Spin

I'm just about to knock on Gus' apartment door when it abruptly swings open, catching me so off-guard that I nearly fall backwards -- but it's just his mother. "Oh! Jackie!" she says, her face expressing surprise before she smiles. "Here for Gus?"

I laugh and nod, my heart racing. "Yeah."

"Come right in," she says. "I'm off to work, myself"

Poor woman, slaving away with her graveyard shifts. "Have a good shift, Mrs. Fenway," I say, stepping aside to let her leave.

"Thank you, dear," she says, giving my arm a quick squeeze as she passes me. "And help yourself to anything in the fridge!" Then, in her classically rushed fashion, she trots down the hallway.

I smile and head inside the apartment, locking the door behind me before going to look for Gus. Yet again, we've made plans to hang out with each other, and the excitement of seeing him feels greater than when we first met. None of that initial magic has worn off yet.

Thinking he's probably in his room, I head down the hallway, knock on Gus' bedroom door, and let myself in. As soon as I enter, though, Gus swears and quickly shuts his laptop and covers his groin with the device -- but it's too late. I saw that he was watching porn. I got a few-second eyeful of a big-breasted girl holding a cock between her tits.

I grin slightly at how embarrassed he looks. Was he really jerking off? It's not like he didn't know I was coming.

"Sorry," he says. "I thought you were Gabe."

I laugh. That makes sense. "You're good," I tell him, setting my bag down beside his bed before shutting the door behind me. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"I... You didn't," he says, laughing nervously and rubbing the back of his head. "I just thought I had more time."

I just smirk. "You want me to, uh... let you finish?" I ask, gesturing towards his covered lap.

"No, it's okay. I wasn't really... I mean, I--" He clears his throat and tries again. "I'm good," he says, and it takes everything in my power to not laugh again.

Not wanting to draw out his torment, I pull out my phone from my back pocket and join him on his bed. "So, I was looking at the footage I got and apparently I got one of you scoring a pretty sick goal."

"Really?" Gus asks, looking interested. "Lemme see." After he makes himself decent again, tucking his cock back into his shorts, he slides closer to me -- as close as we could possibly get. Our arms and legs are right up against each other and everything.

"Here," I murmur. I pull up the video and hand him my phone, but I lean in close so we both can watch. Today, I accompanied Gus to one of his hockey games. He plays recreationally, so it's nothing serious, but just from what I saw, I bet he could be professional if he wanted to be. I'd stake money on it. He wasn't kidding when he said he has a thing for winter sports, because damn, this kid can skate. It was awesome to see him in his element, and I was everything you need in a supportive fangirl: loud and full of praise. When he wove through the other team's defense to land a trick shot in spectacular fashion, I was practically screaming my head off. He probably hated me for being so purposefully obnoxious, but even I could see him smiling when he skated by me.

"Damn, that did look pretty cool," he says, laughing.

"That was some pro shit, man," I say, nudging his arm. "Give yourself some credit."

He just laughs. "Sure." Then he smiles at me. "Thanks for coming, by the way. Means a lot."

"Hey, I'm just glad I finally got to see you in action," I say. "You were pretty impressive."

He just shrugs, being his normal modest self. "All in a day's work," he says. Then he looks at me again, but a little harder.

Right here is another one of those moments where something could happen just from one of us taking the first step. There's a cycle with us, I've noticed. We've only messed around twice since Isaac's party, and both of those times resulted from a long build-up of evident sexual tension. It's like hooking up is a relief, an inevitability, and we're both satiated and calm until the tension slowly starts building again.

And build it has. Even just today, on the train back from the rink, something happened. The cart was pretty packed, so we stood together, holding onto the same pole. The thing was, his hand was level with my crotch -- and I took notice. I nudged my bulge against his knuckles once, mostly just to be playful. Then, I did it again, and again, and only after I prodded him a fourth time did he respond, discreetly nudging back against me through my sweatpants. What surprised me was how he got a touch bolder and actually grabbed my cock through the fabric. I almost moaned and started to get hard from the groping, my heart pounding from exhilaration.

Our dynamic is so interesting to me because I don't know how to label it -- not that it really needs a label, per se. I'm happy with just going with the flow. But I've never been this intimate with a male friend, so I'm always wondering, "What's going on between us?" We're friends. *Good* friends. That much is obvious. Does occasionally making out and sucking each other off make us friends with benefits or something? Do we even fool around enough to be worthy of such a title? And what about the unsaid? I still think there's a deeper, undeniable attraction between us that we just don't really discuss, mostly because this is foreign territory for us both. I bet we're both navigating our own feelings, searching for our own definitions before bringing them to the table.

I've been itching to fool around with him again, though. I want to explore his body, and I want him to explore mine. I'm sure he does, too. He gets that glassy look in his eyes sometimes -- like right now. All it would take is for me to just lean in and start kissing him and he wouldn't complain.

However, the night is still young. "You mind if I shower quick before we get this party started?" I ask. We're just hanging out again tonight, but this time, we planned ahead for me to sleep over.

"If you like cold showers, go for it," he says, giving me a sad look.

I wince. "No hot water again?" His whole apartment complex has been having issues, apparently.

"Nope. I just showered before you got here, and it's still cold. The neighbors are thinking of going mafia on the landlord if it happens again," he says with a laugh.

"I can't promise I can bail you outta jail when that happens so maybe stay out of it," I say, grinning as I stand up. I make a point to unnecessarily squeeze his upper thigh as I get to my feet, grab my bag off the floor, and set it on the bed.

"I'll try," he says with a little chuckle, watching me. "Changing?" he asks when he sees me pull out a pair of sweatpants.

"Yeah, might as well get comfy," I say, considering it's closer to 9 PM.

"Good idea."

Gus hops off his bed too and heads over to his dresser, following my lead. We both start stripping out of clothes we wore during the day, very clearly eyeing each other when any sort of skin is exposed. I lick my lips ever so slightly as Gus strips down to his boxers and merely swaps out his shirt for a simple-looking tee. I trade my jeans for sweatpants and shift into a tank top, feeling Gus's eyes on me as I stuff my clothes back into my bag and then get cozy on the bed again.

I watch him as he grabs the controller for the Nintendo Switch. "Zelda?" he asks.

I grin. "Hit me," I say, holding my hands open and catching the controller he tosses to me. As I load up the game, Gus sits down next to me, resting his back against the wall, and I see that his shirt actually has a little logo on it. I can't tell exactly what it is since it's all crumpled up, but it looks familiar. "Breast cancer awareness?" I ask, pointing to his chest.

He looks down. "Oh yeah," he says, nodding and tugging on his shirt to smooth out the logo. "Gotta support. Although my aunt always said this whole company is a scam," he adds with a thoughtful expression.

I laugh. "Really? Why?"

"Apparently Susan Komen or whoever actually promotes cancerous sort of dieting on the main website or something," he says with a shrug. "I don't know. My aunt used to say that all the time."

"I mean, it's a company, isn't it?" I ask as I load up my game file.

"Yeah," he says. "A big one at that. Plenty of room for corruption."

"I wouldn't be surprised. I mean, people capitalizing on health issues? Unheard of," I say sarcastically, and Gus chuckles. "She an insider or something?"

"More or less," he says. "She had breast cancer."

"Oh shit," I say, ignoring the game for a moment. "I'm sorry."

He just laughs at the face I'm making. "She's still alive, dude. Don't look so upset."

I snort. "You should have led with that," I say, hitting his thigh before I turn back to the game and start exploring.

"Sorry," he says, smiling. "Nah, she's alive and well. Big conspiracy theorist, though, but she's smart. She's a biochemist actually," he adds, glancing at me. "You two might have things to talk about."

"The last thing I wanna do is talk to a scientist," I grumble.

He laughs. "She's cool, I promise." Then he nudges me with his elbow. "How's school going anyway? Did your fancy new process work?"

"Nope," I say grimly, sighing a bit. I had told him that I came up with a potentially radical way of making some significant progress on my research, but of course, it was a failure. That's the nature of scientific research and experimentation: trial and error until something sticks.

"I'm sorry, man," he says.

"It's okay. I chose this," I say with a bitter laugh. "If you ever wanna go to grad school and do something that's painstakingly slow and tells you 'No' all day long, try chemistry." That's just the unfortunate truth. It's hard to see an end goal working in this field, especially if you're trying to get your PhD within a reasonable span of time.

He pats my thigh gently. "You'll figure it out. You're smart."

"None of us are smart enough, trust me," I say with a laugh. "I just need a vacation."

Gus thinks for a moment before saying "Well, I don't have a vacation for you, but I might have a little surprise..."

I glance at him curiously before he smiles and hops off the bed, heading towards his dresser. He opens the top drawer, digs in for a moment, and then pulls out a plastic baggie with what look to be brownies -- which can only mean one thing...

"Edibles?" I ask with a laugh.

He chuckles. "Yeah. Want one? I made 'em myself."

"Jesus, you're such a stoner," I tease, pausing the game and sitting up.

He just grins. "Do you want one or not?"

I lick my lip slightly. It's not really my thing, but I guess it might be fun if Gus tags along. I've never had a decent edible before, and Gus knows what he's doing. "Maybe," I say. "Only if you do, too."

"Well, yeah, that goes without saying," he says, hopping on the bed next to me and opening the baggie. Immediately, it reeks of weed, and I recoil a bit. How do people smoke this shit so often? I've only done it a fair few times and am satisfied with that.

He reaches inside and grabs a brownie, breaking it in half. "That's it?" I ask, my mouth watering a bit. The brownie itself looks damn good. I could body a few of those.

"That's all you need," he says, taking the other half and popping it in his mouth without a moment's hesitation. "Don't wanna overdo it."

Fair. I almost forgot how this works. I just chuckle a bit, turning the brownie over in my fingers to inspect it from a different angle before shrugging and placing the whole thing in my mouth. I chew slowly, moaning slightly from the taste. "Damn, this is a good brownie," I say, and Gus laughs as he swallows. It melts right in my mouth, and doesn't taste so heavily of weed that it detracts from the fudgy flavor. I swallow it down and lick my lips, smiling. "Now what?"

"Now, we wait," he says, smiling.

It does take quite some time. We play video games for maybe an hour before I start to feel it. I only notice it after Gus and I start laughing at something that was particularly unfunny in the game. For some reason, I find a weird glitch particularly hilarious, and that's when I realize: I'm fucking high. It starts with my head, and I feel both sleepy and awake at the same time. It confuses me, but it feels kind of nice. A little too floaty for my liking, but at least I feel calm and at peace with the world.

"There it is," Gus says, pointing at my face.

"What?"

"That look. You're high."

I laugh harder than I mean to. "Yeah, I think so." He just grins at me. "How long will it last?" I ask.

"If I got the consistency right, maybe a couple hours?"

"Jesus Christ," I say, laughing.

"You'll be okay," he says, giggling. "I'll protect you."

We abandon the game after a few moments from lack of focus and instead find ourselves talking -- and in an expansive way at that. We start to hit broad topics like existence and religion and consciousness and our place in the world. I'm fully aware that whatever I'm saying probably just sounds incredibly intelligent to me right now only because of the drugs, but regardless, it's still interesting to debate these things with someone who is on the same level of mental capability as me. Gus, interestingly enough, believes in fate, which is something that I'm pretty much against believing.

"Do you think we met for a reason, then?" I pose.

"Sure, why not?"

"What reason, then?"

He laughs. "We've yet to find out, right?"

I shrug. "I don't think we, like, met for a reason that will become clear in the future," I say. "I think we just happened to meet. And we made the best of it."

"Maybe I'm just a little more spiritual than you are," he says.

"I'm not the slightest bit spiritual, so yeah," I say, laughing. "I am very glad we met, though."

He blushes and smiles a little wider. "Me too," he says. "You're hard to get to know, though."

That comes as a surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah. You don't, like, dodge personal questions, but you don't talk about yourself a lot. Which is a nice change, honestly," he says, "but if you were easier to read, I'd have a... well, an easier time."

I laugh. It's true. I don't really go out of my way to discuss my personal life, but I am pretty open and candid when the conversation allows it. I thought I'd be pretty easy to get to know. "I didn't realize," I murmur.

"Well... Okay, maybe it's not that you're hard to get to know," Gus says, shaking his head and trying to correct himself. "It's more like... You're good at asking questions, and I'm not," he says. "It's hard for *me* to get to know you. Or... I don't know," he says, laughing as he confuses himself. "Maybe I'm wrong. I think I just wanna know... everything about you, you know?"

I smile. "Yeah, I know," I say. "Slow and steady, though, right?"

He blushes and smiles. "Sure."

I lick my lips slightly. "Do you feel like you know me yet? In a general sense."

He pauses and stares before nodding. "Yeah, I'd say so."

"I could say the same about you," I say, gesturing vaguely to him. "Hell, I feel like I learned a lot about you just from that first night we hung out."

"Oh God," he says, hiding his face with one hand and laughing. "Like what?"

I list them off with my fingers, grinning at the first thing I say. "That you're an intimate kisser, so probably an intimate person; that you're a little shy but always on the verge of smiling, which comes across as you potentially being inherently kind; that you don't drink, but you smoke, which I still don't understand, by the way; that you're a self-proclaimed serial monogamist, which actually says a lot about your character; oh, and that you're a self-sucker."

Gus bursts out laughing at that last one. "I regret bringing that up," he says sheepishly.

"Don't," I say with a little chuckle.

He glances at me slightly before asking, "Does that say anything about my character?"

I shrug. "Flexibility?" I suggest, and we both fall into another round of laughter.

"I should've seen that coming," he says -- and again, when we realize the double entendre, we find ourselves laughing once more.

Once we finally compose ourselves, I smirk a bit, glancing at him. "Can I be blunt for a second?"

He's blushing a little more now, looking nervous and intrigued. "Sure...?"

"I kinda wanna see it."

"See what?"

"You," I say simply, cocking my chin towards his crotch. His face gets a little redder now. "You gave me a rough demonstration that night but... I wanna see the real thing," I say coyly, trying to keep my grin under wraps.

He licks his lips a bit, laughing nervously. "I don't know, Jackie..."

"You don't have to if you really don't want to," I tell him. "No pressure. I'm just curious."

He gazes at me for a moment before rubbing his face. "Why do I get so embarrassed around you?"

"To be fair, you'd probably be embarrassed around anybody with this," I tease.

He laughs. "I guess." Then, he swallows thickly. "You really wanna see?"

"I really wanna see."

He laughs a little harder before staring at me for a few moments. Then, he lets out a breath through his nose and says, "Alright."

My heart starts racing. He agreed? I feel my cock tingling a bit in my underwear, and I bite my lip as a blushing Gus spins around to point his head towards the edge of the bed and put his feet up on the wall. As he shimmies forward, he grunts until he's at a good angle to get into proper position.

"I'm gonna regret this," he mutters before hooking his fingers in his underwear and pulling his boxers down mid-thigh. Then, he swings his legs back. I roll onto my stomach to get a good view, watching his cock dangle just above his face. He's already pretty close, but he's soft right now -- and he realizes this before he returns back to the original position: his back on the bed, his feet hitting the wall, and his legs resting against the sheetrock in a waterfall pose. "Forgot, I need to be... hard and whatnot."

"'And whatnot'," I repeat with a grin, watching him grab himself.

"Gimme a moment," he says, his eyes closed as he feels himself up. I take this opportunity to ogle him as his hand massages his cock, his other hand going lower to tug on his balls. He stays soft for a while, and just as I'm about to consider giving him a little assistance, he starts chubbing up. He's stroking much faster now, his eyes shut so tightly that it seems like he's focusing far too intently on some image. What's he thinking about? Is it narcissistic to hope it's me?

When he's finally got a decent hard-on going, he quickly swings his legs over his head, his cock dangling over his face. Now, with just a little shift, he can reach the head of his cock. He lifts his head up more and takes it into his mouth, and my jaw drops a bit. Fuck, this is... hot to watch. Gus closes his eyes, and at first, he's sucking on the head of his cock like he's nursing on a bottle more than anything else. Then, I see his tongue dart around the ridges quickly. With one hand, he strokes the base of his cock, trying to tug it deeper into his mouth. I push my hips into the mattress a little, feeling incredibly turned on.

But it doesn't last too long. He pulls away with another heavy sigh and lets his feet slam against the wall again as he relaxes. "Fuck, that's exhausting," he says, laughing a bit.

"I thought you've gotten plenty of practice in," I say with a grin.

"I told you, I don't do it much," he says, running his fingers through his hair before he looks at me. "I just... you know..." Then, he makes a jacking-off motion towards his face. "When I'm in the mood."

My eyes go wide when I realize what he's saying: sometimes he likes to unload in his own mouth.

He laughs when he sees the way I arch my eyebrow and get a little excited. "Before you ask, no, I'm not gonna show you."