I Can Fix Him (Complete story, 1/16/23, Bonus Material added 1/23/23)

[Mdlftr]

Loving this!  Gay narrator is hopefully watching his "Ace" roommate turn into a walking, talking, breathing wet dream of sexual attraction - for someone else!

Frustration and blue balls, thy name is Auggie!

"Auggie the anguished"!

Great fun!  

[mario2007]

Bumping this in great anticipation of chapter 12 and beyond.

[TQuintA]

Chapter 12

            Thankfully, Jackson, the guy Trina set me up with, was down for a double date even after we’d only been on two by ourselves.  I wouldn’t have to wrangle a new man in time. 

            Jackson was an interesting fellow.  He owned a yoga studio, was a devout practitioner of some vague new age spirituality that didn’t seem to have a name, and his most sincere hobby was long-distance running.  He described marathons as “a warm-up.”  He was scrawnier than I expected an athlete to be.  Of course, he wore such billowing, loose-fitting clothing on our first date, it was hard to make out his exact proportions.  On our second date, he offered to lead me through a personal yoga class at his studio, and when I saw him dressed in gym clothes, I could see by his corded muscle he was more wiry than scrawny, especially his legs, and he was incredibly flexible.  I could barely keep up with the poses he had me do, and he was practically standing on his head—no arms.  I could also acknowledge he was handsome, just not my usual type.  He had shoulder-length dirty blond hair he often kept in a pony-tail, and a very serious, expressionless face with a prominent nose and even more prominent Adam’s apple.  His eyes were a bright green, his features were pleasant, and he had a permanent 5 o’clock shadow I liked. 

            But the two of us had little in common. 

            On our second date (after the yoga) I admitted as such to him.  “I don’t fully understand why Trina set us up.  When I asked her to find a date for me, I think she got as far as ‘gay vegan’ and figured the rest would work itself out.”

            “Trina’s in one of my intermediate classes.  One of her fellow classmates was processing a bad breakup, so, to commiserate, I shared with her that I was having difficulty meeting men because my own history of heartbreak made putting myself out there hard for me too.  Trina overheard this, and, in kindness, she suggested I meet her brother-in-law.”

            I internally scrutinized his response for how it related to my previous statement, and came up empty-handed.  “Sure, but why did she think we’d be a good match?”

            “I need to take things less seriously.  Anxiety shortens life.  You’re a fun-loving free spirit.  Freer than any man I’ve ever been with.  You’re the first non-vegan I’ve dated.”

            What?  “I’m a vegetarian,” I reminded him.

            “Constant dripping wears away the stone,” he responded.

            I stared blankly, indicating how little I understood his answer.

            “Incremental change is possible.  I want to change, to become less rigid, but changing takes time,” he clarified.

            That made a little more sense.  “Okay, you want to let go of some of your hang ups.  I’m a baby step in that direction, but not entirely outside your comfort zone.  That’s why she recommended me to you.  Why recommend you to me?”

            “I won’t answer that question.”  He shook his head and put his hand on my chest.  “Flattering words are but honey-coated poison.  If you don’t see her wisdom, meditate on it.”

            I promised I’d meditate later and gave Jackson the details of the double date. 

            I was completely honest.  I told him everything.  That my roommate was ace and exploring what might be a sexual awakening because of an experimental drug he was taking, that I’d struggled with my attraction to my roommate, how he wanted me to chaperone, and how I used to be very, very jealous of the girl he was bringing home.

            “All honest work is honorable work,” Jackson said.  “You clearly care deeply for Gabriel, and I am privileged to be part of the journey.”

            I was still pretty sure Trina had no deeper intention behind the set-up than “gay vegan,” but I was trying to keep an open mind. 

            Continuing the invite, I said, “I’m cooking, so I’ll make sure it’s a vegan dinner.  Gabriel likes my cooking, so he’ll be thrilled.  You don’t need to bring anything.”

            “I’ll bring compassion and empathy,” he said, kissing me on the forehead.  Or, as he would have said it, blessing my third eye.

            Our third date might be our last. 

            I warned Gabriel that Jackson was a little out there, a little granola, but Gabriel was just glad I’d be there for his date with Bridget.  Gabriel was so on edge about asking Bridget out that Jackson could have been a machete-wielding serial killer, and Gabriel would still be more frightened of Bridget.

            When the day of the dinner arrived, I figured Chinese cuisine was the best way to accommodate both a militant vegan and a weightlifter who needed insane amounts of protein.

            Five minutes before our dates were set to arrive, Gabriel came into the kitchen looking utterly petrified.  I knew him well enough to know that when he’s especially nervous, he over-grooms.  Gabriel’s hair was combed and styled so meticulously and held in place with so much product that it looked shellacked.  And he’d trimmed his sideburns, plucked his nose hairs, tweezed his eyebrows, and completely shaved off his beard.  I was going to miss the beard, but he did look more like Gabriel freshly shorn. 

            His outfit, though—he was bursting out of his clothes.  He was wearing a white turtleneck that stretched desperately over his mountainous pecs, burly biceps, and thick neck.  It was so tight I could easily tell he hadn’t shaved his chest as his rug of chest hair was visible through the overstretched fabric.  His pants fared no better.  His pair of tan slacks were so tight that if he sat too quickly, the seams would all explode open.  His ass especially looked like it had no room to spare.  His pants were so tight that I could tell that Gabriel’s cock and balls had gotten much, much bigger with even a cursory glance.

            I was in more sensible date clothes, preserved behind my apron: a nice red button down and marginally tight black pants.  At least, I’d thought they were tight until I saw Gabriel’s outfit.

            “Why are you in such tight clothes?” I asked.  “Don’t you want to be comfortable for the date?”

            “Unless I wear my work clothes, this is all I have that fits me,” he answered, calming him down and bringing a devilish smile to his face.  “These days, I really only wear work clothes, gym clothes, and sleep clothes, so I didn’t realize I’d outgrown all my dressy casual clothes.”  He looked down at his massive frame in such laughably small clothes. Seeing them about to erupt off his body, his nerves came back full force.  “Does it look bad?”

            “If Bridget’s anything like me,” I answered honestly, “she’ll love it.”

            Gabriel didn’t show any signs of relief.  In fact, he tensed up further when there was a knock at our door.

            “Can you get that please?” Gabriel asked.

            “I was going to ask you to get it.”  I hadn’t even looked up from my pans.  “My tofu and eggplant are almost done.  Both will burn if I don’t keep stirring.”

            “I’ll stir,” he offered.

            “Dressed in white with no apron?”

            “Please?” he pleaded.

            With a groan, I turned off the burner, moved the pans off the stove, and instructed him, “Keep stirring so they don’t stick.”  I took off my apron and handed it to him.  “Wear this if it’ll fit you.”

            I answered the door, and there was Bridget.  She was dressed in a bright pink dress that conformed to all her curves, stopped mid-thigh, and was cut scandalously low.

            “Auggie!” she shouted cheerfully, throwing her arms around me in a genuine hug.  “I’ve missed you!  How’ve you been?”

            “Good, good,” I answered.  When the hug ended, I welcomed her inside, hung her purse on our coat hook, and escorted her into the living room.

            “You look good,” she said, taking a seat on our couch—she sat right in the middle of a couch big enough for five.  She played absentmindedly with her silver bracelet, and I could tell she was seconds from taking off her white high-heeled shoes.  None of these was a signal of nerves.  She was entirely at home and felt perfectly comfortable in our apartment.

            “You too,” I replied.  “What can I get you to drink?”

            “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

            “Wine it is,” I said, going over to pour her a glass.

            As I poured, she said, “I’m kinda surprised you and Gabriel still live together.”

            “Why’s that?” I asked, handing her a glass and joining her on the couch.

            “Well, you’re just so different.  You’re this petite little cuddle bug, and Gabriel’s this massive, hulking…” she trailed off, unable to find the word she was looking for.

            “He’s a cuddle bug too,” I said.

            She giggled.  “I suppose he is.  I was so shocked he asked me out, though.  You were always the outgoing one.  Back in college he was so shy around girls.”

            “He still is,” I announced loudly, turning to project my voice into the kitchen.  “He’s hiding in the kitchen because he’s scared as hell about this date.”

            “Auggie!” Gabriel said in a loud whisper, still hiding in the kitchen.

            “Is he telling the truth?” she asked him, trying to peer into the kitchen, an impossible feat from our couch.  “Are you hiding from little old me?”

            Gabriel came out into the living room, looking down at his shoes.  “You could’ve told her I was finishing up dinner, bud.”

            I looked at Bridget and said, “He was finishing up dinner.”

            Giggling again, Bridget inhaled deeply through her nose.  “Smells heavenly,” she declared.  “What’d you make us, Gabriel?”

            “Yeah, Gabriel,” I said mischievously.  “What did you make us?”

            Gabriel looked back over his shoulder towards the kitchen.  “A brown thing with purple bits, a green thing (broccoli, I think) that smells like ginger, and brown rice.”  After a second, he came clean: “Auggie cooked.  I just finished stirring while he got the door.”

            Bridget turned to me.  “I’m glad you cooked.  When men like Gabriel cook, it’s high on protein, low on flavor.”

            “I’d be insulted if that weren’t accurate.”  Gabriel said, joining us on the couch. 

            I couldn’t help but notice that, of his two options, he chose the seat that would put me in between him and Bridget, so I stood up and moved over to an armchair.  “Doesn’t Bridget look lovely tonight?” I cued Gabriel.

            Admonished, Gabriel looked intently at her outfit like he was studying for a test.  After analytically assessing it, he said, without a drop of emotion, “Yes.  Lovely.  Pink’s a lovely color, and you look lovely in it.”

            With her free hand, Bridget put her hand on his thigh and rubbed it up and down.  Warmly, she cooed, “You look stunning too.”  She tickled his thigh with her long, manicured nails.

            Gabriel squirmed a little in his seat.  He looked at a loss for what to say next, but he was rescued by a knock on the door.

            “I’ll get it,” Gabriel said, fairly leaping up, almost knocking Bridget’s glass out of her hand.

            “Scared was underselling it, Auggie,” she said to me conspiratorially.  I nodded in agreement.

            “Salutations.  You must be Gabriel,” I heard Jackson say from the doorway.

            “Excuse me,” I said to Bridget as I got up to join them.

            “You must be Jackson,” Gabriel responded.  I got there just in time for Gabriel to extend his hand and Jackson to ever-so-politely shake it.  Jackson was again wearing clothes far too big for him.  Tonight, it was a flowy white linen shirt and blue pants that almost looked like a skirt.  He let his long hair fly free.

            “Auggie, a delight to see you as always,” Jackson said, letting go of Gabriel’s hand and coming over to embrace me.  As he hugged me in greeting, he whispered into my ear.  “You left some things out of your description of Gabriel.”

            We all went back into the living room.  Bridget got up to shake Jackson’s hand.  I introduced the two of them and went to pour Jackson a glass of water.

            “How long have you known Auggie?” Bridget asked, resuming her seat on the couch.

            “Just under two weeks,” Jackson said, sitting in one of our armchairs.  He drew both his legs up and sat in the lotus position as he continued.  “Ours is a new relationship, but a promising one.”

            Gabriel reluctantly took his seat next to Bridget.  “This is my first time meeting him.”

            I handed Jackson his water and sat in the armchair nearest him.

            He thanked me with a smile and then said, “I must say something important.  If I don’t acknowledge it, it will be eating away at me all evening.  It’s better to speak an unpleasant truth than to tell lies.”  He looked Gabriel squarely in the eyes, took a cleansing breath, and then spoke: “I’m feeling a lot of hostility towards you.”

            Did that mean he was jealous?  Or lustful?  Or what?

            Jackson continued, “Auggie told me he had feelings for you in the past, but he didn’t tell me you were such a daunting specimen of virility.”  His tone of voice indicated his words, though seemingly polite and flattering, were code for something deeply insulting.  From his tone of voice, he might as well have called Gabriel “a shit-soaked cum rag,” or something even worse.  I wanted to cover my eyes, or kick Jackson out, or something, but I just sat there.

            “Daunting and virile,” Bridget chimed in, trying to smooth things over.  “Just the way I like ‘em.”

            “Is there anything you’d like to say in response to my truth?” Jackson asked.

            Gabriel looked back and forth between Jackson and me.  After a few seconds of saying nothing, he tried, “I apologize?”

            “No need,” Jackson said, though his face and body language clearly indicated he’d been expecting an apology.  “You are simply living and existing.  The harm is on my end; these negative feelings are mine.  If anyone owes an apology, it would likely be me.”

            I picked up on the fact that Jackson hadn’t actually apologized.  But, since I knew pointing that out would just cause more friction, I let it slide.  Besides, Gabriel was clearly uncomfortable, so I rescued him by saying, “Who’s hungry?  Let’s go into the dining room to eat.”

            We all took our seats (Gabriel tried to sit next to me, but I made him change seats so he was sitting across from Jackson and next to Bridget).  The food, as I suspected, was a success.  Jackson actually had a second helping and thanked me for giving him chopsticks instead of a fork.  Bridget had me recite the recipe of everything that was put in front of her, including the rice for some reason, and said it was conscientious of me to give her both a fork and chopsticks.  Gabriel was so appreciative he practically picked up his plate to lick it clean.  Conversation flowed easily.  Jackson for once didn’t sound like someone threw a book of sutras in a blender, Bridget was as lively and engaging a storyteller as I remembered, and even Gabriel calmed down and joined the conversation.  I was having a pleasant evening until dessert.

            “I know a traditional Chinese dinner doesn’t come with one,” I said, coming out of the kitchen carrying a tray with bowls of soy milk pudding and little plates with pineapple tarts, “but a special occasion doesn’t feel special to me without dessert.”  I placed down the tray and handed Bridget two index cards.

            “What are these?” she asked.

            “The recipes,” I said, sitting back down.

            “Cocky of you to think I’d want them,” she took a spoonful of the pudding.  “Thank you for the recipes,” she added.

            “If it’s not too impolite, I’m going to pass on the dessert,” Jackson said.

            “I expected you would,” I acknowledged.

            “I prefer not indulging in sweets,” he explained to Bridget and Gabriel.

            “Can I?” Gabriel asked, pointing to Jackson’s dessert.  He’d already finished his own tart and was halfway through his pudding.

            “By all means,” Jackson said, gesturing to his dessert.

            “Thank you,” Gabriel said, reaching across the table.  As soon as his hand reached the pudding bowl, a loud tearing sound filled the dining room.  A hole starting in his armpit opened so large that the entirety of Gabriel’s right pec spilled out of the shirt.  And considering how enormous Gabriel’s hairy, striated, dense pec was, it required some size to accommodate.  Gabriel sat there silent and embarrassed.  Jackson and I just stared, taking in its immensity.

            Bridget stepped up to ease the situation over.  “If anyone was going to have a nip slip tonight, I would’ve laid money on me.”  She pulled her dress up so it sat more evenly on her breasts.  “One good sneeze, and this dress will tumble!”

            Gabriel and I politely chuckled; Jackson continued staring wordlessly.

            “I warned him his clothes were too tight,” I said, throwing my hands innocently in the air.

            Bridget dismissed me with a wave of her spoon.  “He just wanted to show off for me.”  She took another bite of the pudding.  “Big guys always like showing off.”

            “I wouldn’t call Gabriel a show-off,” I said.

            “You haven’t seen him at the gym recently, then,” Bridget replied.  “He lords it over all the smaller guys.”

            “I do not,” Gabriel said, using a napkin to cover his exposed pec.

            “I can’t imagine Gabriel lording it over anyone,” I said flatly.

            Gabriel turned to me with a simple, “Thank you.”

            “I suppose you’re right,” Bridget admitted.  “Most show-off muscle guys I know don’t stop flexing.  And they tell me their weight or how much they bench press as though those numbers would impress me.”  She poked Gabriel in the shoulder with her sharp nail.  “And you haven’t done any of that.”

            Gabriel nodded in assent.

            She returned to her gaze to her pudding, taunting, “Though I bet you’re dying to tell me.”

            Gabriel looked down at the table.  “I weigh 267 as of this morning, and I bench 515.”

            “Show-off,” Bridget said victoriously.

            Jackson finally spoke up, his words frenetic and dripping in reproach.  “Gabriel, you’re a handsome man.  How could you corrupt your body—your temple—like this?  You’ve filled it with toxic, illegal chemicals, bloating it up to this inhuman mass of monstrous flesh.  You’ve gorged on the carcasses of innocent animals just to fulfill some self-destructive, carnal urge to transform yourself into a grotesque mockery of the divine male form.  It’s disgusting.  It’s repulsive.  You repulse me.”

            Everyone stopped eating.

            After a few moments, Gabriel responded, completely un-insulted, “The chemicals I use are legal.”

            I stood up and pointed to the front door.  “You can go now, Jackson.”

            “But…” Jackson started.

            “Now,” I repeated firmly.

            He stood from his chair.  He bowed in apology at Gabriel and said, “I was speaking from a place of judgment and insecurity.  How you honor your body is your decision to make.”  I could tell from his tone of voice he didn’t mean a word he said.  “Auggie,” he said, and exited.

            “You didn’t have to kick him out,” Gabriel said.  “Not on my account.  I hear way worse at work.”

            “You hear worse than, ‘You repulse me,’ at work?” Bridget asked.

            Gabriel nodded and picked up Jackson’s pineapple tart.

            “Then you should go to HR,” I said.

            “Indeed,” Bridget said, putting her hand on his sympathetically.

            “It’s not a big deal,” Gabriel insisted.  “The ones who talk that way don’t say it to my face.  And I can tell they’re either lustful or jealous.”

            “Or both,” Bridget added.

            “Jackson had to go.  That was like his fifth strike,” I told Gabriel.  “I’m not going to date a guy who talks to my best friend that way.”

            “Especially not after such a lovely dinner,” Bridget said.

            I was too frazzled to keep up dinner party conversation.  “I’m going to do some dishes, then go to bed.  You two also probably want some privacy to finish your date up.”

            Shortly after I got to the kitchen, Gabriel trundled in after me with an armful of dessert plates.  His hole had ripped open further from the exertion.  It had grown so large that I could easily see the top two rows of his furry, defined abs, his midsection swollen from his large dinner.

            The dishes were clearly a pretext as he carelessly dropped them into the sink.  “Don’t leave me,” Gabriel said.  The panic had returned to his voice.

            I rolled my eyes.  Being insulted to his face in his own home was no problem, but being alone with a beautiful woman for five seconds was a crisis.  But, I knew he needed my help, so I laid it all out for him.  “Here’s your next couple of steps.  Take Bridget out into the living room, just for pleasant conversation.  Pour her a drink if she asks for one.  Be forewarned: she is primed and ready.  She is definitely going to kiss you, especially since Jackson’s vitriol just rolled off your shoulders.  Confidence is sexy, and you just showed a fuck ton of it.  And, somehow, at the same time, you’ve got the shy little boy angle working for you.  When she comes in to kiss you, if by that point you’re still unsure, let her kiss you.  Find out if there’s any sexual attraction.  If you like the kiss, kiss her back.  If you don’t like the kiss, explain that you’re ace and the side effects of the drug trial.  That will likely end the evening.”

            Gabriel tugged on my sleeve.  “But if I like the kiss, what’s next?”

            I refrained from giggling and said, “If kissing in the living room works, try kissing in your bedroom.  If that goes well, tell her you’re a virgin and ask her to explain the rest.  I’d give you more, but I only have a rudimentary, academic understanding of heterosexual mating based on middle school sex ed.”

            Gabriel did not let go of my sleeve and pleaded with his eyes.

            “My date was a disaster, and my chaperone duties are over.  It’s time for you to figure out if what you felt was real, or if it was just a coincidence.  I can’t help you with that.”

            Gabriel looked scared.

            I took his hand off my sleeve and soothingly said, “She’s a respectful and gracious woman.  She will not do anything you don’t want her to.”  I went back to washing the dishes, and Gabriel left the kitchen.

[TQuintA]

Chapter 13

            The next morning, I made myself a pot of coffee and went out to the living room to drink it.  As I passed by the coat hook in the hall, I saw that Bridget’s purse was still there.  Did that mean Bridget was still here, or did that mean Bridget forgot her purse?

            I looked at the clock on the wall; Gabriel was usually at the gym by now.  I was about to go back to my room to get my phone to text Gabriel when I heard his bedroom door open.  Then, a few seconds later, I heard, “Can anyone have this coffee, or do you have dibs?” 

            It was Bridget.

            Bridget spent the night. 

            I went back into the kitchen.  She was in one of Gabriel’s night shirts, but on her it was big enough to be a full outfit.  On her, it was big enough to be a tent.  Everything was covered.

            “Morning, Bridget,” I said, joining her in the kitchen.  I tried but failed to hide the suggestive tone in my voice.  “Help yourself to some coffee.”

            As she poured herself a cup of coffee, she said, “I know what this looks like.”  With her back to me, she began searching the counter.

            “It looks like you had sex with Gabriel.”

            She turned around and looked at me.  “Where you do keep the sugar?”

            I opened the small cabinet where I kept the spices and such, and she pulled out the sugar bowl.

            As she stirred some into her coffee, I said, “Well?  Did you?”

            She screwed up her face into a look of confusion.  “You know he’s ace, right?  You’re his closest friend and roommate.  You have to know that.”

            “Of course I know that.  But I also know he’s part of a drug trial that’s fucking with his libido.  Then, you come out of his room, where you spent the night, and you’re wearing his clothes.”

            “I wasn’t going to sleep in my dress,” she said as though that was enough of an explanation.  “This is good coffee.  Did you add something to it?”

            “Freshly grated nutmeg,” I said.  “Did you sleep with Gabriel?”

            “We did not have sex, if that’s what you’re asking.  We didn’t even sleep in the same bed.  He slept on the floor.”

            Her story stopped there.  Was she being coy?  Intentionally vague?

            I was desperate to hear more, but I doubted she would be forthcoming.  Might as well make my best attempt to get her to spill.  “I have an hour until I have to get ready for work, and Gabriel goes right from the gym to his office.  How about I make you breakfast?”

            She was skeptical.  “Is this your attempt to get me to tell you what happened last night?”

            I shrugged.  “Tell me, don’t tell me.  I’m only being hospitable.  Plus, I’m making breakfast anyways.”  I tried to play it aloof, but I was bribing her with breakfast, pure and simple.

            She looked at me, intrigued.  “What are you making?”

            “What do you want?”

            “What do you have?”

            I opened three of the cabinets and the fridge door.  “I live with a man who eats constantly.  What do you want?  I can make you scones in 45 minutes, waffles in 30, pancakes in 10, an omelet in 5.  We’re lousy with fresh fruit, we have oatmeal and cereal, and I have potatoes for home fries.  I’ve got some ice cream I hide from Gabriel if you’re feeling a la mode.  If you want breakfast meats, I’ll raid the carniceria Gabriel keeps in our fridge.”

            Her eyes dazzled at the choices.  “French toast with strawberries?” she asked.

            “Have a seat in the dining room, and I’ll bring it right out.”

            Ten minutes later, I delivered our plates and joined her at the table.

            “You even warmed the syrup,” she said, diving into the meal.

            “If I’m going to make a decadent breakfast, I’m going to make a decadent breakfast.”  I took a bite of my own toast.

            She waved her fork in enthusiastic joy in between bites.  “This is astounding.”

            I popped a piece of strawberry in my mouth and said, “I can’t believe you have French toast for breakfast and put sugar in your coffee and keep the figure you keep.”

            “I only put sugar in my coffee when I’m hung over.  And I normally don’t eat breakfast.  A banana, if anything,” she confided in me.  “I haven’t had French toast since I was a little girl at my grandma’s house.  But I’ve never had a man offer to make me breakfast in my entire life, especially not one as cute as you.  I’ve spent the night at many-a-guy’s house, and I’m lucky to get a bagel from the corner bodega.”  She took a bite of the strawberries and squealed.  “How did you make the strawberries taste so good?”

            “Pinch of salt,” I said.

            “You can do way better than that creep Jackson.  If I had the body parts you were looking for, I’d snatch you up myself.”

            “If I were even slightly bi, I’d let you,” I replied.

            “You’re adorable,” she said.  “As soon as I’ve finished the toast, I’ll tell you what happened last night.  I have no idea why Gabriel wants me to keep it a secret, and I like you.  But breakfast first.  I want to savor it while it’s still fresh.”  She made quick work of her meal, and then began her story.

            “When Gabriel came back into the living room, he looked scared as a little boy who’d seen a ghost.  I wanted him comfortable, so I didn’t push anything, and after I’d had another couple of glasses of wine, we spent a few minutes talking about work, and the gym, and a whole bunch of meaningless small talk.  Then, suddenly, Gabriel kissed me.”

            He kissed her?

            “It took me such by shock,” she said.  “It was probably the most awkward kiss of my life.  He held his breath, kept his eyes closed, kept his mouth closed.  But our lips did make contact.  I think I even felt him count to five-Mississippi before the kiss ended.

            “When I pressed him on why he’d kissed me, his answer was, as I remember it, ‘Auggie said you were going to kiss me, and I just wanted it over with.’  As soon as he’d said that, he ran off to his bedroom.

            “I followed him in there, and, well, he came out to me as ace.  Explained the whole drug trial thing and how he mistook a random hardon for being attracted to me.  The flattering bit was when he said, ‘I thought I could be attracted to a woman as drop-dead gorgeous as you.’  Imagine that, an asexual man saying I was so undeniably attractive he mistook appreciating my beauty for sexual attraction?  A girl could get a big ego.

            “By that point, it was so late, I was half-falling asleep, and I didn’t want to get in a taxi with as much as I’d had to drink, so he offered me one of his nightshirts.  I was going to sleep on that huge couch you guys have, but he insisted I take his bed.  I’d said yes before I realized he planned on sleeping on the floor.  He didn’t even wake me when he got up.”

            I shook my head in confusion.  “There’s nothing in this story he wouldn’t tell me himself.”

            “Because I haven’t finished yet,” she admitted.  “He was beating himself up, saying some real self-hating things I’m too ladylike to repeat.  That stupid erection he got at the gym made no sense to him.  I told him maybe it did have a cause, but he just had been mistaken about the cause.”  She pushed her empty plate to the side and leaned in.  “This is the bit he didn’t want me to tell you, but I think you should know anyways.  I wasn’t at the gym alone.  I was there with my brother.”

            Douglas?

            “I saw Gabriel staring at the gym that day,” she said, “He wasn’t just staring at me.”

            Douglas?  He was staring at that jacked Adonis and got an erection? 

            Wait.

            I asked, “Is your brother still a handsome, buff personal trainer?”

            She nodded.  “Yeah.  I expect he’s in even better shape than he was when you guys were friends.”  She made a face that told me she was holding back something.

            I was having none of that.  “What aren’t you telling me?”

            She looked away so she wasn’t making eye contact.  “Curse your French toast!”  With a sigh, she admitted, “Douglas came out as bisexual a year ago and is currently single.”

            Of course. 

            Of course, of course, of course.

            “Thank you,” I said evenly.

            She put her hand on mine and squeezed affectionately.  “I have to hightail it home so I can shower and get ready for work, but last night and this morning were great.  Really.  Let’s stay friends this time, okay?”

            “Sure,” I said, but both of us knew it was an empty promise.

[TQuintA]

Chapter 14

            When Gabriel got home from work, I was already in the living room, waiting for him.  He saw me sitting there with two glasses of ice cold water, and a look of recognition dawned on his face.  He dropped his briefcase, kicked his shoes off, took off his tie, and started walking out to the living room.  His facial scruff had already come in thick, practically re-growing his beard overnight.  He unbuttoned the top two buttons on his pale blue Oxford, and a whorl of chest hair popped out of the opening.  He crashed heavily on the couch next to me, and said, “Roommate meeting?”

            I nodded.

            “Bridget told you everything, huh?”

            “She told me enough,” I said.

            “I was going to tell you, I promise,” he said.  “I just had to figure out how.”

            “Here’s a thought,” I suggested.  “Auggie, I think I may have been sexually attracted to Douglas.”

            Gabriel made a face that communicated “easier said than done.”  “Be fair.  It was hard enough to tell you I may have felt sexual attraction.  I was hoping it was for Bridget.”

            Hoping?  He hoped it was for a woman?  “What?  Why?  Is this some sort of homophobic thing?”

            “No!” he said emphatically.  “I was hoping it was Bridget because…” rather than finish his sentence, he stood up and walked away.  “Don’t make me say it.”

            I followed him.  “Say what?”

            Without turning around, he deflated and said, “I was hoping it was Bridget because it wasn’t you.”

            I didn’t understand that.  “I’m going to need more than that, Gabriel.”

            He turned to face me.  “I thought that if the drugs would make me feel that way for anyone, they’d make me feel that way for you.  If I could pick someone to lust after or fall in love with, I’d pick you.  And when I maybe got hard because Douglas maybe turned me on, I betrayed you.”  He sighed in self-reproach.  “It felt less of a betrayal if it was a woman.”

            “Gabriel,” I said, practically snickering, “it’s not like you’re cheating on me or something.”

            “Aren’t I?  You’re the closest thing I’ve had to a boyfriend, we’ve lived together for over five years, and I’m maybe lusting after another guy?  When you’ve been struggling with your attraction to me?  I threw myself at you when I was at my rock bottom.  I made you turn me down.  And now I might be into another guy?  That’s too much to ask from you.  If I were normal, we’d be a couple already.  If I weren’t broken, I could be the man you want me to be, the man you deserve.  This stupid boner could ruin everything.”

            “Gabriel,” I soothed, putting my hand on his shoulder.  “You’re not broken.  I thought you knew that.”

            “I tell myself that I’m not broken.  I understand that I’m not broken.  It’s practically a mantra.  ‘I’m not broken; I’m just different.’  But, sometimes, Auggie, I feel so broken.  Everyone thinks we’re together.  The guys at work tease me about my pint-sized boyfriend, asking me if we’re together so I can feel like an even bigger man.  Your own brothers expect us to get married.  Everyone around us is hooking up or coupling up or shacking up.  Even Norm has a girlfriend.  Norm.  Everyone feels these things naturally and easily, and I don’t even have access to them.  I don’t even know what they feel like.  I’m constantly bombarded with just how different I am, and so, yeah, sometimes I feel broken.”

            “I’m sorry you feel that way,” I replied soothingly.  “I’d take it away if I could.  But you are perfectly normal.” 

            “I’m not normal,” Gabriel said, shaking his head.  “I know on an intellectual level there’s nothing wrong with being ace, but it’s not normal.”

            “Then fuck normal.  You’re better than normal.  You’re Gabriel.”

            Gabriel smiled warmly.  “Why are you comforting me?  I’m the one who betrayed you.”

            I shook my head.  “Did it sting when I found out you lusted after Douglas this morning?  Yeah, it did.  Did it take me a few hours of nursing a bruised ego to deal with this?  Yeah, it did.  But then I got over it.  Douglas is hot.  I’ve gotten stiff thinking about Douglas too.  Hell, I’ve gotten stiff thinking about you and Douglas plowing each other.”

            “Watch it,” Gabriel warned.  “I’m vulnerable.”

            I threw my hands up in surrender, but in my defense, I said, “I thought he was your boyfriend when I met him.  Imagining you two together is just where my gay brain naturally went.”  Then, I continued.  “If Douglas turned you on, I get it.  And I’ll help you set up a date with him just like I helped you set up a date with Bridget.  You’re struggling with some real shit, and a date with Douglas will answer some questions for you.  Even if it just finally confirms how aroace your overgrown Boy Scout ass actually is.  I’d be a bad friend if I didn’t help you.”

            Quietly, satisfiedly, Gabriel said, “I’m glad you’re my friend.”

            “I know, right?” I said jovially, trying to lighten the mood.  “I’m a fucking ray of sunshine.”

            Now that the drama of the confession was behind us, Gabriel asked, “You really think I should set up a date with Douglas?”

            “I think it, I say it.”

            “Then, yes, please help.  Bridget said the same thing.  And I am so far out of my depths with that.  I was just going to ignore the advice and hope she’d drop it.  And now that she knows what gym I go to, we both know she won’t.”

            “You could just call him,” I said honestly.  “I doubt he’s changed his cell phone number.  It’s not like he’s some stranger.  Or text him if calling feels too forward.”

            “Texting feels cowardly.”

            “Oh, it is cowardly,” I confirmed, “but sometimes cowardly is the smart play.  Dating’s a battlefield.”

            “Since I’m a ball of nerves anyways,” he said, pulling out his phone, “let’s call him and hope for voice mail.”  He pulled up Douglas’s contact info, pressed send, and turned on his speaker phone.  “Here’s hoping he hasn’t changed his number.”

            After a few seconds of ringing, Douglas picked up.

            “Hello?” Douglas said.

            “Hi.  Yes.  Hi, Douglas.  It’s Gabriel.  Hi.”

            “Gabriel!”  Douglas sounded utterly delighted.  “Bridget told me you might reach out.”

            “This is going to sound awkward, but…”

            Douglas interrupted him.  “I’d love to go out with you.”

            “Really?”

            “Really.  How about Friday?  There’s this great hiking trail I’ve wanted to take.  There’s supposed to be a killer sunset.  We hike up there, bring a picnic, and what happens happens.”

            Gabriel was shocked.  I suppose he thought Douglas would put up a bigger fight.  Gabriel often forgets just how hot he is.

            “Bridget told me all about your double date.  So, tell Auggie to come too.  Three’s a magic number.”

            “That sounds perfect,” Gabriel said.  “You’re sure you’re fine with Auggie coming too?”

            “Auggie can definitely come.  After what I saw at the gym…” Douglas grunted sexually, almost animalistically, at the thought of what he saw at the gym.  The grunt acted as a pause or a punctuation mark. “I want you.  Bridget told me you want me.  And Auggie comes with you, part and parcel.  Besides, I have every confidence you’ll have a good time too, Auggie.”

            He said that to me.  He addressed me.  He knew I was listening.  “Thanks,” I said weakly.

            “That convinced you’d win me over?” Gabriel asked.

            Douglas grunted again.  “See you Friday.”  With that, he hung up.

            “You’ve got a date,” I said, patting Gabriel’s knee.

            “Is it wrong that I was hoping he’d say no?”

            “If you wanted him to say no, then maybe you really don’t want to go on this date,” I suggested.

            “No, I do,” he asserted.  “But I also wanted him to say no.  Both are true.  If he said no, I wouldn’t have to open that Pandora’s box, you know?”

            “That’s just fear talking,” I responded.  “It’s just a date.  He’s being extremely gracious.”

            “He grunted at me.”  After a pause, he added, “Twice.”

            “It’s meant as a compliment,” I reassured him.

            “Have you ever grunted over me?” Gabriel asked.

            Taking my hand off his knee, I said, “House rules,” and left to start dinner.

[Wrestlejock646]

Love the story, the writing, the characters! These chapters never come soon enough. I just hope they keep coming!

[portamivia]

It feels like a fucking novel. We should be paying you for these hot chapters…

[Ozymandias]

The twists and turns continue…

[Mdlftr]

I LOVE the writing!!

One example:     “...  If I had the body parts you were looking for, I’d snatch you up myself.”

Etc., etc.

This is a smile/laugh/boner/a minute story!

Well done @TQuinta !

 

[palisade]

I'm adoring this story and imagining Gabriel's transformation. Though having been in a smiliar situation myself, I doubt i'd be as chill with it all as Auggie seems to be!