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He runs his hand over my hair and walks away. After all the years of playing, there’s still anxiety before a game. You never know how it’s going to go, who will get hurt, which team will be hungrier for the win. Paul knows physical touch helps calm me, so he always makes sure to do something before we start warmups.
The man who has come to mean more to me than anyone else wants intimacy, but not sex. I can care for him, about him, but I can’t be in love with him.
He’s my comfort, and he doesn’t even know it.
Nothing has ever felt as right as this moment, with this man, in this room. He’s my everything. And that terrifies me. I’m so gone for this boy.
Brendon is a toucher, it’s just how he is. He needs it, but it’s killing me.
“Are you gonna kiss me or just stare at me?” Brendon plants his feet on the floor and uses the position to grind up against me. “I’ll kiss you when I’m good and goddamn ready.”
Jaw is on the floor
“I need to shit.”
LMFAO
“Time to go.”
This is so funny I’m cracking up
Paul runs his fingers through my hair, and like a light switch, I’m out.
I’ve been living and breathing your touch lately. If I don’t come up for air, I’ll drown in you.
“You’re comfortable with me, I’m a cuddle whore, and orgasms are awesome. It’s a win-win.” Please don’t break my heart.
My best friend, the love of my fucking life, is in pain and fighting himself.
My brain hurts, and that dude has two forearms in his ass. Jesus.
“Just fuck off! I didn’t ask you to save me!” “I love you. You don’t have to ask!” His angry red face is in mine.
“Shh,” I say with my lips on his chest. “I’ll get you there.”
😩😩
“This one,” he holds up the cupcake with a pink candle, “is for your mom.”
I could cry this is so sweet
