Feeling Gil’s lips between mine wasn’t exactly what I had imagined.
The wetness of the kiss was all I could think of for several long seconds—warm, soft, a little unsure—because I couldn’t think of anything else. I couldn’t tell what was going on in his head, but the way he pulled away after only a few seconds told me he wasn’t much into it either.
“So?” I asked. “Did you feel it?”
Gil exhaled and looked away for a moment.
“No,” he answered, his voice barely above a whisper. “But no offense—you’re definitely a good kisser,” he continued with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.
I smiled back. “Only if I could seduce you, then I might.”
He huffed a short laugh and leaned back against the wall by the bed. We were both still in our dress shirts and pants from one of our classmates’ older sister’s wedding. The wedding had been held out of town at the groom’s family’s villa, and some of the guests—including me and Gil—had to spend the night at a hotel. The room we were given had two beds, but for some reason both of us had agreed to use this opportunity to test Gil’s theory and share only one.
“Maybe I’m not attracted to men in general,” Gil finally broke the silence. “Maybe what I felt for that guy was… something… ugh…”
“You mean special?”
“Kinda.”
“Well, according to your own description he might be sexy. Tall, broad, veiny arms, smooth and velvet voice with an effortless tone that makes even the most ordinary words sound beautiful—”
Gil groaned and shoved my shoulder. “Ugh, for fuck’s sake, stop. You’re not helping at all!”
I laughed and settled right beside him, leaning against the wall so our shoulders brushed.
“I *am* helping. If you can’t stand your best friend’s touch then you’re not… that. And we’ll realize you only admired him in that bar and the alcohol was messing with your head.”
Gil rested the back of his head against the wall, staring at nothing in particular. I gently put my hand on his arm.
“And… let’s say for just ten or five percent you liked being with me… then it’s alright. You know you’re always safe with me and you can never get rid of me.”
That finally made some of the tension leave his shoulders. His expression softened as he turned his head to look at me.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know I can always trust you.”
I grinned brightly. “Of course! I broke up with Jenny because of this experience. This alone shows how I value you.”
Gil gave me a flat look. “You’ve been looking for a chance to dump her for more than two weeks.”
“Still a considerable sacrifice for you.”
He pushed me down on the bed. “Oh, shut up.”
I laughed and didn’t resist, lying on my back, looking up at him.
“Still… we’ve got this night just for ourselves,” I said after we finished laughing. “No one’s gonna blame us for messing around tonight.” I opened my arms. “I’m all yours.”
Gil’s eyes softened. He looked at me with something close to affection, then hovered over me and buried his face in the crook of my neck as I wrapped my arms around him. We were two friends who had experienced so much together—seen each other at our worst and our best, embarrassed ourselves in front of each other and then forgotten it, shared secrets even our families didn’t know, been each other’s most solid walls in any circumstance. Whatever Gil’s desires were, I wouldn’t care. Even our messiest fights couldn’t break our bond. I couldn’t imagine a world without him. Even if he came to the conclusion that he had a thing for the bartender he met last weekend, he was still Gil, my best buddy. I preferred to make sure he was happy and that the guy was worth it rather than acting awkward.
“Let’s skip kissing on the lips and try something else,” Gil murmured as he pulled away just enough to look into my eyes.
I nodded. He nodded back, then leaned in and pressed a small, shy kiss to my neck before sliding off me. His face was starting to blush, and the way he was looking at me was unfamiliar—soft, uncertain. I couldn’t read it, but it made my heart warm and my protective instincts kick in hard. I wanted to give him whatever he needed and never let the trust in his eyes fade.
I hovered over him and slowly leaned in, carefully, gently kissing his neck and the line of his jaw. His jaw tightened; his breath caught for just a fraction of a second.
“Is it okay?” I murmured.
He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Go on. Don’t worry.”
I trailed my lips lower, unbuttoning his shirt and touching his sides and chest. I couldn’t tell whether he was only uncomfortable or feeling something—his body twitched under my hands. I placed my palm on his chest and felt the rapid beating of his heart.
“How do you feel?” I asked.
He parted his lips, but no words came out.
“How about you?” he asked instead. “Is this grossing you out?”
I shook my head, laughing softly. “No, but I admit this *is* a bit weird…” I traced a lazy circle on his stomach. “I don’t dislike it exactly. It’s you.”
He smiled and covered my hand on his stomach with his own. “Let’s change our clothes and sleep.”
“Together?”
“Together.”
It was our first night sharing a bed. Our legs tangled with each other and he rested his head against my chest.
He didn’t need to say it explicitly. I could feel that he liked our closeness.
The next day we didn’t talk about it. We checked out of the hotel and took the first train home. The silence between us wasn’t too uncomfortable, but it was charged with the weight of our secret.
In the following days everything almost came back to normal and we were having a typical summer holiday until, on a Saturday night, he texted me:
*I went to that bar again but he wasn’t there. The bartender said it was his day off. Gonna go tomorrow night again.*
*He really is serious about it now,* I thought. I didn’t feel good about it despite my earlier total support for his preferences, but I didn’t say anything about it in my reply.
*I’m gonna come with you tomorrow.*
He immediately texted back: *NO!*
*Why?*
*Sorry, Brad, but I think it’ll be a little awkward for me talking to him with you there.*
That genuinely offended me.
*Gil, you know I always got your back.*
*I know. Sorry. It’s just… I don’t want to remember that night with you while I’m talking to him.*
I could understand that, but it didn’t make it sting less. I replied *OK* and turned off my screen.
On Sunday night I was playing on my phone, waiting for his news, but I heard nothing from him until midnight. I knew he would never stay at a bar that late, so I texted him.
*What happened?*
He didn’t reply until almost twenty minutes later.
*He kissed me.*
Those three words set my whole body on fire and made me furious before I even knew why. My mind raced with what else might have happened along with the kissing while I paced the room like a caged animal, phone clenched tight in my hand. After a few minutes another text came.
*Brad? You there?*
What could I possibly tell him? *Oh, I’m happy for you! Please let me know when you start dating! ♥︎* or *OMG what did it feel like? Did it turn you on? Was he rough or sweet and gentle?!* Fuck me if I gave a shit about any of that. But there was one thing I needed to know.
*You want him?*
Gil didn’t answer my text that night, and from that silence I knew he wanted him—but also that he felt complicated. If it had been a simpler matter I would have tried to help him untangle his thoughts and see what he really wanted. Not this time. I couldn’t. Not when I absolutely didn’t want him to want that bastard.
Yeah. Fascinating. I could never have guessed I would feel like this when I first suggested he should test his theory.
◆◆◆
Two weeks passed and Gil and I didn’t see or text each other. My mom and sister looked at me as if I had grown horns every day I came home early from my part-time job and didn’t leave the house on weekends.
“Has something happened between you and Gilbert?” my mom asked one evening at the dinner table.
I just shook my head as I took a bite. My sister Tiffany narrowed her eyes. She was only twelve, but hearts practically popped out of them every time she saw Gil.
“I KNOW there’s something wrong with you two! You’re always pissed every time I talk to you!”
I rolled my eyes. “Mind your own business, Tif.”
“See?”
“These things are normal among teenage boys,” Dad said with his usual carefree attitude. “These small tensions used to happen with my friends too. You’ll forget it in no time.”
I nodded. But my dad had no idea what kind of tension he was talking about.
Some days later I finally made up my mind about going to that bar and facing Luke the bartender. He was taller and in his mid-twenties. I hated arguing with someone who had the upper hand, but I needed to do it for Gil. At least I needed to know what kind of guy he really was. I also prayed that Gil wasn’t in the bar that night.
Luke had black hair in big curls and a pierced lip, sharp green eyes, both arms covered in tattoos. He was standing behind the counter pouring drinks and chatting, an easy grin on his lips. Fortunately I didn’t see Gil anywhere. I walked up to the counter.
“Hey, got some minutes to spare?”
I tried very hard to keep my tone neutral, but he got alarmed anyway. He looked at me, still smiling, though his eyes were scanning my face.
“You look familiar.”
“I was here some weeks ago with a friend. We got a nice chat that night.” I paused. “I’m Brad. Gilbert’s friend.”
His eyes widened slightly as the realization hit. “Oh. Yes, of course. Brad. Nice to see you again.”
He extended his hand. I shook it, unable to shake the thought that those same hands had touched Gil.
“Gilbert told me you’re his best friend.”
“Yeah. And as his best friend I wanted to talk to you for a bit.”
“Well…” He looked around the bar, then called a girl to replace him before guiding me behind the counter.
“Are you two… really dating now?” I asked.
He shrugged. “We saw each other a couple of times in the past two weeks, but every time he escapes me. I don’t know what his deal is. At first he was like he wanted me so bad, and then right when I wanted to give him what he wanted he panicked and left.”
My blood boiled. I stepped into his personal space.
“Okay, listen up, Luke. Gil isn’t like those random gay men you see every day and pump their asses. Gil is just curious and confused. He’s a boy who’s completely new to all this.”
Luke smirked, looking down at me. “So fierce. Tell me if you’re not just someone stuck in the friend zone and isn’t very happy about it.”
I couldn’t bear him talking to me like that. I raised a hand to punch him, but he caught my wrist in the air and pushed me against the wall, pinning both of my wrists above my head. It happened so fast. I tried to free myself, but his grip was too tight.
“You’re too young and inexperienced for such conversations,” he purred. I could feel his breath on my face. “You should be more careful from now on, butting into what is much older than you.”
“I’ll do anything for him. You have no idea how sensitive he is behind that tough façade.”
“Yeah. I don’t know him.” He leaned in closer. His nose almost touched mine. “And I don’t have any plans to get to know him. The guys who leave me hanging aren’t exactly my type.”
“So tell him.”
He smirked. “So he’ll focus on you again?”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
“Such a jealous, greedy little boy you are.”
I tried to free myself again, but he pressed his body fully against mine, trapping me there.
“Your Gil got hard when I did this to him. His knees almost gave out.”
“Fuck off,” I gritted through my teeth.
“Then he started to moan the second I rubbed against him…”
I gasped when he actually rolled his hips against mine in a slow, sensual rhythm.
“I swear I’ll—”
He crashed his mouth against mine and swallowed the rest of the words. The kiss caught me completely off guard; I stayed frozen for a moment. Then I turned my face away, breaking it—but he turned my face back with his free hand and held my jaw in place as he slid his tongue into my mouth. At first I resisted, but the way his tongue knew exactly what it was doing, the way it moved against mine, made my eyes momentarily roll back. It was so hot. Everything and everywhere was so hot. The rhythm of his hips quickened and we both groaned into the kiss. I was getting so hard. Before I knew it I was rolling my hips against his.
He broke the kiss suddenly, grinding faster against me.
“Want it, huh?” he panted. “Want it, bitch?”
“Fuck you…”
“Gladly will do so.”
He let go of my wrists to cup my ass. I really needed to come, but more than that I hated that jerk and wanted to be with Gil. I stopped moving and shoved him away. He didn’t budge much, but I managed to put some distance between us. I punched him hard.
“Fucking asshole!”
“That makes both of us!”
I ignored him and stormed out of the bar.
Gil.
I… I really needed him. More than ever.
♥︎♥︎♥︎
I walked without stopping until I reached Gil’s house. My heart was hammering against my ribs. I called him. After one ring he answered. He sounded like he’d been waiting for my call forever.
“Brad?”
“I wanna see you right now.”
“Where? Why are you panting?”
“Open your window.”
“Huh? But—”
I hung up. We used to sneak into each other’s houses late at night to play or pass homework back and forth. Gil opened the window quickly and I climbed up faster than I ever had before. When my feet hit his bedroom floor I pulled him tightly into my arms. He was still confused, but he hugged me back, exhaling shakily against my neck.
“Missed you so fucking much,” he murmured into my shoulder.
“Me too,” I murmured back.
Then I pulled away just enough to look at him—and kissed him.
Not for practice. Not for testing.
A real, hungry kiss just for him.
He made a surprised sound, but he kissed me back almost desperately, fingers fisting in my collar.
The kiss didn’t stay careful.
It deepened the second our mouths found the right angle—tongues sliding, teeth catching, the kind of kiss that felt like we’d both been holding our breath for two weeks and finally got to let it out into each other. Gil’s hands moved from my collar to the back of my neck, pulling me closer like he was scared I’d vanish again if he loosened his grip. I could taste the faint mint on his tongue and the salt of my own skin still on his lips from when I’d pressed my face into his shoulder.
We stumbled backward until the backs of his knees hit the edge of his bed. He sat hard and I followed without breaking the kiss, climbing half into his lap, knees bracketing his thighs. The mattress creaked softly under us.
I broke the kiss just long enough to breathe against his mouth.
“I went to the bar.”
Gil’s eyes opened, dark and already glassy. “Brad—”
“I know. I know I shouldn’t have. But I had to see him. Had to make sure…” My voice cracked. I pressed my forehead to his. “He said you ran every time. Said you panicked.”
Gil’s hands tightened on my waist. “I did.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer with words. Instead he leaned up and kissed me again, slower this time, deeper, like he was trying to explain something with the way his mouth moved against mine. One of his hands slid under the hem of my shirt, warm palm spreading across the small of my back. The simple touch made my stomach flip hard.
I pulled his shirt up and over his head in one motion. He let me. Then he did the same to mine, and suddenly we were skin to skin from the waist up, chests rising and falling against each other. The air in the room felt thicker. I could feel the rapid thud of his heart against my own.
Gil’s fingers traced the line of my spine, hesitant at first, then surer. I kissed down the side of his throat, open-mouthed, tasting the faint salt of his skin, feeling the way his breath stuttered every time my lips found a sensitive spot. When I dragged my teeth lightly over the place where his neck met his shoulder he made a soft, broken sound that went straight through me.
“Brad…” My name came out half warning, half plea.
I lifted my head. “Tell me to stop and I will. Immediately.”
He shook his head, eyes searching mine. “Don’t stop. Just… stay with me. Don’t make it like him.”
The words hit harder than any punch. I cupped his face with both hands.
“Never,” I whispered. “Never like him.”
I kissed him again, slower, deeper, pouring every messy feeling of the last two weeks into it—jealousy, fear, the sharp ache of missing him, the relief of finally having him under me again. Gil’s hands slid down my back and under the waistband of my jeans, fingers spreading over the curve of my ass, pulling me down so our hips pressed together. We both gasped at the contact. Even through two layers of fabric the heat of him was unmistakable.
I rolled my hips once, experimentally. Gil’s head tipped back against the pillow with a low, helpless sound. I did it again, slower, grinding down in a long, deliberate drag that made both of us shudder. His fingers dug into my skin hard enough to leave marks. I wanted those marks.
We found a rhythm without speaking—slow, heavy rolls of our hips, the friction of denim against denim turning into something almost unbearable. Every time I pressed down I could feel him hard against me; every time he pushed up I felt the same answering heat in myself. The room filled with the soft, wet sounds of our mouths and the quiet creak of the mattress and the increasingly shaky sound of our breathing.
I reached between us and flicked open the button of his jeans, then mine. Neither of us pushed the fabric all the way down. We just needed less between us. When I settled my weight again the first slide of bare skin against bare skin tore a broken moan out of Gil’s throat. I swallowed it with another kiss.
We moved together like that—frottage, slow and filthy and tender all at once. No rushing. No forcing anything further. Just the wet heat of us sliding, the way Gil’s cock dragged against mine, the way his hips kept stuttering every time the head of him caught against the sensitive underside of mine. I kept one hand braced beside his head and the other wrapped around both of us, not really stroking, just holding us together so every roll of our hips was tighter, wetter, more intense.
Gil’s eyes were half-lidded, mouth open, cheeks flushed dark. He looked wrecked and beautiful and completely mine in that moment. I leaned down and bit gently at the hinge of his jaw, then soothed it with my tongue.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured against his skin. “I’ve always got you.”
His answer was a broken little sound and the way his arms locked around my back, holding on like he was drowning. We moved faster after that—not frantic, just more desperate, chasing the same edge together. The wet sounds between us grew louder. Gil’s breath turned into quiet, punched-out moans against my shoulder. I could feel him getting closer in the way his thighs tensed under me, in the way his fingers clawed at my back.
When he came it was with my name on his lips, quiet and shattered, spilling hot between us while his whole body arched. The feel of him pulsing against me dragged me over right after. I buried my face in his neck and came hard, grinding through it in long, shuddering rolls until there was nothing left but the aftershocks and the sticky heat cooling between our stomachs.
We stayed like that for a long time, breathing hard, hearts hammering against each other. I eventually shifted just enough to keep from crushing him, but I didn’t move away. Gil’s fingers were still carding slowly through the hair at the nape of my neck, like he needed the contact to prove I was real.
After a while he tilted his face up and kissed me one more time—soft, lingering, almost reverent.
Then he rested his forehead against mine, eyes still closed, and whispered,
“I only want you. Just you.”
I let out a shaky breath and kissed the corner of his mouth.
“You have me.”
