Again, as most people do, Arthur sometimes looked back on his life, and he often thought his previous actions were that of a dense and slow-witted person.
In his defense, he couldn't think of himself as someone that ... well ... important. Not to Vince, anyway.
On the second work day, Vince asked him to come have workout later. No big deal. Arthur had to practice hitting a punching bag, although he was still absolute shit at it. A break. Then he got to run on a treadmill. Another break. Then he tried something new. He worked with embarrassingly tiny dumbbells while sitting on a long bench. Vince did the same thing beside him, but his dumbbells were so big they looked scary.
But sometimes ... Vince liked to let his dumbbells thunk on the floor, put his palms right on one of Arthur's arms, as if he wanted to change their shape but didn't want to put any pressure on him, and he'd give some suggestion about how to move. Arthur had thought he was doing just fine, but he wasn't about to stop Vince from touching him.
It happened ... so many times.
Once, he did it so quickly after the last time, barley giving Arthur enough time to lift his dumbbell up. Vince's palm lingered on his biceps. His fingernails only lightly scraped on Arthur's flesh. Arthur tried not to shiver. He really did.
"Hey, you're doing really great," Vince said with a scratchy voice.
Arthur looked off at some random machine. "Oh ... cool. Thanks."
"I mean, I'm not trying to insult you." A hand slid up the biceps and stopped close to the shoulder. "It's just that you're not really good at this, but you're really trying, and that's great."
Sucking on the inside of his cheek, trying will his blood to stop gathering in his cock, Arthur's words hardly left his throat. "Oh. thanks."
The hands ... constricted ... but not painfully. "Are you okay?"
Arthur shook his arm, which worked well. Vince released him immediately. "Yeah," Arthur said as he bent down to put his dumbbells on the floor, "I'm okay, but I think I'll stop early. I need a shower."
The connected bathroom was huge, but designed for only one person. That meant Vince would have to take a short walk to get to the next bathroom. He took it well. "That's fine. I'll stop too. Don't worry about the hot water. It's pretty difficult to hog it all in this place."
The shower in the bathroom Arthur walked into was weird. Across from the perfectly smooth and shiny wall the fixtures were in, there was a glass wall held into place by thin metal supports. There weren't any other walls.
Arthur scrubbed himself the best he could, but his mind was terribly disturbed.
He thought of Vince touching him. First, his hand. Second, his arm. Third, he started imagining other things.
His back practically slammed against the glass wall.
This was okay, right? He lived here. It was okay. Yeah, definitely okay.
His balls were tightening up. His fingers were going around his cock. The hot water only made him feel more brazen when the first stroke was made. His other hand turned into a fist and tapped the glass behind him, then another tap. He soon had a rhythm, and his strokes matched it.
Coarse laughter.
Arthur was imagining it, but it was enough to help his testicles swell and darken his penis. The water raining down and reflecting off his body was certainly hot, but it seemed cooler than the blood rushing in him.
Yes ...
Yes!!
He inhaled a bit of water.
Coughed.
And his whole body spasmed as if he was terribly unwell.
A flood of lonely pleasure.
It was good to be in a shower. It really was. The semen was washed away in a few seconds.
Arthur coughed again and slid down the glass, his legs bending. His backside met the slightly rough floor.
No.
This was not okay.
Vince was his roommate, his landlord, his god damn boss, and his friend.
And he had a crush on him.
His palms clapped over his ears. His eyes were shut. He shook his head back and forth.
Not okay. Not okay. Not okay. Not okay.
The ultimate in all that is not okay!!
But at least he thought he got some of his stupidity out of his system. The rest of the shower went quickly. A short drying with a towel, and he got dressed. Nothing special. A boring long flannel shirt with long sleeves an some jeans. Winter was here, but he only wore that flannel shirt because he knew that, not because of the air inside the building. This place was always comfortable, or at least the temperature was.
`Vince was in the gym when Arthur got back there. He wondered how he'd washed up so quickly and returned in such a short amount of time. He was sprawled out on his back, resting on a bench they hadn't used, looking up at the ceiling with a somewhat bored expression. One foot was in its slipper. The other was bare and kicking in the air. Its slipper was on the floor at an angle.
Why did his foot have to be so ... interesting?
Not too soft, just groomed enough.
A set of toes that might be called Greek.
Triangular and fierce.
"Hey, you okay?"
Arthur blinked and put his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. That shower was great." He looked down at his feet. He was wearing socks, but no shoes. He knew all too well that he had gaps between his second and third toes. He thought he had weird feet. "You think it might snow soon?"
"I heard there might be a little snow tonight, but it'll melt in the morning."
"Ah, cool." Arthur thought he needed some alone time. "I'm going to my room. I want to play some Fable."
Vince sat up as soon as Arthur starting walking away. "What's that game about?"
"Eh, it's a funny action-RPG, I guess. Pretty open-ended but kind of short." He waved his hand and touched the exit door. "I'll talk to you about it tomorrow, alright?"
Vince's voice lowered. "Well, that's cool, I guess."
Arthur was actually surprised that he was able to find his bedroom without getting lost.
***
An hour and a half later, and Arthur's character was trying to seduce some random woman into marrying him. Arthur had thought her accent was hilarious and since polygamy was legal in this game he was also planning on marrying a man. His cell phone beeped. Arthur paused the game and checked to see what the issue was.
A text from Vince. "Hey. Sorry. Are you busy?"
Stomping one socked foot onto the floor, Arthur tried not to bitch out the device in his hand. It wasn't his phone's fault. It was Vince's. Of course he was busy! He'd told him he wanted to play a game, didn't he? He didn't have to hang around Vince all the time, right?
