a Bromance in the Upstairs bedroom
John touched Dave’s face tenderly. Dave opened his mouth to rap John his feelings, the only way he could tell him. John shushed him. He already knew. That and, Dave still wasn’t all that good at rapping. John wasn’t sure if he had any turnoffs, but if he did, ‘sorry, dude, your rap killed my boner’ wasn’t all that romantic and would probably kill both of their boners in a double boner homicide.
John pressed his hand into Dave’s hip. Or he tried to, anyway. He aimed too high and caught Dave in the ribs. Dave curled away giggling and called him an ass. John put his hands on Dave’s face and pulled him close. He gave him a clumsy kiss until their glasses clacked together and threatened to fall off.
They each clutched their glasses like fine china as they folded them and placed them on the table before turning back at each other, the momentum seemingly lost.
Dave put his hand on John’s shoulder and pressed him back against the bed. Dave sat on John’s legs and pinched a nerve before John pushed his leg to the left. When Dave’s knees hit the bed, it bounced and squeaked against the wall. They froze, listening for the footsteps of a concerned parental authority. But, luckily, no one had come early that night, and their secret liaison continued.
John leaned back on his arms as Dave put his hands on either side of him and kissed him passionately with a little too much spit. When they pulled apart, John sucked his lip into his mouth and, then, reclosed the distance. If they had time, they might have assessed the sloppiness of the makeout, but they were hopped up on the adrenaline that comes with changing relationships.
John skittered his hands along Dave’s sides. Dave kissed him again, and John looked into his face, so close Dave’s image double and blurred. They spend a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. Just breathing. A silent question. Is this okay?
But before either of them could form the words, tires squealed from outside, and the roar of an engine grew louder then cut off. John rushed to the window and slid open the blinds a crack. His dad was home. He turned back to Dave, disappointed.
Dave crawled off the bed, smoothing down his shirt from where John had hiked it. Dave pecked him on the mouth. They fixed their dis-shelved clothes and washed their flushed faces before trudging down the stairs, a little closer than bros.
John pressed his hand into Dave’s hip. Or he tried to, anyway. He aimed too high and caught Dave in the ribs. Dave curled away giggling and called him an ass. John put his hands on Dave’s face and pulled him close. He gave him a clumsy kiss until their glasses clacked together and threatened to fall off.
They each clutched their glasses like fine china as they folded them and placed them on the table before turning back at each other, the momentum seemingly lost.
Dave put his hand on John’s shoulder and pressed him back against the bed. Dave sat on John’s legs and pinched a nerve before John pushed his leg to the left. When Dave’s knees hit the bed, it bounced and squeaked against the wall. They froze, listening for the footsteps of a concerned parental authority. But, luckily, no one had come early that night, and their secret liaison continued.
John leaned back on his arms as Dave put his hands on either side of him and kissed him passionately with a little too much spit. When they pulled apart, John sucked his lip into his mouth and, then, reclosed the distance. If they had time, they might have assessed the sloppiness of the makeout, but they were hopped up on the adrenaline that comes with changing relationships.
John skittered his hands along Dave’s sides. Dave kissed him again, and John looked into his face, so close Dave’s image double and blurred. They spend a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. Just breathing. A silent question. Is this okay?
But before either of them could form the words, tires squealed from outside, and the roar of an engine grew louder then cut off. John rushed to the window and slid open the blinds a crack. His dad was home. He turned back to Dave, disappointed.
Dave crawled off the bed, smoothing down his shirt from where John had hiked it. Dave pecked him on the mouth. They fixed their dis-shelved clothes and washed their flushed faces before trudging down the stairs, a little closer than bros.