"Oh, Stu come in," Nick answered the front door, letting in his son's best-friend.
"Thanks Mr Smith," Stu walked into the house.
"Eric's not home yet, but you're free to wait for him. I'm just watching the rugby, if you wanna join?"
"Sure, thanks," Stu followed Nick into the living room, plopping down onto the opposite end of the couch from his best-friend's dad.
"Fancy a beer?" Nick asked.
"That'd be great, cheers," Stu smiled coyly. Eric and Stu were planning on going drinking with their college mates. It would be good to get the pre drinks going a little early while he waited for Eric. Plus, Stu totally fancied Eric's Dad so a drink would settle his nerves. He stared at Nick as he walked towards him holding a beer. Bit of a belly, strong muscular arms, beard. Nick was exactly what got Stu hard: daddies. Eric knew Stu was gay, but he'd never find out about Stu's infatuation with his best-friend's dad. It would ruin their friendship for sure.
"There you go," Nick handed the bottle to him. The chilled glass only made the touch of Nick's fingers grazing off of Stu that bit more electrifying.
"Thanks," Stu chugged a swig of beer, forcing himself to stop staring at Nick in his tight Ireland jersey. "So, how's the game?" Stu cleared his throat, trying not to let his voice waver.
"Great game so far, Ireland are ahead," Nick nodded towards the TV. Ireland was up by 7 points against England. Stu didn't know much about rugby, but he knew it was always that bit sweeter when they were winning against the English.
"Brilliant," Stu took another sip. Sport was one thing, but lounging with Mr Smith was another. He felt himself calm a bit as the alcohol hit his system.
"So, how's college going?" Nick scooted up on the couch a bit and laid his arm on the back of the couch, his muscular arm spread wide and his hand resting behind Stu's head.
Stu could feel its presence behind his head even though it wasn't touching him. He knew it was there, all the skin and muscle making up the palm and fingers of Nick's hand. He could almost feel the heat emitting from Nick's appendage, radiating from it and seeping into the skin at the back of Stu's neck.
"Good," Stu had forgotten he hadn't answered the man, he had been too busy thinking about every inch of Nick's arm, from the calloused fingers, across the hair on his arms, all the way down to his biceps encased by the tight sleeves of his green jersey. He slurped the beer, trying not to drool.
"Go on!" Nick shouted at the match. Ireland was breaking through the English defence on the TV screen.
Stu was thankful of the distraction. He sighed, staring at the screen but not really watching.
"Go on," Nick roared, concentrating hard on the game. An Irish full forward was making rings around the English players. On and on he went until made it past the try line and touched the ball down, getting as close to the posts before one of the English players could tackle him. Nick cheered with delight, patting Stu's knee and squeezing.
Stu nearly jumped out of his seat in surprise, feeling himself get hard from the sudden physical contact. He laughed it off, smiling at Nick. "That was some try," he said, cringing inwardly at his poor attempt at rugby lingo.
Nick was too absorbed with the commentary to pay attention to Stu.
Taking a long gulp of beer, Stu drained the bottle and plopped it down onto the coffee table.
"Another?" Nick asked Stu, getting up after Ireland scored the conversion, adding an extra 2 points on top of their 5 from the try.
"Sure," Stu said, his head swimming from the beer, the heat in the room, and from his growing libido.
"There you go," Nick returned, handing Stu another beer and holding one for himself.
Stu took a mouthful as Nick plopped himself down, sitting closer again to Stu.
Nick spread his legs wide, his left knee grazing off of Stu's right knee. The feeling was electric. Stu's automatic reaction was to move it away, but he was feeling brave. He kept it there, and gave a little push against it so both men were lightly pressing their knees against each other, all the while not looking at one another, pretending to watch the match.
"Alright, keep it up, lads," Nick said aloud to the game.
Stu couldn't tell what was going on in the match, he was transfixed by his own game: the one that was going on between him and Mr Smith. Did the older man notice Stu's knee pressed up against his? Was he oblivious to the electricity that Stu felt? Was it all in Stu's head? He didn't want to make a pass with Eric's dad and get thrown out, barred from seeing his best-friend forever. But surely something was going on. His thoughts swam.
Stu laid his head back on the couch, but it come in contact with something: Nick's hand. "Oh, sorry," Stu squirmed in his seat.
"It's ok, you can lie back," Nick smiled.
Stu slowly sat back into the couch, his head resting on the soft back of the couch. Nick must've moved his hand away, Stu thought. That was until he felt the calloused fingers of the older man touch his hair. The fingers began to caress his short hair. So soft at first, he didn't know it was actually happening, then they pressed into his scalp and grazed the skin of his forehead.
A shallow breath escaped from Stu's mouth.
"You ok, Stu?" Nick was looking at Stu now, the game a distant buzz in the background.
"Yeah," Stu whispered, turning his head. He was pressing his knee against the other man's now with force, with a deep desire, with a need for more.
