Gay Chicen

Russ and Adri were best friends. Of course, they'd act a little gay with each other. Russ had known him since freshman year of college, and ever since, they'd been inseparable.

He wasn't sure when the joke first started. It happened naturally; one day, they were goofing around, and the next, they were suddenly promising to marry one other (jokingly) and Russ was promising he'd be the bottom (again, just joking.) Soon, they'd pretend to make out at lunch, and then, they were dry humping each other on a dirty bar floor -- for humorous value, of course.

While Russ worked on his cars, Adri often slapped his ass from behind and made lewd comments about it. Today was no different. He was elbow deep in a BMW's catalytic converter when the taller basketball prodigy swooped in from behind, and next thing he knew, Adri's hand was grasping his rear.

"Damn," said Adri. "Your ass looks hot as fuck in those pants."

Russ twisted the wrench with his free hand and swatted his friend away with the other. "Yeah, yeah, just fuck me already." Ironically, obviously. He didn't actually mean it.

"I will," Adri promised. "Are you off work yet?"

Russ barely glanced at his wristwatch as he detangled himself from the converter. "I've been off since five," he realized.

Gay Chicken began anew as Adri grabbed his hips in a basketball player's clutch; enveloping them with a ridiculously wide grip. "Great," he said with a grin. "Come make out with me, then."

"Only if you're buying dinner," Russ returned, and he swiveled around, jokingly rubbing his taller friend's nipples. "I'll let you put it in my ass if you do."

"Okay," Adri wholeheartedly agreed. They both knew he wouldn't, though, because it was just a joke.

They departed from the mechanic shop and picked up a few beers along the way. They climbed the steps to their modest apartment, kicking last week's trash into the bin, and then finally flopped down on the couch; a string of fairy lights was jostled by the movement, dousing them in pink-red light as they settled comfortably.

"Dude, come cuddle with me," Adri said whist staring at Russ like he'd grown four heads.

"What, are you gay or something?" Russ grumbled; but he wormed over regardless, settling his head in his lap.

Adri grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV to a mindless show. "Want a beer?" He offered. Staring down, his warm eyes glinted from a funny angle to where Russ lay.

Russ grinned back. "That's like asking if I wanna suck you off. Of course, dumbass."

"Suck me off, then." Adri fake groaned as he pushed his hips; Russ had to sit up to allow him past. "Chicken."

The entire six pack ended up at their feet. Russ cracked one, Adri cracked the other, and they drank modest amounts; before they knew it, their cans were empty. Adri shot them both towards the trash can and made it in.

"I wish you'd spit in my mouth with that aim," Russ told him.

Adri's eyes lit like a charm. "I bet I can."

He hawked up; Russ shot back down the couch. "Hell no," he warned. "I'll have you sign the divorce papers."

"I'll have you sigh on this cock," Adri returned. Warm, tipsy mirth had him clamoring over to him. With both arms on either side, he stared Russ down, hovering an inch above his body.

"You gonna fuck me then?" Russ instantly put his legs around his hips. "Come on, I've been a bad boy."

This was maybe a touch too gay for them. Adri promptly struck the side of his face: "Get off, homo."

"Says you," Russ spluttered, as he jammed his feet into his friend's ribcage, and that was that. They sat back on their own sides of the couch and unanimously decided to watch TV instead.

It took about five minutes for Adri to scoot over and put his arm around Russ's shoulders. The mechanic leaned into it; not that he'd admit it, but the warmth, the sense of being held; it was comforting. He cuddled deeper into his friend's side as Adri opened another beer in one hand, then passed it to him.

"Are we trying to get drunk tonight?" Russ grunted. A genuine question.

"Two beers is mild," Adri scoffed. "You can't get drunk off these."

"Speak for yourself, Goliath." Russ grimaced as he smacked the beer back. "God, Coors tastes like shit. Why didn't we get Corona?"

"Same reason we do it doggy instead of missionary," Adri retorted; his free hand slunk to grip his thigh, and Russ shivered. "It works better."

"Not gonna lie, that made me a little hard." Russ glanced down at his crotch.

Adri's hand slipped lower. "I wanna feel it."

"Go ahead." Russ sat back.

He didn't. Adri ended up taking another swig of beer instead. As he drank, though, he eyed his shorter friend down; studying his curl pattern, noting how his arms were crossed over his lap.

"Dude," Adri decided. "Let me suck that fat cock, already."

"I've been telling you to," Russ retorted, half mindlessly as he watched TV. "You're just too chicken."

"No, you are." Adri bit his lip as he cuddled closer.

"Dude-" Russ swiveled. In one fluid motion, he'd swung his leg over Adri's lap, both hands on his shoulders as he demanded, "Fuck me, already. I told you I want you to fuck me."

"Dude, I will," Adri insisted. "Whip it out."

"You first."

"Fucking kiss me like a slut." Adri yanked him closer by the scruff of the neck, then stuck his tongue out, waggling it like he was going to thrust it in Russ's mouth; and this was where Russ shrieked and struggled away.

"Fucking homo," he laughed; wiping his lips, even though there was nothing there. "I knew you were gay."

"Shut up, cocksucker." Adri grinned. "Hey, I'm hungry. You want leftovers?"

"Only if you feed it to me," Russ purred back. "Spit it in my mouth like a baby bird."

Adri bit his lip and stepped over him; as Russ lay on the carpet, he stood directly over his shoulders, grasping his hands. "C'mere, then."

Pulling him to his feet, they wandered into the little kitchen. Russ sat on a stool whilst Adri threw leftover pizza in the microwave. As they waited, he pulled out the ranch.

"Open wide," Adri said menacingly. And he uncapped the bottle.

Russ jokingly stuck his tongue out. Adri promptly dashed the ranch for his face; Russ choked with laughter when it splattered on his chin, his tongue, attempting to drown him. "That's enough, you cunt!"

"Let me lick it off you," Adri urged, before Russ could swipe it off on his wrist. He grasped his friend's head despite his yelp, then dragged his tongue across Russ's cheek, soaking up the ranch; he licked him again, and Russ had abruptly faltered.

"Mm." He didn't shy away from it. He leaned in, mouth parted; and with a sudden spike of adrenaline, Adri licked him right on the tongue. And he did it again. He gripped Russ's head with both hands, and before they knew what they were doing, before any conscience or awareness could catch up, their tongues were sliding across one other, and they were ten seconds deep in an electrifying kiss. With another ten, the surprise evaporated into shocking, explosive pleasure, from the feel of his lips, the gentle rasp of his tongue on his own; he was instantly, violently turned on. With a disbelieving moan, Russ pulled himself in by the waist.

Then the microwave went off. Beep. Adri ripped back like someone had walked in on them. Faces burning, expressions bright with mortified grins, they sheepishly acknowledged one other as they took slices of pizza.

Adri discreetly adjusted his pants by the crotch as he took a bite. "I knew you were gay," he mumbled through the food.

Russ snorted. "You're gay. You're so gay." He shook his head sadly. "I knew it, dude."

"Shut up, homo." Adri struck his arm, but perhaps grazed him a little closer, a little longer than necessary. Their eyes met, but just as quick, they looked away. Russ grinned at the floor without a clue for why he was grinning.

They went to their respective bedrooms for the night. Russ got an unexpected call from the head of the mechanic shop, and Adri had college homework. They had things to do.

That night, though, it was rather hard to sleep.

-

All day, Russ couldn't get it off his mind. He was mindblown at how sensual that one brief kiss had been. Those twenty seconds in the kitchen evolved into hours of daydreaming as he tried to focus on the cars, his hands cranking wrenches, changing oils, and refilling fluids. In his mind, he was still in the kitchen with Adri. His best friend was an insanely talented kisser. He thought about the way his tongue passed so gently, yet so electric across his; or how he'd cupped his head in both hands and focused so intently on what he was doing, drawing every touch, every swipe of his tongue into something beautifully lingering.

It was only when his arm struck a boiling radiator did Russ realize he was out of it. Hissing, pinching the burn, he bit down on his screwdriver. The stupid BMW; his least favorite kind of car to work on. German engines weren't his forte.

He was busy grinding his teeth in frustration when someone walked in through the open garage. A large hand loudly smacked his ass, and with a blazing smile (and a leaping spring of joy in Russ's heart) Adri leaned on the car's bumper. "What's up, homo?"

"What are you doing here?" Russ tried to mask his excitement with a scowl. "It's only two."

"It's seven," Adri corrected. "Jeez, Russ. Look at the clock every once in a while." He didn't jokingly grab at Russ like normal. Instead, he pushed off the bumper, heading out the door a little quickly. "Come on," he called. "You're not even getting paid for these extra hours, dude."

"Shut up. I wanted to finish that stupid BMW." Russ winced as he rubbed his radiator burn. Something felt off between them; he found his chest was fluttering with a nervous hesitation. Were things weird between them now? He hoped not.

The drive back home was unusually awkward. They made small talk, but the gay jokes were dead and gone. Russ had never considered how much of their conversations were dominated by overly sexual innuendos. He twiddled with his thumbs as Adri drove, staring out the window, fighting with himself on what to do, what to say, what to think. He opted to fake tiredness; hopefully, that would dissuade a conversation.

They pulled up to the apartment and walked up the stairs. Adri flipped on the lights, while Russ eyed the kitchen; a specific scene flashed through his mind, and he shivered. "I'm beat, dude. I think I'll go to bed."

"This early?" Adri's expression changed. "You don't wanna... hang out?"

His best friend was suddenly interested in the floor. Russ had to collect his response. "Er... if you wanna hang out, then sure. Beer and TV?"

Adri shrugged. "I thought we could cook." He avoided his eyes. "I was in the mood for pasta, so I picked up some stuff."

An idea for a daring response had his heart thudding. Russ said it before he could help himself. "I'll only eat it if you feed it to me again."

Adri's eyes glowed, and a smile broke out across his face at last. "Dude, c'mere. Let me put your cum in my pasta."

"Fucking homo." Russ squeezed himself past by purposefully brushing his arm. His heart rate spiked, his hands almost trembling. "Feed me, already."

"I'll feed you this dick." Adri grabbed his ass on his way past. He gripped it hard, clenched it; he held it for approximately two seconds longer than normal, and his palm dragged when he let it go.

Russ wasn't breathing for a moment. The feel of his friend's palm on his ass was lingering. When he sat down on the stool, it still didn't go away. "What kind of pasta are we making?"

"Spaghetti," said Adri, as he pulled the canned sauce out. "What do I look like, Gordon Ramsey?" The sauce splattered into a pan. "This is the best I can make."

"You don't know how to cook, do you?" Russ mused. He realized he was easing himself off the stool. Two steps, and he was coming behind Adri.

"I can only make noodles and sandwiches," Adri grumbled, as he shook the last of the droplets out.

He wasn't expecting Russ's arms to slide along the sides of his torso out of nowhere.

The mechanic held him from behind as if he were a much taller person. Heart thumping, he let his hands roam. "If you want, I could teach you," he purred. "For a price."

"What price?" Adri's shocked expression melted as he felt Russ's hands slide lower and lower on his hips.

"Let me go down on you," Russ mumbled into his shoulder. This time, he was only half kidding.

"Go ahead." Adri's breath caught as he guided his hand a bit lower.

Russ's hand slid across the stiff, hot front of his jeans before he came to his senses -- before he scared himself off -- and abruptly snatched his hands away. "You wish, homo."

He tried to ignore how hard Adri's jeans had felt as the name himself laughed it off. "Dude, you're so gay. Just suck my dick already." He grinned down at the pasta as he flipped the stove on.

Redline eyed the bulge in his pants, and he found himself short on comebacks. "Whip it out, and I will," he finally managed.

"You wish," Adri returned.

Their eyes met for about three seconds.

Adri bit his lip before starting the pasta water. As he flicked the burner on, Russ grabbed the salt, and he moved to shake some in the water; Adri yelped and tried to swat his hand. "Dude, what are you doing?"

"This is how you make pasta!" Russ retorted. "You're supposed to put salt in the water."

Adri snatched the shaker away. Much taller than Russ, he loomed above him; his eyes were glittering as he set it on top of the fridge. "That's not the kind of salt I want."

Russ felt his own expression slacken. "Jerk me off, then."

"I will." Adri prowled closer.

Their eyes hadn't looked away from one other. He could see every fleck of green within Adri's brown, a forest of moss and sunlight. Rough, warm hands met his hips, and then he leaned over, close enough to feel his breath lightly grazing him.

"I will," Adri repeated. And his eyes flitted lower.

"Do it, then." Russ's voice was faint. Adri's hands slid up his hips, and nothing was disguised through the fabric of his shirt. The touch was fiery.

"You think I won't?" His tight grip yanked him out of nowhere. Adri turned him to face the counter; Russ felt warm breath across his hair as Adri leaned heavily into him, pressed to his back. "Think I won't?"

"You won't," Russ challenged. His voice was short of breath. Against his ass, Adri was pushing firm against him, then sliding down. Adri ground against him again, and the hands holding his hips steady tightened, tightened.

Russ's heart pounded. He could feel through their clothes how hard Adri had grown. The hot, firm stiffness slid down his back, pressed tight to his ass, then slid up. He was making no effort to disguise what he did. They were trapped in liminal silence as Adri did it again; their breaths were gone, waiting to see who would be the first to speak, to breathe, to acknowledge this electric, delicious sensation. And how utterly gay it was.

Russ realized he didn't care when Adri's hand slipped towards his pants. The feel of his palm sliding down was a fiery volt through his skin; he could barely see from the bliss as his friend's fingers slowly, dangerously slid lower.

And lower.

Then Adri's hand met the solid, throbbing base of his cock through his pants. A stifled moan vibrated in his throat, and his hand moved. Up, then down. Circling and rubbing. Russ melted against him, both frozen by the volts of pleasure and stunned into blissful, terrifying silence as he let his best friend do this. His best friend was rubbing his erection through his pants -- he knew full and well what he was doing -- and he could feel how insanely, violently hard Russ had grown. This was an irrevocable line they'd crossed. As Adri's thumb rubbed the tip through fabric, and a thick, wet dot smeared through, Russ realized the line was already far crossed. The last of his inhibitions melted away as he sank into Adri's touch.

He felt his fingers leave and slide back up, seeking the edge of his boxers. They found it and slipped back down, his bare skin cupping him, raking down through the hair until they wrapped, warm and welcoming, right around the shaft of his cock. Russ's body trembled as Adri's hand stroked back and forth. Heat poured through his gut and stiffened in his arousal; he could feel precum beading and pooling with every expert swipe Adri's hand made. The electric pleasure had him quivering and twitching involuntarily. When he realized he held his breath too long, a strangled gasp slipped through his teeth.

Adri's other hand embraced him firmly around the torso. When Russ gasped, he couldn't help his own thick, desperate moan. "Oh, fuck..." His lips pressed into Russ's neck; with every twist of his hand, he could almost feel the pleasure it brought him. No -- he needed to feel it. His own cock was throbbing hard enough to burst as he ground against him. "Fuck, Russ..."

Russ didn't have the air for words. He was trying to keep himself contained, trying to hold back the jerks of pleasure that shook him, building with every hot pass of Adri's hand, caressing and stroking relentlessly down his cock. When he felt his pants slipping lower, he could only whimper and help him push them off.

Adri struggled with the button of his own pants with one hand. Faltering, Russ realized what he was doing; he reached behind him to help him release himself. With a guttural moan, Adri let his belt strike the floor, and his pulsating, stiff cock pressed like velvet against Russ's lower back.

He was gaining to push it in before Russ came to his senses at last. Still rock hard, hands trembling on the counter, he shied away. "Wait, wait." The word felt almost surreal leaving his mouth.

"You're right." Adri's voice was just as thick, just as surprisingly normal as he read Russ's mind. He quickly snatched the first thing he could see; a bottle of olive oil meant for the pasta. Squirting it into his palm, he rubbed it around his shaft, shivering, then pooled more on his fingers. He slipped them down Russ's ass, parting it, working it in, and Russ could only struggle to keep his knees from collapsing.

Adri's breath hitched as the tip of his cock slid down. Within moments, he found it. The world went silent and electric as slowly, carefully, painstakingly, he began to push. Russ reached behind him and held his hips steady; panic and lust were just as electrifying as the sudden, sharp starburst of pain, and then the tip of Adri's cock abruptly slipped inside.

"Oh, fuck!" Russ's muscles clenched as he fought with this new sensation. "Oh, fuck. Slow."

"Am I hurting you?" Adri's eyes rounded in concern.

"N-no." Russ trembled against the counter, waiting for the shock of it to subside; the slow, dying pain gave way to a new, much more enchanting sensation; a thick rod inside of him, throbbing in rhythm with his heartbeat. It took him a long second to be able to speak again. "Fuck," he whimpered. "Go slow."

Adri's hands gripped his hip and his shoulder as he slowly, as promised, began to push in. And the feeling was like nothing Russ had ever felt before. His best friend's thick, swollen cock slid easily inside of him. It was encompassing, filling him up, and it rubbed against a tight knot of pleasure deep inside. Russ hardly realized his hips were bucking to try and ride that pleasure out.

Adri lost his patience. His hips began to thrust. Back and forth, in and out, his cock pumped inside of him. Russ held his hips from behind to drive it in deeper. The pleasure was mounting, electric delight building like a dam; the sensation of Adri's cock sliding slick against his walls was maddeningly arousing. His own dick was hardening and pulsing to every thrust. Adri's thick moan only had the heat in his gut pool tighter, and his pace quickened. His cock shot in and out, and Russ could only take it, holding Adri's hips and feeling it rise and balloon. Adri's hips were stuttering. The dam of arousal was cracking beyond the point of return. As he felt Adri stiffen and harden inside of him, his hands digging into the skin of his hips, the electric pleasure mounting and pouring right to the tip of his untouched arousal -- the dam broke when Adri cried out, and something warm, hot, and wet squirted into his ass, and Russ's cock was bursting with an orgasm that shocked every nerve in his body. Spurts of white flung onto the counter in volts of relief. Once, thrice, six throbs spilled out. Until at last, Russ was sagging against Adri, waiting for his vision to return, shaking so hard, he could barely stand upright.