Chris Owen

Study Break

By Chris Owen and Jodi Payne


Spring, Gray and Paul's final year in graduate school


Gray’s apartment was way nicer than his, Paul mused, looking around the living room. Sure, it was tiny, but tiny and new and clean, unlike his place, which was larger but old and decrepit. The kitchen in Paul’s apartment was pea green. Pea green, which was fine if one liked peas, he supposed, but didn’t do a damn thing for him. His bathroom was lined with ancient mauve tile and a tub that was probably entirely mauve once, but was now missing most of its enamel.


Gray, having drawn a better room-lottery number than Paul, lived in the new dormitory. His place was bright white. White walls, white counter tops, and a nice white bathtub. Gray, being the little shit that he was, rarely let Paul forget his luck.


Paul sighed and chucked his book onto the couch beside him. If he was looking for distraction in the white walls of Gray’s apartment it was definitely time for a study break, or at least for another beer. He pulled his feet off the coffee table and stood up, taking his empty bottle to the kitchen and retrieving a fresh one from the half-size refrigerator.


“Hey, Gray, you thirsty? Want another beer?” Paul laughed at himself and opened his beer, realizing he’d just spoken in iambic pentameter. He'd been reading too damn much Shakespeare. Gray wouldn’t notice; he was all caught up in ancient something-or-other for a paper that was due in a few days. He was panicking as usual, and Paul fully expected to get an earful for interrupting him.


Not that he cared.


When no answer came, Paul shook his head and went back out into the living room. Gray was sitting at his desk surrounded by open reference books and had a yellow legal pad on his lap, and at the moment he was squinting at his computer screen. Grinning, Paul approached Gray quietly from behind and touched his beer bottle to Gray’s bare neck.


Gray gave a very satisfying yelp, jumped a few inches, and spun around so quickly his glasses slid down his nose. "Jesus! What the hell -- oh, beer! Gimme!" He reached for the bottle with a grin, his other hand pushing his glasses back into place.


Paul smiled and let go of the bottle easily, wondering when eyeglasses had become so sexy. "I offered you one of your own, but you were deaf to me, as usual. Poor me, cast aside for ancient... what this time? Ruins? Gods? More dirt?"


"Politics," Gray said with a sour look. "Bloody politics. And I mean that literally; lots of political murders disguised as acute indigestion." He wiggled his eyebrows and took a healthy swallow from the beer bottle. "Don't tell me you're done. Please, don't tell me that. And I would never cast you aside for anything less than original source material."


Gray's enthusiasm for his work was adorable. It was almost contagious, and Paul knew Gray was going make a great professor. "I am so not done. So not. But I've got some original source material right here for you, if you're interested." Grinning again, he pressed a hand against the crotch of his jeans, letting the rough fabric outline his point for him. "You haven't taken a break yet today, have you?" He leaned over Gray to look at his computer and read a few words on the screen, making sure his "material" was right where Gray could study it.


"Banner day in my world," Gray murmured, leaning in a bit. "Beer, source material that gets more and more interesting the deeper I go..." One cheek rubbed over Paul's jeans as Gray set the bottle down, and then again as Gray nuzzled at him. "Time for a study break, I think." The nuzzling turned into nudging, and quick fingers started working at Paul's fly.


"Score!" Paul shouted with a laugh. He stood up straight again, feeling his prick grow stiff and tight against his fly before Gray finally got the zipper open. "You're so easy." He was. Paul couldn't remember a time, or a place for that matter, that he'd made an overture and had it turned down. Postponed for maybe five minutes tops, but never refused.


He picked up the beer himself and took one more long gulp, setting it down on the desk just in time because Gray's fingers were warm and insistent and he very well might have dropped it otherwise. He moaned without meaning to and looked down at Gray, reaching down to gently remove his friend's glasses. The last time Gray had forgotten, it had meant an expensive and urgent repair.

"I'm not easy," Gray protested without looking up. "I'm... okay, I'm easy." He did look up then and grinned, his eyes dancing with either amusement, arousal, or an attempt to focus on Paul's face. "Which isn't a problem, I assume?" The question was easy enough, but replying was made difficult by the way Gray was absently exploring Paul's cock, fingers far too light and fast for Paul's liking.


"No problem here," he managed to say, although he was starting to feel warm and his head was getting muzzy. Paul didn't need to admit that he was easy, too. They both knew that. "Hang on," he said with a hitch in his breathing and put a hand over one of Gray's to still it. "Gotta put the geek-gear down safely." He set Gray's glasses down next to the beer with exaggerated care and then let go of Gray's hand again. "Like you mean it, Gray."


"Like I mean it?" Gray teased, his hand suddenly firmer, grasping Paul and jacking him slowly. "Like this? Or more like when I mean it this way?" He dipped his head and licked Paul from the base of his dick right to the tip, swirling his tongue as he went. "Can mean it both ways, if you want. Payback might be a bitch, though."


"Jesus." Paul's vision swam for a second, and he reached out, taking hold of Gray's shoulder for balance. "I fucking love payback."


"Excellent. I'll hold you to it," Gray promised a half second before he swooped down on Paul's cock. His mouth was hot and clinging, his tongue teasing. Gray sucked like he studied -- with complete and utter focus, driven to get as much as he could.


And thank God for that, really.


It wasn't long before Paul realized that he'd better sit down or he was going to fall down. He cupped a hand under Gray's jaw and tugged his cock free with a comedic popping sound. "Bed," he said huskily, but he caught Gray's eyes, took one look at his swollen lips, and had to have a taste first. Paul buried his fingers in Gray's shirt, tugged him to his feet, and kissed him hard.


Gray kissed him back, laughing and trying to control the kiss at the same time. He was also, apparently, trying to guide Paul to the bed, hands planted firmly on Paul's ass. "I'm easy, but you're demanding," Gray told him with another laugh. "Demanding, sexy, pushy, and it's damn good thing I happen to like it." The hands let go, and Gray pushed him back onto the bed and started stripping with flattering speed.


Paul stared for a moment, watching Gray's clothing drop here and there and admiring the smooth skin it left behind. Gray wasn't athletic at all, and he didn't have tan lines or even much muscle definition. But his body was beautiful in a classic way that suited him well, and suited Paul just fine, too -- very fine, indeed.


"Oh," Paul said, suddenly back in the moment, and he pushed at his own jeans, kicking them to the floor. He reached up to pull his t-shirt over his head and lost sight of Gray for a second, feeling his touch before actually seeing him again. Paul laughed. "Hey, if I wasn't pushy, you wouldn't be getting laid right now."


"Nah, I'd be getting work done now and laid later," Gray said carelessly. "But you're pushy in the very best way, so I'm getting off now and later." Gray beamed at him, sliding along his body for a moment. "It's an excellent plan. Now. Where was I before you so rudely took my toys away?"


Paul aimed a finger at his prick, which was pointing jauntily toward the ceiling. He grinned. "Right there. Worshipping my -- I mean, busy with the tongue thing." He could have groaned right then, could have given himself away, but Gray would just laugh at him for being over-eager. He took a deep breath, determined to last a while. At least long enough that he could keep his self-respect. Not like that time that Gray--


Shit, he'd better not go down that road. That was a slippery slope to orgasm for sure. He lifted one knee, giving Gray more access and a better angle.


"Worshipping?" Gray laughed, one hand curling comfortably around Paul's erection. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Oh, yeah. That would turn you on -- me, the loyal slave boy on my knees for you all the time?" Gray blinked slowly and then shook his head. "Well, it turns me on. Right, to the worshipping."


Gray didn't waste any more time, happily licking his way up and around Paul's cock. He made ridiculous noises, like he was enjoying a feast, but then the tone changed and he settled into it, clearly losing himself in what he was doing and starting a seriously good blowjob.


Paul imagined how hard Gray had to be by now, what with the grunting and the hot way he was inhaling air through Paul's nose so he didn't have to open his mouth. Imagining Gray's erection didn't help his restraint any, however, and he felt his toes curl and his hips lift slightly off the bed. "Oh, fuck, Gray," he said, the words going from his cock to his mouth, completely bypassing the useless gray-matter in his skull.


"Gray"-matter. That was funny.


He gasped suddenly and felt himself break out in a sweat as a familiar swirling heat took up residence in his gut. He was close, but he wanted to stay there for a minute, right there hovering with Gray on the edge of amazing. He pushed the fingers of one hand into Gray's hair and the other into his own, and he grunted loudly, letting his hips buck up off the bed. Gray was a sport, he could take it.

He was more than a sport, really. He actively encouraged and urged, moaning around Paul's dick and slipping a hand under his butt and lifting. He could take it -- and it seemed like he wanted it. He sucked harder and faster, his head bobbing as he countered Paul's thrusts.


In far enough to feel the head of his cock hit the back of Gray's throat, Paul's was distracted from the hand on his ass that was starting to explore. Payback could be a bitch, Gray had promised. Well, that was okay, too. If he lived that long. Gray groaned again, the sound getting desperate and rough. It sent shivers right through Paul, from his cock on out.


Paul gasped as Gray coaxed his orgasm from him, taking and getting exactly what he seemed to want. Paul shivered and shouted something, Gray's name and something else he was sure, all of which came out as mumbled nonsense. He felt removed as he came, his body spasming involuntarily, his whole existence narrowing to his pulsing dick and Gray's mouth. Yes, he thought, not quite able to get the sound out in any form but a long, low moan, fucking hell, yes.


Gray took it all, swallowing again and again, then licked him clean before crawling on top of him. "Roll over," Gray said with a grin. "Payback, Paul."


Gray's words were muffled by the rush of blood in Paul's ears, but he understood them well enough. It made him grin smugly to know that Gray was so heated he couldn't even wait for Paul to catch his breath.


"Man, if only they could bottle that tongue." Paul teased. As he rolled over, eagerly as well as dutifully, he reached out to the table beside Gray's bed and tossed the tube of lube over his shoulder at Gray. His fingers fumbled clumsily with the box of condoms and it went tumbling to the floor, but he did manage to grab one as they fell. "Oops." He laughed and held up the little foil package over his head.


"Give me that before you lose it." Gray laughed, grabbing the condom. "Christ. Okay, up you go." Hands curled around Paul's hips and dragged him up, and knees pushed his apart.


"Hey!" Paul yelped in surprise, and his eyes went wide at the way Gray manhandled him to his knees.


"You might want to get a good grip on the bed," Gray warned him as slick fingers pushed inside. The way they circled inside him felt great. It felt like foreplay, which Gray wasn't usually given to, especially in his current state.


But for all his bravado, Gray's touch was still gentle and offering, and Paul arched back against his hand in answer. "I love it when you talk like a stud."


"That's all the time, right?" Gray said, his laugh husky. "Don't answer that. Busy here."


The fingers slipped and slid, probing and stretching. Paul could hear the condom wrapper tear and glanced back to watch Gray fight with the rubber one handed, his eyes rolling a bit as he tried to get it on. His cock looked hard enough to hurt, and Paul wasn't really surprised when Gray eased his fingers out to deal with the rubber with both hands.


"Jesus," Gray gasped, smoothing lube over himself. "Tell me you're ready."


"Bring it on, stud, I'm so ready." He was, too. Listening to Gray's voice straining in that way was getting him hot. He only hoped Gray popped quickly enough that he didn't get hard again in the process. Or that Gray took long enough that it didn't matter. Or something. It was suddenly hard to think.


"You better be," Gray panted, draping himself over Paul's back. With a grunt and a moan Gray pushed in and froze. "Oh, fuck, don't move."


Paul grinned, and then his grin turned to a laugh, which he knew amounted to moving, but he couldn't help himself. "I'm sorry," he giggled. "Sorry! Shit, I'm sorry." He tried to stop, he really did. The laughter just made Gray feel that much bigger inside him.

"Bastard!" Gray yelled at him, starting to tremble. Paul laughed harder, knowing Gray was going to be pissy about not being able to hold it, but damn, it was funny.


Gray's fingers dug into his hips and yanked him back as Gray apparently gave up on trying to hold off and went the other way. He was going to get off and get off hard, if the way he was slamming into Paul was any indication. Paul grunted and gasped with the force that Gray took him, wishing he'd heeded Gray's warning and taken hold of the headboard for support, though he couldn't completely shake an undercurrent of giggling.


Gray fucked him with short, ragged thrusts, his breath coming in rapid gasps and pants until the grip on Paul's hips grew even tighter. "Oh, God, now," Gray whimpered, his head dropping to land on Paul's shoulder as he gave it up.


Paul knew that it was probably a bad idea to tell Gray how much he loved the moment right before Gray came. Every single time, that moment when their bodies were close together, and Gray was completely, totally honest. Yeah, probably a bad thing to tell him, but it was nice to think about.


"Oh, yeah," Paul groaned, feeling Gray's cock jerk inside him. But even as he tried to let the moment be Gray's, the laughter was coming back.


"Stop that!" Gray ordered, but he was starting to laugh, too, his body shaking and his cock twitching as he started to slide out. He tried to thrust again, but fell away, laughing. "Damn you," he said fondly, stretching out and pulling Paul to him. "Could have made that phenomenal."


"Promises, promises," Paul teased and fell easily into Gray's arms. "Was great. Really. You blow like there's nothing in this world you'd rather be doing. I'm totally boneless, man. Jell-o."


"Flatterer." Gray grinned at him, though, looking pleased as he took a fast kiss. "Hey, got plans for later on tonight? Gonna be finished by then?"


"I've got maybe three or four hours left," Paul said and took another quick kiss of his own. "If I'm not distracted." Paul was fairly sure that "got plans?" meant could he stay the night, not what was he doing for dinner, but with Gray he was never completely sure. Sometimes Gray got cute and decided they should actually be seen together in public.


"Cool." Gray kissed him once more before sliding away and stripping off the rubber. He swiped at himself with a towel from the floor and grinned. "Band playing at Mally's, wanna go? Cheap drinks, hot saxophone."


Pleased, Paul sat up, grinning. "Sounds great." Drinks, music, some face time with Gray. Yeah, he was up for it. "I should probably head home and get some clothes and stuff. Maybe I'll finish studying there to make sure we get our work done." Paul brushed past Gray, running fingers over his shoulders and giving his ass a pat. "Are those your jeans or mine?" He picked them up and inspected them. It was hard to tell, they were equally wrinkled.


"Doesn't matter. If they're mine you can bring 'em back next time." Gray grabbed the other pair and yanked them on without inspecting them and raised an eyebrow. "You don't have to go, you know. I can write that paper with you here." The leer in his eyes, however, underlined that it would be a good idea to work apart for a while.


Paul raised an eyebrow back at him, and Gray laughed. "Okay, you're right. Fine. Go. Just make sure you get back here so we can get there before nine. Before they start charging the cover, you know?"


"You got it. I'll even shower," Paul promised with a wink. He tugged on his T-shirt, found his flip-flops, and couldn't stop himself from cornering Gray for one more quick kiss before he left.




Paul finished the play he was reading, but after that studying had become an almost useless endeavor. He had indeed walked out wearing Gray's blue jeans, a fact he discovered when the beer finally drove him to the rest room. His own jeans weren't quite so worn in the thighs, and he was pretty sure they didn't smell as good as Gray's either -- musky, like warm man. It was a damn good thing his paper wasn't due until after the weekend, because Paul couldn't even concentrate on the outline after that. All he could think about, as he deliberately sat around in Gray's jeans, was Gray.


So he was in rare form. And that didn't help him to decide what he was going to wear out that night, or what he should eat for dinner, either. And he had to eat because there was most certainly going to be alcohol happening at the club. He wondered when he'd started worrying about what he was wearing around Gray, and then decided that when didn't matter nearly as much as why, and he wasn't going there with the why, because they both had places to go after graduation.


He took a shower and inhaled two pieces of pizza on the walk over to Gray's apartment, arriving there around eight-thirty, which was plenty of time to hit the club by nine if they left right away. He could hear music playing as he made his way up the hall to Gray's door. Gray had terrible taste in music, always had.


He turned the knob, and the door swung open on the impossible sight of Gray being even dorkier than usual, actually dancing to the horrid music. What made it impossible was how adorable he looked doing it.


"Hey!" Gray said with a grin and danced over to the stereo to shut it off. "Bet you thought I'd gotten lost in the books again. Wrong! I even showered and ate, so let's go!" Without even letting Paul in, Gray grabbed his coat and rushed them both back into the hall. He did, however, manage to both kiss and grope Paul in the process, completely unmindful of anyone passing by.


It was a good thing that there wasn't anyone, really. Sometimes Gray took things a step too far at weird moments, occasionally resulting in either ice cream in strange places or hurried retreats from groups of people.


Paul followed Gray out of the building with a bemused smile on his face. "You really shouldn't listen to that crap so loud, people might think you're a geek."


Gray gave him a look of utter bafflement. "Why?" he asked, then winked slowly. "Don't answer, or I won't let you suck me off later. Want to take the bus or walk?"


"Bus. I'm lazy." Paul looked sidelong at Gray. "And I gotta save my breath if you want me to blow you. Bus!" He caught it in his peripheral vision behind Gray as he was talking and took off running to the stop at the corner.


The bus, thankfully, was only about half full, so Paul didn't have to worry about fending off too many of Gray's increasingly outrageous passes. When he rolled his eyes and once more removed Gray's hands from where they'd wandered, he got a look of pure innocence that was entirely too easy to believe.


At the bar, conversely, Gray settled down. Maybe it was the drink in his hand or the sound of the band warming up that soothed him; Paul wasn't sure. And Gray certainly didn't ignore him, one hand constantly either on his lower back or on his thigh, but the twitchiness eased off, and Gray mellowed out, smiling a little more easily.


"Needed this," he said to Paul, looking around the place and leading him to a tiny table on the side. "Get out of that place, away from the books for a while."


Paul nodded. He knew just what Gray meant. "Yeah," he said, and then congratulated himself on such an intelligent and empathetic response. He shook his head. "Finals suck this year, don't they? I don't know why they're so much worse this year than last. Like the band, though. One of your better picks."


"The guy on the sax has an amazing mouth," Gray said with a wink, and then quickly moved on. "Almost done, though. Then summer and fun and... well, life. Right now I just want to have this fine drink, listen to the fine band, and plan the absolute fastest way to get you naked again."


Paul laughed. "All you have to do is ask, you know. You don't have to get me drunk. Although it's a nice perk." He tangled his fingers with Gray's. It wasn't the best town to be out in, but it wasn't the worst either. "I could blow you in the bathroom." Bathroom! "Oh, shit, I left your jeans at home." On the bathroom floor, next to the toilet after jerking off. Damn.


"S'okay," Gray said, stroking his thumb with one finger. "I know where you live, I'll get 'em at some point. And I'm going to take you up on that, you know. Taunting me with sex in the bathroom. Very naughty, Paul." Gray's grin said all Paul needed to know about Gray's opinion on the subject.


"You say 'naughty' like it's a bad thing." He sipped his drink. "Besides you have a lot of nerve calling me naughty after your comments about the sax player. This is one of those 'I really shouldn't ask' things, isn't it?" Which was fine, they weren't exclusive by any means. Although Paul really couldn't recall the last time he... oh, yes, over last summer while Gray was away. Right.

"You can ask if you want to know," Gray said with a smile that spoke volumes. "I mean, it's not like I went back for more, but I did find a pretty good band out of it." The hand that had been resting just above Paul's knee slipped a little higher as Gray took another swallow of his drink.


"Sounds like I don't even need to ask." Paul finished his drink and set it down on the bar. This wasn't really a dancing kind of band, but there were a few people out there. He looked at Gray, who was obviously enjoying the music. He was tapping his foot as he chased ice cubes around his glass. Paul decided it was time to really loosen up. "Two shots!" He waved his hand at the waiter. "Two shots of...?" He looked at Gray.


"Dewar's," Gray said, rolling his eyes. "Nasty stuff, but I like what it does to you."


"Dewar's!" Paul repeated, and the waiter scurried off. "Dewar's doesn't do anything to me," he protested weakly, but he knew better. He liked the slightly fuzzy edge that it gave to the world. Of course, it took more than one shot to get there, but in combination with his other drink, it could work.


The shots arrived, and Paul handed one to Gray before picking up his own. "To us." Paul regretted the words the moment they came out of his mouth. He tried not to let his misgivings show in his face. But Gray just kind of twinkled at him, looking both pleased and horny, in that "I'm so getting laid again" way.


"To us," he agreed, lifting his glass in a salute. As usual, Gray slammed about half of the drink back and shuddered. "Man, how come the second one tastes better? Must make my tongue numb or something."


Paul swallowed his in one gulp. "Or something," Paul agreed. "I think the first one makes you not care how the second one tastes." He grinned and had a hard time fighting off a strange urge to crawl into Gray's lap. "Dance?" Paul asked, "or we could just hit the men's room..."


He wasn't terribly surprised when Gray downed the remainder of his drink and grabbed his hand. "Have I told you lately that I really like the way you think?" Gray asked, dragging him into the restroom. Without waiting for a reply, Gray glanced around, picked a stall, and practically threw Paul into it. "Dewar's. Every time."


"Am I really that cheap?" Paul locked the stall door and looked around. This wasn't a nightclub, it was a bar, and so while the bathroom was much cleaner, their time was limited. He wasted none, going right to his knees, hastily opening Gray's fly, and pushing his pants down around his thighs. "Whatever you do, don't yell," Paul reminded Gray, for all the good it was going to do.


"I'll try not to," Gray said, his fingers sliding through Paul's hair as he urged him forward. Gray’s cock was firming up fast, swaying as Gray braced his feet and leaned back on the metal wall. "C'mon. Want it, Paul," he whispered in a rough voice. "Want you."


"I know, baby," Paul said softly. He knew, and Gray would get everything he needed. He opened his mouth and leaned forward taking the head of Gray's dick into his mouth. He made one long sweep, taking Gray deep and then pulling back again, not quite letting the head go. He did it again, only this time he took hold of Gray's ass, encouraging him forward, encouraging him to move.


"God, you're good at this," Gray whispered roughly, his breathing already speeding up. His hips were rocking, too, pushing and retreating as Gray's cock slid into his mouth and back out. Long fingers tangled and tugged at Paul's hair, not hard enough to hurt but firmly enough that he knew Gray was setting his pace. "Love your mouth."


Paul responded with a gentle application of teeth. He shielded them quickly though, as it was only meant as a tease. He fell into Gray's rhythm easily, liking that he knew Gray's needs so well. He moaned when he could to give Gray some encouragement, but mostly he listened to Gray's sounds and enjoyed the feel of his body moving, taking every thrust as deep as he could manage.


When Gray picked up the pace a bit and the sounds from the bar rose, Paul sucked a little harder, making Gray gasp. "Yeah, like that," he said, pushing harder. "Jesus, Paul. Look so fucking hot, on your knees. Look at me."


Paul looked up and met Gray's eyes, saw the flush creeping up his neck. The cock in his mouth swelled harder, and Gray gasped again, his fingers curling and tugging harder.


"Soon," Gray managed, his eyes closing. "Goddamnit, Paul, so fucking hot."


If Paul had really known how much Gray got off on sex in semi-public places he would have encouraged it much more often. Gray's mouth was open, his eyes were squeezed closed, and he'd abandoned all sense of propriety, groaning hotly along with the wet slick sounds of his cock slipping through Paul's lips.


Paul continued to watch Gray until Gray's thrusts grew so urgent that he couldn't concentrate on his face anymore. As Gray started to come, Paul lowered his chin a bit and welcomed the stream of hot stuff into his mouth. Under his hands he could feel Gray shaking, his legs trembling, and he was grateful that Gray let go of his hair long enough to slam his hand back on the wall behind him.


"Jesus," Gray panted. The hand came back and stroked Paul's cheek gently. "Amazing, baby. C'mere." Hands pulled Paul up, then one plunged into his pants as Gray kissed him, tongue sweeping through his mouth. "Your turn."


"Oh, shit!" Paul gasped so loudly he was sure they could hear him out at the bar. He'd been so into Gray that he hadn't realized how hard he was himself. Gray's hand was so tight around his erection that it felt as if Gray's fingers were burning welts into his cock. He took Gray by the shoulders and pushed his back against the wall again, hard enough to rattle the row of stalls, and pressed his forehead into the side of Gray's neck. A few incredibly satisfying thrusts later he felt his thighs start to tingle. "Fuck, Gray," he said in a gravelly voice and tightened his hold on Gray's shoulders.


"That's it," Gray growled into his ear. "Come on, Paul. Give it up for me, you know you want to. Come on."


Gray's breath smelled of whiskey and was hot in his ear, and it seemed like that was all it took for Paul to let go, spilling fistfuls of spunk over Gray's hand and into his pants. He'd regret that soon, probably, but just at this moment he didn't give a damn. "Oh, God," he said softly and released Gray's shoulders, though he kept a hand on the wall to keep his balance. Paul felt Gray loosen his grip, and he turned his head to brush his lips across Gray's, asking for another kiss.


"Love watching you come," Gray whispered into his mouth. Then Gray kissed him, hard and deep, and it took a few more moments before Paul could start to catch his breath.


Sticky and wet, his pants were a mess. Gray licked at his mouth again before pulling back, grimacing at his hand as he reached for the toilet paper. "Oops," he said mildly, starting to grin. "Might be an early night. You need to change."


"I should probably be embarrassed, shouldn't I?" he asked Gray and felt himself grin more broadly than he'd intended. But he wasn't; he just opened his fly and cleaned up as best he could. Of course the growing wet stain might be a bit difficult to conceal. He started to laugh. "I'm walking home right behind you," he joked.


"Of course you are," Gray said with a wink. "You like to watch my ass." Hands wiped off, Gray looked at him critically. "Seriously, though. Want to stay for a bit, or head home? I don't want you feeling gross all night."


There was no discussion on the subject. No way was Paul going to sit around with a wet crotch and reeking of sex; in Gray's bed that was one thing, but in a bar? Forget it. Paul also made Gray walk home so they wouldn't stink up a cab, and he held his jacket in front of him all the way, feeling a lot like a teenager who had inexplicably shot off during math class.


"I'm not embarrassed. Really. That whole thing was way too hot. You were amazing. You were so gone, I just wanted to watch you." Paul insisted as he stepped out of Gray's shower. He grabbed the towel that Gray was holding for him.


Gray blushed at him, which was just one of many weird contradictions about him that Paul liked. The guy would happily have sex in a public bathroom, but he blushed in his own bathroom talking about it.


"You were pretty hot yourself," Gray said, watching him towel off. "Just like always. C'mon, I changed the sheets earlier," he added, wiggling his eyebrows.


"Ooh. Clean sheets." Gray was such a homebody. Paul couldn't remember the last time he'd washed his, but, then, Gray hadn't been in them recently so the need wasn't as great. He hung the towel over the shower door and headed for Gray's bedroom, running his fingers through his damp hair to get it out of his eyes. "Would you believe I'm still kinda woozy from the Dewar's?"


"Sure," Gray said easily, his hands cool on Paul's back as he tumbled them both onto the bed. "Drinking and coming usually makes you woozy. Although I like to flatter myself and think it's all about the orgasms and not so much the booze." He grinned brightly and kissed Paul's nose. "Sleep? I promise I'll wake you up real nice."


Paul smiled back. "And to think, some people hate their alarm clock." He rolled onto his side, sighing softly as Gray spooned around behind him. "It's all about the orgasms," he said through a yawn. "Well, about the orgasms and about you." The alcohol just made him braver.


"Aw, I make you woozy," Gray laughed into his neck. "Maybe you're allergic to me. I hope not -- I'd hate to be given away like a puppy."


Well, "woozy" was one way to put it.


Gray was warm at his back, and the room was dark except for the white streetlights sneaking in through the blinds. Paul tangled his fingers with the hand Gray had curled around his waist. "Not allergic. But you better not pee on the carpet," Paul said, realizing that he was mumbling and letting his eyes close. He drifted off to the sound of Gray huffing softly in his ear.

Sometimes love is complicated. 

Copyright 2016 Chris Owen