Efrain and Cory Ch. 24

"We'll need to get washed up," he said, still breathless and panting.

"A shower, then?" I said. "That is what we came in here for."

"Not sure if I can stand yet."

"Yeah," I said, shifting us both around so that he was once again between my thighs and lying against my chest. "God, my legs haven't been this weak since my first Monticelloman Tri."

"So sex with me is comparable to running a triathlon?" he said as he pulled my arms around him. "I'm flattered."

"You should be," I said and he made a satisfied hum. His fingertips stroked over my forearms. Casual sex and casual affection. I could get used to this. "Of course, running a triathlon never wrecked my bathroom."

Preston lifted his head, seeming almost pleased as he took in the puddles of water and overturned candles on the platform and floor. Wet handprints marked the mirrors, although I had no idea when that had happened. Lube leaked from the bottle I had forgotten to close when I hastily set it down.

"Some triathlete you are!"

~*~*~*~

Part II – The Pumpkin Spice Must Flow

Preston picked up the can of pumpkin and eyed it skeptically. "You know, with the holiday behind us, you'd think we'd be over pumpkin."

Efrain shrugged and went back to gathering ingredients. "As long as it's not pumpkin fucking spice," he said.

I picked up the small canister of pumpkin spice and shook it at him. It had been squatting in the pantry with the canned pumpkin. Apparently, Laurel had decided to make a pumpkin pie last Christmas, but never followed through after buying the ingredients. Efrain thought it might have been that Laurel wanted pumpkin pie and intended for him to make it for her. Which he might have been persuaded to do had she not defiled what had quickly become HIS kitchen with that most sacrilege of ingredients: McCormick Pumpkin Spice Blend.

Efrain bristled at the offensive one-ounce canister in my hand, and I quickly put it out of sight lest he start growling.

Indie, who knew better how to indulge my Wolfie, had installed the stainless steel panel and magnetic spice tins, filled them with whole spices, and took over Laurel's pitiful and half-assed attempts to grow fresh herbs shortly after Efrain moved in. Indie was weirdly handy, even going so far as to install dimmer-switches in the bathrooms because he "saw a video and it didn't look that hard." Funny how Preston found another YouTube tutorial obsessed gay man to jump in bed with by sheer coincidence.

Not that they'd been in bed when Efrain and I got back Friday morning.

Now, that had been interesting.

Of all the possible scenarios I ran through when I'd spotted Preston's little red Mazda in the driveway, opening the door to hear him ecstatically wailing Indie's name didn't figure in any of them. As we made our way back to Efrain's room, quietly so we wouldn't alert them to our presence, it became apparent that the passionate cries were not coming from Indie's bedroom.

They were fucking in the basement.

Behind a door that we had to pass to get to Efrain's room.

A door that just happened to be wide open.

We stood there in the hallway, trying to think of a way to get around a potentially embarrassing (or at least, more embarrassing) situation, while we got an earful that soon included Indie's voice.

"Fuck, baby, don't stop."

I mouthed "Baby?" at Efrain and he shrugged. Indie calling anyone "baby" just seemed odd.

"Oh God...Indie...so...so...hnnnng...so good..."

Preston's cries seemed muffled, like maybe they were kissing or something, but after a few moments they ratcheted right back up accompanied by rhythmic slapping. For lack of a better place to stare, I looked back at Efrain. He had this look in his eyes that I almost didn't recognize it until he smiled, took my hand, and pulled me into him. Arousal. Efrain was aroused. I was embarrassed, and curious, and embarrassed that I was curious, but Efrain's dick coming up to full mast against my zipper and his wicked the-better-to-eat-you-with grin brought lust to the foreground.

His mouth pressed against mine briefly and I groaned. He held his finger up as if to shush me before pulling me down the hallway. Against my better judgement, I stole a glance down into the basement. Indie and Preston, completely naked and sweaty, were fucking on the incline bench. Preston had been leaning back with his hands on the seat riding Indie's cock, while Indie thrust up into him as he jerked Preston's dick.

Both of them were so into it that they wouldn't have noticed if Efrain and I stood there and watched. Hell, had our roles been reversed, Preston would have totally stayed for the show. But, it was bad enough that I'd stalled there long enough to notice Preston's sex flush stealing over his face and neck. And worse still that I couldn't stop. Efrain tugged at my hand, dragging me from the writhing bodies below and down the hall. Their voices got even louder despite the fact that we were walking away from them.

As soon as we got into his room, Efrain pulled me into a fierce kiss.

"Confession: Hearing guys get off really switches me on," he said, taking my hand again and rubbing it on his dick.

"Confession: I think I like watching," I replied, taking his other hand and putting it on my cock.

"You peeked, didn't you?" he asked and firmly gripped me through my jeans.

"A little," I admitted with a gasp that made it sound like a squeak.

"A lot," he countered. "Bad boy."

He leaned for another kiss, this one more demanding that the one before. Just as we pulled away, we heard Preston screaming "Oh fuck!" and "Right there!" over and over. Goosebumps crawled up Efrain's neck and his cock pressed against my hand.

Efrain went to pull a familiar bottle from the nightstand. "Come here," he growled and within moments, I was shoved up against his bureau with my jeans down around my ankles and his lubed up fingers in my ass.

"We don't have much time before we have to report for practice," he whispered, grinding his knuckles into my rim before pulling out, "but I need you now." I felt his cock press against me, and I pushed my hips back until his head popped in. Efrain dribbled more lube down my ass and worked his cock in a couple inches to further open me. I gave in to the needy little noises and whined for his dick with abandon. I'd given up on containing my whimpers ages ago when I realized he was going to fuck them out of me whether I liked it or not (not that I ever didn't like it). Elsewhere in the house, Preston cried out Indie's name, announcing his orgasm for the whole neighborhood to hear, and Efrain's fingers twitched on my ass.

That was all the warning I got before his hips snapped forward, slamming his cock into me with enough force that the dresser rocked backward and thumped against the wall. Efrain pounded my ass fast and hard, and it was all I could do to not get thrown into the furniture, let alone care that Preston and Indie could hear that we were picking up where they'd left off. I'd been pent up and horny as fuck for days, then completely aroused by the taboo of overhearing our friends getting off in the basement. Last night's mutual blowjob had taken the edge off, but nothing short of a solid fuck would make my need manageable enough to function.

I needed this.

I worked my hand on my cock as his thrusts grew erratic. He fucked me through his orgasm, continued on until I got mine. Cum dribbled down legs that were suddenly too unsteady to hold me up. It took very little time for the thrill of his rough and fast quicky sex to overwhelm me and I joined 'Rain in making a huge fucking mess.

We were almost late for Friday's last minute football practice before Saturday's game because we had to clean up.

Sitting around the kitchen with my best friend, sharing coffee and watching Efrain put together a Cheat Day breakfast for four, only days after witnessing him and Indie going at it, was strange. No one had said anything, but it was understood that we'd overheard the other couple, and that they'd overheard us. I still hadn't been able to admit to Preston that I'd seen them, or that we'd totally gotten our rocks off on it.

Despite that, there was a comfortable vibe going on with the four of us chilling on a weekend morning that was odd in its normalcy. The first time we'd hung out together, just us, and it felt right somehow.

Indie had come in earlier and started frying bacon. Two packages worth of the good stuff. When I had ribbed Indie about the amount, Efrain ribbed Indie about his late-night BLT habit. While Efrain pulled down a couple spice canisters (I recognized the cinnamon sticks, but had to be told that the little nut-looking things were nutmeg) and nabbed a funny yellowish root, Preston took a break from snapping photos and live-tweeting our morning to pick up the pumpkin spice and look at the back panel.

"This already has ginger in it," he said.

"And it's probably too old to be potent," Efrain said flatly. He picked up a rasp and grated cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger into the dry ingredients. "You have to use even more to get the job done, and it still won't taste right. Also," he pointed the rasp at Preston, "fuck pumpkin spice."

"But, you're making pumpkin spice pancakes," Indie said.

"No, I'm making pumpkin pancakes," Efrain said.

"Would be better as pumpkin waffles," I thought out loud.

"Not like the batter would be that much different," Efrain shrugged. "Just more sugar and fat."

"Wait a minute! You've got to have one of those things laying around here." Preston jumped up and started going through the cabinets. "It takes up tons space and is practically useless for anything else; Claire had to have bought one."

"Bought one what?" I said. "And who's Claire?"

"A waffle iron," Preston said. "Probably expensive as hell and never been used."

"My step-mother," Indie said, answering my second question.

Efrain sighed then called over his shoulder to Preston. "Bottom cabinet, second from the right, all the way in the back."

Preston looked in the identified spot. "Victory!" he whooped as he pulled out a rather heavy high-end appliance. "Three cheers for Consumer Whore Claire!"

Efrain made jazz hands and mouthed a sarcastic "Yay". But, he made the needed adjustments to the batter as Preston dusted off the virgin Belgian waffle iron. He plonked it down on the island where Efrain had been mixing ingredients. It was obvious, to me at least, that this was the first time Efrain had really looked at the iron as he started going on about ceramic coating, and rotating, and two-at-a-time, almost as if he was two seconds from jizzing in his pants. The look in his eyes was pretty damn close to the ones he makes right before he throws my ass down and has his way with me...

...Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand I'm now popping a boner over my boyfriend's reaction to a kitchen appliance. Great.

I caught Preston smirking over the rim of his coffee mug and realized my junk rearrangement wasn't as discreet as I thought it was.

"He's double-stuffing it," he told me with this conspiratorial tone.

"It can handle two loads without a problem," I shrugged.

"Flip it and hit it on both sides," Preston added.

"Two huge loads, one waffle iron."

"Hot double-stuffing action."

"Watch this Belgian take it again and again."

"Wouldn't that be a waffle gang bang by that point?" Preston asked.

"Waffle batter bukake?"

"Would you two stop?" Efrain was going for exasperated, but I could still see him fighting off a grin.

"Yeah," Indie said, draping an arm across Efrain's shoulders, "let him pop its waffle cherry in peace."

Efrain narrowed his eyes at Indie. Preston hid another smirk while sipping coffee, looking between them. "...wouldn't even have to bend his knees," he purred quietly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Efrain asked.

"I'll tell you when you're older," he replied.

"Indie, get your toy in line." Efrain pointed at Preston. "Or you can forget about me feeding you."

Preston said something under his breath, but I only caught the "feeding him" and "next wank's fantasy" parts, and I wasn't even sure if I'd heard him correctly, but a small voice in the back of my mind warned me that I probably didn't want to know.

At any rate, Efrain got busy double stuffing and flipping, and we tried to not giggle when batter leaked out. Soon, a nice stack of waffles formed on the platter. It was odd that a college student, even a grad student, would have a full set of serving dishes. I wondered about the full legacy of Consumer Whore Claire until the last of the waffles and bacon were done and we started loading up our plates. Indie and Preston surprised us both when they followed us into the living room with their breakfast. They took up residence on the other couch and tucked in as if they did this every Sunday.

Preston continued documenting everything with his phone. Efrain double stuffing, Indie tending the bacon, me leaning on the counter and cradling my favorite coffee mug, a selfie with his artfully arranged plate. To be honest, he Oprah'd the fuck out of those selfies. Selfies with me, selfies with Efrain, selfies with Indie. You get a selfie! And you get a selfie! And you get a selfie! Everyone gets a selfie!

He nabbed a shot of Efrain and me on the couch. That one he posted immediately as I'd been in the middle of taking a massive bite. Not a very flattering look. Then, Preston jumped on our couch, draped himself across our laps, paint-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls style, and snapped another selfie.

"Dude," Efrain groused. "Not cool."

"Totes cool," he chirped. "Besides, you fed me sugar. Lots of sugar. What did you expect? Oh, and caffeine! Y'all need to learn when to cut me off."

"Spaz," Indie said.

Preston regarded Indie with narrowed eyes for a second, then crooked his finger. Indie rolled his eyes, but came over anyway, plopping down on the floor between our legs and resting his head against Preston's side. Like all the other times, Indie seemed surprised that Preston was including him in the photo. While not as strong as the initial photos, Indie made the same bemused expression every time Preston pointed his phone at him.

Preston lifted up his phone for yet another selfie.

"Bah, my arms are too damn short to get everyone," he spat. "It's times like these that I wished I was tacky enough to own a selfie stick."

"Here." Efrain took the phone, lifting it high above our heads, and snapped a shot of the four of us looking up.

"Oh, perfect!" Preston said when Efrain handed back the phone.

Eventually, Indie ended up lying back against Preston's chest with the cheerleader's limber legs wrapped around him, while Efrain and I snuggled up under a lap blanket (I liked the picture he took enough that I saved it on my phone). In between sports commentary and commercials, we caught up on our respective holidays. Preston's wasn't all that eventful. Kent and Ellie were getting a little bit older, so they were less of a pain to be around.

"They're still a pain nonetheless," he said.

"They'll always be," Efrain assured him. "Younger siblings are a pain in the ass, no matter how old they get."

"Big brothers, on the other hand," I said, "will always be dicks."

"You shady bitch," Preston laughed. "Almost forgot you were the baby."

"Baby?" Indie asked.

"Yeah, I'm the youngest of four," I said, elbowing a quietly snickering Efrain, if only to hide my discomfort at remembering the context in which I last heard Indie say baby. "My brothers are between 5 and 8 years older."

"The accident?" Preston said.

"Cameron was the accident," I answered. "They thought I was the milkman's kid until they realized Dad's vasectomy had reversed itself."

"Still," Indie said, "I'd rather have the pain in the ass or the dick."

"Of course you would," Preston purred. Indie swatted his thigh.

"Step-brothers," Efrain said and Indie nodded. "Hey, at least your step-brothers didn't try to molest your boyfriend in his sleep."

"Wait, that's what you were squabbling about?" I asked.

"Oh, this sounds like a fun story," Preston said.

"Zoe jumped on our bed Thanksgiving morning—" Efrain said.

"A really fun story..."

"Our bed?" Indie said. "They didn't think it was weird that you were sleeping in the same bed?"

Efrain rolled his eyes. "About that..." We took turns going through our holiday, from Wednesday's dinner disaster and surprise outing, to Thursday's pillow fight and dinner victory. Efrain even rolled out the video clips of my Schrodinger's Queer speech.

"You seriously gushed to his entire family about how much you enjoyed his sausage?" Indie laughed.

"Not his entire family," I muttered and Preston busted out laughing. I'd replayed that scene in my head enough to realize I'd unwittingly said a lot more than that.

"But, you're out to your family," Indie said to Efrain. "That's pretty cool."

Preston sobered up. "Not an ideal situation, but still...congratulations."

"I didn't really do anything," Efrain shrugged. "Just kinda happened."

"You still went back and faced them," he reasoned. "And you openly recognized Cory. So, my congrats still stands. Now, all we need to do is get Kitten out at home."

"I'm thinking about it," I said. "But, I hear that other congratulations are in order."

"Laurel and Mike posted that they're engaged," Efrain said. "That happen over the holiday?"

A muscle ticked in Indie's jaw. "No, they've been engaged since the summer. She hid the ring then swore their parents to secrecy. Even my fucking mother knew before I did." His mouth tensed. "Then she pulls me aside before dinner to tell me like she thought it would upset me or something."

"But you're her best friend," I said.

"Trying to protect my feelings since I obviously still wasn't over my ex."

"You're not?" Efrain asked.

"You kidding me? She assumed that I was still hung up on him since I wasn't seeing anyone. And then Preston..." Indie trailed off as if remembering something. He narrowed his eyes at me. "And you..."

"Me?"

He signed. "Not you exactly, that fucking party at Kiley's. They were trying to get me to fuck somebody so she could feel better about sending out 'save the date' cards."

"Harsh," I said.

"Give her the benefit of the doubt, man," Efrain said. "She probably thought she was doing the right thing."

"I know, I know. I'm just tired of being pitied all the damn time," Indie said. "Thank God I didn't tell her about the fucking pot incident."

"Pot incident?" Preston asked.

"Jameson threw a pot at my head."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Indie!" Preston swore. "Did you tell anyone? The cops?"

"Naw, this is the first time I've told anyone."

I felt Efrain stiffen. "The 3-quart copper-core Dutch oven. You ran to the guest bathroom and started puking the first time you saw me use it. Said it was something you ate." Indie nodded. "The dent in the cabinet?"

"He had shit aim."

"He didn't..." I started.

"Hit me?" He shook his head. "Mostly shoving."

"You fought back?"

"Once. Not my finest moment. He shoved, I shoved, next thing you know we're in a fist fight." He shrugged as Preston wrapped his arms around him. "But, we're talking about two nerds throwing punches, which was about as effective as playing dodgeball with a throw pillow. I learned to not shove back, at least."

I had no idea how I was supposed to react. What exactly do you say? I looked at my boyfriend and bestfriend in case they had a better handle on how to act. Efrain looked ill, the color completely drained from his face. Preston's face looked absolutely livid, as if comforting Indie was the only thing keeping his hands too occupied to punch things.