3. Greyson
1658 Words
3
GREYSON
Turn you inside out.
Blaine’s words echoed in my head long after he abruptly left me as he oftentimes did when the racket in his head grew too noisy.
If only he knew he’d done that to me years ago when I’d first met him in New Hampshire a few months after my mom had passed. I’d spent most of my time with him in the field separating my family’s vacation house in the mountains from the compound he’d grown up on, desperate for an escape from my grief.
He’d been a quiet kid, like he too had seen heartache, so telling him about how Mom died had helped me deal. Blaine had told me he was sorry for my loss with a genuine look on his face, not the feigned condolences from my family’s rich, fake friends.
He’d been a breath of fresh air from the stifling society where I’d been raised, honest with his feelings and thoughts in a way the upper class and powerful weren’t. There were no polite but forced smiles and best behavior s**t in order to better his station because of my family’s money.
I’d needed something that summer to focus on rather than the emptiness in my heart, a reason to breathe without my mom.
Blaine had given me that. He was real and had become the friend I couldn’t do without.
I’d never been allowed beyond the fencing to explore his home, but Blaine had somehow snuck out enough to keep me and my curiosity sated about the strange goings-on beyond.
His mess of dark hair and hazel eyes that made him seem like an old soul had drawn in my little bi a*s once I learned about all things s*x and hormones. Eventually recognizing his insecurities, his fears of never being good enough, had roused my protective nature to life and fused him to my heart.
After turning me inside out.
“Fuck.” I stood and made my way to the wall of glass looking out over the dark night and gentle waves sweeping over the beach beneath the half-moon’s light. No outdoor sounds reached through the windows, but I’d have been too fixated on listening to Blaine shower to settle in for the night anyway.
Hyperaware of his every move since first meeting him, I didn’t miss much when it came to him. I’d known the appearance of the woman I’d brought home with me had bothered him, but he hadn’t voiced a word.
“Shit.” Lips pressing tight, I chided myself for being a selfish prick and not paying better attention to his body language.
It had been two months since our last hookup together, and my balls had been too damn ready to burst while having Blaine nearby.
My pipe dream.
My obsession.
My beautiful impeder.
All I had ever wanted, Blaine kept me from seeking more with anyone else. I’d become his rock, his safe place, and nothing would make me sneak over the friendship line and leave him floundering like I’d been after losing Mom.
His need for me far outweighed my desire for him.
Unrequited love f*****g hurt, and yet I found a sense of fulfillment in being at his side. But I would never be able to stop the deep craving inside my heart for more.
His shower shut off, and I strained my ears for sounds of him moving around in his bedroom overhead.
Drawers opening and shutting.
Silence.
Did he stare into the pitch black like he’d done all those hours of being shut up alone as a kid? Did he fight the demons or bask in his liberation to choose an existence in darkness behind closed eyelids? Chances were, he had on a night-light as usual.
Turning toward my own bedroom on the first floor, I shut down my brain against my failure that might send him on a tailspin of upheaval and mental t*****e.
He’d dealt with enough of that before I’d offered him an escape from that hellhole.
Physically, he’d changed from the sickly-looking seventeen-year-old kid who’d snuck out of the compound and accompanied me when I left for the West Coast and college. Blaine had grown a few inches taller than my five-ten, and working a physical landscaping job had also covered his once-slight form with muscle, the California sun bronzing his skin.
But his eyes hadn’t changed.
Gorgeous, more gold than green, his hazel orbs continued to reveal the damage inflicted all those years ago. At least to me, the one person who knew what he’d survived.
Barely.
While I’d finished up college on my dad’s dime and moved on with my life, Blaine had simply gone stagnant. He’d made a few friends at work, but his introverted a*s never went out with them. I doubted he lowered his walls to let anyone delve too deeply into his inner workings.
I often wondered how much he didn’t tell me too.
He might not love me in the same way I did him, but he’d entrusted me with his heart and mind.
And I’d been a blind fool with our hookup, the worst sort of friend.
A hot shower soothed the tension riding my shoulders, and I decided no more women, no more threesomes until he suggested it.
Because of his insecurities, Blaine didn’t go looking for women on his own. Nor did he want to be alone with them behind closed doors. I sensed when he needed to empty his balls into something other than his fist and initiated for him, secretly getting off on the fact that I chose his physical interactions with the opposite s*x.
I f*****g loved the control since I wouldn’t ever have it over his body in the way I dreamed of.
He’d gladly handed over management of his s*x life to me years earlier at my insistence, and I’d watched him lose his virginity. I had drunk in the sight of his slack jaw and hazed eyes while ejaculating into a wet p***y as her mouth sucked on my c**k.
I’d rather it had been my a*s he’d pounded or vice versa, but beggars and all that s**t.
“Thank you,” he had whispered the second he’d caught his breath after releasing, but I knew he’d meant the words for me rather than the woman between us.
For listening, for understanding, and for offering to all but hold his hand and see him through in becoming a man.
The Missing Link app made my job a s**t ton easier since getting Blaine to head out to bars and pick up kinky women with me was like pulling teeth. It was tough to go on the prowl alone and ask a woman if she’d be interested in going back to your place for a three-way with your roommate who had social anxiety.
The app dinged a few seconds after I finally settled into my bed for the night as though a sentient being offered a “You’re welcome for that willing hole—how about another?”
Fucking cyberspace…a mind-reading alien intent on shifting through your brain and seeking out your every whim and secret longing.
I considered ignoring the notification since I’d put our shared s*x life on hold, but it couldn’t hurt to peek for the future when Blaine decided he was ready again.
I’d made our settings private, only allowing for exact matches to see our profile. Two men looking for a woman. No strings. No promises. Hookups only. Whoever the app allowed past our walls hadn’t clicked the “Interested in relationships” box.
They weren’t searching for love.
Necessary since Blaine had none to give, and my heart already belonged to him.
I clicked on the poke from @S2L to check out who Missing Link thought might be a good fit for a bi boy and his best friend roommate.
The red bikini snagged my attention first, showcasing every gorgeous curve of her tight, little body. Her hip popped out in a sensual pose, highlighting her slim waist, the halter top swelling perfect apple-sized breasts.
Blonde hair highlighted by the sun, long enough for a man to fist when taking control, draped over one shoulder, halfway down her torso.
“Yes,” I muttered, mentally checking off one of Blaine’s requirements about hair color.
I focused in on the pic, needing to better see her face for the rest.
“Oh, fuck.” I groaned and shifted my junk. Gorgeous dark eyes—no blue—black as coffee orbs with hints of Jameson hugging the pupils.
My two favorite drinks.
Full lips coated in gloss, perfect for sucking down a c**k, smirked at the camera.
I considered rubbing one out but clicked back to read her write-up.
Twenty-four—young enough to just be on the prowl.
Enjoying life—always a plus when your thoughts aligned.
No b**m—no problem since my dominant nature never leaned toward the pain with pleasure or tying someone up.
Last check mark…
“Five-foot-three,” I read, my lips turning upward. A tiny sprite compared to the two of us. “Perfection.”
Blaine might not want p***y in the near future, but there was no f*****g way on earth I would give up the opportunity to poke the hell out of her right back. Hopefully, I could string her along until my heart’s other half climbed aboard the ready-to-f**k train.
I hit the poke button in return which offered the option of communicating via direct messaging.
Having no clue what I’d brought onto myself by opening that door, I turned off my light and rolled to my stomach, ready for sleep since Monday mornings came too damn early.
The smile lingered on my lips, and hope welled in my heart even though over seventeen years of dreaming hadn’t brought jack s**t to fruition between me and the man I loved.
- Writer
