Pretty Boy (The Boys of Apartment 13, #1)

by Brianna Flores

I should feel bad, but mostly, I’m just glad he’s not responding all that much to Jax. Jax grows on people. I’m not even all that sure how we ended up so close. I just fucked him one day, and he never left.

“So. Bisexual?” “I guess,” Liam shrugs, his face twisted in discomfort as he palms the back of his neck. His face kind of reminds me of how he acted when his friend saw us at the diner. He doesn’t like talking about his sexuality, which is fair, but I don’t like the way it eats at me. I’m gay. I have a dick. He’s here to use that dick, so the least he could do is fucking admit he likes said dick.

His thighs open for me the second his jeans are off, finally revealing the plug in his hole. “Oh, fuck.” I have to stop, press my forehead against his thigh, and take a breath. I don’t know what I expected to see, but a little light pink heart-shaped jewel definitely wasn’t it.

I run my thumb over the hard jewel, turning the plug until the heart is rotated in the right position and his legs tense.

“I know what you like.” What he needs. “It’s not for me,” he says, speaking more clearly as he tries to get me to listen to him, blinking his hooded eyes to try and clear his head of all the hedonism plaguing him. “Not just for me. You––I want you to like it, Bash. You can fuck me hard. You can take me however you want.” “Liam,” I grab his chin, forcing him to stay looking at me. “You don’t think I’ll take what I want from you? That I’d even be inside you right now if I didn’t like this? This little cunt is perfect, sweetheart. Just right. This is how I want it, just like this.”

“Ugh,” he throws an elbow over his eyes. “I hate your dimples.” That pulls a laugh from me as I start pumping my hips with a gentle purpose. He’s open enough that the glide is easy, lets me move faster without having to press too roughly. “Liar. Everybody loves them.”

He leans over me, a drowsy grin stretching his full lips. I don’t even remember what I was saying. “No. It’s too early for those.” I grab his pillow and shove it at him to get those dimples out of my face.

I get up, not really intending to follow him, but not bothering to stop my feet when it becomes clear that that’s what I’m doing. If he didn’t want me in there, he should have shut the door. There’s no talking myself out of it as I step up behind him, wrap my arms around him, and press my forehead between his shoulder blades. I keep my hold light, not giving in to the urge to just squeeze, but I can’t help but rub the skin of my forehead against his shirt. “I’m kind of doing something here.” I can hear the amusement in his voice, so I don’t bother moving. “Sounds like you’re almost done to me.”

When I finish drying off and start to throw the clothes on that he got for me, I can’t help but smell them, press them to my nose and just inhale. I’m going to be walking around all day smelling like him, dressed in his things. That’s––I don’t even know. I guess I understand why girls like stealing guys’ hoodies now. He doesn’t know it, but I’m keeping these. Adding it to my slow-growing collection. Sucks for him, but it makes me faintly giddy just thinking about it.

“I can’t picture you fighting.” “Most people say the opposite.” “Why? I mean, you look capable, don’t get me wrong, but you’re so… gentle.” “What?” he laughs incredulously. “Nobody has ever accused me of being gentle, Liam.” “Well, you are with me.”

I watch as her faint smile goes from tired and polite to almost coy. “Dimples,” she beams, motioning to her own cheeks like we don’t know what dimples are and where they typically exist. “He’s gay.”

“That was cute,” he leans in close, his breath skimming my ear, and I can’t stop myself from rolling my head as goosebumps crawl across my neck. “Shut up, dimples.” I look at him. I have to, and when I see them, I put my hand over his face. “Put those away.” “You love them.” “They’re hideous.”

“God, you’re fucking stupid sometimes.” “What?” When I finally manage to look at him, he just rolls his eyes. “I saw you perverts in the gym shower.” “No.” Both of my hands cover my face, the urge to leave only growing. “I told you that was a bad idea,” Bash chuckles, and I spread my fingers to glare at him.

We still hung out when you had a girlfriend; I don’t see why you having a boyfriend has to change shit.” I puff out a breath, cradling the back of my neck in both palms. “He’s not my boyfriend.” But fuck, I wish he was. “Wow, slutting it up in public for a fuck buddy. Homosexuality has changed you.”

He just stares at me, his lips just barely tipped on either end, a smile too small to allow his awful dimples to make another appearance. “I want to take you on a date.” “What?” I straighten in my chair, can’t stop the massive grin from splitting my face. He what? God, my heart is going through it today.

So, why is it so fucking hard to just say it? It’s infuriating, this constant back and forth going on in my mind. It should be simple: I want Bash. I want him bad, with everything in me. And it didn’t escape my notice that he asked me out on an official date only after I came out to Cade. Like he was rewarding me. He doesn’t want to be a secret, and he doesn’t deserve to be.

“I––I quit baseball.” My chest pounds, each beat calling me a coward. She doesn’t give a fuck if I quit baseball. “Oh. Wow. Does your dad know?” “Yeah,” I chuckle humourlessly. “He says he’s cutting me off. No financial help for someone so ungrateful.”

“Liam, are––do you have… a boyfriend?” “Uh. Sort of?” I don’t know who looks more shocked. There’s got to be a better way to do this shit. “Oh.” A smile slowly creeps over her face, and it has me expelling a shaky breath.

“So you’re okay with it?” I ask when she finally has the food going, and she once again rolls her eyes at me. “Liam, of course, I’m okay with it. It doesn’t change anything at all. You’re still my baby,” she wraps her arms around me as I sit, placing a kiss on the top of my head and making sure I feel the love she has for me.

Ohmygod. He’s calling me. “Dimples.” I sound breathless, and when he chuckles in my ear, I have to hold the phone away to breathe out a forceful breath and hopefully pull myself together. “Princess.” I fight the urge to say something utterly brainless like you’re stupid or please, fuck me.

“Were you going to fuck yourself, Liam? Let me watch. I want to see you stuff your pretty pu––” “Ugh. Shut up and FaceTime me.”

“Quit stalling and show me those tits, princess.”

“Then what’s the problem?” “I don’t know which one is my favorite.” Wow. That’s got to be the stupidest first-world problem to ever exist. When his mouth tips in a huge smile, dimples fully engaged, I cross my arms, my pecs bulging. “You brought more than one? On a three-day trip, sweetheart?”

He leans back, raising his phone and angling it so that I can see him in all his glory. Powerful thighs parted with his thick, ramrod-straight cock standing tall between them. It’s almost worse being able to see it. Like a tease, leaving me half tempted to lick my computer screen as a bead of precum rolls onto his slit.

I gasp, my hips stuttering, but as much as it hurts, I make myself keep going. I’m familiar with this part. It’s one of the downsides to regularly fucking myself––being too lazy to really prep myself so that it doesn’t hurt. But it’ll pass.

What do you usually do after stuffing your hole thinking about me?” “You’re so annoying,” I roll my eyes.

“This time, I do have to clean up.” I wish I didn’t. I wish I was in his bed, that he was the one forced to handle cleanup, but I’m alone. Which blows because “I got cum all over my bed, and it’s just a full, so unless I want to wallow in it, I’m going to have to change sheets. Or, just get a new blanket. My mom has a linen clo––” My eyes widen. “What?” He raises his eyebrows. “You think she heard you?” “Maybe,” I whisper.

“Sweetheart… you were kind of loud. I told you you might want to be quieter a few times, and you didn’t hear me.” I scoff. “I am not loud. And you said it once.” A smile splits his face, condescending and sticky-sweet. “Liam. You’re a bit of a screamer.” I scoff again, choking a bit on this one. “I am not!” But fuck, am I? My mind jumps to Anna, to how she sounded when she and Sam… Oh. “Whatever you say, princess.” “I’m hanging up on you.”

There’s the sound of the photo being taken, and I tense. “Jax, what the fuck?” “Just for the memories,” he shrugs smiling at his phone, at the picture he just took of me. “When you guys get married, I’m going to do my best man speech and show everyone this photo. Take a look, folks. Your favorite asshole was so hopelessly in love with Liam, he agonized for days over where to take him on their first date. And then everyone will let out a collective––hey!” I snatch his phone, but by the time it’s in my hand, the device is locked. “Whatever.”

Is being gay for one guy possible?”

“You were worried I was a closet case. I get it, and I’m glad that I get to prove you wrong, Bash,” he grins. He definitely has. I am curious, though. “You’re not attracted to any other guys? None?” He mulls it over before shrugging again. “Not really.

“What? You want your best friend to have a good time on his date, don’t you?” I narrow my eyes at him, annoyed and a little confused. Cade just stares at him, his face briefly going through a few different expressions before he just sighs and looks at me again. “He really likes Italian food. Have fun.” “This was stupid,” I say as soon as he walks away. “It’s not your fault your boyfriend’s bestie wishes he was your boyfriend’s boyfriend.” “What?” “He’s been friendzoned. And is jealous.”

“Liam is, like, new to dick-loving, so I’m guessing Cade had no clue he had a chance. Imagine being in love with your best friend and thinking he’s straight, and then all of a sudden, he starts dating a guy who isn’t you.” “What the fuck are you talking about?” “God, you’re clueless,”

“They have a photo booth,” I tell him as I start walking towards it, but when he doesn’t move, I have to look behind me, and I find him staring at his hand. The one I’m holding. I try to pull mine away, a little embarrassed––I didn’t even realize I’d grabbed it––but his hand tightens in mine. A familiar glare quickly flashes on his face before it’s gone again, and then he’s walking with me. Holding my hand. I try not to swoon too fucking hard, but it’s a struggle. I have a feeling that this is a big deal to him. Like maybe he doesn’t hold hands usually, or it’s been awhile, or maybe he just doesn’t like it. He doesn’t seem like a hand-holder. Not at all. But he likes it with me. He’s putting up with it and trailing behind me, hand in hand.

“Not that kind of dream. It kind of sucked.” At the questioning look on his face, I explain. “I was a duck, like a duckling, and I was following you around everywhere, and you got mad at me. You called me a stupid duck and tried to kick me, and I tried to tell you that it was me, but you couldn’t understand me.” “Because… you were a duck.” “Well, yeah, but it was still upsetting. I thought about waking you up.” “To… yell at me?” I laugh. “No, I don’t know. Just to make sure you wouldn’t try to kick me if I ever turned into a duck.”

“I would never kick a duck, Liam.” I roll my eyes. “Or call me stupid.” “Just so we’re clear, I did not call you stupid. This was just a dream, princess.”

“Shoot.” “What?” he asks, taking the little line of pictures out of my hand to look at them. “Nothing. You’re just sexy. You need to feed me so we can go back to your place and fuck.” “I––god, Liam. Be quiet.”

“Nobody heard me.” I grab his hand and hurry him along, though, because I’m pretty sure a few people did, in fact, hear me.

I look at him, stunned. He doesn’t even realize how sweet he is or how sweet he can be anyway. To me. He’s kind of, not mean exactly, just not very tolerant of other people. But to me? A total marshmallow. Sort of. Just maybe one that’s been cooked over the fire a second or two too long.

“Thank you. For… I don’t know.” I shrug, too nervous to finish the sentence. This has been the greatest date I’ve ever been on. He’s just so swoony, it’s on the verge of being sickening. He owns me. Wholly and completely, and he doesn’t even know it.

“Oh, shit.” “What?” He looks around, trying to see what I see. “My dad is walking over.”

“You two look like a couple of queers on a date or something. Rebecca told me to leave you alone because she was sure you were on a date.” Well, fuck. My father, everyone. I look at Bash, but he’s facing my dad, his hand on the table balled in a tight fist. “I––we are on a date.”

“Are you––is this why you quit baseball? Turned into a fa––” Bash stands up and is just big enough that my dad swallows his words, taking a step back as Bash gets closer. “Watch your mouth.” He’s the very definition of the calm before a storm.

“Liam,” he parks the car and turns his body towards me. “I am sorry.” He seems… nervous. “I––that was not how I wanted our night to end.” “It was the best date I’ve ever been on.” He frowns in disbelief. “It was,” I assure him. “I had fun and, well,” I take a deep breath. “I just really like you. Dimples,” I add that on, grinning.

We didn’t get to try any of the desserts at Con Amore, so your dick will just have to do.”

“Your ass needs to be studied,” he shakes his head, dimples engaged, and the sight of those little divots has my mind relaxing and body tensing. I’m so fucking gone for him, it’s insane. “Went twenty-one years without a dick, and now it needs one every day,” he shakes his head––again––with a little tsk, feigning sympathy. “My ass?” I tilt my head in confusion before it hits me. “Oh!” I have to palm my face, embarrassed that I fucking forgot that’s what that thing is actually called. “Ah,” Bash––the fucker––laughs. “I meant your pussy, princess. My bad.”

“Jesus,” he breathes, his hands going back to my hips in a firm hold. “You look amazing. You’re perfect, princess. You’re so fucking wet for me.” He leans in, head dipping until he can suck on the wet spot on the panties he picked out for me, just over the sensitive head of my dick.

“Shh,” he kisses the top of my head. “Wait right here.” “No,” I start to get up with him, but he kisses me and presses a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

He stands up and starts actually fucking my face when it becomes clear that I’m unable to do it myself, the ecstasy coursing through me too all-consuming and making it too hard to do anything but feel. My mouth tries to open as I start coming, but then I’m choking, the tip of his dick hitting the back of my throat, and I can’t do anything but allow it, not even seeing as my body shakes and twitches through the bodily assault. I can’t stop riding the dildo, even when my orgasm starts to settle, but I manage to go back to sucking him.

I can’t even imagine anyone else touching me, taking me on dates, or sleeping in bed next to me. Honestly, it’s a little hard thinking about sleeping alone again at all. We haven’t done this much, but sleeping without this tatted fucker all over me for three nights sucked. No morning cuddles, no sleepy grumblings that make zero sense, no catching random whiffs of mint. I fucking missed him, even in my sleep.