Page 32 of Strange Lad

“I think I broke my ass. It’s bad, Oli.” He flinches and hisses. “I can’t get a good look. Do you have a handheld mirror?”

“No–I—I’m sorry. Do you want an ice pack?”

“What I want is to make sure I don’t have a permanent dent in my asscheek or a bone sticking out.”

“There are no bones in you—”

“Shush. Yes, there are. I just— Fuck it. You’re my friend. We’re friends. Tell me how bad it is.” And then he spins around.

I cough loudly as his brown cheeks meet my eyes.

There is a definite bruise, but it’s not as bad as he’s making it out. Not that I’m doubting his pain or concern. A little ice will help.

I take a few more moments to look, though. When else will I get a chance? His legs are firm but lean, dark hair dusting his calves. His back is wide enough to give him an edge but not enough to make him imposing. Not like mine. And especially not with the cute butterfly he has tattooed on his hip right above his ass.

“Well?” he demands, shivering, which makes those glorious globes clench.

I’m hot everywhere.

“No bones, Jorge,” I say hoarsely.

“But it’s bad.”

“Pretty big bruise. Golf ball-sized. I’ll get ice.”

“Okay,” he says and covers himself with the towel. “No post-orgasm glow for me,” he mutters as I exit the bathroom.

I go to my fridge, which has a tiny built-in freezer, and remove the pack of frozen corn. He limps dramatically out of the bathroom, crashing face-first on my bed—still naked.

“Give it to me. I can feel the bruise leaking into my hamstring.” His hand grabs at the air.

I go over to my bed, hand him the frozen corn, and he sets it on his towel-clad ass. My bladder chooses now to remind me I still need to piss, so I hurry and get that taken care of. While washing my hands, I take a moment to collect myself.

God, I haven’t been this worked up in…years.Not since the last time I tried to be…with another person. I thought because she was soft and submissive, it’d be okay. But as soon as it was over, I panicked. My skin crawled, and I had flashbacks that left me weeping on her bedroom floor.

Obviously, she took it personally, and we haven’t spoken to each other since. I don’t even remember her name.

I’m waiting for something similar to happen now, but it doesn’t, which confuses me. Maybe it’s because I didn’t see his dick. Or perhaps, because despite my lurking, he wasn’t directing his needs at me or demanding them of me.

I know myself, and I know that because of how my mind works, I have been selfish in the past. Put myself over others. I never took my time, never…savored. However, disappointment is weighing on my shoulders now.

Regret.

I shouldn’t have looked.

Wanting Jorge as I do will ruin everything if I don’t stop those feelings immediately. It’d never work.Wewouldn’t work.

That doesn’t stop the lurching in my chest, nor does it take away the yearning I’ve lived with for half my life. I scratch at my beard, feel the old scars on my cheeks, and shake myself.Being friends with him is better than nothing at all, so I leave the bathroom.

The frozen corn has disappeared under his towel, and he’s swiveled so his face is up by the pillows, watching me approach. “I'm sorry you had to witness that,” he winces with embarrassment.

“I should’ve knocked.”

“I should’ve locked the damn door,” he mumbles.

“We can pretend it never happened.”

“Okay.”

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