Tag: young men in love

Gallery
by ccallenreese

He came by to help you close up the store. Your sister runs the place, selling very nice bath products and tattoo care, soap and candles. She wanted a night off, so you worked her shift. By closing time, the place was dead, so you invited your boyfriend to keep you company.

Recently, you can’t seem to get enough of him. You’re still not really sure what happened, because he was a friend for the longest time and you were pretty goddamn sure he was straight. Apparently he’s just got the best gaydar cloaking technology in existence because you found his stash of your stolen undershirts and underwear when over at his place. You just had to take one look at this miserable face and incredibly hot body, and you know you were going to give him what he wanted instead of leaving him. Heck, you wanted him since day one but thought you were being the good gay friend by keeping your hands off. Now that the barrier had been broken, the mattress was not going to get a break.

Now, you could hardly go anywhere or do anything without thinking of him. And since you were alone and bored, of course you called him, and of course he came over with the promise of dinner after. But first – you were going to eat him. You locked the doors and shoved him against the wall. You were aware your sister probably had a security camera in place here, but dammit you could not resist him.

His taste, the fullness of his lips, the way his hard muscles trembled under your roaming fingertips. The boy liked to be kissed and you were happy to indulge him. You were slowly realizing that his alpha straight boy act was a cover too. You were always the one that pushed him back and lifted up his shirt, waiting for him to spar with you, but he just melted and let you take control. Surrendering to you came naturally to him. You rewarded him for his piety by tonguing his nipples while massaging his erection through his pants. He lifted his hips and moaned out your name, making your own cock ache.

There were glass windows on the storefront and you didn’t want anyone to call the cops, so you took him to the back room where there was a nice packing table waiting for use. You bent him over and got his pants down. That herbal spice body oil your sister created made for some damn great lube. It occurred to you that she should probably start selling it as such. You teased his hole with your slick fingers until he was pounding the table, begging for you to fuck him, but you waited until his cock was a tight, straining mess in your hands on the brink of spurting before you dove into him.

Your hands left oily marks on his hips as you set a relentless place, fucking him hard and sweet. You pressed kisses down his shoulder and licked the shell of his ear to make him insane.

The orgasm came far too quickly, and you wished you had a plug to hold in all the mess. You settled for cleaning him with warm, damp paper towels and kissing him until he was unmistakeably ravished. If it wasn’t for your grumbling stomachs, then you were sure you were going never going to stop making out with him. You reminded yourself to be careful and not go too fast, not taken advantage of him, because this boy just might be the love of your life and you had to remember he was a person and not just a vessel for sex, even if he wanted to be thought of that way. He had an amazing sex drive.

And taking care of your man meant feeding him after fucking him.
“Come on love, let’s get you some protein before we get carried away again. I much rather make love to you on a soft bed than a wooden table.”
And he gives you this heart-melting smile and slinks an arm around your waist. “Late night tonkatsu ramen?”
You groan. “Sounds fucking delicious.”
He kisses your cheek. “Not as delicious as you.”

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Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

There is praise I can never give you, for there are not words, or emotions, or smiles to convey how much I am grateful for you. You somehow, always, telepathically know when I’m at my worst. It’s usually after therapy, but sometimes just for no reason. Those are the days when the medication isn’t working, and I just can’t get out of bed. I don’t know why you want to be with a guy suffering from clinical depression. I mean, I love you, but it’s hard for me to show it. I don’t feel like I deserve to love you, or if I’m even loving you right at all, because I don’t feel many emotions. I mostly feel just negative ones. I always feel unworthy of you.

Yes, I know that release of endorphins and hormones from sex is healing and therapeutic. You know that making me have release can help wash my brain of the crap inside so that the drugs can move in and start working. I just struggle to initiate it. I mean, I struggle to lift my spoon. And yet you somehow, magically, see every time when I need it the most. You swap out my underwear for jockstraps while I’m showering and so of course, I put them on. I feel sexier that way, which enforces a positive body image. Still, I just can’t make myself go after you but you always, always come to me.

You climb into bed with me and pry me off of the pillow. You scoop me into your arms and kiss me, like I’m Sleeping Beauty. You make me feel treasured, and curiously flattered when your hand squeezes my ass. You rub against me and make me forget everything – how depressed I am, how deep in debt I am, how bleak my future is. You remind me that my future has you in it too, and just maybe, I can climb out of this hole.

Your embrace becomes this warm envelope of hope and humanity. You turn my sorrow into silk. For that, and all the ways you’ve supported me, I will always love you. And because of that, I have stopped thinking about suicide; because if the afterlife is absent of you, I do not want to go.

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Text is fictional. “You turn my sorrow into silk” is a lyric from giselle’s Silk. The Favored Nation’s remix is pretty good too. By the way, if any of you have suicidal thoughts, please call 1-800-273-8255 or your nation’s helpline.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

I strolled into the kitchen, bright-eyed and busy-tailed, whistling the latest pop-tune. I always slept well at Cyrus’s house. His guest room mattress was really comfy. He had called me last night and begged me to sleep over. because he’d just had another break up another other hot guy. I didn’t need a second excuse. It was that, or stay and listen to my roommate have sex with her boyfriend. She was a screamer.

“Mornin, Benji.”
“Mooor~ning,” I replied. My eyes lingered on the outline of his cock in his tighty whities. I always thought it was adorable that he still wore them at his age. He needed to get on my level – jock strap undies. My gaze roved up his bare chest to…“Are you eating ice cream for breakfast?”
“Yes. No. Maybe.’
“Cyrus,” I clucked. “You can’t eat ice cream for breakfast.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s unhealthy. It has no nutritional value. It’ll make you pudgy.” I pried it out of his hands. He pouted, and hung up his head while twiddling his fingers in his lap.
“Aww baby,” I cooed.
”"Why did Mark break up with me? I really liked him.“
I put the ice cream back in the fridge. "He wasn’t good for you. I’m sorry he left you sweetheart, but you and I know he would have driven you crazy with his obsessive cleanliness.”
Cyrus thought. “I’m going back to bed and having a pity wank.”
“No you’re not. I’m making you breakfast, then we’re going on a hike.”
He blinked. “Why?”
“Because sulking and masturbation are short-term fixes. You need to get out, get some fresh air. Move on. You won’t feel any better wrapped in soiled-sheets with dairy curdling in your stomach.”
Cyrus screwed up his face and shrugged.

I dug around in his fridge. I pulled out some ham, his last eggs, and some spinach. I found half a box of waffles shoved in the back of the freezer. Cyrus sat there watching me make breakfast. Once in a while I’d hear an occasional sigh. I poured him a glass of iced tea from the fridge, and he sipped it mournfully. table.

When I was all done, I plated his meal and handed it to him with both hand. “Here you go. Scrambled eggs with spinach and ham, plus waffles and syrup. I put Sriracha on your eggs just like how you like it.”

Cyrus stared at the offering. He took it and smelled it. “Wow,  it looks delicious, thanks.” He suddenly sat up straight. “…Jesus.”
“What?” I asked, plating my own food and taking it to the table.
“I just realized something, Benji. I’ve been totally oblivious. Through-out all my break-ups, you’ve been the only constant thing in my life. You’ve been my best friend since day one of college, and even then you’ve always taken
care of me, just like you’re doing now. Mark said I was ‘distracted’,
and I didn’t know what that meant, but now I get it. I was distracted
because of you. Even when I’m dating other guys, I’m thinking of you. I
want you to come with me, to go out with me… At clubs or bars, I look for you,
hoping you’ll show up. I did it last night too!”
“Cyrus, don’t tease me.” My heart began to flutter. 

“You know, out
of all my boyfriends, not a single one of them made me breakfast like
this. Jake made me eggs once, but they were terrible, and they didn’t
have Sriracha. I’m sitting here whining and pouting, while you made me a big beautiful breakfast
with your butt half-hanging out of your underwear, like you’re god’s
gift to twinks, and Jesus, I never told you what a cute butt you have.”
I bit my lip. I could feel it quivering. "Cyrus, what are you saying?.”

“What I’m saying is…” Cyrus hopped off the counter, then set his plate and glass down on the table. He then walked over and put his hands on my shoulders.
“I’ve had this good thing this entire time, I was just too dumb to realize it. We should have been a couple a long time ago, Benji. Would you go out with me?”
I gave him my most radiant smile through wet eyes. “Absolutely yes. I never thought you
would ask me, and I would have to settle for unrequited love forever.”
“I’m
so sorry Benji,” Cyrus said, pulling me into his arms. “I’ve been ignoring
you, taking advantage of you. I’ve been such a jerk. And a dense one at
that.”
I wrapped my arms around his chest and buried my face in the crook of his neck. “No, it’s alright, Cyrus. Just because we’re both gay, doesn’t mean
that you should automatically fall for me, just because I did for you. I
just hoped some man would make you happy one day. It was killing me though,
watching them break your heart.”
“Christ, I’m sorry, Benji.”

We held each-other for a while, rocking back and forth. I was crying a little. Eventually, Cyrus dried my eyes with his thumb, then he lifted his head and kissed me. My knees went weak, just as I always hoped they would.
Cyrus tasted me again and then said, “Why don’t we go eat our food before it gets cold? And um, when we go on our hike together, you think we could call it a first date?”
“I’d like that, Cryus.”
“Me too.”

He squeezed my hand. I squeezed back. We sat down at the kitchen table together and began our future together. It was long over-due.

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Text is fictional. I wrote this entire story and then I accidentally lost it, so I had to rewrite in a hurry. Sucks. Lemme know if you find typos.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

Joseph came home from his job as a broker to find discipline needing to be issued. Blake had greeted him kneeling at the door, offering up the broken pieces of a nice Pyrex ceramic baking dish. Joseph hated to see the shame on his face. He gave Blake a kiss hello, then instructed him to remove his pants and bend over his knee as he sat down on the sofa. Blake was older than Joseph, but he absolutely worshiped Joseph as the more alpha male of the household. He did exactly as he told, eager to prove he was strong enough to handle it. Blake had been working on hard on being a stoic boy during spankings. He was usually so embarrassed by how silly he sounded whining and squeaking with every swat, kicking his legs like a kid learning how to swim.

Blake put one hand behind his back as a symbol of submission, but Joseph interpreted it another way. He grasped his boy’s hand. Blake was surprised to feel his Master’s touch, but seized it up with a big squeeze back. Even though Blake couldn’t see it, Joseph smiled.

“Twenty,” Joseph said gently. He felt his boy sigh under him.
“I’ll take them.”
“I know.” Joseph raised an open hand and delivered twenty, evenly spaced and relentless swats to his boy’s soft rump. What a nice way to unwind from work.

By 10, Blake was gripping Joseph’s hand hard; by 12 he was tensing and quivering with every swat, punctuated by tiny yelps. By 17, he was sucking air through his teeth and he was kicking a little. By 20, he was staring at the floor through teary eyes and trying so hard to fight the urge to squirm away.

“There we go,” Joseph said, “All done. You took your punishment well, boy.” He pulled Blake up. “Your bottom is a nice shade of red. Looks fitting on you.”
Blake sniffled and raised his arms, Joseph pulled his boy towards him, let him wrap those arms around his neck. It turned Joseph on immensely feeling that hot skin pressed upon his thighs through the thin fabric of his slacks. Now wasn’t the time for sex though. Joseph embraced his boy and rocked him, nuzzling him, until most of the discomfort had ebbed away.

“I’m sorry I broke your baking dish,” Blake said, his eyelashes still damp.
Joseph kissed him on the lips. “It’s alright. It was an accident, and it’s replaceable.”
Blake look relieved. “I’ll be more careful in the future. I was rushing to put the dishes away when they were still a bit wet.”
“Haste makes waste.” Joseph said.
Blake thought about it, then nodded, impressed by Joseph’s wisdom. “That’s a good lesson Sir. If…if I’m forgiven, may I take off your shoes, kiss your feet perhaps?”
Joseph raised an eyebrow. “How about you bring me my cotton pants and a loose T-shirt, and you can undress all of me and kiss my feet?”

Blake’s face lit up. “I’d love to Sir. Permission to fetch those items?”
“Permission given.”
Joseph watched him bounce off, admiring his glowing ass. He was really such a good boy. He wondered how he got so lucky as to find him. Joseph might be an underling at the office, but at home he lived like a King. He imagined some real Kings would probably be jealous.

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Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

gayboykink:

The tender moments of submission.

Andrew gazes fondly over his prize, stroking the boy’s chestnut hair. Oliver’s not yet awake, as the drugs haven’t worn off. Andrew knows when Oliver comes to, he might be scared and flail so he keeps the ropes on for the boy’s own safety. Andrew knows once Oliver sees his face, everything will be alright. He smiles, satisfied. The deep hit to his bank account was worth it. Every penny as valuable as gold to him. He knew he was taking a huge risk hiring that shady man to kidnap his boy and steal him away, but Andrew could not bear another day knowing his boy was out of his grasp.

They had been lovers once, but when they were in college. But Oliver’s father had crippling gambling debts, and jealous of his beautiful face, sold his own son to pay off his loansharks. Andrew could not afford the cost, and could only watch helplessly as his lover was ripped from his arms and taken away. The private investigator he hired tracked Oliver to a slave work farm in upstate New York

Andrew saved for two years to acquire enough money to afford the kidnapper. It was only after Andrew received a small inheritance after the death of a grandparent was he able to hire the man. He was nearly broke now, but he would live in a barn with Oliver if he had to. The debt had been paid by the slavetraders. Andrew made a silent promise to Oliver that he would always be free, and he would always be safe. He would always be protected, and loved, because Oliver had always been – and would forever be – his beloved boy. No one would take what belonged to him ever again.

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Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

Lachlan was examining an old book of costume designs for details to borrow for illustrations when he heard a knock at the door. He was both relieved and annoyed by the sound. He needed a distraction, but he bothered that inspiration wasn’t coming to him. The illustrations were due in two days and he hadn’t done the linework – not to mention the coloring! Ugh, it was going to be overtime for sure. The other drawings
for the Richman campaign came to him instantly; he’d propped them up to
remind himself he didn’t suck at his job.

Lachlan sighed and closed the book. “Yes?” He glanced up at his secretary, a smiley, plump blonde woman.
“Um,”
she said, pointing a pencil toward the front of the office, “Your
husband is here. He’s bouncing off the walls, demanding he has to see
you ASAP.”
“Is something wrong?” Lachlan asked, already striding to the door.
“No, quite the opposite, I think.”

Their head illustrator was already running past her to the waiting area.
“Julian?” he called.
Julian
heard Lachlan’s voice and jogged toward him. He was grinning so hard his
cheeks hurt, all his teeth on display. “Come here, I gotta tell you something.” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed a very confused Lachlan by the sleeve and dragged him back into his office and
shut the door tight.
“Julian what’s going on?”
“Lach they picked us!” He leapt into his husband’s arms.
“Ooof!” Lachlan exhaled in surprise as he found his arms full of a petit brunet.
“They picked us!” Julian crowed.
“Who picked what?” Lachlan insisted.
Julian
kissed him hard. Lachlan did not dislike that, but was a tad embarrassed to
be receiving that in front of an open window. “My goodne-“
“The
adoption agency called. Couple 17, the teenagers we met two weeks ago? They liked our profile, the book we
sent them, the photos… It’s really happening Lachlan. They’ve picked us to adopt their daughter
when she’s born.”
“…What?” Lachlan breathed, shocked.
Julian smiled. “We’re going to be parents.”
All
the air left Lachlan’s throat. He worked his jaw, but nothing came out.
Tears sprung to his eyes. Julian wiped them away with his sleeve. “Us.
Parents. It’s really happening.”
“Oh my god,” Lachlan sputtered. He let
Julian down so he could hug him properly in a bone-crushing grasp.
“You’re 100% serious? They’ve picked us? Why?”
Julian giggled,
overexcited. “Yes. Our adoption counselor didn’t want to spill all over
the phone, but she said for both teenagers, there’s lot of
religious mania in the families. Huge homophobes, too. The teens said they wanted their kid to
have a “modern life” as they put it.”
“…Are you saying being a gay couple ended up working for us? After all that rejection?”
"That’s what I’m saying.”

Lachlan stared at Julian, trying to digest this. He let out a whoop and punched
the air. They made so much noise that Cathy knocked on the door.

“Um, is everything ok there in Lach?”
He went to the door to reassure their receptionist. “No it’s great! It’s fucking great! I’m going to be a dad!!”

When Lachlan’s boss found out about his and Julian’s adoption success, he took everyone in the small company out for lunch and drinks. People kept buying Lachlan and Julian drinks and the couple got a bit too drunk. Lachlan was given the rest of the day off, and Julian escorted him home.

They stumbled in through the door to their house, then made love on the sofa. As he was lying there, out of breath, delirious with happiness and cuddling a napping Julian, Lachlan suddenly had the inspiration for the drawings he was stuck on at work. He was feverishly sketching when Julian came to fetch him for dinner. After a nice meal, he went right back to his office to put down the basics for the colors. When he was done with the preliminary work, Lachlan didn’t even take a break before moving on to the next drawing project: designing the nursery.

____________________

Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“Look what I made,” Avery said again, bursting with pride. “I made these.”
“They’re beautiful. Made with love,” Graham confirmed, wrapping his arms around his partner.
“They are.” Avery took deep breath, inhaling the scent of fresh-baked pies. “You think they’re beautiful? They’re kinda messy. The filling spilled out everywhere.”
Graham nuzzled their noses together and placed a chaste kiss to Avery’s lips. “I think they will still taste delicious.”
“The batter was plenty good.”
Graham chuffed through his nose. “That it was.”

Avery set the tray down on the counter, unable to tear his eyes off the final product. He made these! He couldn’t remember the last time felt pride in his work. “I made these,” he said again. “I can bake. I’m going to be a good houseboy.”
“Yes. See, it’s not so hard. You just follow the instructions, take your time, make sure you have good ingredients.”
Avery tucked his chin; his gaze drifted to the floor. “It sounds simple. Dan used to tell me I screwed up every. single. time. The recipes were confusing, the ingredients cheap. He liked to pinch pennies. He would eat one, then throw it into the sink, then make me bend over and he’d cane me.”

Graham embraced Avery even tighter, hoping a reassuring hug from behind would chase away bad memories. He was there at Avery’s physical, so they’d have evidence to process a case of abuse against Dan. Some of those cane stripes were now scars. Avery’s beautiful butt had been faintly marked forever. Graham hated that. It made him mad as hell, but Graham told himself if he thought of Dan, Dan would win. He had to let Avery’s past go if he was to have a future with Avery. Still, it was going to be difficult.

“Graham?” Avery asked softly. “You’re breathing hard. Are you ok? Did – did I do something?”
Graham opened his eyes. “No. Not at all. I was just …stewing. I am still mad at myself for letting you go the first time, when you were cleaning for me part time. I was so stupid, letting you go because I was scared how fast I was falling for you. And Dan happened. You shouldn’t have been punished for me.”
Avery half-turned so he could look at Graham over his shoulder. “Is that what you think happened?”
Graham nodded miserably.
“No,” the slimmer man insisted, his voice firm. “Absence makes the heart fonder. It was only because I moved out that you were able to see clearly how much you love me.”
“I do,” Graham groaned.
“You were able to see what you really wanted. You chased after me so hard to get me back. What happened with Dan was just an ugly fact of life. You were there for me after, and that’s what I wanted. You have atoned.”
"Wow,” Graham breathed.
Avery glanced again at the pretty little pies. “Can I put these on the cooling rack now?” he asked, excited.
“Yes. Go on. Use the spatula. Gentle now.” Graham watched Avery work, and he began to rock him. “I can’t believe you still let me love you.”

“I am really happy you love me. I just want to be a good houseboy. You sent me away. Dan hurt me. I felt like such a failure. I am on cloud nine that you gave me a second chance and are teaching me how to be a great houseboy.” Avery swallowed hard and sniffled.
“Aww, there, there. It’s ok.” Graham kissed his neck and his ear-lobe. “You’re safe now, and you’re mine.”
“I love you Graham.”
“I love you more Avery.”

Avery slid off the oven-mitts, then turned around into Graham’s embrace. They kissed passionately, Avery losing himself in the soft yet firm texture of Graham’s lips. He tasted a bit like blueberries, from when they had licked the falling off each-other’s fingers earlier. After a long tender moment, the kisses trailed off to little nips here and there. They both had to catch their breath. Avery felt something hard poking against his hip.
“I had no idea baking could be so …so sexy,” Avery gasped.
“Is it really the baking?” Graham joked.“
"Well…” Avery puckered his lips in thought. “I think it’s the idea that I’m doing something for my man that he likes. It’s sexy to know he likes me doing it for him. Can happiness be sexy?”
“Oh absolutely,” Graham replied instantly. “I am turned on right now by the sign of your butt in your apron, yes, but I think more than that, it’s how much you are glowing with pride at your accomplishment.”
“I made those,” Avery repeated, gesturing to the pies. “…Wait, what if they don’t taste good?”

Graham traced Avery’s lower lip with his thumb. “There, there, don’t fret. How about we have a nice afternoon tea session? Baked goods, tea, the nice china. I um, bought that tea you like. Remember – the floral kind from France?”
The young man gasped. “You remembered that?”
“Of course! I hadn’t found anyone else that likes that stuff. I bought a big ol’ thing of it.”

Avery bounced on this toes. “Can you um, watch me to make sure I make the tea properly? I don’t want to burn it. I don’t know which forks to use at tea either…”
Graham smiled. “Of course. I will teach you everything you will need to know to be the perfect houseboy.”
”Your perfect houseboy.”
”My perfect houseboy. Mmnn not just that. My Avery.”
Avery felt a lump in his throat form. “Oh, Graham~ I could listen to you say that forever.”
“You better get used to it, love, because I plan to.”

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Text is fictional. The source is an utterly fantastic blog called Piefolk, in where gay guys get together on “SunDATES” and bake. The relevant post is here. This post isn’t intended to assume their personalities. The guys in the photo I think had an intimate moment, but it didn’t work out as boyfriends, according to the blogpost. The photography was done by Tri Vo Studios.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“Have you seen my coffee? I set it down some-”
“I put it by your keys so you wouldn’t forget it.”
“Ugh, you know me so well,” he chuckles.
I smile. “I do. Don’t forgot we have dinner with my parents after work.”
“Uh huh,” he says, hurredly shuffling papers into his briefcase. “Didn’t forget. I won’t be late.”
“Good. I’ll meet you there with Olivia. I’m taking her to her check-up at 9, and then getting groceries.”
“Don’t forget barbeque sauce,” he says, latching the case.
I blink. “Oh that’s not on the list, thank you. Did you have enough to eat?”
“Yes. I gotta go love. Gonna be late.”
“Hey hey wait!”
“What?” he asks, a bit flustered.
I grab his tie and pull him in for a kiss. “Just that.” I begin to release him. “Oh, and one other thing.” I pull him close to me again and whisper in his ear. “I’m going to come by at lunch-time and let you fuck me in the bathroom.”
He’s speechless. I give him another kiss on the cheek and smile as I smooth his tie. “Have a nice day at work, honey.”
“I – I will,” he stammers. “Thank you.”

He gives me a hungry look, then reluctantly leaves for work. Two minutes later, I’m chasing him down the driveway with the portable coffee container in my hand, Olivia squealing happily at my side.

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Text is 100% fictional. The gif is from the TV show Shameless, but the text is not intended to portray their characters.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

This is the sequel to this.

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Ethan and I sat in a pile of wrapping paper and small boxes, sipping hot cocoa with vanilla vodka in it. He was dangling a ribbon for Mrs. Fluffington to swat at. We had spent the morning playing in the snow and going sledding on a golf course hill by the house, then came home to a nice lunch and gifts. Sweaters. Books. Sex toys. Sarcastic post-it notes. A shaving kit for Ethan. Hockey stuff for me. The climax of Christmas was over…or so Ethan thought.

“Ethan?” I began.
“Hm?”
“This Christmas has been magical. I mean, I’m sitting here, by the fire, with medicated hot chocolate, with no place to go and no one making demands on me at work. It’s snowing beautifully outside, and we’re all warm and toasty in here. It’s cliche, but it’s magical, and every Christmas I spent with you, I find this intense happiness that I never knew possible. More than anything, I feel just so incredibly happy with you, and am just far too pleased with the idea that I get to spend a whole ‘nother year with you.”

Ethan smiled at me. “Honey that is so sweet of you to say.” He leaned over and we shared a chaste kiss. I could see the suspicion in Ethan’s eyes. He was no doubt wondering if this was in fact The Time, or if he was reading into things too much. “Jesus christ, I can’t even begin to express how I feel about you..” He worked his jaw, trying to make words come out, but I put a finger over his soft lips so he’d hush.

“Now, I know being with me over the years has been a strange journey for you. We started off as friends. You were dating a girl. Then, you came out to me as bisexual, and then you confessed you had a crush on me-”
Ethan groaned and blushed, much to my delight.
“Which was one of these most wonderful things that has ever happened to me, as I was going insane with my unrequited feelings for you.”
“…You were?”
“Absolutely,” I admit. “I didn’t want to be ‘that creepy gay guy’ but, even then, I knew you were special. I loved your scruffy look. I thought you were so handsome. I was selfish, just looking at the surface. You taught me what it really means to be *in* a relationship, and I never wanted to work so hard for love in my life. You are so ambitious, so forward thinking, that I was – am – constantly amazed by all your kinetic energy. Being with you has made me like… jolt free, and move with intent, to improve and better myself, and grow up.  I wanted -” at this point, my voice cracked -“ I wanted so very much to be worthy of your love, and your approval, to be someone you didn’t consider below you. I want to live in a house with you, and share your bed, and listen to you mutter in your sleep and put jelly on your toast. I love you, and I hope, I really, really hope, that you love me too. So, Ethan Richard Norwich, will you marry me, and let me have you forever?”

I presented a small box from the pocket of my bathrobe and opened it with two trembling, hands.

At this point, I must have entirely mesmerized Ethan because his pupils were dilated and his lids were wide open. It should have been entirely obvious that I was proposing minutes ago, but when he saw the ring Ethan made this high pitched noise, the end of which was smothered by his hands covering his mouth. Mrs. Fluffington fled for the nearest box. Ethan’s palms over his chin were the only things keeping his jaw from falling off his face.
“Holy shit is this really happening…?” he asked, hesitating.
“Yes, it is,” I replied, swallowing hard.
Yes!” he squeaked, a loud voice coming out of a tight throat. “Yes oh my god yes! Yes yes!” He threw his arms around me and squeezed me so hard, I couldn’t breathe. He then peppered me with his kisses.
“Oh my god! Did I just get engaged?” he said, his eyes overflowing with tears.
I was laughing with bliss and happiness, high off adrenaline as the nervousness faded away.
“Yes, it’s happening. I’d been planning this for months.” I showed him the ring.
“Shit, it’s beautiful. And yet, masculine. Shit.” He was openly crying now.
I took it out of the box and slid it into his ring finger. Ethan exhaled audibly. ‘Oh god it fits perfectly. Look at it, it’s just…shit, Joel.” He wiped tears away with this shirt. We embraced and rocked and cried together. The snow continued to fall outside. I piped up. “You know when you came back in from cleaning the gutters and found your dad’s ring gone? I lied. I had taken it to measure for this.”
“What…? Ah you crafty bastard! How did I – how did I not see it? You’ve been planning this for months! You told me we had to put it off!”
I grinned. “That is true. I wanted you to be surprised.” I examined his trembling hand, sniffling too. “God it looks perfect.”
“I’m engaged,” Ethan announced, his eyes red, his voice light with disbelief. “I’m going to get married. Holy shit. This is the best Christmas ever.” He gazed up at me. “I love you so much, Joel. Don’t ever think you’re not worthy of me. I spent so many years worried that you get frustrated or impatient with me and leave. So sure you would assume I’d find a woman and eventually leave. Coming out as bisexual was the hardest thing I ever did because I risked your friendship. Now I’m marrying my best friend, and I think I might be dreaming.”

The tears, the hugging, and the kissing continued until we needed tissues. Ethan’s disbelief melted into excitement, and he fetched his laptop so we could Skype his mother in Florida.
When she saw the ring, she made the exact same noise as her son, and punctuated it with a: “Well it’s about fucking time!”
I left them alone for a moment so they could talk about how much Ethan’s father would have loved to see this moment.

After we called our respective families, I took Ethan out for a walk in the snow which had blanketed the neighborhood. I looked behind us and saw our footprints recede into the distance, and I realized that we had always been sharing the same path. We would be officially starting a new life as one. I squeezed Ethan’s hand.
“I will always love you.”

_________
Text is fictional. The source and maker of the ring is here.