Page 25 of Strange Lad

But can’t I have this one thing? This single person who I need more than anyone else?

Over half my life, I’ve wanted Jorge in any capacity, just to be seen by him and acknowledged as someone other than Phoenix’s little brother. And now he is.

I’m wearing his clothes for fuck's sake.

I don’t want to give that up because my brother can’t understand that heleft me.He let me go. Phoenix didn’t care when I tried to talk to him. When I all but begged him to help me.

So, yeah. Fuck Phoenix.

“If you tell him, everything will change.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I don’t want it to change.”

“Me either.”

We share a look that says so much more and so little all at once. “Then don’t change it.”

“I won’t, Oli. I swear, I won’t.”

Jorge

CRUSHCRUSHCRUSH

Ineed to buy bigger shirts.

Every time Oli moves, I’m laser-focused on the piece of skin that flashes me.

I’ve tried for two hours not to look, but I can’t help it.

When I’d walked on him practically naked the other day, I didn’t look. I was a goddamnsaint.But now, in my house, so close to me, I’m screwed. Never in my life have I looked at a happy trail and thought, yeah, that looks good. Buthisdoes. It looks so good. And soft. And inviting.

I kind of want to rub my face in it.

Here we go again. Stop it!

I glare at my cock that keeps twitching.

At this rate, I’m going to have to put a throw pillow over it.

For days, this…thinghas been nagging at my brain. First, it was Oli’s mouth. Then, it was his blush. And after, it was the pet name. I came all over myself after he called me kitten last night. Just humped my pillow into oblivion like some gross teenager.

I don’t know what is happening. I can’t separate the love I feel for him as his friend from whatever is going on with my dick. It’s confusing me. I’m honestly freaked out because Oliver is aman.

He’s got a dick.

Balls, too. Probably big ones.

I’ve seen Phoenix naked plenty, and if he is anything like his…STOP.

“What?” Oli asks when I growl at the air. We’re watching another favorite of ours, The Crow.

“Nothing.”

“It’s something.”

“No, it’s not,” I hiss.

He laughs. This time, it’s a real one, and the movement makes that shirt slide higher. Like, it’s almost up to his belly button. Is he an innie or an outie? I hadn’t gotten a chance to see it before. My tongue feels too fat for my mouth, so I bite it, ignoring the view in my peripheral vision.

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