When A Girl Canceled On Us 05 (Patreon)

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Chapter 5: Schrödinger’s Cock

We packed up the campsite in a quiet rhythm. We were sort of just on the same page, and exhausted from the weekend. Wiped, but in a good way. Once we cleaned up all the stuff, the same place that had felt like a wild two-person party all weekend now just looked like a normal patch of dirt and trees. He rolled up the sleeping bags while I kicked dirt over the fire pit, neither of us saying much.

“So… Christmas,” he said finally, tying off a rope on his pack.

“Yeah,” I said. “My Mom's gonna love you. She loves anyone who eats her cooking.”

He smirked. “I can do that.”

“You sure it’s not weird?” he asked. “Me just showing up at your house like that.”

“It’ll be less weird than you think,” I said. “Trust me. And I’ve told them about you before, since you were first assigned as my Big.”

My phone stayed face down in my pocket. His stayed zipped in the top pocket of his jacket. Neither of us mentioned Jake for a while, or what he might’ve told the house. It felt safer not to know for some reason.

“You ever notice how when a gay guy gets exposed, people talk about them getting ‘outed’, like it’s a singular moment?” I said.

Brandon glanced over while folding the chairs away. “Yeah, like once we’ve found out, everyone knows.”

I exhaled a short laugh. “But for us, it’s like as long as I don’t look at my phone, it’s both fine and scary at the same time. It’s a Schrödinger’s cock in my ass.”

He laughed with his whole body.

“Yeah,” he said. “But let’s just wait til the drive out to text Jake. This feels more like a slow leak.”

“Like the Titanic,” I said.

He laughed again. “Wow, we’ve been gay lovers for two days and you’re already a drama queen.”

“Oh my god,” I said, jerking my head toward him, my eyes narrowed, “Lovers?”

“What?” he said with a half smile.

“That word is… so gross,” I said, exaggerating a gag.

—[]—

We drove straight to my house. “We’re already packed,” we reasoned, like that somehow made the decision more logical. Really, neither of us wanted to go back to campus yet. My house felt like neutral ground. Warm, quiet, away from prying eyes and any lingering frat group friends.

The car filled with the same vibes we’d had all weekend. Every time I shifted gears, and my hand was near his leg, there was an unspoken question of “Are we gonna do something sexual right now?”. At a stoplight, his hand rested on my thigh for a bit, then slid away like it had never been there. A few miles later, it happened again.

“Dude, focus on the road,” he said, half laughing, half serious, when I drifted a little too close to the shoulder.

“Yeah,” I said, clearing my throat. “Probably smart.”

“Seriously,” he said, as he lowered his head down to my crotch, pulling my dick out of my pants. 

I tensed, but stayed focused on the road, as he put my dick in his mouth. It felt so good, but I was not experienced enough to do these two things at once. 

I accidentally veered into the next lane, then swerved before I hit another car. He rose up suddenly as I shouted in fear.

We both sat back in our seats afterward, quiet, our hearts beating fast, a layer of sweat forming on my forehead, feeling cool. It was like we’d just gotten away with something. The trees along the highway blurred past, and the silence felt heavy for a minute.

“We should probably text Jake,” he said finally.

I nodded. “Yeah. Better to know.”

He pulled out his phone and typed.

Brandon: So… what exactly did you tell people?

The typing bubble appeared, disappeared, then came back.

Jake: Relax. Didn’t tell anyone, Brokeback Boys secret is safe.

Brandon snorted. “Of course he’d say that.”

“Did he sound serious?” I asked.

“He never sounds serious.” He locked his phone and tossed it into the cup holder.

I nodded, even though I wasn’t totally convinced. Still, hearing that it hadn’t spread through the whole house felt like a temporary shield.

“See,” he said, leaning back. “Crisis averted. Just two straight guys having a boys weekend.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Totally normal.”

—[]—

When we pulled up to my house, the porch light was on. I turned to Brandon, who looked more nervous than I expected. We didn’t say anything as we got out with our bags and headed in. My Mom opened the door before we even knocked. Warm air and the smell of something baking rolled out past her.

“There you are,” she said, pulling me into a quick hug before turning to Brandon. “And you must be Brandon. I’ve heard so much about you over the past few months!”

He stiffened for half a second, then smiled politely. “All good things, I hope.”

“Of course,” she said, stepping aside. “Come in, come in. You must be freezing. I just made hot chocolate.”

The house felt exactly the same as it always had. Soft lights, music playing somewhere in the house, a classic rock channel on the TV that my Mom always had on, the faint sound of a pot bubbling. My dog came skidding around the corner, nails clicking on the floor, and immediately lost control of himself when he saw us.

“Oh no,” I muttered as he squatted right by the entryway.

Brandon burst out laughing, the tension draining out of his shoulders. I could see him relax in real time, the nerves gone the second the dog peed on the floor and turned the whole moment into a joke. 

“He gets excited meeting new people sometimes,” I said as I dragged him outside.

“That hasn’t happened in years,” my Mom said, “You must be special.”

I saw his face turn a little red, the confident, alpha male from the frat having disappeared into a young, naive boy in the face of a romantic suggestion, even if my Mom had no idea what she was saying. He looked up at me, and I snuck in a clandestine wink at him while no one else was looking. He turned toward the snacks my Mom had laid out. 

“Wow,” he said, his mouth already full of spinach pastry puff ball things as he stuffed in another. “I can’t believe these are vegan!”

—[]—

"We need a shower," I said after several minutes of banter, and catching up, suddenly aware of how we both smelled like boy funk, mixed with campfire, lake water, and the long drive.

Brandon glanced down at his shirt, tugging at the arm pit and sniffing it. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. Your Mom seems way too nice to deserve this level of male essence in her house.”

"Show him up to the bathroom and the guest room, and give him a towel," Mom said. 

I laughed. “Come on. Bathroom’s upstairs.”

We climbed the stairs together, the sounds of the kitchen fading behind us. The house felt warm and safe, but the second we were alone in the hallway, that familiar tension crept back in. It was like the weekend had followed us inside.

He paused outside the bathroom door. “You first,” he said.

I shook my head. “Nah, you’re the guest.”

He smirked. “Then be a good host… and share.”

I looked around slowly, heard my Mom singing along to an old Led Zeppelin song while a wooden spoon clanged against a glass mixing bowl. My Dad was still out, and as far as I knew my brother hadn’t even arrived home yet. 

I pushed him into the bathroom, and followed him in quickly. I shut the door behind us and leaned against it for a second. The hallway light cut off, leaving only the soft yellow glow from the bathroom above the sink, and the obscured natural light from the window in the shower. He reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off in one smooth motion. His shoulders rolled as he stretched, the muscles in his back shifting under his skin.

It still felt unreal seeing him like that here, in the house I grew up in, with the smell of cookies and cinnamon just outside the door.

“You just gonna stare?” he asked, half smiling as he reached for his waistband.

“Maybe,” I said. “You started it.”

He laughed quietly and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down his legs along with his underwear. My eyes were glued to his big dick as it flopped out, bouncing over his balls, its superior length even jiggling left and right. I followed his lead, stripping out of my own clothes, the air of the bathroom cool against my skin. For a second we just stood there, both naked, both feeling like it was something new even though it was the third straight day of us being naked together.

My hand drifted toward his hip. I didn’t even think about it. I just wanted to feel him again, to make sure the weekend hadn’t been some weird dream. My fingers slid along his side, up his stomach, over the firm line of his chest.

He sucked in a small breath, then stepped back and turned toward the shower. “Come on,” he said quietly, pulling the glass door open.

The water warmed up quickly as I held my body against his. I felt his ass tense repeatedly, like he knew I was paying attention to it specifically. Steam started to fill the room, fogging the mirror and softening the edges of my vision. He stepped under the spray first, tilting his head back, water running down his face and over his chest, down his back muscles and around the mounds of his round, ample ass.

I joined him a second later. Our bodies brushing immediately. 

He had that same goofy smile on his face, the one he’d worn in the woods, like this was both the dumbest and best idea we’d ever had.

We stayed like that, soaping each other up, chests pressed together, neither of us willing to break the moment. The water ran over both of us, turning the soap slick between our bodies, making every small movement feel magnified. Our dicks got harder as they poked into each other. His pecs pushed into mine when he reached for the fancy stuff behind me.

“You’re getting soap in your hair,” he said, like he was suggesting something.

“You’re the one doing it,” I answered.

He smirked and worked the suds into me anyway, his fingers sliding across my arms and back and butt, his nails grazing my skin. I had never had an intimate shared shower with anyone else before. Getting clean with Brandon was awesome. It was light. It was sweet. 

My hands drifted down his sides, feeling the shape of his waist, the tight muscles along his hips. He sucked in a breath but didn’t stop me. Instead, he stepped closer, like the small shower suddenly wasn’t big enough for both of us unless we were touching.

Our stomachs pressed together. Water ran down between us, warm and steady. He leaned his forehead lightly against my shoulder for a second, then pulled back like he’d caught himself.

“This is such a bad idea. I’m kind of afraid of getting caught,” he murmured.

“Then why aren’t you moving?” I asked.

He didn’t answer. His hand just rested on my chest, leaning his head in like he was smelling my hair, his thumb brushing slowly across my pecs, like he was memorizing them.

I reached behind him, pulling him closer by the small of his back, before my hand drifted down to his glutes. The movement was slow and hesitant, like either of us could stop it at any second, but we knew that neither of us would.

For a moment we just stood there, bodies lined up, water pouring over our shoulders, breaths mixing in the steam. It felt quiet and heavy and strangely soft at the same time. I pressed my crotch into his, feeling the blood flowing south in both of us.

He let out a quiet laugh. “Your Mom's literally downstairs.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Try not to think about that.”

He shook his head, smiling, but didn’t step away. If anything, he leaned in a little more, like he was daring himself to stay right where he was, our heads pressed together.

“This is the shower I grew up with,” I whispered in his ear.

“You probably wanked it in here a lot,” he said.

“My first time figuring it out was in here,” I said, laughing quietly, “as I recall. I probably blew a million loads in here.”

“Let’s make it a million and one, then,” he said, reaching for my dick.

There wasn’t much room, and neither of us tried to create any more. We pressed together as I grabbed him back. I reached around him for the body wash, and poured it over both of us like we were at a rave getting doused in bubbles, feeling like I was leaning into some new debauchery, fully losing my innocence.

He worked the soap into his hands, reaching around to press his palms against my ass. He made slow circles as we humped into each other. It wasn’t rushed. There was just enough pressure to make my breathing change.

He pressed a soapy finger inside me, and pulled our bodies together even tighter. I went over the edge and climaxed, quicker than I expected. I spilled across our abs, watching it mix with the water and the body wash.

I looked up into his eyes.

“Your Mom's gonna wonder why we’re up here so long,” he said.

“You’re right,” I muttered, reaching past him to turn off the water.

“Wait, but, what about…” he gestured down to his boner, the big, veiny monster jutting out into the air from his waist.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at what I was about to do to him. “He’ll have to wait until tonight.”

He smiled, shaking his head.