Friends with Benefits Pt. 03

"I'm not moping!" Chris snorted. Ok, I was moping. I didn't know what to do about it though. Dylan said he'd call me, and he hadn't. I was pretty sure I'd totally blown it. I wasn't even totally sure what I'd done- I mean, ok, I'd started to fake an orgasm after he asked me not to but was that really worth throwing months of what we had away? Maybe it was. I cleared my throat.

"Would you be mad if a girl faked it with you?" I asked Chris. He frowned at me. He didn't say anything for a minute, staring off into space, looking thoughtful.

"How does that work?" He said eventually. I shrugged.

"You know, like pretended like, sex was-" Chris laughed.

"No, I know what you mean, I just don't get how Dylan was faking it with you, I mean isn't it kind of obvious with a guy?" Oh my god. I blushed and banged my head on the table. I thought I was so subtle. Oh well, in for a penny...

"Trust me, it's doable. And he wasn't faking, I was." Chris sighed.

"Oh dude." I glanced at him. "That's gotta really hurt his ego." Yeah. I guess. Chris shook his head. "What the fuck did you need to fake it for? I've heard you two..." I groaned and covered my ears. I didn't want to know how much my flatmates knew about my sex life.

"So... it's pretty bad?" Chris nodded.

"I think if my long term girlfriend had been faking it with me for god knows how long I might need quite a lot of convincing to face her again." I sighed.

"Shit." Chris shook his head at me.

"Just fucking apologise. Tell him all that shit you tell him when he fucks you. You know, how big his-" I stood up and held out my hands as I turned bright red.

"Oh my god Chris. Shut up." He shrugged. Ok. If I ever got back with Dylan we were definitely going to have to keep it down.

I was mulling over how to say sorry when I accidentally forwarded him something that made me laugh. As soon as I pressed send I grew bright red. Ah shit. I couldn't not talk to him for days and then send him a meme about Star Trek.

Um. I should have texted earlier. I miss you Dyl.

He invited me over for dinner and said he'd missed me a lot. Hmmm. Maybe we could just sweep the whole thing under the rug. That's what Eric and I did after a fight, and it worked fine. Well. Until the next fight.

I must have been cheerier on site after lunch, everyone mentioned I was in a good mood.

"Think I'm out of the doghouse." I explained to my supervisor Blake.

"Good boy." He nodded.

We went to Dylan's room and hung out, catching up on the last few days. Eventually there was a lull. He stared at me. Oh no. He wanted me to do it. Say sorry. Or at the very least say something. My mouth went dry. Apologise. I could do that- I did that all the time. But then we'd have to talk, he wasn't letting me off again with just telling him I'd change... Ugh.

"I'm sorry Dyl." I sat up with a deep breath. I had to start sooner or later. I would have voted for later personally. Later or absolutely never- but I was going to lose him if it didn't man the fuck up. "Look- I was still processing- and then... I'm just not used to blow jobs... and I kind of panicked when it wasn't happening. I just wanted you to feel good, because you are good, you're amazing and I didn't want you to think I didn't think so- but I get it, I get why that's not ok."

"Do you?" Dylan grunted. He was sitting opposite me on his bed. We hadn't actually touched yet, although I wanted nothing more than to embrace him.

"I thought a lot about what you said. I'm not used to... feeling good for the sake of feeling good." I blushed. "And to be honest I guess I got really comfortable not having to think too much. It's not my strong suit. just... that's not how it's been for me before yeah? I promise I'll try harder to just- be your boyfriend, but you have to understand there are some things that just... they're just gonna take time." Dylan nodded.

"Ok. I get that. I can work with that." I reached for him hesitantly. "I can't work with a guy who doesn't talk to me though." He took my hand and kissed my fingers. "You reckon you could try talking to me instead of faking shit?" I nodded.

"I can try..." Dylan shook his head.

"No. Try not. Do or do not. There is no try." He smiled as I rolled my eyes at him and he pulled me into him as I agreed.

"Fuck I missed you. My boss said he was gonna fire me if I didn't get back with you." He laughed. "I've been so shitty all week."

"My flatmates threatened to kick me out." We laughed and I took a deep breath.

"Um. So. I realise it's about more than just the blow jobs... but uh... re the blow jobs I uh... I came up with a... something we could try..." Dylan looked at me thoughtfully. "Set a timer for ten minutes, right? And I swear I will fully relax and enjoy myself for ten minutes, but if I don't cum in that window that's fine ok? We move on." Dylan contemplated that.

"10 minutes isn't very long. I can go for an hour if you need." I smiled at him. An hour? Sure thing, bud.

"You're very talented, but I'd be having a panic attack if you made me try for that long." He grinned and pulled out his phone.

"Ok." He said. Oh shit I hadn't expected him to dive in. Ok, I could do this. I undid my trousers and started stroking my dick, trying to get it at least a little hard- the little guy was nervous I could tell. I surrendered to Dylan, who placed a firm hand on my chest and passed me his phone. He knelt between my legs and I pressed the timer to start as he gently started licking my balls. It felt amazing.

I sighed and leant back as he started to work on my dick. Unlike me Dylan had a gag reflex but he could fit me in his mouth regardless, I guess that's one of the blessings of a small dick. I breathed deeply and tried to enjoy it, muttering stuff under my breath without really realising it. The timer went off just as I was starting to feel those pangs of anxiety from not cumming, and Dylan sat up.

"Well that was enlightening." He said.

"How so?" Dylan grinned.

"Your dirty talk." He said. Ah shit, what had I been saying out loud? I blushed. He grinned and kissed me. Weird, I hadn't tasted my own dick in someone's mouth before. "I love you." He held my head in his hands and refused to look me in the eye. I tilted his chin up.

"I love you too." I made sure he believed me, sealing my words with another kiss. I spread my legs a little as we pulled apart. "You wanna..." I was still horny. Dylan checked the time.

"We have a booking." He said.

"Oh- I thought we were eating here."

"Na, I wanted to go out. Do you mind?" He blinked at me. "Sorry. I should have checked."

"I love going out dumbass. Beats your shitty cooking any day." He laughed and pulled me into a kiss.

"Ouch." He smiled. "Just because it's true doesn't mean you have to say it."

--

We got dressed- I borrowed a shirt from him and teased him about always having clothes for me. He blushed violently pink and as intriguing as that was I decided tonight wasn't the night for interrogating him- I was still on thin ice. I grimaced in his mirror.

"You look hot." He said from across the room.

"Hmm." I laughed. "Hot trash." He rolled his eyes. It was alright for him, he didn't need to try hard to look hot. And he did try hard. I know my limits- I look best in a jockstrap and nothing else and unfortunately you just can't wear that to dinner. Oh well.

--

He gave me a look when I grabbed his chair for him. Oh shit, that's right. I blushed. I truly didn't even realise I was doing it... Well- too late now. I sat down opposite him cringing.

"I wasn't thinking." I said. Dylan laughed.

"I can't believe I'm sitting across from a guy begging him to be less considerate of me."

"Dad would be shocked to hear anyone ever had that problem with me." I opened the menu and glanced at it before putting it aside. "So what are we eating?"

"We can pick a couple of things each."

"Na, I'm not fussed." Dylan glared at me. Fuck. We hadn't even started and I was already making him mad. His expression softened when he saw the confusion on my face.

"You're doing it again babe." He said softly. "Just pick something, ok?" Oh. Right. Weird. My mind started to drift back to living with Eric. He liked that I didn't really question him when it came to food. I didn't really question him when it came to most things actually, it made life easier. We argued all the time but we both got off on that... At the end of the day we always went where he wanted, ate what he chose... I wore what he wanted at home...

Oh my god. I don't even think I can blame Eric for this. I think I liked never making decisions. I think I liked being his boy- and I was trying to be Dylan's now. But Dylan never asked for that. He wanted a man.

"What did you want?" Dylan interrupted my thoughts and I noticed the waiter was at the table. Fuck, Id been staring at the menu for like 5 minutes and didnt have a clue.

"Do you like eggplant?" I asked him. He nodded.

"Yeah that looks good." I smiled at the waiter and they scribbled it down.

"I zoned out." I admitted. "Um... and... the lamb? What did you order?"

"Goat pizza and chips." He laughed. "Sharing right?"

"Yeah." The waiter smiled and disappeared and Dylan rolled his eyes at me.

"Not so hard right?"

"Well I should clearly pay more attention because you know I don't want chips. I'm trying to retain these fucking abs you like so much." Dylan laughed.

"So why do you always eat mine when we go out?" I laughed.

The food arrived and it all looked great. I felt my stomach rumble as I looked at it. I leant back and sipped on my beer and asked Dylan more about his new cocktail menu he'd been working on. He smiled.

"It's mezcal based, our new chef is Mexican and everything's heading in a new kind of direction. I like it though, it'll be good for your guys- they like the vibes. Those office twats can't manage spice, they're gonna have to start going somewhere else. Can't say I'll miss them." He ordered another drink and leant back. The waiter paused when he dropped it off.

"This was... what you ordered right?" He gestured at the food. Dylan grinned and nodded. The waiter shrugged. Oh. I felt my cheeks get warm again. How on earth did I not realise what I was like to eat out with? Dylan was waiting for me, and I, without even thinking, was waiting for him. I helped myself slowly. It felt a little... a little taboo if I'm honest. I glanced at him and loaded my fork. I bit and Dylan smiled. He helped himself as well and we started to talk again.

"Good call on the eggplant." He muttered with his mouth full. "Sfucking good." I felt weirdly proud, and then very embarrassed for feeling proud.

He got the bill, he said he owed me- which was true. He took my hand as we walked home.

"You did good tonight Gus." And that's when I realised however well he thought I'd done, it didn't count. None of it counted. Because I was doing it to make him happy, and to hear him tell me I was a good boy- which was exactly what got me into the relationship with Eric. Dammit. I really liked Dylan. I wanted to be his equal. I just didn't know how to let go of the idea I should be serving him. Christ.

--

I was leaving site a couple of days later when it began to piss down with rain. Great. I was walking home. I checked the bus timetable and saw I'd just missed the last bus. Super great.

I grumbled to myself as I started to haul my ass over the hill. I trudged home, completely soaking wet, my arms on fire from carrying my tools. I waited for a break in the rain but it didn't come.

About halfway home, near the University, the strap on my tool bag gave out again and I swore as my shit went spilling into the street.

"Oh man." I glanced up to see a guy laughing at me. I scowled. "Sorry!" He said. "Shitty luck dude!" He helped me gather my things and apologised for laughing. I shrugged him off and he paused. "Hey wanna lift?" He said. "My mate is picking me up in a minute."

"That's ok, thanks." I tried to take my leave. You know what they say about riding in strange cars with strange boys.

"Here he is!" The guy said cheerily. I glanced up to see the familiar black Audi and sighed.

"Thanks but I'm good." I tried to duck away but it was too late. Eric peered out of the car.

"Gus?" He asked.

"Hey." I muttered. He sighed as he looked me over.

"Get in."

"I'm good."

"You're not good!" The guy who'd helped me out laughed. He grabbed my tool bag and I was hustled into the back seat before I could protest. "That's Gus? GUS Gus?" The guy whispered to Eric. I pretended not to hear. Eric said nothing and drove me home in silence.

Unfortunately the other guy, Patrick, had to get out first and Eric pulled me into the front seat.

"Feel like a fucking chauffeur." He complained.

"I didn't want a lift." I said.

"You did want a lift, you just didn't want to see me." He said.

"What do you want, a medal in reading the room?" I sighed. He grinned as he looked at me.

"So how's Dave Mustaine?"

"Dylan's good." I glanced at him. "You dating?" He shook his head.

"I was seeing a guy but my friends told me it was unhealthy so I'm single again."

"Unhealthy?" Eric smiled and started to fiddle with his phone, which made me nervous. I hate people who don't pay attention on the road.

"There." He handed me his phone and I looked at it. A picture of the guy. I bit back a smirk. He was short and blonde and a little twinkier than me but...

"Fuck man. You have a type." He laughed.

"Unhealthy." He said. "He wasn't anything like you though. Very sweet boy." I laughed.

"Well no wonder it didn't last." Eric grinned and I looked at him. "Hey..." I said slowly. "Look, I was thinking the other day. Did you ever notice how um... you know. You made all the decisions for us?" Eric glanced at me.

"What, you mean you never had an opinion on anything and it drove me crazy?" I frowned.

"You mean you used to give me so much shit whenever I suggested anything it made me not want to say anything to annoy you?" He tapped the steering wheel.

"Did... was it like that?" He said quietly.

"A bit." I muttered. "Although I guess I never said anything about it. I just wanted you to be happy." Eric sighed.

"I'm sorry." He said. "I can be a real cunt huh?"

"Well I'm a dumb fucking pushover so that didn't help."

"You're not a pushover."

"Even Dylan thinks I'm a pushover and you know him." Eric laughed. He glanced at me.

"Rough patch?" He suggested. I glanced back at him and tried not to look him in the eye.

"I'm struggling a bit." I admitted. "I think I got used to not having to stand on my own two feet. You always took care of me." Eric sighed. He pulled over and looked at me.

"Well. I could help. If you want."

"What do you mean help?" I frowned at him.

"I mean, I fucked you up right? I could unfuck you." I laughed.

"What does that mean?" Eric grinned.

"Well. I think it's fair to say I can be a bit demanding... "

"Oh you think?"

"And I think it's fair to say... one way or another I guess I taught you how to make me happy. Which, you know, really means I taught you to be my sub..." I blushed. I mean. One way or another, yeah. That's kind of what happened. He cleared his throat and sat back to look at me. "So I think it's fair to say, probably, if you wanted... I could teach you how to be a dom." I blushed.

"Ahh..."

"Dylan wants that doesn't he?" Eric insisted. "He'd not like me. He doesn't want a hot little slave. He wants a hot boyfriend who takes charge every now and then." I blushed.

"You're actually quite insightful under all that cuntiness." Eric laughed.

"I am, aren't I?"

——

Chris looked up at me as I entered the flat with Eric. He scowled.

"Thanks for the lift." I said, taking my tools off Eric. He nodded.

"See ya." He said, glancing at Chris and quickly making his exit. Chris glared at me.

"Making it hard not to hit you." He said.

"I didn't sleep with him!" I protested.

"Wow, well done." Chris said. "Must have been hard for you, your legs seem to spread automatically whenever you see him."

"Fuck off!" Not that I had much of a leg to stand on there.

"I'm sticking with Dylan in the breakup." He said. "He's way nicer."

"Chris... he just happened to drive past and it was pissing down..." I held out my tools helplessly. Chris shrugged.

"Uber." He said.

"Chris please. I'm not going to fuck it up with Dylan over Eric."

"You sure about that?" I put down my tools with a sigh. No. I glared at Chris.

"You berating me won't help." I muttered. His eyes softened a bit.

"Promise me you won't see him again." He said.

"I promise." I lied.

---

Dylan was going through my room a few weeks later while we were waiting for the wild boar I'd managed to wrangle off a friend after we went hunting and I caught sweet fuck all. I watched him touch all my possessions carefully and frowned as he smiled.

"So. I'm here." I said. "You could fondle me instead of the books." He glanced at me and laughed.

"You really do read anything huh?" He said. I looked at the book he was holding and smiled.

"You'd like that one." I said. "EM Forster was gay but he never came out. I can't read it without crying." Dylan nodded.

"Oh yeah." He said. "I have a book like that. Like it ends all sad but don't worry, the main dude's not actually dying. He's totally fine and he just wants to live in peace on a mountain..."

"What book is that?" I frowned. Dylan winked at me.

"Transmetropolitan." He laughed. "So when does the alien cult show up in this?" I rolled my eyes and he laughed as he sat down beside me holding the book.

"And what's all that?" He pointed to the stack of notebooks beside my bed and reached for one.

"Don't." I warned as he opened it.

"Oh shit." He said. "That's me." I groaned in embarrassment as he read the text accompanying the picture. "

I liked guys with thick, meaty thighs and arse- I wasn't about to complain about his four pack not being a six pack..." Dylan looked at me and I winced.

"I do a bit of journaling." I muttered.

"A bit." He said, looking at the pile. "You never told me? This is incredible!" I pulled the book away and flipped through it- I stopped at a sketch I'd done of us out to dinner, my thoughts as I'd tried and failed to appreciate the overpriced wine he chose. He laughed as he read it.

"You should publish these."

"What, on deviant art?"

"Or Amazon. Or try someone local." He touched the page. "You're so..." He frowned. "Surprising sometimes." I shrugged.

"It's not really for anyone else to read." I said. "It's just how I process things." Dylan looked at me. He started to flip through and I stopped him.

"Ah... there's stuff in there I..." I blushed. "Sorry, I'm not trying to hide anything... it's just that." Dylan smiled and shook his head.

"No apology needed." He said. "I don't need anyone going over my Instagram from four years years ago either." He squeezed my hand. "But maybe you could show me a curated version sometime." I shrugged.

"I mean sure. It's not that interesting." He laughed and cradled me.

"It is!" He said. "You're an artist! And a writer! Anything else you don't think is that interesting?" I pressed myself to his chest.

"I made that." I pointed to the bedside table. "And the kitchen table."

"What?!" Dylan sat up. "I thought you were just... labouring?! You make furniture?" I shrugged.

"Badly."

"Oh my God, Gus!" He laughed. "Jesus Christ I'm dating fucking Da Vinci!" I laughed.

"Oh come off it. I'm ok."

"You idiot." He laughed. "God, I have to step it up- all I do is clothes and cocktails."

"And guitar." I reminded him. "And gardening." He shrugged.