Page 15 of Coming to Grips
Chapter Six
Kyle pulls the bedroom door shut behind him and sags against it. His cock aches something fierce, and if he hadn’t escaped, he would have done something he would have most likely regretted.
Massaging Chase in the shower had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, not so much. The other night in the shower hadn’t been too bad, although Chase’s arousal had given him pause. His own had been a given and he’d taken care of it later in bed, to thoughts specificallynotof Chase. Orgasm had been achieved, but there hadn’t been much satisfaction in the deed.
Well, he’s opened this can of worms, and he’s just going to have to deal with all those wriggling feelings somehow. For now, though, he’ll ignore them.
Kyle leaves his hard-on unattended, dresses quickly, and goes to make Chase’s bed. The pile of sheets had caught his eye when he’d gotten home, and there’s no way Chase can make his bed one handed.
Kyle sorts through baseball stats in his head while he digs a clean set of sheets from Chase’s closet. He peruses the Major League Baseball schedule in his mind as he secures the corners of the bottom sheet around the mattress; he’s got a whole slew of games to choose from for the next days. As Kyle floats the top sheet over the bed and tucks the end of it under the mattress, he remembers the game he’d attended as a kid with his grandfather and his cousin Jeff, where one of the players had hit a grand slam.
Throw on the blanket...
Since it was the home team, the stadium had given out coupons for free cones at some ice cream shop. Grandpa had taken him and Jeff on the way home. It’s one of his few happy childhood memories.
Lay out the bedspread...
And done. He surveys his work. A freshly made bed, just waiting to be messed back up in the best way ever—a good round of hot sweaty sex.
He groans at the train of thought his mind has decided to board. A destination he doesn’t want to go to.
Kyle scurries from Chase’s room, scooping up the dirty linens and depositing them in his own room for the time being. They’ll be doing laundry tomorrow apparently.
His erection has abated enough, despite the detour his thoughts had taken, that it won’t be noticed.
The water in the bathroom turns off and Chase putters around in there for a few minutes before he comes out, clutching the corners of his towel at his left hip bone.
Chase rolls his shoulders and casts Kyle a small shy smile. “Thanks for the massage. It really helped.”
“Anytime.” Kyle nods, making a concerted effort not to look at Chase’s crotch.
Chase had been aroused again. Kyle wasn’t sure how he’d known, but he had.
Had Chase taken care of business after Kyle had fled? His cock shifts as blood flows back that direction. Shit.
“I’m sure we can find a movie or put a game on if you want. It’s not that late.” He needs to act normal. As if nothing’s out of the ordinary.
“Sounds good. Get me a beer, will you? I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
“Can do.” Kyle salutes in acknowledgment. Chase seems to have the same mindset. Keep calm and carry on as if nothing happened. Of course, nothinghadhappened. Nothing physical between them anyway, not really. Individually, they’d both been turned on, sure. But Chase getting an erection in the shower while being touched doesn’t mean he wants a relationship with a man.With Kyle.He’s a young red-blooded American man—they tend to get turned on easily. Kyle should know.
Kyle fetches a couple of beers from the fridge, pops ‘em open, and clicks on the television.
Chase’s few minutes turns into fifteen, but it’s fine. Thankfully, Kyle’s erection completely deflates by the time Chase plops onto the sofa beside him. They watch the Brewers kick the Pirates’ asses. Chase falls asleep somewhere around the seventh inning stretch, his beer only half drunk, and Kyle spends the rest of the game and the one after that watching Chase sleep, his feelings turning tender at the innocence of Chase’s features. He should have sent Chase to bed after the first game, but Kyle rarely gets to see him like this. Serene and secure enough to sleep soundly. So sue him.
What he wouldn’t give to be able to hold Chase’s hand, rub a thumb across the back of it. To run his hands through Chase’s hair. To get cozy on the couch while watching television. To have Chase fall asleep in his arms. In his bed.
Shit. When had he become such a sap?
About five years ago when you fell in love with your best friend.
When the teams walk across the field shaking hands, Kyle turns off the TV and places a hand on Chase’s knee.
“Hey, Chase, it’s time to go to bed.” Kyle shakes and then pats Chase’s leg. “Ace, wake up.”
Chase snorts softly and sits up. “What-time’s-it?” he asks, his words slurred together as one multi-syllabic word.
“It’s close to one. Go to bed.”
