Friends and Lovers
“Friends and Lovers”
M/M Gay Romance
Max Hudson
© 2019
Max Hudson
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is intended for Adults (ages 18+) only. The contents may be offensive to some readers. It may contain graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations. May contain scenes of unprotected sex. Please do not read this book if you are offended by content as mentioned above or if you are under the age of 18.
Please educate yourself on safe sex practices before making potentially life-changing decisions about sex in real life. If you’re not sure where to start, see here: http://www.jerrycoleauthor.com/safe-sex-resources/ (courtesy of Jerry Cole).
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner & are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Products or brand names mentioned are trademarks of their respective holders or companies. The cover uses licensed images & are shown for illustrative purposes only. Any person(s) that may be depicted on the cover are simply models.
Edition v1.00 (2019.10.30)
http://www.maxhudsonauthor.com
Special thanks to the following volunteer readers who helped with proofreading: Bob, RB, JayBee, Jenn, Naomi W., and those who assisted but wished to be anonymous. Thank you so much for your support.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter One
Caleb
The hallway was deserted. Nothing but the faint sound of video games, movies, music, and the strumming of instruments met Caleb's ears as he wearily made his way down the carpeted hall. It felt more like a tunnel to him, a dark and dreary place that brought him dread upon sight. Nothing felt right. The whole world seemed to tip over even as he came to a stop in front of a familiar chestnut brown door.
He stared at the numbers just to the right of the frame: 208.
The glossy gold outline of the numbers seemed more jovial than he felt. He disregarded how luminous they were in favor of knocking which sounded more like a quick series of taps than actual knocking. He grimaced against the tide of emotions that assaulted him—anger, fear, disgust, disappointment, and ultimately grief.
He rapped again at the door. A commotion erupted from the other side followed by the sound of yawning. He cringed as his guilt doubled. The doorknob turned and the hinges squeaked as the door slowly opened like the mouth of a giant.
Randall leaned sleepily against the frame, blinking lazily.
Caleb felt a pang of regret. He stammered over his words while running a hand through his wheat-blond hair, smoothing it repeatedly as if it would soothe the burn of remorse in his gut. “Randall—sorry. I know it's late. I didn't mean...Well, something's happened. I'm kind of...”
Randall blinked hard to bat away the sand from his eyes. He peered curiously at Caleb until his eyes widened in recognition. “Oh, you look absolutely awful! Come in, please, just take a seat wherever. My roommate isn't here.”
When Randall opened the door wider, Caleb tentatively walked inside. He was shaking with every step forward, each time attempting to regain some sense of control over his limbs. But it was useless. His legs persisted with their shaking, their shivering, as though the room itself was located in the very center of Antarctica.
Caleb sighed shakily. “Kyle broke up with me...”
He practically crumbled onto Randall's bed. The sheet and pillow were strewn over the cot and he felt his guilt expand, knowing that he had interrupted his best friend's restful evening. But he couldn't stop the flood of tears. He couldn't prevent the awful feelings from taking over. He allowed Randall to pull him up into a comforting position, sniffling away a series of sobs that threatened to break out.
He whimpered. The waves of grief were far too strong for him. He surrendered to Randall, to the comforting touch that was being offered, and curled up into Randall's lap, clinging to Randall's waist. He felt like he was falling. No, it was worse than that—he was dying. The walls of his great castle that he had built with his boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend—were now smashing down to the ground. The kings had fallen. Their horses were gone.
Everything was a mess.
He sniffled again, wiping at his ruddy wet cheeks. “I'm so sorry I woke you up. I didn't know where to go. There was nowhere else to go and like...Kyle just...he just did it right in the middle of the courtyard!”
“What a jerk.”
“I can't believe this is happening.”
“I can.”
Caleb jerked his head up from Randall's lap. “What?”
“I can believe it because he hasn't really been very kind to you since the semester began.”
“He was busy. He had his job, and his dad was sick, and he had classes all on top of everything. He was just...”
“Ignoring you.”
Caleb pressed his lips together in a flat line. The knot in his throat expanded, taking up his entire esophagus and his stomach, too. He could feel the tension spreading down into his solar plexus and his gut, taking over the entire lower half of his body. He crumbled forward, cradling his head in one hand while propping himself up with the other. “I think you're right...”
“I hope I don't sound mean. I'm not the nicest when I wake up.”
“I'm sure aware of that.”
Randall chuckled. “Hey, but I bet some ice cream would cheer me up and it would help you, too.”
“What kind of ice cream?”
“Rocky Road.”
Caleb sniffled. “I'll take it.”
Randall shuffled off the bed and opened the miniature fridge just beneath the window. A few cans of soda and a collection of paper bags were strewn about by the door of the fridge.
Caleb furrowed his brows. “Randy, when are you going to clean up your room?”
“Hey, this stuff is from Blake. I'm a clean freak.”
“That's a bold lie and you know it.”
Randall laughed. “Okay, so I haven't made cleaning a priority lately. It's been a rough week. Give me a break, my guy.”
The fridge clanged as he shut the door and held out a tub to Caleb. Caleb accepted the arctic cold tub and pried the lid off, staring down into the already scooped frozen treat. He smiled wide. “I really appreciate this.”
“It's all part of my best friend contract I signed when we were eight. I have to be there whenever you're in need, no matter the time.”
“Is that really what we did when we spat into our hands and smashed them together?”
“Yep—that's all part of the blood pact.”
Caleb laughed. “I don't remember making a blood pact.”
Randall crossed the room and flipped on the flat-screen television that was hanging on the wall. He fumbled with the remote and scrolled through a few screens, opening up a streaming channel
with a slew of movie options. He pointed to the screen with the remote.
Caleb shrugged. “You know me. I like comedies.”
“Fair.”
“Is there anything new posted? I don't want to watch anything I've already seen.”
“How about stand-up?”
“Oh, that sounds excellent. Who's featured this month?”
Randall hummed as he scrolled through the options on the screen. “Looks like it's going to be Chad Davis or Wendy Hues. What are you feeling?'
“Hues. She has a better punch line than Davis.”
Randall nodded. “Excellent choice.”
As he highlighted the choice and selected it, Caleb scooted over on the cot. He stretched out his legs and kicked off his shoes, rubbing his feet together. The light from the television illuminated his green socks, casting an eerie glow around them. He hunched over the tub of ice cream and frowned.
“Utensils?” he asked Randall who was just about to sit on the bed. Randall popped back up instantly and retrieved two plastic spoons from a box on the nightstand. “You're always prepared, aren't you?”
Randal chortled. “Every damn day. You know I'm always going on dates here in my bed. I have to be prepared for my lovers.”
“Oh, really? Am I just another one on the list?”
“I thought we already tried that one.”
Caleb giggled. “Yeah, we did. When was that, like, senior year of high school?”
“Something like that.”
“You were on the swim team at Missoula High and I was a cheerleader, basically.”
“You were so adorable then. You had the energy of a sprite.”
Caleb rolled his eyes. “I'll have you know that I still have that energy.”
“Sure you do. And I'm still swimming as elegantly as ever.”
“Was that a pass at your own skills?”
Randall shrugged as he dipped his spoon into the ice cream. He smoothly carved out a large scoop and popped it into his mouth, silencing himself. Caleb chuckled and followed suit. The cold cream washed over his tongue and inched down his throat, soothing his insides. He didn't even realize he was warmer than usual. He sniffled as he went for another scoop.
“It might have been,” Randall finally replied.
Caleb went to lift his spoon to his mouth but collided with Randall's. He giggled as ice scream landed on his lap. “Wow, I'm such a mess.”
“It's okay. I'll get it.”
Randall reached over without hesitation and wiped the drop of ice cream from Caleb's leg with a napkin. As he did, Caleb twitched. His skin prickled all over his thighs, goosebumps becoming visible. His eyes widened as he realized that his own body was having a reaction to the touch of his best friend.
Wait, that's never happened before, he reflected nervously. It's like...it's like a super-charged touch. But when he hugged me, I didn't feel that...
Caleb stared at Randall's hand. It had long since moved from his thigh, having already tossed the used napkin into the trash, but it had now nestled in the space between their legs, hand gripping the sheets as the opening music died down from the stand-up special. A young, feminine voice came clearly through the speakers as Caleb raised his eyes to study Randall's face—no change. Randall's expression was blank, and his eyes were hooked to the television, unmoving.
Caleb gulped quietly. While reaching again to stick his spoon in the ice cream, he crashed with Randall's seeking hand. He felt the spark jar him, shock him, just as much as sticking his finger into a socket might. He withdrew entirely and cradled the tub in his lap, trying to focus on the screen. The jokes seemed to go over his head. He desperately tried to calm the alarms going off in his brain, but he can't seem to get a handle on anything.
Especially not his shaking hands.
“Is it too cold?” Randall asked, never breaking his gaze with the television. “I can get you a blanket.”
“No, it's fine.”
“You're shaking.”
Caleb turned and met Randall's gaze. I never noticed how dark his eyes look in dim light. He licked his lips and studied Randall's features, noting different aspects of Randall's face that were changed by the lighting. He followed the edge of Randall's square chin, noting how Randall's face had a wolfish structure. There was no stubble on Randall's chin. Every bit of his cheeks and jaw were free of hair, likely shaved away every other day. He had a bulbous nose and thin lips with a slight overbite, but it wasn't particularly noticeable until he smiled.
Caleb followed the bridge of Randall's nose up to Randall's oval eyes that were set wide apart. He studied Randall's wide forehead and became lost in the nest of slightly spiked brunette hair that was wild from sleep. The little strands stuck in odd directions, giving him a bedhead look that was more appealing than it ever had been.
“How many sleepovers have we had?” Caleb whispered.
“Too many. Why?”
“I just never noticed...your hair.”
Randall grinned curiously. “My hair?”
“It looks soft.”
“Chlorine ruins my hair, so I keep it pretty conditioned. Do you want to touch it or something? Is hair your fetish now?”
The joke flew right over Caleb's head. Without thinking, he reached out to run his fingers through Randall's hair. He stroked around Randall's ear, watching the fluffy tufts of hair flutter between his fingers. He ran his hand up over Randall's scalp, followed the curve of Randall's skull, and back down the other side. It was a hypnotizing motion.
Light flickered over Randall's cheek. His eyes darted between Caleb's eyes, appearing to search with wonder. What was he looking for? Caleb could barely venture to guess. His hand hadn't left Randall's hair. It had taken camp just above Randall's ear, barely moving at all—just sitting.
He swallowed hard. “Randy?”
“Yeah?”
“You look cute tonight.”
Without hesitation, Caleb leaned in and kissed his best friend.
Chapter Two
Randall
Randall was confused—and aroused.
As he studied Caleb's features he wondered where all this was coming from. He even parted his lips for a second to ask but was silenced by another kiss from Caleb.
How can I stop now when this is something I've always wanted?
It was a simple question that prompted him to wonder when and where this might have been able to happen before. He pictured his senior year—they were bright and young back then, two innocent kids with hopes and dreams. It was only three short years ago that they had come out to each other.
And Randall had done well since then to put all romantic thoughts of his best friend out of his mind.
But life had a funny way of coming full circle and here he was making out with the one person he had always had a crush on.
Maybe this is wrong. He abruptly withdrew. “You're just probably feeling emotional, right?"
"Right...emotional."
"Of course," he agreed. "Emotional, confused, undoubtedly full of rage."
“Why would I be full of rage?”
Caleb's eyes had clouded over. There seemed to be a hint of desire there, maybe even hunger. It was hard to tell in the dim light shimmering from the television. Just as suddenly as they had crashed together, they were apart, leaving Randall feeling tense, confused, and mildly frustrated.
Yeah...this might be wrong, he concurred.
“You've hardly had any ice cream.” He rigidly turned back to the television; the jokes lost to him now that his mind was somewhere else. “It'll melt if you don't eat it.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“Maybe I am your mother.”
Caleb chuckled lightly.
Out of Randall's peripheral vision, he watched Caleb dig idly into the ice cream. Every motion seemed mechanical, practiced, as if it was Caleb's only way of functioning at this hour. When he glanced at the digital clock next to his bed, the crimson numbers glared at him that the hour was late, nea
rly half past midnight. He gulped and glanced back at the screen, feeling too oddly aware of Caleb's presence in his bed.
“So...” he whispered. “That was something.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“I mean...”
Randall forced a smile. “It's probably nothing.”
“Yeah, nothing.”
Silence fell between them as Randall licked his lips, tasting the leftover trace of sugar and desire in his mouth. He wanted more. And what would be so wrong about reaching for Caleb and starting the whole process over again? There would be no roommate to interrupt. There was no homework to do. Class didn't resume until the next day. Not even the audience applauding across the room on the television could have interrupted his train of thought.
Even if he had been prepared with a shield, there was nothing that could stop the winds of desire from taking over and sweeping him away.
But he couldn't do it.
The colors on the screen shifted. Randall felt like his skin was swimming with anticipation, with fear, with mixed desire. He couldn't tame the way he felt. Every bit of emotion that welled up in his gut only prompted him to want Caleb more, to even put his hand between them in an effort to start the engines of hunger back up. He halted. There was no use in making such a gesture. Caleb had clearly just made a mistake.
It's just a mistake. I shouldn't get my hopes up.
“Do you want some?”
Randall forced himself to look at Caleb. “No, I'm good.”
“But it's yours. I don't want to eat it all.”
“I mean, if it'll make you feel better, I'll eat some more.”
“It would.”
He hesitated. The tub was sitting between them. His spoon was still in the frozen cream, jutting out from it like a petrified tree with its jagged branches pointing up at the sky.
As he willed his muscles to move and grab the spoon, he whispered, “Hey, I'm sorry I got carried away.”
"No, I did the exact same thing. It's not like I haven't really thought about doing that. It's just been...a while."