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Yeah, I know that, but… “Do you think I’ve changed so much that I wouldn’t love a place like this over where my dad lives?” The sting in my chest leaves no denying how that thought makes me feel.
“I don’t know, man. I don’t think so, but you never know. I’m not trying to be a dick. We’re just navigating a tough situation here.”
I nod because he’s right. I can’t deny that. “You know me, Dust. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed or where our lives have taken us, you know me better than anyone, better than I know myself. The only reason I’m halfway sane is because I had you.” I’ve never been the type to get embarrassed, and for the first time, I feel heat travel up my face. I look away, toward the trees, unable to make eye contact.
Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Wait… Who said you’re halfway sane? I give you a quarter at best, and that’s pushing it.”
His playfulness breaks the tension, which I’m sure was Dusty’s intention. “I can’t believe how mean you are now.”
“I can get meaner if you want.” Dusty winks. “Grab your stuff. Let’s go in.”
I take my bag out of the back seat and follow Dusty up the porch stairs. He unlocks the door, then steps aside for me to go in.
We enter through the living room. It’s a one-story house, open concept, with the kitchen behind this main area. I can see a bunch of windows along the back, overlooking the trees. His place is decorated rustic, with browns and blacks and lots of wood. My gaze snags on the end tables flanking the couch, the dark-wood tops and the… “Are those car parts making up the base of your table?”
He grins. “Yep. Recycled engine parts, to be exact.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Jesus, that’s so you.” But it’s great. You look at his home and know so much about the man he is—easy, laid-back, loves cars and nature and comfort.
“I think it’s pretty cool.”
“I do too,” I reply as he heads toward the kitchen.
“You want a drink or anything?”
“Just some water is good.”
Dusty fills us each a glass, then hands one to me. “I’ll show you to your room.”
A pang lands in my chest, though I don’t know why. I do my best to ignore it as I follow Dusty down the hallway. “Here’s the bathroom.” He points to the right. “Spare bedroom is right here.” He shows me another door, just down some on the left. “I’m at the other end of the house if you need anything. I’m gonna shower. Feel free to do the same or grab something to eat if you want.”
I nod, that pang growing and growing like it’s metastasizing inside me.
“You’re welcome to stay when I go to work in the morning. Anything you need.”
I nod again, my voice feeling like it doesn’t work anymore. Dusty frowns, but then turns and heads toward the other side of the house. I don’t move until I hear a door close softly.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
In the spare room there’s a queen bed, dresser, and nightstands in what looks like dark oak. I toss my bag on the bed and set the glass down. I can’t put my finger on why I feel so on edge, why the room feels lonely in a way it shouldn’t. My emotions have been all over the place since coming back here, so I guess this is just par for the course.
Trying to ignore the thoughts in my head, I grab a pair of boxer briefs and sweats from my bag and head into the bathroom. Towels and washcloths are stacked on shelves along the wall, so I grab one of each, turn the water on, strip, and get in.
The warm water feels good against my skin. Dipping my head beneath the spray, I let it run down my body, close my eyes…and damned if that little sliver of skin doesn’t fill my thoughts.
“Christ.” Blood rushes to my groin, heat spreading there as my dick swells and lengthens. There has to be some kind of rule against jerking off while thinking about your best friend’s abs, while in his shower. But again, I’ve been feeling all sorts of things since coming back to Birchbark, all of it filling me with so much damn tension that I feel like if I don’t release some of the pressure, I’m going to explode.
When was the last time I even had sex? Rob and I hadn’t for about a month if I remember correctly. When we hook up with others, it’s usually the two of us together and we bring in a third, but we have rules in place that we can play alone too. I didn’t do that except for a couple of times in the beginning, but I do enjoy when we play with others. Hell, it’s probably been at least six months since that happened.
I squirt some conditioner into my hand, lean my left arm on the shower wall, forehead resting on it, while I use my other to stroke myself. Tendrils of pleasure begin to twist around in my stomach.
Fuck yes. I need this. Really fucking need it.
I tighten my grip, tug at my shaft while opening that door inside my head that I used to try and forget was there. Dusty’s stomach is the first picture in my head, then his smile and the way his shirt stretches tightly over his muscular pecs. How his tongue slipped out of his mouth earlier, to lick some pizza sauce there, and the way it had made me tremble.
Tingles start at the base of my spine. I stand up straighter, use my other hand to play with my balls. I’m throbbing—not just my dick or my nuts, but my whole damn body—pounding with want and need. The muscles in my thighs begin to tremble, visions of Dusty’s strong hands fill my mind…the calluses on his palms, the veins that run along the top and into his forearms when he flexes…
