We walk through the back, past the kitchen on one side and the stockroom on the other. Brenden has wound up here in the employee space a few times for various reasons over the course of our friendship. But he’s never been beyond the closed door that leads upstairs to my apartment. The soft, “Oh,” he lets out as I gesture for him to head up the narrow stairwell reminds me of this.
Even before the fake dating scheme, I spent time at his house, but he’s never seen my apartment. That goes to show how much of a private person I am. How I keep to myself as much as possible. And after spending so much time these last couple weeks with Brenden and May and May’s grandparents—sharing dinners and movie nights, sharing ahome—I’m realizing that surrounding yourself with good people you care about might just be a better way to live.
By the time I step inside the apartment with him, his cheeks are wet. Holding his face in both hands, I use my thumbs to gently wipe them dry. Then I lean in and kiss him, softer than I knew I was capable of. I hope the barely there press of lips is enough to let him know that I’m here for him. That I’d do probably anything for him.
But first I need him to tell me what it is I can do.
He still doesn’t say anything, just sags into me. And when I wrap my arms around him to hold him up, I can feel the relief in his body. Standing in the middle of my small apartment, I rub his back, run my fingers through his hair, and whisper to him assurances that everything will be okay.
Finally, he pulls away. He gives me one long look, then sighs. “Honestly, it’s nothing. I’m overreacting, and I know it. It was just the brunch, Mother’s Day...”
As he trails off, I lead him over to the couch to sit. “I know it’s hard for you.”
“It’s always hard,” he agrees. “That’s why it’s crazy that I’ve made it through so many years of this perfectly fine, and now this time, I decide to have a breakdown. But seeing May at the brunch with Elise, having someone to celebrate with for the first time... I’m happy for her. I swear I am. I’m so happy that my daughter’s happy. And that’s what makes everythingelseI’m feeling so confusing.”
He scoots a bit closer, and I open my arm to him as the well-worn couch cushions cause him to fall against my side. “My head’s all jumbled up in dealing with stuff. I know May isn’t trying to replace me with her grandparents, but it kind of feels like that’s what’s happening anyway.”
“That’snotwhat’s happening,” I insist.
“I know!” he yells, though I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean to. A remorseful look crosses his face, followed by one of defeat. “I’m sorry. Like I said, I know I’m not being rational. And I’m so sorry I bothered you at work.”
I tighten my arm around him and pull him in closer so I can kiss the top of his head. He still smells like sunshine and happiness even when he’s sad. But I fucking hate that he’s sad. “You aren’t bothering me. I want you to come to me if you’re upset, and I’ll do anything I can to make it better.”
His hand lands on my thigh, and when he looks up at me, something shifts in his eyes. He squeezes, then runs his fingers up the inseam of my jeans, higher, higher. I hold still, not sure if I want to stop him or spur him on.
I know what Ishoulddo, obviously. But I did just tell him I’ll do anything to make him feel better.
It becomes clear that he doesn’t want to talk anymore when he kisses me roughly, like he’s trying to swallow my mouth. The next thing I know, he’s climbing onto my lap, hands grabbing at me aggressively, teeth biting down on whatever skin they can reach. This is really not what I imagined happening when I brought him up here, though I do nothing to stop him.
If this is what he wants, he can have it.
“Please, please, please,” he chants in between kisses and bites.
Getting a good grip under his ass, I manage to stand, hefting him up with me. He wraps his legs around my waist and works on sucking a mark on my neck while I carry him to my bed. Butafter I lay him on it and crawl on top of him, he seems suddenly uncomfortable, whining and trying to squirm away.
I panic, rolling off him to give him some space. Did I read him wrong? Did he not want to go this far?
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“No, wait.” He rolls onto his side and reaches for me. “Don’t stop. I just need...”
“What do you need?”Please tell me.
He lets out a frustrated groan as he gets on top of me, straddling my thighs. He drags his nails down my chest and stomach over the material of my shirt, then slides his hands under it to travel back up. “I don’t even know. But I don’t want to be passive right now. I need todosomething, have control. Because it feels like my life has been spinning so far out of control lately.”
Before I can come up with a solution for him, he pops open the button on my jeans and yanks down the zipper. “Let me ride you. Or can I—” He cuts himself off. “Let me ride you. I just wanna be on top. I need to get out this frantic energy, and I don’t know what else to do with it.”
Having him ride my cock sounds like a fucking dream. And the fact that I’m lucky enough to have him begging me for it is insane. But there was something else he wanted to ask for.
I sit up enough to get my hands around his nape, then pull him back down with me. We kiss some more. He turns it hard and aggressive again, stroking his tongue into my mouth, biting my lip. He’s grinding his hips as he does this, and my cock hardens in no time. He must feel it, because he goes back to tugging at my jeans.
“Please,” he says again.
“Whatever you want,” I tell him. “If you wanna ride me, baby, I promise I’ll love every second of that. But you were going to ask for something else. What was it?”
Shaking his head, he says, “No, it’s not—It doesn’t matter.”
“Anything that would make you happy matters to me.”
