Not to mention, we’ve been fucking constantly.
The anxiety that had it’s grips in me that first night has mostly gone away now. Mike seems to genuinely enjoy it when I fuck him, and I’m not going to turn him away when he asks.
And he does, all the time.
Currently, he’s sitting on the kitchen counter eating cereal at eleven in the morning, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, while I make eggs, trying to focus on them instead of his body.
He seems none the wiser, too busy rambling about something his bandmate Trent said at practice yesterday. “And then he had the nerve to say my lyrics weretoo boring,” he says, even though he’s already told this part, gesturing with a spoon. “Boring. Me.”
“No way.”
“Do you know what I think?”
“What do you think?”
He points his spoon at me. “I think he feels threatened by me.”
I slide some eggs onto a plate and give them to him. He takes it without breaking stride, switching from cereal to eggs, still complaining about Trent with his mouth full.
It’s moments like this that really get me thinking. Breakfast together and telling me about his day, and the way he always lays his head on my shoulder when we’re watching something, it’s natural.
That’s not how friends act. Even friends with benefits.
That’s how people act when they’re—
“You’re not listening.”
“I am listening. Trent is threatened.”
“Exactly.” He seems satisfied, going back to the eggs. “These are good.” He kicks his foot out and knocks me in the hip. “It makes me horny when you cook.”
“Everything makes you horny.”
He tilts his head, considering that. “True. But especially this.” He sets his plate down beside him and opens his arms. “Come here.”
“I have to go.”
“Come here first.”
I step between his legs, and he pulls me in, wrapping his legs around my waist and his arms around my neck. He kisses me slowly, sliding his tongue against mine, deepening it, holding on tighter when I try to pull back.
I know he’s trying to convince me not to leave, and I hate to admit that it’s working. “Stay,” he says against my mouth.
“I can’t, you know Ryan and I do the gym on—”
He pulls back far enough to look at me. “Fuck me over the counter first.”
“I have to leave, like,” I check the clock above the stove. “Right now.”
“I only need ten minutes.”
“That’s not the point.” I press my lips together. “I can’t just fuck you and leave.”
He tilts his head, a small smile starting at the corner of his mouth. He knows I’m gonna do whatever he wants. And if he needs me to stay, I will. He reaches into my pajama pants, and his fingers wrap around my cock, already growing harder.
I catch his wrists, pausing his movements.
“Mike.”
