“Not like this. She’s funny, and she’s nice. She’s really kind, you can tell, she’s got a nice energy. She feels…”
“Tight?” I smirked. “Nice tight snatch, has she?”
“That isn’t what this is about.”
“But she has?”
He grinned. “Yeah, she has.”
“I should hope so. We’re paying her enough.”
I leaned against the sink as he wiped his sorry ass. “You don’t even mean it. You just say it for something to moan about.”
He had me there. “Let’s just see if she turns up again before you go professing your undying devotion, shall we?”
I walked away to dress, pulling on a t-shirt while he watched.
“You have my undying devotion, Carl.”
“I should hope so.” I grabbed some jeans from my wardrobe.
“You know you do,” he said. “I love you.”
Fucking Rick and his blurts of affection. “Thanks.”
He flushed the toilet. “And that’s it, is it?” He washed his hands. “Thanks?”
“Thanks. Very much?” I buttoned up my jeans.
He propped himself in the doorway, and his body was incredible in the morning light. His cock was thick and perfectly proportioned, the glint of silver in the end demanding my eye. “And…?”
“And what?”
“Are you going to say it?”
I feigned ignorance. “Say what?”
“You know what. You never fucking say it.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, admiring the view. “Surely Little Miss Horsey hasn’t got you running insecure? I barely even touched her.”
“This isn’t about her,” he said. “It’s about us.”
I pulled a face. “Jesus Christ.”
“I’m being serious, Carl. Can’t you just fucking say it?”
“I love your tight little asshole, Richard. I love it very much.”
“Fine.” His eyes darkened, and his shoulders turned rigid, his movements jerky as he pulled his clothes from his chest of drawers.
I laughed. “Sensitive this morning.”
“Just… whatever, Carl.”
He pulled on some boxers and I rolled my eyes at his back. “Seriously. You know I don’t need to spell this shit out. We’re not five, Rick. What do you want? Little love hearts and flowery kisses?”
“Whatever.”
“Christ, Rick, what’s this even about?”
He folded his arms and faced me, and his gaze was firm. “Why can’t you say it?”
“I can,” I scoffed. “I’m just not so… gushy.”
“You can’t,” he said. “It makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?”
I didn’t answer.
“Is it because I’m a guy? I thought you were over all that?”
My words came out harsh. “I am over all that. I’ve long been over all that. Fucking hell, Rick, that lasted a fucking week, at best.”
“What, then?”
I scowled at him. “Like I said, I’m just not so extravagant with my words. What difference does it make? I’m here. You know exactly how things are.”
“Maybe I want to hear it. You always want it straight up from everyone else. Why can’t you say it?”
“That isn’t even vaguely the same thing.” I got to my feet. “That’s a ridiculous parallel.” A dark strip of lace peeped from under the covers. I pulled it out. Katie’s knickers. Without thought, I held them to my nose. Breathed her in. Nice.
“I just want to know. It’s good to hear sometimes.” He sighed. “Unless you don’t.”
I ran the gusset between my fingers. “Unless I don’t what?”
“Feel like that.”
“Like what?” The lace was fine, and the scent of her was glorious.
Rick slapped the chest of drawers, uncharacteristically irritable. “Just forget it.”
“And you’re going to be all hissy now, are you?”
He shrugged and he was walking away. Rick never walks away.
It made me lose my shit.
I grabbed him by the elbow and his eyes were wide as I pulled him back. He slammed into the wall with a thud and I pinned him, my shoulder pressed to his as I pulled down his boxers. And I said it. Even though the words made me icky to my stomach, exposed and uncomfortable and highly fucking awkward, I said it.
“I love you.”
His cock was hard against my thigh. “Say it again.”
I took his cock in my hand, wrapped the lace of Katie’s frilly knickers around him. He groaned as I worked his shaft. “Don’t fucking want much, do you?” I squeezed until he groaned. “I love you, Rick. Since you fucking insist on hearing it. I love you, I love you, I fucking love you. Hearts and roses and soppy fucking kisses. Is that what you want, Rick? You want to hear me make a fucking sap of myself? Is that what makes you fucking hard, pretty boy?”
“Fuck, Carl. Fuck.”
His fingers were at my jeans, and I was relieved. My balls were tight and hot, the scent of sweet pussy lingering on