore. I say the words aloud, just to hear myself say the words and have them be true: “I’m not on drugs. I’m not on drugs anymore. I was on drugs, but I’m not anymore.”

It’s funny – back then when I was a walking poster-child of Florida’s Biggest Problem, I would say the same thing out loud just to cement my denial. I’m not on drugs. I just take them occasionally. Once a day. I mean, I have a job, I’m not living on the streets. I’m not a drug addict. Middle-class white guys are not addicts.
I was so full of shit. I am now somewhat amazed I was able to play the game of mental gymnastics with such Olympic-level skill. The side effects of the drugs were so gradual that I was watching out for them, but I wasn’t prepared for the side effect of lying. Just making shit up all the time is exhausting. Hiding what you’re doing becomes exhausting. The guilt..the lies…the shame. That nagging sense that you’re on the brink of losing control, the paranoia that all your friends know – but they couldn’t know could they?

They had to know about the Vicodin, cause of my car accident and the back pain. But they couldn’t know how many pills. They couldn’t have any idea about the Xanax. Or the Percocets. Or the occasional jag of heroin. They couldn’t know I was going to realtor open-houses to raid the medicine cabinet, or I’d been shopping doctors for prescriptions.

I glance over at Jeffrey. I can’t believe he stuck with me this whole fucking time. I was sure when I got back out of rehab, he would be gone. He was the one who threatened to leave me if I didn’t get some fucking help. I was so blown out at that point that I was negotiating in my head how I was going to get out of this with my little magic pills intact – just go to rehab enough to look clean sober, get myself back down to when I was down to a pill a day – when he didn’t notice – and he would take me back. Looking back on it, I’m disgusted with myself.

Jeffrey does not deserve me. He deserves someone so, so much better. So much more whole. Someone who was not an addict.

Yet he stuck with me through this whole damn time. He kept visiting me, bringing me food and things I needed. Books. Better sheets. Chapstick. And as the drugs began to leave my system, the guilt moved in. I was able to see this man I’d been dating with clear eyes again, and the love came back. And once I let the love do the thinking for me, it began to fight the addiction in full force. I didn’t want to be in love Jeffrey under the influence. I could not do that to him, and should never have done it in the first place. I fully expected to get out of rehab and he would be gone, and I could never tell him just how much his love saved me.

But Jeffery was there in his red sedan, waiting to pick me up from rehab, to take me back to our new apartment in a new neighborhood where we were going to start over. We didn’t go back to normal though. He was scared of me for a week, unsure if the old Brian was actually back. 

I learned that getting clean isn’t just one act. It comes in waves, and most of those waves involves becoming aware of all the damage you’ve caused. Jeffery didn’t trust me. He would check our friends’ medicine cabinets before we went over there. He checked my pockets. Initially, Jeffery declined intimacy, of close contact, and preferred being friends in the same apartment. I was annoyed at him at first for pushing me away, but then I realized it was because Jeffrery was scared I was going to backslide and he was going to be betrayed and have his heart hurt again. They don’t prepare you for that in rehab.

We went to couples therapy. It got better. We celebrated five years together. I lost my job cause of the addiction, but I got a new one. I squeeze Jeffrey’s hand. It’s still getting better, every day.

Love conquers all. Shit, I’m crying in a public park. What a white guy thing to do.

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Text is fictional.

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We were leaving the park and it happened – we synchronized. We had each-other’s hands in the respective back pockets, then we removed them and gave each respective asscheek a squeeze. Tim and I both just stopped and looked at each-other.
“Did that just happen?” we say at the same time. Tim begins to laugh. “Oh god we’ve become ‘that couple’ haven’t we? We’re spending so much time together we’re becoming the same person.”
I scoff. “That’s impossible. It was just a confidence. We’ve only been dating three weeks, it can’t happen that quickly!”
Tim raises an eyebrow at me, then shakes his head with a little smile on his face. “Whatever you say, babe.”

We begin to walk forward again, but we both put our left feet first. Tim immediately stops, and then of course, I stop. By this point, he already has the giggles. “You go, then I go. You do left foot, I go right foot.”
“That was just a coincidence too,” I insist.
I put my left foot forward and take a couple steps and Tim lets me pass, then jogs up to catch me. Our stride fell into its natural ways. That is, until I subconsciously reached for his hand and mine bonked against his – seeking the same thing.

“Oh come on!” I say exasperated. “You did that on purpose!”
“I swear I didn’t!” he gasps, laughing.
“We need to be careful. I like you, I don’t want the relationship to burn out too soon.”
That goofy smile appears on his face. “You like me?”
“Yes, I like you. You’re cute as hell, you have great posture, you’re so considerate and ambitious and your humor is off the wall. Plus, I like men who are smaller than me.”
“Ohhh god, fuck now I have to marry you for saying that. We have to elope and everything.”
“We can’t elope after 3 weeks, Timmy.”
“Why not?”

We both speak at the same time. “Your mom would kill us,” I say. Tim answers himself: “Well, my mom would definitely murder me.” I’d only known him a short while, but he’d already told me about his mother who was a wedding planner specializing in big, showy affairs.

I stop walking again and give him a glare for having synched with me again. “Ok, it is silent time until the car. Stand over there and be normal.”
Tim laughs again. “Oh god I can’t. I can’t deal with this. We’re too adorable, I’m giving myself a cavity.”

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Text is fictional. Source unknown, would be appreciated.

PSA: I’m selling some writing to offset the cost of bills, please check it out.