Page 25 of It’s Only Love

Mike

I dig my fingers into his hair, and he moans around me, sucking me all the way to the back of his throat.

It’s impossible not to thrust my hips. I can’t hold back; the sensation of him is so all-consuming that I lose control of my body.

He gags around me, and pleasure shoots up my spine.

He pushes back on my hips, chuckling around my cock, before he releases it with a pop.

‘ Easy there, tiger. ’ He smiles up at me, his brown eyes swimming with want, a string of spit suspended between his puffy bottom lip and my glistening cockhead.

‘ Fuck, you taste so good, Mike. Always knew you would. ’ Then he dives back in and swallows me down in one go.

A strangled cry tears from my mouth, and I almost blackout right then and there.

With the last bit of restraint, I dig my teeth into my bottom lip so as not to scream his name.

My hands slide from his hair and find the sheets beneath me, digging into them, squeezing around them. I inhale, but it’s like there’s not enough air in the universe, the feel of him all around me so overwhelming.

I’ve dreamed of this, of him , for so long without realizing it. I couldn’t put a name on it, perhaps too afraid to go there, and ruin what we have. I don’t think I can run from it anymore, though. I don’t think I want to run from it. From him .

He sucks harder around me, his mouth so tight and hot and wet.

He moans, and the vibration goes straight to my nuts and someplace deep inside me that has always felt empty.

I release my grip on the sheets with one hand and slide it down my body; the touch leaving a trail of shivers behind.

I lift my leg slightly so I can move my hand behind my thigh, then grab my balls, palming them.

I squeeze them as I fuck into his warm mouth.

Fuuuck, that feels nice, the pleasure so intense that I almost come then and there.

He moans around me again, and I continue to tug on my balls.

I lose myself to the feeling, everything else disappearing.

There’s nothing else but him and me and this blinding pleasure shooting through my body.

‘ Mike ,’ he hums around me. ‘ Mike, Mike, Mike ,’ he chants. I release myself, my fingers sliding further back, back to where I want him the most. Where I need him, but I’m afraid to ask him.

I circle my fingers around my hole, feeling the light dusting of hair. He mirrors my movement, the tip of his tongue licking around my swollen cockhead. With every lick, I spin further out of control.

‘ Let go, Mike, ’ he murmurs, then blows at my cock. ‘ Let. Go. ’

I tease the tight rim, feeling it clench with want beneath my fingertips.

Then I push my index finger inside my hole.

Just the tip. The sensation is so foreign, and yet it answers so many unanswered questions in my head.

I need this. I need him . There. Right now.

I think I’ll die if I don’t feel him inside me.

Please, please, please, my entire body hums, my desire building and spreading across my skin like ripples across the still water.

“Fuck me, Den! Please!” I shout. I shoot straight up from the bed with a gasp, my body burning, sweat beading on my skin, my heart threatening to claw its way out of my chest. Fuck .

I rub my palms against my sweaty face, sucking in a deep breath.

My exhale comes out clipped. What the fuck was that? That was—

I groan into my hands, my throat raw, shame building inside as it dawns on me what just happened. Den. That dream—that sex dream —was about him. I just had a sex dream about my best friend, about Aaron’s brother.

“Fuck.” I fall back onto the sheets, burying my face and my shame in my elbow.

I wince at the clamminess. The sheets are soaked with the evidence of how much I want him.

Because I do. I want him so much. If it wasn’t clear as fucking daylight already, then this dream blows any illusion that I’m not insanely attracted to Dennis right out the fucking window.

I close my eyes, not ready to face the consequences of what this revelation means to our relationship.

Shutting my eyes is a big mistake, though, because I see him there again.

The image of his pink lips, all swollen, and his brown eyes spilling over with want, threatening to pull me right back into that place of overwhelming arousal. Shit.

Yesterday on the beach was pure torture.

I knew it the second he pulled off his shirt and replaced it with that teal one that just did something unspeakable to his eyes.

Then, as if it wasn’t already bad enough, he put that damn baseball hat on backwards, looking like a million fucking dollars.

It was game over for me from then on out.

Sayonara, Mike Tanner. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

His lean, toned runner’s legs in those basketball shorts.

The way his muscles moved and rippled every time he bent to pick something up from the beach or when he stretched his arms above his head, tipping his face back against the sun, and exposing inches upon inches of sun-kissed skin before my eyes.

And that trail of dark hair starting just below his belly button and disappearing behind the waistline of his shorts.

I’m almost certain Aaron noticed, because he kept sending me these weird looks, frowning as he looked between Dennis and me.

And then the whole wrestling episode between him and Dennis in the sand.

Fuck, something just snapped inside me. Some strange need to protect Dennis and pull him against me.

Then the relief of finding out they were just goofing around like old times was soon followed by the shame.

The shame of wanting my best friend. Of wanting him that way.

Because I do. I can’t run from it anymore.

The truth has been right there in front of me for so long, the feeling building over the years, intensifying ever since he returned from college.

I want Dennis. I want him in a way that I’ve never wanted anyone before.

There’s this weird sensation burning inside me whenever he’s close, like my skin itches, but I can’t scratch it.

I know it’s wrong. I can’t want him that way.

Not just because he’s my friend or Aaron’s brother, but also because I don’t think I’m what he needs.

I’m afraid that even if he still feels the same about me as he did that night all those years ago, I’ll just blow it.

I don’t know what to do with this knowledge. The unknown scares me a little. As much as I’ve wanted to and sometimes forced myself to date, I’ve never been attracted to anyone before. Never. And then the answer was there all along. It’s him. Dennis. I feel completely out of my depth here.

And… I’m still hard. Great. I lift my head, my gaze dipping to my abdomen, then coasting further down.

It’s not unusual for me to wake up with a hard-on.

I’m a guy after all, but usually I just ignore it and get on with my day.

There’s no way I can ignore this one, though.

My dick is rock hard, tenting the comforter.

My balls feel heavy, like they’re about to explode.

My fingers itch to slide underneath the comforter and just wrap around my length and relieve myself, and to end this agony.

All it wi ll take is a few firm strokes, I’m sure of that.

But I couldn’t, right? It would be wrong…

wouldn’t it? To make myself come to the image of Dennis in my head, with the taste of his name still on my tongue?

I drop my head back, cursing myself. My hand slides down my chest and further along my abs, past my belly button, and even further, to where I need it most. I squeeze my eyes tight, forcing myself to reset my brain, as I wrap my hand around my cock.

Fuck! It’s so sensitive, the skin burning beneath my palm.

I try to focus on the last woman I dated.

Katie. She was cute, right? That blond pixie cut and those huge blue eyes.

I stroke myself slowly. My grip is loose at first, squeezing the head tighter on every upstroke.

That’s it. Think of Katie. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and that sultry mouth.

Only, it’s not her lips mouthing my name.

Mike, Mike, Mike . It’s not a woman’s voice but a much deeper one that fills my head.

Mike. Let go. Just let go, Mike. And it’s not her blonde hair that sweeps against my forehead as those lips lean in to kiss me.

It’s not blue eyes blinking back at me, swimming with need.

They’re brown. A deep, familiar brown. And there are freckles across the bridge of that slightly bent nose and stubble brushing against my chin when he kisses me. He. Him. Den.

And I do. I let go. Closing my eyes, I meet his kiss, his touch, his sounds of pleasure.

I fall into the sensations taking over my body as I fuck into my hand, imagining it’s his hand, his body moving on top of me.

The feel of him is like a heaviness above me, grounding me, pulling me out of my head.

He’s my anchor, always was, pulling me back when I’m adrift.

He’s hard yet soft in all the right places.

He smells of salt and sweat and traces of cinnamon.

Of warm, lazy afternoons at the beach, sand in your hair, and a slight sunburn nipping at your skin.

It’s sensation overload, and all it takes is a few more strokes before I come.

I cry out, my orgasm blazing through my body, my release spilling over my hand and onto my stomach in warm spurts.

I come harder than I ever have before, the echo of his name reverberating in my head. He’s everywhere. Den. Den. Den.

“Michael! Sweetie, breakfast’s ready!” Mom’s high-pitched voice rings up the stairs. She sounds impatient. Fuck, how long has she been calling me for?

I almost wipe my face with my cum-covered hand, then catch myself.

I sit up, taking in the mess, ropes of milky-white cum splayed across my stomach, getting caught in the dark hairs.

I swallow as reality dawns on me. I just made myself come to the image of my best friend.

I just came with Dennis’ name on my lips.

Not Katie’s. Not some other woman’s. My chest tightens, but where I would expect to find regret or shame, there’s only relief.

Pure relief. All the failed attempts at being with another person fade into the background like a weight being lifted from my soul, because I never wanted any of them.

Not really. Not like I want Dennis. I want him so much.

I blink, my eyes stinging from unshed tears.

The question is whether he still wants me or if I blew it that night when I rejected him.

The thought alone is devastating. The thought of him not wanting me back or, even worse, being with someone else… It’s close to unbearable.

“Michael Tanner!” Mom yells, now from the bottom of the stairs from the sounds of it. I have to get up. When she’s full-naming me, it’s just a matter of minutes before she’ll come upstairs. And she can’t see this.

“Coming!” I yell back, then wince. No, not coming. I’m not coming. “Be right down, Mom!” I just have to get my head together first. And clean up.

My phone pings on my nightstand, vibrating against the balsa-wood surface.

I wipe my hand on the sweat-soaked sheets and reach for it.

Dennis’ name flashes with a new text. I swipe across the screen and pull up the thread.

It’s a photo, and as I tap it open, Dennis’ smiling face next to Willow’s expands.

My gaze instantly drops to his lips. Shit. Then I read the cluster of messages.

Dennis: Duuude, are you up? Willow misses you!

Dennis: Mike? She won’t stop whining, looking at me all funny.

Dennis: Okay, mystery solved. She dropped her tennis ball behind the couch, LOL

Dennis: Earth to Mike, are you alive or did you die in your sleep?

Dennis: Okay, that’s it. We’re coming over!

Shit. I look at the time. He sent the last text twelve minutes ago. I jump out of bed naked and quickly throw the dresser open, grabbing a fresh pair of briefs. I hurry out of the room and down the hallway toward the bathroom.

“Mom?!” I call down the stairs on my way. “Dennis is coming over!” I smell pancakes and freshly brewed coffee, and my stomach growls angrily.

“Okay,” she calls back.

“I’m grabbing a quick show—fuck!” I curse as I stomp my foot against the laundry basket outside the bathroom door. Hopping on one foot, I push at the door with my shoulder.

“You okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Just grabbing a quick shower.”

“Okay…”

“Will you pacify Dennis with a pancake or something? I’ll be right down.” Just got to wash cum off my body and relocate my dignity. Easy peasy. Shit, what if Dennis will be able to tell that I got myself off thinking of him?

“Sure thing, sweetie,” she sing-songs, then goes back to humming along to some song on the radio.

Good, good. Now pull yourself together, Mike Tanner.