Take My Boyfriend: Part Two (Patreon)

Got to say, the feedback on part one of Take My Boyfriend has been pretty positive so far. I'm glad people are enjoying it! Here's the next part.

(One thing to note: this section references Hunter and Steven's jobs, as though these are details you should already know about. They're not - but in the final version of the story I'm going to introduce them in part one so they make more sense here. For now, just go with it.)

Even though I’d been to Hunter’s place before, I was always surprised by it. I expected it to be feral — dirty dishes, empty bottles, the floor buried under a layer of laundry — just like the way he’d lived when he was a student. But it was immaculate, and curated. And it forced me to remind myself that he’d matured since then. It had been a decade, after all. 

The place still had a kind of bachelor vibe that I couldn’t quite put my finger on though, despite the neatness, and despite the carefully thought out placement of books, pot plants, and art on the walls. Maybe it was the masculine palette, all dark colours against grey walls. Or the fact that everything was sharp lines, from the cabinetry and shelving that must be his own work, to the boxy furniture, to the block shapes and lines in the paintings, to even the way that things were arranged. 

Steven sat down on the sofa first. I didn’t sit down straight away, instead I loitered between the living area and the kitchen while Hunter grabbed drinks from the fridge, so that he’d have the first choice of seats out of the two of us. And as I’d predicted, Hunter took the opportunity to pick a spot next to Steven, leaving me with the other sofa to myself. 

They clinked beer bottles together, I held mine limply in their direction. 

“So tell me more about this building you’re working on,” Hunter said. Masterful move, because there was nothing that got Steven more animated than talking about his work. He lit up explaining the architectural details, the unique situations he’d had to deal with and the solutions he’d come up with to problems. Hunter seemed to be able to follow better than me because despite being an architect he’d at least worked on commercial fit-outs as part of his job.

It was good seeing them bond, even though if I’m honest it made me feel jealous. It’s funny that despite knowing they were no clearly not far away from fucking, it was the emotional connection that bothered me more than the physical one.

There was a silence, and Steven broke it by gesturing to the shelving unit under the TV containing books, a gaming console, speakers, and a variety of other nicknacks and asking, “So you made this?”

“Yep,” Hunter said, clearly trying not to sound too proud of himself but not quite managing to hide it completely. “And that table. And the kitchen cabinetry.” He waved a hand in the direction of the kitchen.

“You made a whole kitchen?” Steven looked amazed. “From scratch? How the hell did you do all that?”

“Like I said, I’m good with my hands.” The slightly suggestive tone in his voice and lift of his eyebrows communicated more than his words did.

Steven laughed — a laugh that sounded like it was intended to brush off Hunter’s corny flirtation, but containing a nervous energy that made it obvious the charm was working on him. “Well it looks great.” He grabbed his drink, clearly in need of a distraction from a moment that could lead him somewhere he wasn’t supposed to go. But by the time he put his glass back on the table Hunter still hadn’t said a thing, he was just looking at him with a hungry intensity.

And that’s when Steven succumbed. Timidly, with a grin that would give him cover to explain away his words as simply banter, even though they obviously weren’t, he asked him, “What else are you good with?”

“I could show you,” Hunter said.

The room was still for what was probably only a few seconds but seemed to stretch out into an immeasurable amount of time. Then Hunter took what he wanted. Just like he always did.  

It was a single finger laid gently on Steven’s jaw first, turning his head on just the right angle. Then he leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Steven’s lips. Steven didn’t seem surprised by it, of course he wasn’t. Everything had been leading to this. But he didn’t immediately kiss Hunter back. For a second there was still time for him to pull back, politely decline, say that the chemistry between them had been imagined and not real. But of course that wasn’t going to happen. Steven’s lips moved, and he became a participant in the kiss rather than a passive recipient of it.

It was happening. 

Steven’s body lost some of its rigidity and he melted into Hunter, who let the hand on Steven’s jaw trail down his neck and shoulder to rest on his arm. The two of them shifted closer to each other and Hunter’s hand dropped lower to rest on Steven’s hip. Their lips parted and found each other again, and again, one kiss turning into many.

I adjusted in my seat too, to hide the fact that my dick was starting to harden. Not that they’d notice, probably. But it seemed like an embarrassment I needed to hide.

They broke away from each other. Steven turned his head to look at me, I assumed to see my reaction. He did it slowly, a nervous look on his face. He must have thought he’d done something wrong. He didn’t know I’d been expecting this, since before Hunter had even walked into the bar tonight. Since the day Steven and I had met.

I kept my expression as blank as I was capable of. I wasn’t going to influence him. Of course I wasn’t going to give him anything that might lead him to think I was upset or that I wanted him to stop. But I also wasn’t going to give him encouragement. Wasn’t going to give him a little smile of reassurance, or a nod, or anything like that, as much as I felt like I should. This needed to be his decision and his alone, made in ignorance of my feelings.

Hunter kissed the part of his neck that he’d been presented with. Steven closed his eyes. And with that, his mind was clearly made up. He turned back to Hunter and kissed him back.

Hunter opened his eyes, and his found mine. He stared at me while he made out with my boyfriend, and despite his face being otherwise occupied the glint in his eyes was enough to tell me he was enjoying the fact that he’d won the game.

Hunter stood up without letting go of Steven’s hand, so now he stood in a position to pull Steven off the sofa by his outstretched arm. “You coming?” he asked. He jerked his head in the direction of the bedroom door.

Steven nodded, wide-eyed, and let Hunter help him up off the sofa. He gestured in my direction. “What about—”

“Nah,” Hunter stopped him, shaking his head. “He’ll leave us to it. He likes it better that way.”

Steven looked at me, confusion written all across his face. “You sure?” he asked.

This time I nodded, gave him the permission he needed. He didn’t seem to understand, but he didn’t question it either. Why think too hard about it when you know what you want already?

Hunter led Steven to the door of his bedroom. He opened it, and let Steven go first. Steven gave one more uncertain look in my direction before disappearing inside. Hunter gave me that same smug grin from earlier in the bar — that same smug grin I’d seen on him a hundred times before — and followed Steven. “Later, bro.”