Sorry, Bro (5 page)

Adrian was incredibly handsome and successful. Bryce was also handsome, and muscular, but he was just a nurse. So why was Adrian doing this? To make himself feel better? Lust? Perhaps even jealousy? They had talked about Tim. Perhaps Adrian had taken him for Bryce’s lover.

Yet, most importantly, Bryce wasn’t gay. At least, he didn’t feel gay—whatever that meant.

Bryce pulled away as Adrian tightened his hands on his lower back. Adrian gasped and looked into Bryce’s eyes. “Bryce,” he whispered. “I want you. Now.”

Bryce’s cock strained against Adrian’s muscular thigh. “Adrian, man. I…can’t.” Bryce edged back, grabbed his bag and pushed past Adrian towards the door.

“Damn,” Bryce whispered as the locker room door slammed shut behind him. He very well could have done Adrian right then and there—gay or not. Adrian was beautiful and strong. Bryce still felt the ghost of the other man’s hands massaging the small of his back. Adrian’s mouth—his tongue, his lips—had felt exquisite. Bryce had barely been able to resist the urge to turn around and drop to his knees as Adrian removed his hard cock from his scrubs to welcome Bryce’s eager, open mouth over his uncircumcised dick. Bryce could practically feel Adrian’s thick virility straining against the back of his throat. The sweet, salty flavour of Adrian’s pre-cum was burnt into his memory. Bryce imagined Adrian moaning with pleasure at the movement of his tongue across the underside of his shaft. He had wanted so badly for it to be reality.

Yet, Bryce couldn’t banish the nagging feeling that he would be cheating on Tim. Bryce laughed at himself. He had gone from being a bro’s bro, two days before, fucking pussy and sucking his girlfriend’s nipples, to deciding which man he should be more faithful to. Not date or fuck, but be faithful to. As Bryce exited the outer door of the hospital, he attempted to make more sense of the heaviness in his gut.

Although Bryce couldn’t ever remember noticing Adrian around the hospital before, he couldn’t deny being strangely and intensely attracted to the man. He was tall and suave—and he had a great, round ass. Bryce imagined he was the kind of man every woman would want to meet if she were the character in a romance novel.

But what about Tim? They had been through so much together. And the kiss—they had only shared one kiss, but that was enough for Bryce to know that their mouths, at least, were wildly in sync.

Bryce trotted up the sidewalk and turned onto Tulane Avenue. He would have to get the couch ready for Tim to sleep on. He hoped it would be long enough.

* * * *

Bryce’s elderly neighbour—a large, jovial woman named Miss Vernita—had been nice enough to let him borrow her old junker truck just long enough to collect Tim from the hospital early the next afternoon. In New Orleans, just before sundown was the hottest part of the day. Although Bryce had been concerned about the oppressive heat and the intensity of the sun, Tim didn’t seem to mind. By the time they reached Bryce’s apartment, their cheeks glistened with a layer of sweat, and each grinned stupidly at the other.

Bryce felt giddy as he unlocked the door and led Tim into his apartment. Had it really been eight years? It seemed like yesterday. More startlingly, however, it seemed like nothing had ever happened to keep the two of them apart in the first place.

Bryce grabbed Tim a beer, and used the edge of the kitchen counter to pop the lid off one of the bottles for himself. He gestured towards the couch. “Bro, sit down. You must still be tired.”

“Thanks, man,” Tim said, and sank into the overstuffed tan cushions. He grabbed one of the extra pillows Bryce had left for him to sleep with and hugged it to his chest. “Nice digs, man.”

Bryce chuckled. “Gee, thanks,” he said sarcastically.

Bryce looked away and sipped his beer. He wished things could just go back to the way they had been.

Bryce knitted his eyebrows and looked back up. Tim was staring at him. They’d have to talk eventually. They couldn’t just sit around and bullshit like they were back in high school.

“Tim—” Bryce cleared his throat and took a swig from his beer bottle. “What the hell are you doing here, man?”

Tim shook his head, and looked up, studying Bryce. For once, he wasn’t laughing when he said, “To find you, bro.”

Bryce slammed his beer bottle onto the countertop and crossed his arms over his chest. Perhaps it had been too much to hope that Tim’s being in New Orleans was just a coincidence. He had been on vacation, had been visiting some friend in college, had been looking at Tulane Med School—hell, there were a million other reasons for him being in New Orleans. As far as Bryce knew, Tim hadn’t known that he was even in New Orleans.

Bryce ran both his hands through his short hair. “Why?”

“Man, we left on a bad note,” Tim murmured. “I didn’t know if you hated me, or what. Christ, I gotta admit, I thought about you every damn day. You can’t just be best friends with somebody and then up and disappear like that.”

Bryce dashed a few droplets of sweat off his cheek with his right hand before shoving it deep inside his pocket. Why the hell was he being so hard on Tim? He, Bryce, was the one who should be ashamed. He’s the one who had abandoned Tim when all Tim had needed was someone to talk to.

* * * *

Bryce was drenched in sweat. He dropped his backpack next to the door in the foyer and dashed for the cool of the basement, stripping off his damp baseball jersey as he descended the staircase.

The mini fridge on the lower level was full of soft drinks. Bryce grabbed a small can, popped open the lid and drank deeply before laying spread-eagle on the soft, white carpet with the drink at his side. He was naked now save for a pair of tight, red baseball pants and grass-stained knee-high socks.

He hadn’t seen Tim at baseball practice. It wasn’t like him to skip out without at least alerting Bryce during last period or sending him a text.

The two were best friends, had shared nearly every course at school and were, most importantly, baseball buddies in a community league for the summer. Tim was a master with a bat, and Bryce had a strong arm and a steady glove in the outfield. But this was one of their last practices before the big game. After that, they’d be leaving for college, and they would both either have to vie for walk-on spots, or play amateur ball.

Bryce sat up when he heard feet pounding on the stairs behind him. Tim wore his baseball uniform and a pair of grass-stained cleats—but why hadn’t he been at practice? Bryce pushed himself up from the carpet, clutching his coke in one hand as he stood. “Bro, what’s up? I didn’t see you at baseball practice.”

Tim’s cap was pulled low over his brows, but when he looked up, his cheeks were red and stained with tears.

Bryce froze. “Man, what happened?”

Tim’s voice quavered as he sighed. The answer was completely unexpected. “When you leave, are we ever gonna see each other again?” He laughed lamely and sniffled at the same time. “Will we still be friends?”

“Of course, man.”

Bryce paused, then did the only thing he knew how to do. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Tim’s midsection. Tim quivered in Bryce’s arms and whimpered. Tim was usually so strong, but his confusion and fear were palpable, Bryce squeezed tighter. “Damn, bro, of course we’ll still be friends.”

Tim pulled off his hat and let it drop to the floor. His short, blond hair was matted to his head, and his eyes were tinged red from crying. With a pained expression, he looked down at Bryce, leant forward slowly and without a word, kissed Bryce softly on the lips.

Bryce didn’t pull away or stop Tim with a confused protestation, but held Tim and enjoyed the warmth of his friend’s lips pressing against his own, the catch of his stubble and the slick, soft feeling of Tim’s baseball shorts under his hands.

And then it was over, and Bryce looked up, confused, and still hurt because of the pain Tim felt.

* * * *

“Eight years,” Bryce said.

Tim nodded. He wore an all-too-familiar, pained expression. Ashamed, Bryce looked at the floor.

“I kissed you,” Tim said. “I scared you away. I was so damn scared myself when I started thinking about leaving you.”

‘I kissed you’. Strangely, Bryce hadn’t ever thought much about who had kissed whom, just that there had been a kiss and that he had enjoyed it…far too much. At least, at the time. Suddenly, Bryce thought guiltily of Adrian, of their deep, prolonged kisses, of their hard cocks throbbing against one another and of how innocent and removed that first kiss with Tim seemed in comparison.

Bryce considered Tim’s statement. “I think I scared myself,” he said. “I’m so sorry, man.” Bryce thought he had begun to understand why Tim had come after him. To be sure of something, just as Bryce needed to be sure of something after so many failures since he had left medical school.

“So you kissed me first, huh?”

Tim looked defensive. “Sorry, bro.”

“Well,” Bryce said, before taking a gulp from his beer and wiping his hands on his shirt. “It’s my turn to kiss first.”

Tim’s eyes widened as Bryce settled into the couch next to him. The corners of his mouth tugged into the whisper of a smile. Bryce laid his hand on Tim’s thigh and paused. He was never good at reading faces. Was Tim’s smile that of disappointment, of nostalgia—of relief? “Are you okay with this, man?” he breathed.

Tim nodded. “It’s been a long time,” he sighed. “It’s been too long, bro.”

Bryce was keenly aware of his hardening cock, and as he leaned closer to Tim, he moved his hand slowly up Tim’s thigh. Bryce felt the hard tendons and curvature of the muscles beneath the man’s faded jeans, and he squeezed, savouring the heartiness and suppleness of Tim’s powerful frame. It was so different from Jennifer’s body, from Tatum’s slight but suggestively curvaceous build.

Would he like touching Tim’s naked body as much as he had enjoyed Adrian’s dick pushing eagerly against his own? He had enjoyed—both unexpectedly and guiltily—holding Adrian’s cock in his mouth, sliding it over his tongue and deep into his throat before Adrian came on his chin and neck.

He looked into blue, friendly eyes. Eyes he had looked into countless times on the baseball field without recognition of anything other than friendship. But there was more—had to have been more. Otherwise, Bryce wouldn’t have thought about Tim constantly over the eight years they were apart.

Bryce squeezed Tim’s thigh again and kissed him before drawing his face back a few inches.

“Are you okay—?” Tim started, but Bryce smothered his words with another kiss, more insistent than before. Bryce parted his lips and probed Tim’s mouth. Would Tim like it? Bryce remembered their kiss eight years before. They had pressed their lips together, and Bryce had welcomed Tim’s tongue fully into his mouth.

He probed deeper, and Tim sighed.

Bryce shifted forward on the couch and turned towards Tim, who had drifted deeper into the cushions, pushing his head back to welcome Bryce’s kisses from above.

Bryce gripped Tim’s thigh with one hand and ran his other along Tim’s strong, slightly freckled forearm, which was shot through with the outline of delicate blue veins.

Tim reached up and squeezed Bryce’s shoulders, pulling the length of Bryce’s body against his own. He caught his breath.

“My bad, bro. Are you okay?” Bryce braced himself against the back of the couch, lifting the bulk of his weight from Tim’s chest. He remembered Tim’s bruised ribs and stomach. The last thing he wanted was to put Tim back in the hospital, especially now.

Tim smiled, and he chuckled at Bryce. “It doesn’t hurt much. Anyhow, it’s worth it.”

Bryce’s deep laughter rose above Tim’s, and he punched the other man playfully on the shoulder, then lowered himself again and nipped at Tim’s earlobe. He rubbed his cheek across Tim’s stubble before finding his lips again.

Bryce’s fully erect cock strained against the metal zipper of his shorts, and as he pushed downward on top of Tim’s body, he felt Tim’s bulge straining upwards to meet his thigh.

“Those pants are looking mighty uncomfortable,” Tim said with a smirk. He reached up and popped open the brass button and deftly unzipped Bryce’s pants, revealing the outline of his erect cock, which was now only covered by a thin layer of black cotton.

Bryce pushed himself up from the couch and, standing directly in front of Tim, slipped the underwear down his thighs, past his ass and over his calves. His cock sprang to attention against his stomach and reflexively, he cupped his balls as cool, humid air washed between his legs.

Tim groaned with pleasure at the sight of Bryce’s body. “Aww…nice, man.”

Bryce winked before dropping to his knees and unfastening the button and zipper on Tim’s jeans. He stood again and pulled the thick fabric roughly from Tim’s outstretched legs, then dropped the garment at his feet.

Again, Bryce lowered himself between Tim’s sinewy thighs and placed his hand atop the bulge in Tim’s boxers.

Tim laughed and stood, grasping Bryce under the arms and lifting him back onto the couch before pulling his shirt over his head and dropping his boxers to the floor, his own erection leaping free and quivering, ramrod straight, pointing towards Bryce.

Bryce surveyed Tim’s large, muscular body with both pleasure and surprise. Save for a patchwork of yellow and black bruises on his left side and a small line of stitches across his stomach, arm and left eyebrow, Tim looked as if he were in even better shape than he ever had been in high school. His hairless, freckled pecs were well-defined, and six perfectly segmented ab muscles covered his lean stomach.