Change Of Heart 10

This is my sixth contribution to:

The 750 Word Project 2024

This was crazy right? It had to be crazy. I was straight. Straight as they come. And yet... And yet, here I was. Sitting opposite Tyler. Waiting for our check. And he had put his hand on mine. Right on my fucking hand. And what had I done? I'd smiled at him. Fuck!

He'd insisted on paying. It was after all my birthday. He'd even arranged for a cake to be walked to our table. Complete with sparklers. And the other customers singing, 'Happy birthday dear Jonathan.'

On our way out, a middle-aged black woman had tapped my arm. "How old are you, birthday boy?"

I mumbled, "thirty five."

She favored me with a wide smile. "And such a cute couple."

"Thank you, but we're not..." But she was already out of earshot.

Couple? Was that what we were? I didn't know. I wasn't scared by the idea. It kinda felt normal, no big deal. But also surprising. How long had we known each other? Nearly three years. We'd met at work. I was in Finance, he was in Marketing. We found a shared love of football. Steelers for me, Eagles for him. We tried not to fall out over it.

But it was something else that had drawn us closer. George Lucas. Yeah, it was all George's fault. Tyler had used that line about sand in a meeting and I had burst out laughing, to the consternation of our other colleagues. Seldom a day went by without a 'I have a bad feeling about this' or 'that's no...' passing one or other of our lips.

We hung out more. Found we both liked restaurants. Who'd have guessed? And mountain biking. And the outdoors in general. Even movies. Greta, Wes, Chris Nolan... and George of course; less JJ.

He'd told me he was gay early on. I think I knew already. But it's 2024 for fucks' sake, who cares? I'd told him that I had terrible taste in women and maybe I should try guys instead. That cracked us both up. It had never been an issue. My ability to pick romantic partners had not improved since I had known Tyler either, much to his constant amusement.

And yet here we were. My best friend treating me on my birthday. Then squeezing my hand. And it felt right. It felt good. It felt natural. It felt like just an extension of our friendship. Save for a few things. The burning in my heart. The speed of my breathing. And the pressure in my pants at his touch.

It was raining outside the restaurant and Tyler turned to me in mock disgust. "Ugh! Shall we get an Uber?"

I did it then. I wanted it to be public. A statement. Not to others. To him.

I took his face in my hands, his stubble prickly against my palms, and I kissed him. Not a peck. A kiss. Deep and lingering. And his smile in return was all I could have dreamed of.

His next words melted me. "Can I take you home with me?"

We had drunk, but not enough to make out in the car. Instead we held hands and grinned at each other stupidly.

The ride wasn't long. In the elevator, it was Tyler who initiated. His tongue in my mouth, his hand slipping inside my shirt. Again that same pressure. He noticed too and ran his finger-tips over my pants.

We half ran, half stumbled to his door. Inside was a blur of unbuttoning, pulling down zippers, and touching, touching with heat, with urgency.

Now each just in shorts, we kissed again. Then he knelt. And I thought my heart would burst out of my chest as he eased my boxers down. Releasing the pressure. Then taking me in his mouth. Giving me a soft torture unlike any woman's efforts. Targeted. He knew exactly what to do and how.

And it was quick. Three years of pent emotions flooding into his mouth, my body twisting in sweet ecstasy as I pumped and pumped.

Then his kiss again, salty and wet. And my turn to show him I felt the same. Terra incognita. But, as I moved lower, I knew I had yearned for this. A hand holding his hardness tight, I looked into his eyes. Eyes full of affection and desire.

"I'll do my very best, Tyler."

He took my head and guided me to him. I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and embraced a new world.