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“What’s one step under a bear?” I ask him. His smile goes crooked on one end. “An otter?” “No, man, you’re definitely bigger than that. Mountain lion, maybe?”
“Dude,” I say, clasping his palm. “Joey Kangaroo! That’s perfect.”
I add a wink for my new gym-bro, and he makes a sound like something is still stuck in his throat.
Step one in Brad’s Guide to Finding Himself and Falling in Love: Make a new friend. Nailed it.
Fuck. This man. I barely know him, and I’m already wondering what kind of fence he’d like around his backyard. White picket?
Honestly, I find every single thing about the guy attractive. Even the way he says bro.
Does he want kids?
Joey’s a boss. The guy is strong. Way stronger than he’s letting on, I’m sure of it. Pretty sure he could lift me clean above his head if he wanted. I chuckle, my mind supplying the mental image of Joey lifting me up like Baby from Dirty Dancing.
“Touchy,” I mutter before raising my voice. “I’m not after your man’s salami, Jason. I have my own.”
“Uh-huh,” Jason says. “And were you, by chance, doing that wink thing?” I frown. “It’s customary to wink at your gym-bros, Jason.” “It’s…not,” he says. “That’s not a thing.” “It is,” I reply, keeping my tone patient. Dude’s not a gym-bro. He doesn’t get it. “Just…trust me on this, okay?”
“Yeah, man. It’s been a while for me, you know? I miss, just, like…touching someone. Holding.” Fu-u-uck. How long would it take to custom-order a ring?
“If I were into guys, you’d be my first choice,” I tell him honestly.
I make a note. “Do you want kids?” His lips twitch. “From rimming to kids?” “We’re starting with the big stuff, dude.”
Brad: Joseph-broseph, my man! Brad: Are you busy tonight? Brad: If so, clear your schedule. Brad: You’re going on a date. Brad: You might want to shave your balls. Brad: Unless you don’t put out on the first date! Not trying to pressure you, dude. You do you. Brad: Could you imagine being able to do yourself? I’ve heard some people can self-fellatio, but shit, man. I’m not that bendy. Are you that bendy? Brad: You don’t have to answer that. Brad: Shaved balls or not, get excited. I think you’re gonna like this guy! Brad: I bought you lube.
I accept the sixteen-ounce bottle of lube Brad passes me, wondering if I’m dreaming. Or if, perhaps, this is a nightmare.
Do you know how many dick pics I got sent, dude? One was wearing a hat. The dick.
“He wanted me to piss on him, Brad. You know…watersports?” His eyes ping wide. “Oh, my god. Is that… Oh, no. I owe Belinda the biggest apology. Dude, I didn’t realize.” He cringes. “I take it you didn’t want to piss on him?” “No,” I say plainly, huffing another laugh. “I did not.”
“On a scale from one to ten, how sexy is a ’stache? Seven? Eight?” Jason looks up from his lunch slowly, blinking at me. “No? Okay, is it more or less sexy than…” I check my notes. “A ‘dick
“He’s like… If niceness were a man,” I say. “His eyes are warm like brownies. And he’s all muscly in a kinda soft way? Like a loaf of challah. Add some chocolate sprinkles on top for his hair, and there you have it.”
‘Me and dude-friend looking for some guy love’?”
I shouldn’t be thinking of my friend like that. It’s not right.
“Can you imagine doing this with a stranger?” Brad asks me. “I guess I can see why it’d be a good test, you know? To see whether or not you have chemistry.” “And us?” I ask, my fingers drifting over his skin. He frowns slightly. “Well, we’re not strangers,” he says, this man who’s known me for all of a few weeks. “So it makes sense that we’re smashing this.”
He flushes with happiness, looking so lovely it physically hurts.
Why are they called cum gutters? Sure, the muscles that lead down in a V toward the dick are like a big glaring arrow advertising the goods. But it’s not like jizz actually comes from a guy’s hips and travels down to their…
“So are we slamming some nachos or what?” I ask, swinging my bag over my shoulder as Joey holds the door open for me. So polite. “And then we can find you some dick!”
Joey’s laugh feels like warm caramel on a cool vanilla sundae.
“Plus,” Brad goes on, utterly serious, “you make people happy, Joey. You’re calm and patient and genuinely kind. You’re flexible in your thinking, but not so much that you’d compromise your morals. And I’m not sure if you know this, but sometimes you smell like sawdust. Like those happy memories you mentioned from your childhood. I could see that becoming someone else’s happy memory, too, you know? You’re a catch. Inside and out. And someday, you’re going to make the right guy very happy.”
He’s everywhere. In my lungs, my arms, my head.
Family isn’t always given, you know? Sometimes it’s earned. And I think that makes it all the more important. Choosing to love? I don’t think there’s anything greater than that.”
My voice is hoarse when I say, “Then be a good boy for me and get out of the truck.” Brad blinks, his mouth falling open. “Dude. Did you just use your sex voice on me?”
“It was really wet,” he informs me. I’m well aware. Brad goes back to eating his corn, periodically licking it, sometimes biting. At one point, he wraps his mouth around one end, collecting a few kernels there.
Will I keep him safe? “Always.”
“Nope. I’m all prepped and ready to go.” I squint at him. “Was that an anal joke?”
And holy mother of God, I am not imagining sucking Joey’s pec.
A bro does not objectify his fellow bro’s ass, no matter their gender.
“I…” He trails off with what sounds suspiciously like a growl. “The fuck. I feel like a terrible friend for not knowing that.” “Hey, man. It’s okay. Not your fault. I bet you didn’t know I like having my face sat on, either. Some things just don’t come up in conversation.”
Because I don’t want to lose Joey’s time. And, even though it makes no sense whatsoever, I don’t want to come second.
Will Logan mind that his date is wearing the name of another man? A man who happens to be attending said date like an overprotective chaperone, who’s touchy-feely and cares so damn much it’s palpable, even though his feelings are painfully platonic? “Should be fine,” I assure Brad, despite knowing we’re bound for disaster.
You’re perfect, I want to scream at him. You’re killing me. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.
I want to believe him, but it feels big. Not just maybe being into a guy for the first time in my life, but being into Joey. He’s my baby kangaroo-roo. My gym-bro. My friend. What if he doesn’t feel the same? Holy shit. What if he does?
Hey, Joey. Turns out I might be a dab queer. Joseph-broseph. Question. Do you like cum play? Asking for a friend. Joey Kangaroo. Can I hop on you?
It’s not just his stomach I want to paint.
“Hey, Joey?” I say, trying not to let my nerves show. He waits patiently. Always patient. “So, uh, it turns out I really like your face. And, if you’re still amenable, I’d very much like to greet your tonsils with my tongue.”
He’s perfect—perfect—and I’d consume him if I could. I’d take him down my throat, keep a piece of him inside me always.
“It’s just, uh… Ho-hooo-ly shit, is that a big hammer you’ve got pressed to my hip.” I step quickly back, cursing my carelessness. Brad’s gaze stays zeroed in on my crotch, his eyes wide. “He’s a gregarious fellow, isn’t he?” he says with a nervous laugh. “Just really wanted to pop up and say hello.”
I’m not sure I have a single functioning brain cell left after that.
“I don’t have a perfect answer,” he says. “All I know is I understand cum gutters now because of you, and I’m pretty sure I’d like to test yours out if you’d let me.”
“Besides,” he goes on, leaning forward, the move bringing us closer. “Being queer isn’t the part that scares me.” “No?” I ask, throat tight. “What scares you?” “The thought of losing you,” he answers, just about doing me in. “I couldn’t stand to lose you, Joey.”
He nods. “Okay, yeah. Good. Just be patient with me. I mean, I don’t even know how to take dick, dude. I’m pretty sure I’ll need to stretch a lot first. Like really warm up, you know? Because fuck. Things are tight back there.” Oh, Jesus. “You, uh…you’d want to try that?” I ask, pretty sure my voice sounds like gravel by now. “Yeah, man. I want to try everything with you. Just, uh…maybe we can ease into the masterclass-level stuff?”
“Oh, shit,” Brad whispers. “There’s Greg again, huh?” I pause, my lips on his neck. “Did you name my dick Greg? As in…gregarious?” “Yeah?”
