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

[Ayoayoayos]

Maybe the real finish line is extracting growth juice and applying it to our new couple. 

But well they're quite fresh.

I feel like they all have great integrity and desire to understand and be understood

[TQuintA]

Chapter 21

            Monogamous self-employed Douglas was an entirely different boyfriend than polyamorous working stiff Douglas.  Especially now that he set his own hours, Douglas had a lot more free time.  In fact, he had more free time than me because I still had to hold down my office job. But, because he had more free time, he became a lot more attentive.  He spent more nights in my bed, his warm, muscular arms wrapped around me.  He was more inventive and athletic in his love making—he was especially fond of semi-public places with the thrill of getting caught.  He even began sending me his own dirty videos to my emails so I’d have something to beat off to if I needed it.

            But it wasn’t all sexual.  He was also more romantic.  He would leave me notes and small inexpensive gifts to show me he was thinking about me.  He would sometimes call me in between his clients just to say hello.  He even swung by my office twice just to take me out to lunch.  He was also more physically affectionate—he’d greet me with kisses and embraces wherever we were, he’d hold my hand when we were together, and he really liked carrying me places, even just from one room to another.

            On top of that, I got to see more of Douglas the rule breaker.  I’d already seen drunk Douglas and party Douglas, but rule-breaker Douglas was a slightly different flavor; it was endearing actually.  All of the rules he broke were minor or harmless, but he broke them unabashedly.  For instance, he couldn’t resist sneaking with me through doors marked “employees only” (just to see what was on the other side).  If nothing interesting was there, as was the usual case, he’d use the near privacy for a clandestine grope and fondle.

            He was also a House Rule breaker.  He never wore a shirt if he could get away with it, showing off his sculpted muscles and scintillatingly tattooed chest.  When the two of us we were alone together watching a movie in the living room, he surreptitiously checked that Gabriel was in his room before snaking out his cock and playing with himself in front of me to work me up into a lather.  And if he was in the apartment when I was in the shower, he’d join me for some shower sex or a steamy make out session.

            Gabriel, for his part, was no idiot.  “I know Douglas is breaking every house rule he can,” he told me one morning over breakfast as Douglas raced back into my room to get dressed.  “I really don’t care because he always makes sure I don’t witness any of it.  Besides, I’m happy for you.  Ever since he agreed to be monogamous with you, you can’t stop smiling.  You smile all the time.”

            “You’re really happy for me?” I asked, quietly, so Douglas didn’t hear.

            “Of course.  We still hang out plenty, and I’ve got my sessions with Hank and a bodybuilding contest to prepare for.  I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t want you to have your own life.”

            And I could tell he was taking his prep work for the contest seriously.  I was running out of words for “big” to describe Gabriel.  Every time I thought he was as muscular, as burly as a human could be, he’d get that much bigger, he’d bulge out that much more, he’d grow that much more immense.  Since it was just a city-wide contest, I knew Gabriel would wipe the floor with them.  I just wondered if they made posers big enough to hide Gabriel’s anaconda because these days, his crotch bulged in everything.

            About a month after Johnny’s fateful phone call, about two weeks after Douglas and I went monogamous, I came into the kitchen one morning to find a chalkboard affixed to the front of the fridge.  It had two numbers on it.  One was 9.  The other was 329.

            “Gabriel,” I said, the question apparent in my voice, “what the hell is this?”

            Gabriel came out into the kitchen.  “My current body fat percentage and weight in pounds.”

            “And why are they on the fridge?”

            “Next week is the local bodybuilding contest, and then it’s six weeks until the Olympia qualifier.  Hank says I’m plenty big and wants me to start cutting.”

            “I have so many questions,” I said, opening the fridge to get the orange juice.

            “Shoot.”

            “Okay, one, 9% body fat is shredded as fuck.  Do you really need to cut?”

            “Hank says it; I’m doing it.”

            “Fine.  Fair.  He is your coach.  Then, shouldn’t you have started cutting sooner than this?”

            “Hank’s not concerned about this contest.  He’s seen the competition, even used to train one of them.  I could’ve walked away with my pro-card 50 pounds ago if the timing lined up.  He’s worried about the Olympia qualifier.  No matter how big I am there, I have to impress them with my definition and symmetry, not just size.”

            “Got it,” I said, nodding.  “Now here’s the $64,000 question.  Why is it on the refrigerator?”

            “So that every time I want to cheat on my diet, I see those numbers, remember my goal, and stop myself.”

            “Well, I hope that works for you.”  I patted him on his immense arm.  “Does that mean this is as big as you’re going to get?”

            “Seems so,” Gabriel said, despondently.

            “You don’t have to cut if you don’t want to,” I reminded him.

            “Hank says it; I’m doing it.”

            And thus we entered what yet another new phase of Gabriel’s growth journey.  Cutting didn’t exactly making him short-tempered or even cranky, but it did make him do some odd things like stand in the kitchen while I was cooking.  He’d stare longingly and breathe deeply, then pout a little as he ate yet another plate of flavorless chicken and veggies.  He also started turning up the volume during fast food commercials.  He was still eating enough for three men as far as I could see, but no more cheat days, very few carbs, and no more comfort foods.  Also, since he was working himself beyond exhaustion at his workouts to burn the fat faster, he was less rambunctious when he was home.  He wasn’t miserable, but he wasn’t giddy anymore.

            When he weighed himself before the bodybuilding contest, the numbers on the chalkboard changed.  The 9 went down to an 8.8, but the 329 changed into a 335.  He’d gained six pounds even though he was cutting like a mad fiend.

            Hank said that it wasn’t entirely surprising.  Especially since Gabriel was on those fertility pills and he’d only just started cutting, a small uptick this early in the cutting process wasn’t completely unexpected.

            I was forbidden by Hank from seeing the local bodybuilding show (it turns out he did not like me after all).  Not that I really wanted to go anyways.  It was nice to once again see Gabriel shaved completely hairless (or Vintage Gabriel as I thought of it), but to see just how much bigger—everywhere—Gabriel was than the other bodybuilders might be more temptation than I could handle. 

            Douglas and I stayed home and broke House Rules 1-4.

            No one was shocked that Gabriel earned his pro card.

[TQuintA]

Chapter 22

            A week after the contest, the numbers on the chalkboard changed again.  The 8.8 became an 8.5—clearly Gabriel was doing everything he was told.  But the 335 changed into a 340.  And Gabriel looked it.  He looked more cut than I’d ever seen him, but even more impossibly huge.  His pecs stretched every shirt he put on, jutting out so far ahead of him they entered every room first.  His biceps had grown so large he had to go sleeveless or his arms would destroy every shirt with the slightest flex.  His shoulder to waist ratio was dizzying—he was wider than his closet door, but still had a trim waist, practically rivaling my own.  It may have been an optical illusion, but his waist looked even narrower than before he started cutting.  Then his legs exploded out into twin columns of thick, rounded muscle.  His massive quads and ass made pants a confining nightmare for him, aided on by his ever-increasing crotch bulge.

            “Are those numbers right?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

            Gabriel shrugged.  “Hank chalks it up to the pills.  He’s fascinated to see how big I’m going to get.  I am doing a fuck ton of cardio to help with the shred.  It’s a beast of a plan.  He altered my diet to increase the amount of protein I get, things like that, but I am getting almost no carbs, buddy.  None.”

            “No ice cream, then?”

            “Forget ice cream.  I would kill for a bowl of plain spaghetti or a sleeve of saltines.  Despite how much I’m eating, I can feel myself crave carbs something fierce.  I dream about bread, Auggie.  Bread.  Vivid, mouthwatering dreams.  And it’s only been two weeks.”

            “Buck up, soldier,” I said, encouraging him.  “You’ve left 329 in the dust,” I added, beyond impressed.  “And Hank said that was going to be your peak weight.”

            “And I plan to blow 340 out of the water.”  He flexed into a most muscular.

            The next week, the numbers changed again.  The 8.5 dropped to an 8.2, and the 340 climbed to a 347. 

            Gabriel was behemoth.

            The day after that, I came home to find Hank sitting in my living room.  He tapped the couch cushion next to him, inviting me to join him.

            “Is something wrong?” I asked.

            “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to be blunt.”  Hank breathed heavily.  With a dark and labored tone, he said, “Bridget is cheating on Gabriel.”

            I had no clue how to react to that news.  I didn’t want to betray Gabriel’s secrets, but this was as far from bad news as Hank could have.  I just sat silently.

            Hank must have mistaken my silence for shock.  “I know.  I was stunned too.  But, I was at a motel putting the nails to my current lady friend, and when I checked out the next morning, I saw Bridget leaving one of the rooms, and this skinny guy came out.  The two of them kissed right there in the parking lot.  And not a friendly kiss you’d give your cousin or a gal pal.  This was an after-sex kiss that came with groping.”

            I continued saying nothing.  I didn’t point out the fact that Hank had just confessed to cheating on his wife.  I didn’t mention that he’d essentially been spying on Gabriel’s supposed wife.  I said nothing.  It seemed safest.

            “I can’t believe Bridget would do that to him.  Especially with such a skinny guy.  Of course, everyone’s skinny next to Gabriel, but he had no meat on his bones.  He was as skinny as you.”

            I nodded to confirm the fact that everyone was skinny next to Gabriel, but continued saying nothing.

            “You know what I think?”  Hank leaned in a little.  “I think she got sick of the fact that her own husband doesn’t live with her.  As revenge, she’s stepping out on him.  I think this whole problem goes away if Gabriel just mans up and lives with his wife.”

            I still sat silently.

            “But I’m worried if I distract him with this, it will derail his progress.  Heartache has been the death knell of too many promising bodybuilders’ careers.  Gabriel has been so focused.  And what he don’t know don’t hurt him.”  Hank shook his head, obviously conflicted.  “You’re his best friend.  What do you think?”

            I chose my words carefully.  “I think you should tell Gabriel what you saw and see how he reacts.”

            “You’re right.  You’re right.  I gotta tell him.   It’s the right thing to do.”  He shook his head again, this time in surrender, and rubbed his temples.  Then, he looked up at me.  “Will you stay here with me while I tell him?”

            “Sure,” I said.  “He’s usually home by now, so I don’t know how long we’ll have to wait.”

            “Not long,” Hank said.  “I surprised him with a five mile run.  I wanted to tell you this without him in the house.  He should be done in less than ten minutes.”

            Hank and I sat in silence for four and a half minutes before Gabriel got home.  He smiled when he saw me, then said, “Odd finding you two together.”

            “Sit down, son,” Hank said.

            “I stink from the run.  I’ll shower first.”

            “Sit down, son,” Hank repeated, more forcefully.

            Gabriel sat down and leaned in attentively.  “What’s up?”

            “I…” Hank started, then stopped.  “The other day…”  He couldn’t find the words.  He didn’t want to break Gabriel’s heart.  It was touching, but I had to end this farce.

            I put my hand on Hank’s to cue him that I would break the bad news.  Flatly, I said, “Hank saw Bridget come out of a motel room with a man she’d clearly just had sex with.”

            Hank was shocked I was so direct until Gabriel nodded.

            To me, Gabriel said, “That’d be Ellis.”  He turned to look at Hank.  “Ellis is a great guy.  He’s from London; he’s just recently moved to the states.  He’s a lawyer for some multinational company.  Bridget told me the name, but I’d never heard of it.”

            “You knew?” Hank asked incredulously.

            “Yeah.  He and Bridget have been dating for...” Gabriel stopped to do mental math. “A month now?  He’s unbelievably generous and makes her really happy.  I assumed they were sleeping together.  His house is being remodeled, so they can’t go there.  I don’t know why they’re not using her place.”

            “You knew your wife was cheating on you, has been cheating on you for as long as you’ve known me, and you’ve done nothing about it?”  Hank was confused.

            Gabriel looked ready to lie, so I said, “Come clean.”

            “Come clean with what?”  Hank looked back and forth between Gabriel and me.  “I knew it!  I knew you were fucking the kid!”

            I snorted derisively, trying to stop myself from laughing.  “He’s not fucking me.”

            Gabriel cleared his throat.  “Bridget’s not my wife.  She and I were sick of people hitting on us at the gym, so we agreed to pretend to be married to keep people off our backs.”

            Hank sat puzzled for a second until it clicked.  “That’s why you don’t live with her,” Hank said, relieved.  “So, then, are you playing the field?  Sex with a different lady every night?”

            “Definitely not,” I said, fully laughing now.

            “Call girls, then?  There’s no emotional hang-ups that way.”

            I laughed harder.  “That’d be a waste of money.”

            Gabriel gestured that I should stop laughing with a hand slicing through the air in front of his throat.  Once I was silent, he said, “I’m asexual.  I don’t have sex.  And before the fertility drugs, I barely masturbated.”

            “You’re saying that this impressive body belongs to a virgin?”  Hank sounded almost scared.

            “Yep,” Gabriel said.

            Hank put his hands on his thighs and pushed himself up into a decisive standing position.  “Okay, I’m getting you laid.  Let’s hit a bar.  I know one where the women are bodybuilder groupies.  They will be all over you.”

            “I don’t want to have sex,” Gabriel said, rising to his feet.  “I don’t even want to masturbate, honestly.”

            Dismissively, Hank put a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder.  “Fine, whatever, but it’s part of your training.”

            “Beg your pardon?” Gabriel asked, pushing Hank’s hand off him.

            Hank began lecturing.  “I’ve been a professional bodybuilder, I’ve trained professional bodybuilders, I eat and breathe professional bodybuilding.  There’s a school of thought that guys have to abstain to be at their physical prime.  That if they stockpile their sperm, it increases their masculinity.  It’s absolute horse shit.  Every bodybuilder I’ve ever worked with was better when they were getting laid on the regular.  I can’t point you to a scientific study that proves this, but my decades of experience should be enough to convince you.  I don’t care if you don’t like sex.  If you’re this amazing of a specimen without sex, you will not believe what some old-fashioned fucking will do for you.  Take a shower, get dressed, let’s go.”

            With a frown, Gabriel obediently walked to bathroom.

            I stopped him at the door.  “You don’t have to do this.”

            “Hank says it; I’m doing it.”  He had a grim look on his face.

            “Are you kidding me?” I asked.

            He solemnly shook his head no and closed the bathroom door behind him.

            While Gabriel showered, I confronted Hank.  “Don’t make him do this.  The thought of sex disgusts him.”

            “My job is to push my clients past what’s comfortable to help them achieve greatness.  You work through the pain.  That’s never included sex before, but the principle still applies.”

            “That man will do whatever you tell him to, no matter how much it hurts him,” I pointed out.  “That level of trust comes with responsibility.”

            “I’m doing this for his own good.  It’ll help his bodybuilding.  Think of it as physical therapy.  Or a new exercise regimen.”

            “I can’t talk you out of this?”  I begged with my eyes. 

            Hank crossed his arms and shook his head no.

            I grabbed a piece of scratch paper and a pen and scribbled down an address.  I pointedly handed it to Hank.

            “What’s this?” he asked, taking the paper.

            “The address to a gay muscle bar where the men will be all over him.  If you’re going to make him do this, at least let him do it with a guy.”

            “Gabriel ain’t gay.”

            “He’s not straight either.  The closest he’s ever come to having sexual thoughts were about men.  He’s almost slept with two of us.  And if you can find a hairy one, that’ll help things.”

            “You’re not kidding, are you?”

            “If you really think this is just a form of physical therapy,” I insisted, “then it shouldn’t matter to you who he has sex with.  At least let him do it with a guy.”

            Hank nodded appreciatively and put the scrap of paper in his pocket.  “Will do.  I hope Gabriel knows how good a friend you are, kid.”

            “I hope Gabriel comes to his senses before he does something he regrets.”

            They were gone within the hour.

            Even though Gabriel left before dinnertime, I didn’t see him for the rest of the night.  And I was wrecked.  I was 100% convinced that Gabriel would force himself to have sex, and absolutely hate himself when it was a disaster. 

            I was so worried that I called Douglas, looking for some comfort.  But he thought I was worrying about nothing.  He didn’t think Gabriel would like sex, but he didn’t think it would traumatize him.  I could tell from his tone of voice that he would rather talk about anything other than Gabriel.  The call ended with him hanging up on me in a huff.  I called Trina and Sheila too.  Each of them similarly thought I was making a mountain of a mole hill.  They didn’t even think Gabriel would have sex.  They kept saying, “He’s an adult who is unafraid to make his own decisions.”  I even called Johnny, but he seemed excited by the prospect of Gabriel’s deflowering.  He saw it as one step closer to a brother-in-law.  Everyone thought I was overreacting.  I spent the whole night on my phone and couldn’t find one sympathetic ear.  Frustrated, I turned off my phone and went to bed early—6 PM early.

            I fell asleep quickly but slept badly that night.  Every small noise I heard woke me, as though it was the sound of Gabriel coming home.

            The next morning, while I was making a pot of extra strong coffee, I heard Gabriel’s bedroom door open, and I relaxed.  “Good morning, and tell me everything.”

            “Morning, Arnie,” a familiar voice purred.

            The voice was such a shock, that I spilled some of my burning hot coffee on my chest.  It was Michael.  Michael was coming out of Gabriel’s room stark naked.  His hairy muscles were a further shock to my system.  He had the swagger of the justifiably confident, and he smiled like the cat who got the canary. Everything about him—his slightly flushed skin, the sway of his hips, the gleam in his eyes—screamed the contentment of a man who just got laid good and proper.

[TQuintA]

Chapter 23

            “No fucking way,” I said, repulsed.  “You?  Gabriel picked you to have sex with?”  This had to be some odd prank.  Some lie.  Some scheme.  Of all the men in Pennsylvania Gabriel could’ve had sex with, he picked Michael?  I would not believe it.

            “You forget, my little friend, you had sex with me too.”

            “I forget nothing,” I said.  “I just can’t believe Gabriel would pick you.”

            “What can I say?  You didn’t keep a tight enough leash on your man, and Gabe came crawling to me.”

            “His name is Gabriel,” I barked.

            “Someone sounds testy,” Michael said, pouring himself a mug of coffee.  “From what I’ve witnessed, you have your thing on the side—that athletic and spry man I went down on at the club.  Why shouldn’t Gabe have someone on the side too?”

            “His name is Gabriel,” I repeated.

            “So possessive.  So territorial.”  Michael didn’t seem threatened; he seemed pleased.  “You’re gonna turn me on.”

            “There is absolutely no fucking way Gabriel had sex with you.”

            Michael, completely nude, jumped onto my clean kitchen counter and sat there, drinking his coffee.  “Oh, but we did.”

            “Then, tell me everything,” I said, tossing a dishtowel over Michael’s exposed cock.  Michael had his virtues, but cleverness wasn’t one of them.  If he was lying, which every instinct in my body said he was, then his story wouldn’t hold water.

            “We met up at the same bar where you met me.”

            Easy enough start.  That was where I sent Hank, and Michael was a frequent patron there.

            “All the lesser men were swarming around him like flies swarm around roadkill.  Then again, everyone’s a lesser man compared to Gabe.”

            Gabriel wasn’t wearing his fake wedding ring.  We would get swarmed at a gay muscle bar.

            “He recognized me, and asked to buy me a drink.”

            Plausible.  He had met Michael, and a familiar face might have been a welcome reprieve.

            “I had a Long Island iced tea.  He had water.”

            Damn.  That is Gabriel’s typical bar order. I thought for sure Michael would have lied and said something alcoholic.

            “He asked me to dance, and I said yes.”

            Still plausible.  Gabriel learned from both Bridget and Douglas that people expect him to take charge, and dancing was a safe activity to ease himself into sex.

            “He was an excellent dancer.  Better than me.”

            Accurate.

            “After we’d danced for an hour or so, he asked if we could go to a motel.”

            A motel?  Why a motel?

            Out loud, I asked, “A motel?  Why a motel?”

            “He didn’t want things awkward for you.”

            Fine.  That sounded like Gabriel.

            Michael continued his story.  “When we got to the motel, Gabriel kissed me, took off his shirt, then took off my shirt, and then started playing with my chest hair.  And we did that for a while.  Surprisingly long.”

            That all sounds like Gabriel.  But it wouldn’t lead to my current morning.  “And that’s where you had sex?  Then why are you here and naked?”

            Michael pointed at me.  “Rude.  Interrupting.  Rude and interrupting.”

            I rolled my eyes and said, “Sorry.  Please continue.”

            “Thank you.  I was fully enjoying myself.  The two of us, shirtless, our giant pecs colliding into each other, our mouths dancing.  As much as I wanted him to fuck me, I honestly could’ve done that all night.  Even with my cock rock-hard and leaking like a pipe, I was in seventh heaven.  But, Gabe, poor dear, was having performance trouble.  Mr. Stiffy wouldn’t come out to play.  When your equipment’s that big, it just takes more coal to start the fire.”

            Then, they didn’t have sex?

            “After thirty minutes of that, he suggested we put our shirts back on and go get dinner.  He’s a big man, and he hadn’t eaten.  He thought maybe food would fix the issue.  We went to this greasy spoon attached to the motel, and Gabe complained that nothing they had fit his diet.  So, we left without eating anything, and drove to a grocery store.  He bought our dinners, and we ate in the parking lot under the stars.  I spent the whole time running my hands up and down his thigh, tickling his huge cock through his pants, and I could feel it come to life.”

            Gabriel would never have sex in public.  “And that’s where you had sex?” I asked.

            “Rude and interrupting,” Michael repeated.  “Of course not.  I’d never have sex in an asphalt parking lot twenty feet from a dumpster.  I’m surprised I ate dinner there.  By this point, it was a little after 7, and Gabe wanted to get to sleep by 8.”

            That tracked.  That’s his exact sleep schedule these days.

            “So, I suggested we go back to his place.  I mean, I already knew he had a long-term boyfriend because I’d already fucked his long-term boyfriend.  There was nothing to be awkward about.  He insisted on calling you, but it went straight to voicemail, and when we got to the apartment, you were dead asleep.”

            That felt shaky.  Every little thing woke me, so their coming home should have.  But, since I didn’t hear them come in, I couldn’t rule his version out.  Also, I could always check my voicemail.  That would corroborate or contradict Michael’s story.

            “When we got into his room, he stripped naked and said, ‘Let’s get this over with.’  Unromantic, sure.  But who needs romance?”

            Oh no.  Those sound like his word choices.  That’s how Gabriel would approach sex.  As an unpleasant chore to be rushed through.

            “By this point, he finally had an erection, so we fucked.  We fucked long and hard.  Your man is a Viking.  But, of course, you already know that.”

            “You fucked him here?” I asked, dumbfounded.

            “Naturally.  We fucked twice before he passed out.  He rode me long and hard and fast.  He bent me over the side of his bed and railed me so good I saw stars.  I begged for a round three, but his alarm clock went off, telling him it was time for bed.”

            Fuck.  He’d almost had me.  This liar almost had me.  But, without his toy, there was no way Gabriel was climaxing twice in an hour.  Moreover, there was no way Gabriel the virgin would be that big of a stud his first time at the races.

            Michael bragged, “I let him top me, and I don’t let just anyone top me.”

            Relief.  Utter relief.  There we go.  The cracks were fully beginning to show in the lie.  If Gabriel had fucked Michael up the ass—twice—Michael wouldn’t be able to walk correctly, let alone blithely jump up on a counter and land on his ass.  Hell, if Gabriel had topped Michael as vigorously as he described, Michael might be dead right now.  At the very least, hospitalized.

            “Not many men could take Gabe, but where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

            I applauded slowly.  “Entertaining story.  I especially liked the bits about the dumpster and the greasy spoon.  Vivid.  How much of it was a lie?”

            Michael hopped off the counter.  “None of it.”

            I wordlessly raised one eyebrow, as if to say, “Really, bitch?”

            “I swear.  It happened.  Just as I said it.”

            With a displeased exhale, I said, “I expect parts of it are true, but Gabriel did not fuck you rough and hard last night.  If he did, you would be in the emergency room with intestinal trauma.”

            “I don’t let a lot of guys top me, but I’m stretchy and flexible.”

            “You’d have to be Gumby.  The boy doesn’t own lube,” I countered.  “And I doubt you had some on you at the bar.”

            “We got some at the grocery store.”  Michael was vamping.  Even he didn’t sound convinced anymore.

            Time for my death blow.  “How big is Gabriel’s cock?” I asked.

            “Biggest I’ve ever head.  Nine inches.  Nine and a half, actually.  I measured.”

            “Flagrant lies,” I said.

            Gabriel came out into the kitchen.  He was dressed in a sensible powder blue button down that strained to cover his immensity—the buttons over his chest were threatening to burst at any moment, and his arms forced the sleeves to their absolute maximum.  “You can stop now, Michael.  We’ve been caught.”

            Michael seethed.  “Why’d you come out here?  I could’ve made it work.”

            “Because these days I’m just a bit shy of 13 inches when I’m erect.  Auggie doesn’t know my exact measurements, but he definitely knows I’m over 10.”

            “Ah, fuck,” Michael said.

            “For the record,” Gabriel said, turning to me, “I do own lube.  My toy wouldn’t work properly without it.”

            “Okay,” I acknowledged, pouring myself a new mug of coffee and trying not to think about Gabriel’s 13-inch monster.  “What really happened last night?” I asked.

            “When Hank gave me that order,” Gabriel said, fixing his first protein shake of the day, “I knew there was no talking him out of it.  But, there was absolutely no way I was going to go through with it.”

            “Really?” I asked.

            “Really.”

            “But you blindly do everything he says.”

            Gabriel looked at me crossly.  Then, he abandoned his shake and went back to his bedroom.  When he came back out into the kitchen, he was holding two large shoeboxes.  As he walked, the contents of his boxes rattled and clanked.  He placed them on the counter in front of me, side by side, and then went back to fixing his shake.

            “What’s this?” I asked, opening the first box.  Inside were a wide variety of small ampoules, vials, syringes, and alcohol pads.  “No, seriously, what’s this?” I asked.

            “Steroids, tren, deca, HGH, testosterone.  Some other stuff too.  Hank sees it as his job to make sure I get the best, highest quality PEDs.  The second box is just more of the same.  I’ve never taken even one CC of anything in either box.  Hank will never know.”  Gabriel chugged half of his shake in one breath.  “I’m not a robot, Auggie.  I just know it’s pointless to fight Hank.  He’s been an amazing coach.  I’m bigger and more cut than I’ve ever imagined.”  He flexed his enormous pecs to punctuate this thought, the buttons nearly surrendering to his circumference.  “My strength is astounding.  My symmetry and form are better than they’ve ever been.  But I’m not a mindless lackey.”  He finished downing his protein shake.

            “I didn’t know,” I confessed.

            “Because if I can keep a secret from you, I can keep a secret from Hank.”

            “If you’re not using these, can I have some?” Michael asked, reaching for a vial.

            Gabriel slapped his hand.  “I’m not taking them now, Michael.  I’m not morally opposed to this stuff.  I just don’t want anything to interfere with the drug trial, and if they find illegal chemicals in my blood, I’m out.  I expect I’ll need these to maintain my size once the trial ends.”  He closed the shoebox and made a second protein shake, a bigger one this time.

            “You never intended on having sex, then?” I asked again.

            “Not for one second.  It wouldn’t do anything to help my gains.  Hank is a superstitious straight guy weirded out by an asexual virgin.  Since I knew I couldn’t fight it, I pretended to submit to it.  While I was in the shower, I concocted my plan.”

            “Michael was you plan?” I asked, disappointed.

            “Not at first.  Originally, I planned on finding a prostitute to hire.  Put him on retainer.  Have him give regular updates to Hank about my manly prowess.”

            “Whores are expensive,” Michael criticized.  “Even when you’re not fucking them.”

            “Johnny would pay for it,” Gabriel and I said in unison.

            “He’d be over the moon to pay for Gabriel’s prostitutes,” I added.

            “He’s trying to fix me,” Gabriel concluded.

            “That’s a smart plan,” I said to Gabriel.  “Get a whore.  Pay him to lie for you.”

            “Ah, but Hank was bound and determined to find me a boyfriend.  Not just a warm body—an honest-to-goodness boyfriend.  He made it clear on the drive over there.  He said the ‘love and service of a good man would do wonders for my career.’  His exact words.”

            “At least I got him to agree to a dude,” I pointed out.

            “Thanks for that,” Gabriel said.

            “No sweat.”

            “So, I tweaked my plan.  I thought I would just pay a prostitute to pretend to be my boyfriend.  Then, at that meat market Hank took me to, I found something better.  Michael.  I already know Michael.  And since Michael looks like a miniature me, Hank would chock up my choice to some weird form of masturbation.  Michael and I have a previously existing relationship.  That would make it more believable to everyone.  And I was correct in guessing he’d be happy to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

            “I’m in between jobs,” Michael said.  “And keeping up this body is expensive.”  He squeezed his own prodigious pecs.

            “I also bet you’re cheaper than a prostitute,” I said.

            “I really wouldn’t know,” Michael commented.

            “Anyways,” Gabriel continued, oblivious to the exchange of insults between Michael and me, “when I saw Michael, I made a big show of propositioning him in front of Hank.  Hank let us be, and Michael and I went to the motel.  I confessed everything.  We negotiated a price, and together we set out to concoct a story that would convince you.”

            “Who cares if I’m convinced?” I asked.  “Convince Hank.”

            “If I can convince you, you’d help me convince Hank.”  Gabriel cast his eyes downward.  “We almost fooled you, but I don’t understand the physiology of it.  I didn’t realize I’m dangerously big.  I’ve seen exactly three of them my whole life, including mine, and I’ve only looked closely at two.”

            “I would’ve known if I’d actually seen your cock,” Michael said.  He turned to me and added, “Gabriel never even took his shirt off.  He’s never even kissed me.”

            “You’re going to have to kiss him to convince Hank he’s your boyfriend,” I chipped in.

            “Hank won’t want to see me kiss,” Gabriel replied.  “He’d think it’s gross.”

            “True,” I said, impressed.

            Continuing an explanation of last night’s activities, Gabriel said, “After we concocted our story, Michael and I went to the diner and the grocery store to stockpile some witnesses.  I even left you a voicemail.”  Gabriel sounded a little disappointed.  “I really thought we were going to fool you.”

            “Hank won’t ask follow-up questions,” I assured Gabriel.  “If he thinks two men kissing is gross, he really won’t want sexual details.  He’ll just accept that you and Michael are a couple.  And I won’t contradict that.”

            “If you’re okay lying for me,” Gabriel said eagerly, “we should just tell Hank you and I are a couple.  He already thinks we are.”

            “You’re not?” Michael asked.  “For real?  You’re really not a couple?  That wasn’t just a line you pitched me last night?”

            “We’re not a couple.  I’m aroace,” Gabriel confirmed.

            “You said that last night,” Michael said, nodding.  “I don’t know what that word means.  And I’m not 100% sure what’s happening here.  But I’m not going to push it as long as I get paid.”

            Gabriel turned to me.  “You sure I can’t convince you to be my pretend boyfriend?”

            “It’s called a beard, and it’s a no go,” I said.  “You’re a sore topic.  I spent a good chunk of last night worrying about you on the phone with him.  Douglas is already jealous of you, and we’re monogamous now.  If I pretend to be fucking you, it will drive Douglas over the edge.  I’m not going to do that to him.”

            “Fair enough,” Gabriel said.  Right on top of that, his phone vibrated.  He pulled it out of his pocket and announced, “It’s Hank.  He’s on his way.”  He turned to Michael with a businesslike look on his face.  “Ready to earn your money?”

            “I was born for the part,” Michael said.  He made his way over to the couch, this time limping and wincing in pain the whole way.  It took him forever to reach it—he was moving so slowly as if each flex of his ass was agony.  When he got to the couch, he took an extra cushion and put it on his seat.  Then, he slowly turned around and sat down.  His face contorted in pain for a second.  Then, he relaxed.

            “Much more convincing,” I said.

            “Really?” Gabriel asked, walking over to the couch.  “He moved like he just got back from war.”

            “If you’re really as big as you say you are,” Michael said, “I did.  You’re packing a Howitzer.”

            “You might want to put some clothes on before Hank gets here,” I said to Michael.  He’d apparently forgotten he was nude, so he scurried to Gabriel’s bedroom.  I turned to Gabriel and added, “I’ll leave you two to your lying.”  I grabbed my wallet, phone, and keys and headed to leave. 

            “Where are you going?” Gabriel asked, stopping me at the door.  He looked at the clock.  “It’s two hours until you go to work, and you said you’d help us with the lie.”

            I popped open his top two buttons.  His shirt spread wider, and a delightful tuft of his chest hair came out.  “You’ve had sex with him.  You wouldn’t be so buttoned up.  There, I’ve helped.”

            “I’ll need more help than that,” Gabriel said.

            “And I’ll give it,” I reassured him.  “But for right now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to head over to Douglas’s place.  I have some apologizing to do.  Then, I’m going right to work.”

[TQuintA]

Chapter 24

               “Let me get this straight,” Douglas said finishing up his salad.  He’d stopped by my office to have lunch with me so I could apologize.  I’d looked for him all morning, but he had been avoiding me.  Once he was ready to talk, he sought me out.  Rather than the fishbowl of an employee lounge, we were eating at a picnic table in the park across the street.  “Gabriel and Michael are pretending to be boyfriends, but they haven’t actually had sex.”

               “That is the long and short of it.”  I’d had to explain this to Douglas five times now.  Despite coming to see me, he was very reluctant to accept my apology, especially since he was convinced that I had tried to sleep with Gabriel.  He was having trouble grasping the whole “fake boyfriend” thing.

               “But he was already pretending to be married to Bridget.”

               I rolled my eyes.

               “Hank saw Bridget with Ellis.  Gabriel came clean about being ace.  Hank insisted Gabriel get a committed sexual partner.  Hence, Michael.”

               “If they’re not going to have sex, why not just pick another woman?”

               At least that was a new question.  It had taken me a good ten minutes to get him to understand that Gabriel was so repulsed by sex that he couldn’t just “suck it up and do it.”  This might take longer.  I explained, “Before I knew Gabriel had no intention of having sex, I thought sex with a guy would be less revolting for him.”

               “It was your idea then, not Hank’s.”  Douglas sounded vindicated.

               “What was?”

               “Gabriel fucking a guy was your idea.  Hank was going to make him get a girlfriend, and you butted in.”

               “I was thinking of Gabriel.”

                “Convenient,” Douglas snarked.

               “Convenient how?”

               “Get him to sleep with a guy.  You’re a guy.”  He left his implications unsaid as he tossed his waste in a nearby garbage can.

               “Are you still on this?  I’m not fucking Gabriel.  No one is.”

               “Your living situation is rather cozy for two people who aren’t fucking,” Douglas sniped.

               “We’ve lived together for seven years.  We’ve never had sex.”

               Douglas looked at me warily.  “Are you sure you haven’t…” 

               I cut him off.  “You’ve gotten further with Gabriel than I have.”

               Douglas shook his head in disagreement.  “He threw himself at you.”

               I was sick of having this fight.  “Before he embraced masturbation as a necessary evil during the drug trial.  And, if you recall, I turned Gabriel down.”

               “So you say.”  His tone indicated how unconvinced he was.

               “You’re insufferable sometimes.  A whiny, petulant, insufferable…”

               This time he cut me off.  “Didn’t this start off as an apology to me?”

               “You’re right.  I’m sorry.”  I cleared my throat.  “I just thought you should be aware of the lie so there were no surprises.”

               “I’m sorry too.”  Douglas looked down at his hands.  “I’m not used to feeling jealous.  No one has ever made me feel jealous before, and Gabriel makes me feel all kinds of jealous.  I can’t compete with him.  He’s the first guy I’ve ever met I can’t compete with.  If he ever wanted you, all he’d have to do is snap his fingers, and there’d be nothing I could do about it.  He could steal you from me as easily as breathing.”

               “Gabriel is asexual,” I repeated.  “Being jealous of him makes no sense.”

               “I am trying to work through it,” Douglas insisted.  “But it gets the best of me.  That phone call last night…”

               “Was me worrying about nothing.  I’m sorry.”  I put my hand on the back of Douglas’s and tickled it consolingly.

               “I’ve got half an hour until my lunch break is over.  Want to go find a place for a fuck?”

               Douglas shook his head.  “I have a client in 15 minutes.  I should head out.”  He kissed me on the cheek as my phone rang, indicating I’d gotten a text.

               Douglas walked away saying, “Tell Gabriel I said hi.”

               It was, in fact, Gabriel.  The text read, “Emergency!  Hank coming your way!  He must have left ten minutes ago.  Sorry!  Sorry!  Sorry!”

               As soon as I’d read it, I felt a tap on my shoulder.  I turned around and found myself staring right at Hank’s midsection.  “We need to talk, kid.”  I could tell Hank was worried.  His body language was tense, his tone of voice was strained, and his eyes didn’t stay focused on any one thing for long.

               “Pull up a bench,” I said, deflated.

               “We have to talk some sense into Gabriel about Michael.”  Oh, that wasn’t worry I saw.  That was guilt.

               “I thought you wanted him to have a boyfriend.”

               “Michael’s a gold-digging, thieving whore.  I saw Gabriel give him $500, and then Michael took another $100 out of his dresser drawer.  I know that your brother is paying Gabriel a mountain of money—it’s how I’m getting paid too.  Michael isn’t interested in Gabriel.  He sees a giant cookie jar.”

               “This is on you,” I said.  “Gabriel was perfectly happy being single.  You insisted Gabriel find a boyfriend.  He found one, in one night no less.”

               “Michael is not a boyfriend.  He’s a leech.”

               “Tell Gabriel that,” I tried.

               “Michael is the first person Gabriel ever had sex with.  This is a sensitive subject, and I’m a clumsy brute.  You’re good with him.”  Hank was working his way up to asking me to have the hard talk with Gabriel.  Part of me wanted to leave him twisting in the wind, but I only had 20 minutes of lunch left, and I wanted to end this conversation.

               “Let me shortcut this,” I said, picking up my phone and calling Gabriel.  “Hank wants you to dump Michael.  He hates him as much as I do.”  I hung up.

               “That was cold.”

               “That was necessary.  Michael was a drunken mistake I made a few months ago that keeps repeating on me like bad cheese.”

               “You’ve slept with him too?”

               I nodded.  “Unfortunately.”  I cleaned up my lunch dishes and stood up, indicating I was done talking.  But, then I changed my mind.  Since I had Hank here, I had to ask him.  “Why did you up the stakes?  When you left the apartment last night, the goal was to get Gabriel laid.  Then, on the trip to the bar, you switched to a boyfriend.”

               Hank nodded solemnly.  “Gabriel’s a sweet boy.  Sensitive-like.  Wholesome.  I realized if I just wanted him laid, I could get him a hooker.  Sex isn’t what really causes the growth.  Happiness and support do.  That’s something a girlfriend provides.  Er, boyfriend.  The sex is just proof of the happiness and support.”

               Hank didn’t hear himself.  I pointed out, “Gabriel is happy.  He is supported.”

               “It’s not the same,” Hank said, shaking his head.  “Will you help me find Gabriel a boyfriend?  A sweet little thing like you?”

               “Goodbye, Hank,” I said, swooping away.

               “Please.”  Hank stood up to follow me.  “I’m out of my depths here.  I’ve never had a virgin for a client.  I’ve never even had a gay guy as a client.  Gabriel has the potential to be a superstar.  I don’t want to fuck it up more than I already have.”

               I turned around on my heels.  “Then stop pushing the issue.  He’s ace.  Aroace, in point of fact.  He doesn’t want to have sex.  He doesn’t need sex.  Romance either.”

               “You talk about him like he’s a robot.   He’s a flesh and blood man.  Men have needs.  He masturbates.  He has those same needs we all do.”

               Balancing my lunch dishes in one hand, I pulled my phone back out and called Gabriel.  “Do you still have that book about asexuality you got in college?  The one you had me read?  Give it to Hank.  Have him read it too.”

               “You want my help?” I asked Hank, putting my phone back in my pocket.  “Read the book.  If you still want me to find Gabriel a boyfriend after you’ve read the book, I’ll help you.”

               “I’m a slow reader,” Hank said.

               “I’ll give you a week.”

[TQuintA]

Chapter 25

               A week passed.  Hank was coming over for dinner to discuss what he clumsily called “The Gabriel Problem.”  When I got home from work, I would have an hour to change, cook dinner, and brace myself for whatever Hank’s response would be.

               As I closed the apartment door behind me, Gabriel greeting me with a beaming face and a giant hug.  The hug was so enthusiastic that he picked me up, squeezing his hard, thick muscles all around me, his beard and chest hair delightfully scratching my skin.

               “Careful with this hug,” I said, still ensconced in his steely brawn, “my dick has a mind of its own.”

               Gabriel put me down and pat me on the head.  “I’m just so happy.  You got Hank to hear me.”

               “We still don’t know what he’ll say,” I reminded him, dropping my keys and walking to the kitchen to get dinner started.

               “There’s no way he could read that book and still think it’s his mission to get me a boyfriend.”

               I pulled the supplies out of the fridge and closed the door tight.  The chalkboard and the fridge said 8.1 and 355.  “Is this accurate?”  I asked.

               “Can’t you tell?” he asked, posing.  He did look bigger and more vascular, but honestly, he’d been a freak for so long that the smaller differences were getting harder to notice. 

               Besides, I’d been distracted by Douglas.  He’d been over every night this week.  And it wasn’t just booty calls, though I definitely had a sore booty.  He’d been sweet and affectionate, almost pointedly so.  As if to show me he was moving past his jealousy by being extra loving and thoughtful.

               The hour flew by, but dinner was on the table, I was dressed to impress, and there were still two minutes before Hank was supposed to show up.

               There was a knock on the door, and Hank let himself in.  “I hope there’s food for four,” Hank said.

               “When you cook for Gabriel, you make food for seven,” I said.  “Are we finally going to meet your wife?” I asked.

               “Auggie!” a familiar voice cried.  To my surprise, Johnny came zooming into the room.   He grabbed both sides of my face and kissed me on the forehead.  “I’ve missed you!  Sorry to crash your dinner like this, but Hank asked me to be here.”  At least it wasn’t Norm.  He’d have given me a noogie.

               “I’ll get another plate,” I said tentatively, going into the kitchen.

               When I rejoined them in the dining room, Johnny was appraising every inch of Gabriel’s body.  He whistled, the way a straight guy would whistle at a well-made car.  “I’ve seen the videos, I read the reports, but it is just different in person.”  He circled Gabriel, scrutinizing him closely, occasionally poking and prodding a body part.  When he poked Gabriel’s ass, he said, “It can’t be comfortable to sit on this thing.”

               “Plenty comfortable,” Gabriel said.  “You know, Johnny, the customary American greeting is a handshake.”

               “Where are my manners?” Johnny said, straightening up.  He stood on his tiptoes to hugged Gabriel tightly.  “Families hug, Gabriel.”

               With that one comment, I got a sinking feeling in my stomach.  Johnny wasn’t here as a visitor; he was Hank’s backup.

               “Come, let’s eat while the food’s hot,” I said, ushering everyone to their seats. 

               Dinner was fantastic.  Obviously it was; I cooked it.  I didn’t tell either Hank or Johnny that their entrée was made with seitan, but I’m sure Johnny suspected.  Despite that, conversation was stochastic and unsatisfactory; no one wanted to broach the subject we were here to discuss.  I was hoping I could forestall the inevitable by asking Johnny about his work.

               “How goes the study?” I asked, practically volleying the question over to Johnny.

               “The data we’re getting from Gabriel is a treasure trove of physiological anomalies,” Johnny said through a mouthful of food.  He swallowed, and then said, “Our current working hypothesis is that it isn’t one unique aspect of Gabriel’s biology that’s responsible for his uncharacteristic response to the drug.  Rather, it’s a suite of them working in concert.  We’re just trying to tease out which ones.  There’s a spate that’s unique about him, so it’s a process of elimination.  I have every confidence we’ll figure it out.”  He took another bite of his dinner.  “Oh, and Auggie, dinner is delicious.  Is there a version with meat in it?”

               “This isn’t meat?” Hank asked.  He took a giant mouthful, analyzed the taste closely, and then swallowed.  “Could’ve fooled me.”

               Gabriel had been silent for most all of dinner.  Unable to be so any longer, he blurted out, he asked, “Did you read the book, Hank?”

               “I did.  It was interesting.”

               Conversation stopped dead again.

               “That’s it?  It was interesting?”  Gabriel was expecting so much more.

               “Well,” Hank said, putting his fork down, “it was uncomfortable.  The stuff the book discussed, it was so outside my universe, that it made me just feel sad for you.  If I couldn’t experience love, I’d kill myself.”  He wiped his mouth with his napkin.

               Gabriel grew ghostly pale.

               “He can experience love,” I said, defending him.  “Just not romantic love or sexual love.”

               “Like I said, he can’t experience real love,” Hank said.  “Same problem.”

               “Do you love your mother?” I asked.

               “Of course,” Hank said, offended.

               “Is it real love?”

               “Of course.”

               With venomous fangs in my words, I said, “Then, by your definition, you want to fuck her.”

               “Watch your mouth there, kid.”  He pointed at me sternly.  In a condescending, chiding tone, he explained, “My heart goes out to Gabriel.  I’m glad he’s in this drug trial if there’s a chance it’ll fix him.”

               “He’s not broken,” I said, the anger apparent in my voice.  I turned to Gabriel.  He was looking down at his plate, pointedly not making eye contact with anyone in the room.  “Say something.  Defend yourself.”

               Meekly, still looking at his plate, Gabriel spoke to Johnny.  “Have you read the book?”

               “Yeah,” Johnny said, nodding.  “There was nothing in it that was shocking or new or surprising.”

               I was about to speak to Hank, expectantly, but he cut me off with a hand gesture.

               Hank then said, “He ain’t done yet.”

               Johnny took a big drink of his water.  “A central tenet of the book is that anyone who thinks they’re ace is.  That if you feel ace, if a description of asexuality corresponds with your internal reality, then you are ace.”

               “What’s wrong with that?” Gabriel asked, still studying his plate.

               “It’s scientifically untestable.  People could just lie and say they feel ace, but there’s some other explanation.  Asexuality is real.  I’m not disputing that.  I’ve seen it.  But I’ve also seen people who said they felt ace stop being ace.”

               “That’s in the book too,” Gabriel said, a little more sternly, but still looking down.  “Some people go through asexual phases.  Their desire for sex waxes and wanes.”

               “Similarly untestable,” Johnny said.  “Asexuality is a term that describes a real phenomenon.  There’s a consensus for that among therapists.  This current definition comes from experts in that field, so I’m not going to disagree with the actual experts who have asexual patients.  Clearly, that definition is pragmatic and workable.  But the biologist in me, the scientist in me, he needs more than a feeling.  For asexuality to be meaningful in a scientific discussion, a biochemical discussion, it must be measurable, able to stand up to rigorous scrutiny.”

               This fucker was really going to argue rigorous scrutiny?  My brother was being an asshole.  “How do you know you’re in love with Trina?” I asked.

               “Nice try,” Johnny said, putting his napkin on his plate.  “Yes, I know I’m in love with my wife because it’s a feeling I have.  But if you were to do a chemical analysis of my brain when I’m kissing Trina, you’d find it swimming in dopamine and norepinephrine, and my ventral tegmental area and caudate nucleus would be lit up like a Christmas tree.  Yes, I know I love her because of a feeling, but the feeling stands up to scientific inquiry.”

               “Most people aren’t going to get a brain scan to prove they’re in love.”  I was getting het up.  “We rely on the feeling.”

               Johnny turned in his chair to more directly face me.  “Do you remember my first girlfriend Donna?”

               I nodded.

               “I thought I loved her.  I would’ve sworn to it in a court of law.  Then, she finally agreed to have sex with me.  Suddenly, I didn’t care about her so much.  I thought I was feeling love.  I was feeling lust.  Feelings can be wrong, and we can misinterpret them.  There needs to be a better definition of asexuality than a feeling.”

               “How would you define asexuality then?” I asked smugly.

               “Little research has been done, but the little that has suggests truly asexual people have different hypothalamuses than allosexual people.  More research needs to be done, but I’ve seen the differences.  They exist.  At the beginning of the trial, we scanned Gabriel’s brain.  His hypothalamus is perfectly normal.”

               “Then why does the thought of sex make me want to vomit?” Gabriel said loudly, finally looking up.

               “Any number of things.  Garden variety fear, traumatic past experience, undiagnosed inner ear problem, or—the one I think is most likely—your hormones are out of whack.”

               “They are not,” Gabriel insisted.  “I had a hormone study done.  I’m perfectly normal.”

               Johnny held back a small laugh.  “The doctor who did your hormone study was a general physician.  Not a specialist.  I’ve seen your bloodwork.  I’m intimately familiar with it.  You have utterly fascinating blood chemistry.  I’ve studied it dozens of times, and I don’t even fully understand it yet.  The last word I would use to describe your hormones is ‘normal.’”

               Hank cleared his throat so we’d look at him.  “I brought Johnny to the dinner because I really want you to reconsider trying this boyfriend thing.  It’s not about bodybuilding for me anymore.  I care about you, and I don’t want to see you miss out.”

               “I don’t want to have sex,” Gabriel said, exhausted.  “I don’t.  Not even a little.”

               “You’ve done it once,” Hank said.  “It didn’t kill you.”

               “I lied.  I lied!”  Gabriel shoved his plate away from him.  “I didn’t have sex with Michael.  I was paying him so he’d lie.  I’ve never had sex.  I don’t want to have sex.  Just let it go.”

               “Told you,” Johnny said to Hank.  “Told you he lied.”  He turned to look Gabriel squarely in the eyes.  “Have sex once.  There is no shortage of men who’d have sex with you.  Hell, I’m tempted, and I’m a married straight guy.  Go into it with your eyes open, willing to learn.  Think of it as an experiment.  It’ll change your mind and help get you through these mental blocks you’ve built up.”

               “No,” Gabriel said quietly.

               “It’s just sex,” I said. 

               “That’s my point,” Hank agreed.

               “No,” I countered.  “You misunderstand me.  Sex is unimportant.  It’s not life and death or anything like that.  Who cares if he doesn’t have sex?”

               “You should,” Hank said.  “He’s your best friend, and you’re letting him revel in his weakness rather than helping to make him stronger.  You’re a coward and a shit friend.”

               “Back off,” Gabriel said, standing up and intimidating Hank.  “Auggie is a great friend.  You can insult me until the cows come home, and then you can insult me some more, but I will not hear you say one word against Auggie.”

               “How gallant,” Johnny said.  “Spoken like a man in love.”

               “You’re right,” Gabriel admitted.  “I love him.  It’s not romantic…”

               Johnny interrupted him, asking, “And do you think you’ll always love him?”

               Gabriel quickly responded, “Yes.”

               “And that you’ll always want to live with him?”

               “Yes.”

               Johnny turned to me.  “What about you, Auggie?  Do you love Gabriel?”

               “Of course,” I said.

               “Will you always?”

               “Yes.”

               “And you’ll always want to live with him?”

               “Yes.”

               Johnny straightened his collar.  “Then, by the power vested in me by deductive reasoning, I now pronounce you married.”

               “What?” I asked.

               “You love each other and want to stay together forever.  Trina and I said the same thing at our wedding.”

               Gabriel and I froze there, silently.

               Johnny continued.  “When I said Gabriel wasn’t ace, I wasn’t being a jerk.  I was trying to get you two to face reality.  I know a happy couple when I see one.”

               Gabriel and I made eye contact with each other.  I don’t believe in telepathy, but in that moment, I could read his mind perfectly.  I knew what he was about to do, and I knew how stupid of an idea it was.

               Gabriel got down on one knee, held my right hand in his hands, and said, “Auggie, will you marry me?”

               I couldn’t ignore the gnawing pit in my stomach, but everyone was looking at me.  Gabriel’s brown eyes glistened, pleading me to say yes.  So, I said, “Of course I will.”

               Hank’s face lit up.

               Johnny beamed with self-satisfaction.

               “I fucking knew it!” Douglas said from outside the dining room door. 

               Douglas was here?  When had Douglas gotten here?  And what had he seen?  And heard?

               Douglas stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door behind him.

               I chased him into the hallway.  “Douglas, wait!”

               When I caught up to him, he was in a froth.  “I come over to surprise you.  I hear a heated conversation, so I stay in the living room until it dies down.  And what do I hear?  I hear my boyfriend agreeing to marry another man.”

               “I can explain,” I said, but Douglas cut me off.

               “I knew it.  I knew you and Gabriel were a thing.  You live with him, you cook for him, you spend all your free time together.”

               “We’re not a thing,” I managed to interject.

               “You want to live with him forever,” Douglas said flatly.  “What if we wanted to live together one day, or get married?  You expect Gabriel to move in with us?”

               “I hadn’t really thought…”

               Douglas interrupted me again.  “That’s not what you said in there.  You said you wanted to live with him forever.”

               “I did say that, didn’t I?”  I hadn’t fully considered the weight of that admission.

               Vindicated, Douglas said, “You might not be sleeping with him, but you have been cheating on me with Gabriel this whole time.  Or, fuck, maybe you’re cheating on Gabriel with me.  One way or another, you’re cheating.  Don’t even lie to yourself about that.  I let you lie to me because I was falling in love with you.  But no more.”  Douglas fumed, and then added, “He proposes, and you say yes?”

               “It’s a sham.  Hank and Johnny were ganging up on him, and this will get them to shut up.  It’s a lie.  He needed me.”

               Douglas made an inarticulate sound of anger.  “Even now, when I am two centimeters from dumping your high-maintenance ass, you’re worried about Gabriel’s feelings, and not mine!”

               “He was backed into a corner and asked me to marry him.  What was I supposed to say?”

               “No,” Douglas said.  “You were supposed to say no.”  Douglas left without saying another word.

[mario2007]

Man, I LOVE this story.

[Trippin]

JFC, this story has got more twists and turns than a cheap garden hose! 

[Peptippacid]

This update scaleted so quickly, loving it so far

[CurlyJinrlyJin]

Sometimes your stories are so good I feel like you're spoiling us lol