Ethan rubbed his arm in support, but received nothing back. He understood, though. Greg apparently had bigger things on his mind. Deciding whether to touch Ethan’s pinky was not his top priority this morning.
“Well, we’ll do some shopping and feel better,” Ethan said, eager to take Greg’s mind off school and onto more important matters. Like Ethan. And kissing. Definitely more kissing.
“Damn right we will.”
Φ
Ethan was confused. He carried around a pile of jeans and shirts and sweaters in his arms. A pair of argyle socks were tucked under his chin. They sauntered around local clothing store East Coast/West Coast, which sold “edgy” clothes for well-behaved suburbanites. At each display they passed, Greg picked out something for Ethan to try on. Ethan didn’t fault his taste in clothes, but when Greg had said they were going shopping, he hadn’t known they were trying on everything in the store.
A salesperson approached them with the fire of a potential big sale burning brightly in her eyes. “Shall I start a dressing room for you?”
“Yes, please,” Greg said. “My friend hasn’t been shopping in two years. He needs to get with the times.”
“It’s a good thing he has you to help him out,” she said. The salesperson led them to the dressing rooms and hung up all of Ethan’s selections. He took in the thick array of clothes, none of which he had any intention of buying. “My name is Trina if you need anything.”
“Thanks. I think I’ll busy for a while,” Ethan said, nodding at all the crap Greg made him pick out.
“I get it!” Trina said, extra-cheery. She probably didn’t expect this on a Tuesday morning. “Well, if you need anything—a different size or color—just come find me.”
“Perfect.” Greg laid on his smile thick. Trina blushed a little and left. Greg watched her go back to the front of the store. “Let’s get you a new wardrobe.”
Ethan glanced back at all the clothes. He didn’t want a new wardrobe. He wanted to talk with Greg. Saturday night gave him a whole new set of questions, and he craved answers. “Are you serious with this?”
“Fuck no.” Greg swooped into his dressing room and locked the door. He pulled Ethan close to him.
Ethan stared into his eyes, fireworks going off in his head. But the magical moment got interrupted when Greg shoved Ethan’s hand down his warm-up pants. Greg was raring to go.
“Now we really have to be quiet,” Greg whispered. They were still so close to each other, Ethan could smell Greg’s minty breath. It was like they were kissing without touching lips.
The thought of Trina or some other sycophantic employee nearby, ready to knock on their door at any moment, terrified and electrified Ethan. He tugged at Greg’s bulging manhood. He dragged his fingers across Greg’s chest. Greg let out his low moan, and Ethan bit his lip. The moment was taking over him. His heart revved up. The nerves and thrills juiced together and spiraled from his head to his toes.
Ethan wanted Greg. All of Greg. And so he kissed him.
Greg shifted away and moved his lips to Ethan’s ear. “This is so fucking hot. You’re gonna make me come all over your new fucking wardrobe.”
His breath, his words on Ethan’s ear made his knees cave in. He gripped Greg’s thick erection harder. Ethan tried to make eye contact with Greg, but his were closed, lost in ecstasy. Greg dug his fingers into Ethan’s back and pulled him flush against his chest.
Ethan leaned in for a kiss again.
And Greg shifted. Again.
Ethan tried one more time. He tried to hold Greg’s lips on him by pulling his dick closer. Greg stepped back and knocked a trio of shirts to the floor.
“What are you doing?” Ethan asked.
A polite tap-tap at the door turned Ethan and Greg into mannequins. “How’s everything working out in there?” Trina asked.
“Great!” Greg said, as if nothing were wrong. “I’m trying to convince my buddy that guys don’t tuck in shirts anymore. It’s all aboutkeeping it casual. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Sounds good. Let me know if you need anything.”
They listened for her footsteps to drift away. Greg leaned down to pick up the dropped clothes.
“What happened?” Ethan asked.
Greg talked to the clothes, not Ethan. “I don’t think it’s a good idea that we kiss.”
Ethan fell onto the bench. His legs couldn’t support him.
