28

I do as he asked me, stopping at a hardware store to get duplicates of both of our keys—so I can give him mine in return—before heading to his place. I wandered around the house for a while, but it's sunny outside and pretty warm, so I decided to swim. I consider going up to Ethan's room to find a pair of swimming trunks, but opt not to. I'd rather swim nude.

I'm out there for hours, just floating around bare-assed naked, praying that my white ass doesn't get burned too badly. I have my iPod and my phone and it's just nice to relax in the pool. Around six, I open the side gate for Ethan and wait for him to get home.

I'm horny as hell, though I may have already spanked it once in the pool—I really hope Ethan doesn't find out about that. I want him like crazy, I'd really love it if he gave me another hand job.

He shows up a little after six, coming through the side gate. I was just going to switch sides, so I was down in the water anyway. I swim over to the side and he meets me there, kneeling down to kiss me. I'm so tempted to grab him by the shirt and pull him in, but I know that's just asking for a fight. Ethan isn't the type to take a joke very well, especially when it involves his cell phone and wallet.

"Are you naked in there?" he asks, trying to look below the surface.

I reach for his pants and flick the button open. "Why don't you come in and find out for yourself?" I dare.

He smirks and stands up, discarding his shirt and kicking his pants and shoes off. Without a trace of hesitation, he slides his underwear off too, then gracefully jumps into the pool, landing right beside me.

"You're so sexy," I moan. It's not even fair, my junk would have bounced around in the most unattractive manner if I would have just done what he did, but his seemed to gracefully float through the air.

"You're the sexy one," he says back deeply, wrapping his arms around my neck.

Jesus, just take me already. I'm at least smart enough not to voice that out loud, though I was seriously considering it. I wonder what he'd say. I don't really want to find out, I really doubt he'd say 'yes please' and bend me over a chair or anything, though that would be really hot. He'd probably just clam up and get all awkward—he is really cute when he's being awkward, but now isn't the time for that.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks.

You bending me over and taking my ass like I've never been taken before. "How unfair it is that you're so goddamn attractive."

He snorts and rolls his eyes at me. "You're one to talk, Mr. Tall, Blonde, and Good-looking."

"I didn't say I wasn't good-looking," I counter, "but you are unbelievable. You have the most amazing body ever."

"It's not that great," he mutters.

"Oh, whatever. I hate huge, beefy guys like Johnathon, it's too much, but you are ripped and lean, and sexy."

"Whatever," he grumbles. "You think I'm sexy, I think you're sexy, that's about all the clarification we need. Why are we even talking right now?"

He doesn't let me respond, he leans in and kisses me. I don't know why we were talking, talking is verging on being ridiculous when you are naked in a pool with your sexy boyfriend.

I really wish he would bend me over something... It's been so long. A man needs his prostate poked every now and then.

I lose my train of thought when I feel him step in close to me, hard cock meeting hard cock. I move in closer to him, pressing our cocks between our bodies, but then wince, wondering why it hurts. He shifts his hips and I hiss into his mouth, but he doesn't notice that it's a bad thing. He grinds into me harder and I break away from his mouth with a pained whimper. It hurts. It shouldn't hurt. Why does my dick hurt?

"Shit," I rasp, pushing away from him.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he calls after me as I swim over to the steps.

I walk out and look down at my dick then nearly start crying because my dick is obviously sunburned.

"Your ass is all pink," Ethan points out.

Everything that was previously not tanned is pink, penis included. I have sunburn on my penis. How could I be so stupid? I should have protected my sacred man bits. I should have slathered him in sunscreen. What was I thinking?

I'm nearly in tears by the time I turn back around to face Ethan, and to my horror, his lips purse and his nose crinkles when he sees my sunburned cock. He's laughing at it. Bastard!

I mean, I understand why, it's kind of stripy from being soft while the sun roasted it and now it's hard, and I have a zebra dick.

I'm never going to get laid.

Ever.

"Baby, I'm so sorry," Ethan coos. "That must be really painful. Let's go find you some aloe vera."

Oh, so now he realizes it's not funny. Well, paint my dick red and white and call it a candy cane. Shit, I can't even laugh at my own sunburned dick jokes, I'm never going to live this one down.

Ethan lifts himself up out of the pool using the edge and quickly dries off his lower body with the shirt he'd been wearing. He then brings his underwear over to me, drops to his knees, and begins to carefully dry me off, mindful of the tender skin.

Once he's satisfied I'm dry enough, he leans in and kisses the skin on my stomach just above my sunburn. It's just too much. As if it isn't bad enough he was already kneeling in front of me while both of us are naked, his mouth being that close to my cock... Just kill me. My cock throbs, slapping into my stomach.

I whimper and Ethan apologizes, getting up off of his knees. He leads me into the house by my hand and takes me straight up to his room. Once in his bathroom, he releases me to ransack his cupboards. He comes out with a huge bottle of green goo and I swear, green goo has never looked so good before—maybe that's just because a naked Ethan is holding it, or because I know it'll cool my sunburned dick.

I reach for the bottle but Ethan holds it behind his back and gets down on his knees in front of me again. Seriously, kill me. Don't even bother fucking me first, just put me out of my goddamn misery.

"Ethan," I warn, seriously unsure that applying aloe vera to my sunburned, painful boy parts while kneeling in front of me is a good idea.

"I'll be careful," he promises, but then he looks up at me through his eyelashes and I'm screwed. Death by extremely painful hand job, next left.

Oh, that is painfully cold.

I kind of squeak a little and Ethan looks up at me with this bothered expression, and he doesn't even have to say it anymore, I know what that look means.

Stop being such a girl.

I glare back at him, ready to snap about painful, roasted penises, but then his slightly cool, aloe vera gel-covered hand is wrapped around my painful, roasted penis, and I suddenly don't care. It doesn't really feel too bad, considering his hand is like super lubed up with the gel. It feels pretty good actually, maybe even really good because my cock is extra sensitive now.

Or maybe my brain is overriding the pain because he's knelt in front of me, who knows. Either way, I'm enjoying it. He stops and grasps my hips lightly, urging me to turn around. Oh, my god.

I do as he wants and he starts to rub my sunburned ass cheeks. It's insanely arousing, I'm sorely tempted to start jacking off while he rubs my ass, but I think that may be a little awkward for him.

He turns me back around then stands up, and I wonder why he's standing up. I liked him knelt there in front of me, it was very submissive and a great view.

"There," he says.

"What?" I ask incredulously.

He had been smiling down at his handy work, and I'm not sure what he looked so proud for, but at my outburst he raises his eyes to mine.

"Oh, you thought I was going to..." he trails off.

My cock is agonizingly hard, and it's practically begging for attention with a generous amount of precum beaded at the tip. It looks rather attractive if you ask me, all shiny-wet from the aloe gel—I mean, if you can ignore the streaks of sunburn.

Again, I'm never going to get laid.

"I'm sorry, baby, I guess I wasn't thinking. I should have just let you do it," he mutters, looking rather defeated.

His lip is pouting out. "It's okay," I sigh, grabbing his hand. "I should stop being such a horny bastard. My cock is all sunburned and you're just trying to take care of me, and all I can think about is getting a hand job. That's pretty sad on my part."

"I promise I didn't mean to lead you on. I'm not trying to be a tease."

"I know, it's not your fault. Well, I mean, it is your fault, but you can't really help that you're insanely sexy, or that I love seeing you on your knees."

His face turns a furious pink and he bites his lip, and oh my God, that doesn't help my erection.

"See, you blush and I'm about this close to busting a nut, like right here, right now." He laughs a little, getting even pinker in the face. So cute. "It's not your fault that I'm easy."

"You're not easy," he states.

I snort, because frankly, that's just hilarious. "Oh, sweetie, don't be silly, I'm so easy."

He looks sort of angry, and thankfully just before he can say whatever he's about to, my phone rings. I don't know what he's angry about. Maybe he doesn't like me talking badly about myself, or maybe he thinks that because I'm calling myself easy that I'm easy enough to cheat? I don't know, but I'm assuming he's not going to let his little fit go until he gets it off of his chest. To stall him, I answer my phone, not bothering to meet his eyes when he says my name.

"Hello?"

"Holy shit, has hell frozen over?" Johnathon bellows into my ear.

Ah, damn it. Now I actually have to confront the fact that I'm an asshole. He's called a few times, and like the shitty friend that I am, I've ignored his calls. I love him, I really do, but he's just so annoying. He's good in small doses, which means anything more than seeing him once a month and I'm just going to be a prick.

"I don't know, I've never been."

He laughs. He always laughs. I could tell him that I thought he was the most annoying idiot ever and he would laugh. He takes nothing seriously. That's probably why I love-hate him so much. I start to walk away from Ethan, who's now glaring quite harshly, and I hiss because my sunburn kind of stings a little bit still.

"What's up?" Johnathon asks.

"Nothing," I grumble, taking slow, calculated steps.

"You sure, you kind of sound grumpy. And are you shuffling? I swear I can hear you shuffling. Did Eddie give you the hot meat injection extra hard last night or what?"

"Yeah right," I mutter, instantly regretting it.

"Still not getting boned, Jazz? That sucks. Tell Ethan I said to loosen up." He snickers at his own little innuendo.

"Shut up, please. I'm not in the mood."

"That's what he said," he giggles.

"God, you're so annoying. And you wonder why I don't answer my phone."

"Oh, is that the reason?"

"No, I've been busy," I lie.

Johnathon snorts really obnoxiously into the phone, it's a terrible sound. "Yeah, Jazz. The only time you're too busy to talk is when you're getting ass, and you're not getting any."

"Would you stop rubbing it in? I know, okay. Stop being an asshole."

"Extra moody today. What's your problem, girlfriend?"

"I don't have a problem."

"Yes, you do, you're using your whiny voice which means something is wrong and don't say it's me because then you'd be using your irritated voice. There's a difference."

"How do you know my 'voices'?" I wonder.

"I spent a long time worshiping you, my friend, now tell me what's wrong."

"I have sunburn," I whine.

"God, you're such a baby. Put some aloe vera on it and suck it up, Jazzy-girl."

"Stop calling me a girl! It's on my dick, you bastard. It hurts!"

He bursts out laughing and I'm nearly in tears again. I realize I am being a girl now, but I don't care. It really does hurt, especially now that my dick is calming down from its previous super stiffness.

"You have sunburn on your dick?" he yells through his laughter.

"Yes, I know I'm an idiot," I say. I feel the stupid tears in my eyes and I don't know why I'm on the verge of crying, but I am. It's probably a mixture of feeling humiliated, pissed off, in pain, and disappointed that I'm never going to get any ass.

"Are you going to cry?" Johnathon asks soberly.

"No."

"Yes, you are. Shit, don't cry."

"I'm not going to," I lie.

I don't hear Ethan approach me from behind and his lips touching the back of my neck make me jump. "Shh," he whispers, rubbing his hand from my sternum to my bellybutton as he kisses along my neck and shoulders.

I wonder how they both know, am I that transparent? One of them knows I'm going to cry over the phone—and all of my voices, apparently—and the other can tell when he's standing behind me. My shoulders hunch up really bad when I'm upset though, so that's probably how Ethan could tell. But I hate this. I hate being so emotional. It makes me feel like a girl, which I am not. Damn it.

"What is that? Is Ethan kissing you? Aw, that's so cute, and hot. Tell him if he really wants to make you feel better, he should just fuck you already. I think you should explain to him how sometimes you need to feel full and stretched. He needs to get over his little fear of ass or whatever he has going on."

I know Ethan can hear every word Johnathon is saying, because Johnathon is loud and the phone is right there, and Ethan's mouth isn't moving across my skin anymore.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you that my sex life is none of your business," I mumble. I desperately need to save face right now. I never should have let it slip that I wasn't getting any. "Why did you call anyway?"

"I just wanted to know if you two had plans tonight. I want to get together, double-date, you know, do couple stuff."

"We're not having a foursome," I state firmly.

"Jesus, you perv, that thought never even crossed my mind." Before I can ever call him out on that, he starts laughing. "Okay, that's a total lie. The four of us together would be dynamic. You two are a couple of ass-wasting prudes. I already knew that though, so I just mean like dinner and shit. You know, normal couple stuff."

"No," Ethan says.

"Forget him," Johnathon snaps, then starts laughing again. "Well, I guess that's what you're trying to do and he won't let you. What I mean is, do you always let him talk to you that way? Do you just let him run all over you? Make all your decisions? That's pretty shitty."

"We have plans tonight. I wanted you to come over here for a reason," Ethan says to me quietly, pleadingly.

I reach back and try to reassure him by fingering his hair. "We can't tonight, Em. Some other time," I say, ignoring his rant.

"Tell that bastard that no one likes a jealous prick, tell him—"

"He can hear you," I cut Johnathon off.

"Oh, good. Ethan, you're being really intolerant."

Ethan tenses behind me. I don't really get why he's letting Johnathon get to him—not that I'm one to talk or anything—but I jump to his defense. "No, we have plans tonight, asshole.”

"Harsh, Jazz, that's hurtful," Johnathon starts to say.

"We can do it tomorrow," Ethan mutters.

"Do what?" I ask.

"This double-date thing, we can go out with Johnathon and Caleb, if that's still who he's dating, tomorrow."

"Aw, good boy," Johnathon encourages. "But also harsh for basically calling me a whore."

"We don't have to," I tell Ethan.

"We should," he decides.

"I'm so glad one of you remembers who got you two back together."

Then Ethan really gets tense. "What? What does that mean?"

"Ah, shit. I forgot that I never got my ass chewed for that," Johnathon mutters.

Now it's my turn. "What?" I ask, confused.

"You never told him I came over that night. I figured you would tell him, but I guess since he's such a jealous bastard you figured it was better you didn't. That's what I meant when I said he was going to be pissed when he found out what I did. He specifically asked me to leave you alone, which obviously just made me want to hang out with you more."

"You son of a bitch!" Ethan snaps, grabbing my phone away from me. "I told you to stay away from him... I don't care! ... I'm working on that. I have no reason to trust you at all... I don't care!" His voice continuously raises as he bitches at Johnathon. "So, what, you're saying that the only reason he's with me is because of you? ... I love him, you asshole! ... I don't care that you care about him too... That's beside the point, you prick. We're happy together and we don't seem to ever have a problem until you stick your nose where it doesn't belong... That's not a joke, quit laughing."

I sigh and walk away, carefully sitting on Ethan's bed with my bare, pink ass. Ethan and Johnathon yell at each other for about ten minutes and Ethan is practically hoarse by the time he hangs up. I'm scared we're going to fight again, but confident that I won't leave again. I love him too much, I need him. I think he feels the same way.

"He's such a pain in the ass," Ethan laughs, falling down onto the bed next to me. It makes me bounce a little and I squirm and wince, because it hurts both my ass and dick. Christ...

"Sorry, baby," he says, stroking his fingers along my spine. "We're meeting Johnathon and Caleb at Winslow's tomorrow night at six-thirty."

"What?" I ask, looking over my shoulder at him.

He shrugs. "It's okay that you didn't tell me that he came over to talk to you. I get why you didn't. I'm sorry that I overreact when I know you don't want anything to do with him."

"I didn't purposely not tell you," I explain. "It honestly slipped my mind. There were other things that were more important otherwise I would have brought it up."

He nods. "I should have realized. I mean, he's Johnathon, he's always where he doesn't belong. How else would you have known who my bruise was from anyway?"

I sigh and carefully lean back to lay next to Ethan. He smiles at me and rolls over toward me, vigilantly making sure he doesn't touch my sunburn.

"I guess I should be thanking him, though."

"I thanked him enough for the both of us," I tell Ethan. His face blanches and I realize what I just said. "No, that's not what I mean! I mean I told him thanks like seven times," I say honestly. "I kissed him that one time that you saw and that was it, nothing more, ever."

He nods. "Sorry, I didn't mean to jump to conclusions."

"No, I worded that terribly. I don't blame you." I reach up and brush my fingers over his ribs and his eyes fall closed and his lips quirk up. "Love you."

He smiles. "Love you too."

I sigh. "I thought we were going to have a fight."

His smile tightens slightly and I wonder if I've just screwed myself for saying that. "I'm still angry that you were calling yourself easy."

"Why?" I wonder.

"It bothers me. I..." He swallows and his eyes shut more firmly, his smile turns into a grimace. "It makes me think that you were easy with those other guys, and you aren't easy with me. I know, I'm more, I guess I'm just jealous, I mean, obviously I am, but..."

"Oh," I breathe. I didn't expect that.

"I'm really sorry if I'm not moving fast enough for you."

"Shit, Ethan, don't," I say, shoving my hand into his hair, hoping he'll open his eyes. "Don't think that shit. You're moving plenty fast, today was a huge step and I'm just fine. I don't want to push you, and I'm trying really hard not to. I want you to set the pace, I want what you're comfortable with. I'm really sorry that you think we're not moving fast enough. I think we're fine."

He opens his eyes and then rolls them at me. "You know, I think that you were really good at what you did. I think that if you wanted to, you could push me to do exactly what you wanted. I'm glad that you haven't, but I think you should."

"You want me to push you?" I ask dubiously.

He nods. "I have been the one making all the moves, baby. It's your turn."

"Hey, I made one today," I defend. "I gave you head, that was a move."

He smirks. "One I greatly appreciated. I'm just sorry that I can't reciprocate." He frowns down at my poor cock.

I quickly change the subject, fearing my newly lost erection will come back. "What are our plans for tonight?"

Ethan pauses, and I think he's nervous for some reason. I watch him closely. It takes him a moment to finally look at me, and his smile appears slightly forced. "Well, first I need to get dressed."

"Do I have to get dressed?" I ask. I hope not, because I'm afraid of what clothing is going to do to my nether regions.

He shakes his head, chuckling slightly. "No, you can stay nude. But you can't sit on my piano bench, I don't want ass marks on it."

Is he saying what I think he's saying? I gasp and he gets nervous, and I know I'm right. "You're going to play for me?"

He nods. "We should eat first."

I'm a ball of excitement while Ethan is a ball of nerves as we wait for our Chinese food to come. I can't wait for him to play and he seems rather reluctant about the whole thing, but he offered. I don't get what he's so nervous about.

I guess I can empathize though, I was scared out of my mind to show him my drawings and even more afraid to show him the obsession painting. It was about time he played for me though, so I'm not letting him back out.

I eat standing up in the kitchen while Ethan sits on the counter next to me. He keeps eying my egg roll—my actual egg roll not... that. I laugh when he finally asks if I'm going to eat it.

"I'll give you my egg roll if you let me eat dessert off of you later," I joke.

"Okay," he agrees immediately, snatching my egg roll. Oh honey…

We finish our food rather quickly—Ethan really likes Chinese food, and egg rolls. Then he nervously leads me up the stairs.

"Should I freshen up first?" I ask in a forced high-pitched voice. He turns to glare at me and I chuckle.

Once in the 'secret room'—no, it will never lose that name—he releases me and takes a deep breath. I decide not to follow him as he heads over to the piano and I'm glad that I don't because he starts petting it like it's an object for worship or something. I burrow my way into the giant pillow-floor bed and make my naked self comfy while I wait him out.

I swear I can hear him muttering to himself from across the damn room. I don't know if he thinks he's bad or what, but I wish he would just get it over with already. He's making me anxious with all of his nervous energy.

I'm flipping through a book he has thrown in the bed when he starts playing. I can honestly say that my mouth drops open, my head whips in his direction, and my eyes gape.

He's playing a piece I vaguely recognize as none other than Vivaldi himself. With his eyes closed. Beautifully. Perfectly.

I believe I have a small orgasm.

And I think he knows it because he's smirking. He looks confident now.

What the hell was he so nervous about?