“What are you grinning at?”
“Huh?” Jake asked, coming back to himself.
Craig eyed him suspiciously. “You’re sitting at your desk, grinning like an idiot. What gives?”
“Oh,” Jake said, quickly gathering up the pages of his report and arranging them, “just a weird dream I had last night.”
“Didn’t look weird.”
Craig stood in the doorway of the office, smiling knowingly at his friend and coworker. “Your expression was more along the lines of remembering an off-the-charts hot encounter, and that’s not weird, bro. It’s lucky.”
Jake looked at him over his glasses. “I’m not giving you any details.”
“Aw, why?” Craig whined.
“Because the last time you invited me to share the details, you asked me to substitute a woman for the guy I was fucking.”
Craig walked over and dropped into the chair in front of Jake’s desk. “So?”
“So… you’re supposed to find more straight-guy friends to cull your sexual fantasies from.”
“Sorry.” Craig smiled, blushing a bit.
The truth was, Jake wanted to talk about it, and Craig was the nearest fella at hand, but the details of Jake’s erotic dream would no doubt offend his frail, straight, masculine sensibilities. Nevertheless he began his strange tale, hoping his friend wouldn’t barf all over his desk.
In the dream he was at the Club, feeling lonely and horny. He watched the men on the dance floor, some shirtless—he was surprised to find he was as well—all sweating, happy, and beautiful. He’d gone over to the bar to order but couldn’t get the bartender’s attention, so he decided to simply wait until the crowd of demanding, thirsty customers had thinned. Then he saw him, the most gorgeous man he could imagine, which made sense, being a dream and all. He was slender with longish wavy blond hair, full lips, a dazzling smile, dimples, and sort of sad puppy-dog eyes.
He was dancing with some muscular, bald guy—not Jake’s type at all, but he was clearly appealing to Dimples. The two of them swayed together on the dance floor, the lights pulsating above them as Muscles embraced Dimples from behind. Dimples raised his hands and caressed his dancing partner’s shiny, smooth head, pulling the man down for a kiss.
Jake could almost feel the sensation of their tongues fencing with each other, his own lips parting as he watched them. Then the kiss was broken, and Dimples opened his eyes. He looked across the dance floor, through the undulating bodies surrounding him, past a couple of men getting into an argument and shoving match, around a waiter rushing by with a tray of drinks, and directly into Jake’s eyes.
Their gazes locked so long that a slow grin spread across Jake’s face, and he stood straighter, taller, pushing off from the bar, just as Dimples stopped swaying with Muscles. For a moment it looked as though he might cross the room to speak to Jake.
The next thing Jake knew, he was in an unfamiliar room of a darkened house or apartment. “Hello,” he called. His voice sounded funny to him, and there was no answer. He walked cautiously down a hallway and found himself in a living room. Then he heard muffled sounds coming from a room behind him, possibly the room he’d just exited. Jake turned and retraced his steps.
The door to the room he’d just walked out of was nearly closed, and a warm, welcoming glow now emanated from it. Jake walked right up to the door and leaned closer to listen. He heard grunting, gasping, heavy breathing, and skin slapping against skin—ah yes, the sounds of sex. He remembered those. He stepped forward and gently pushed the door open a little wider, hoping it didn’t squeak.
As he’d suspected, there was sex happening. It was hard, sweaty, loud, passionate sex, and it was happening between Dimples and Muscles. Jake’s mouth fell open in shock and then into a grin as he watched Muscles pound the cute blond into the mattress. Dimples was facing the foot of the bed and the door, hands clawing at the duvet, eyes closed, lips parted, hair wet and clinging to his forehead, ass in the air and gripped roughly by Muscles.
“Uh, uh, uh, uh… oh yeah, yes, uh, yes,” he uttered with each thrust. Jake’s grip tightened on the doorframe as he watched, his breath quickening, a heat growing in his belly. He felt himself grow hard. It had been too long—he’d been alone for too long. Suddenly Dimples came, shouting his release into the duvet he had twisted into knots. Muscles came right after, burying himself all the way in the blond and collapsing on top of him. They lay like that, panting and caressing each other.
Dimples practically purred as Muscles’ fingers slid along his back, up his neck, and into his hair. “Mmm… you like that?” Muscles asked, reaching backward with his left hand.
“Yes.” Dimples raised his head a bit, the look on his face sated and dreamy.
“You’re a beautiful boy,” Muscles said, stroking Dimples’ hair. “So smooth and slender.”
Dimples grimaced a bit, trying to reposition himself. “God, I can’t believe you’re still hard.”
“What can I say, babe? You’re so hot.” Muscles withdrew his hand from under the pillow, and in it was clasped something shiny. “So tight around my cock,” he whispered, tightening his grip on Dimples hair.
Jake’s body tensed, and he rushed forward into the room shouting, “No!”
Dimples recoiled, staring right at him. Muscles was thrown off balance, hitting his head against the headboard and dropping the blade he was holding.
“And then you woke up?” Craig asked in awe.
Craig hopped up from his seat. “You’re right, man. That was weird.” Jake chuckled. “Why were you smiling about that?”
Jake unconsciously tapped his pen on the base of his lamp and shrugged. “He was beautiful. He wasn’t hurt.” Jake thought about it further and shook his head, pointing and shaking his pen at Craig. “That dude—Muscles—I’m convinced he was going to slice that guy’s throat while his cock was still inside him.”
Craig winced, and Jake wasn’t sure if it was from the “slice that guy’s throat” or “cock was still inside him.”
His friend nodded. “You saved him.”
“That’s right,” Jake said, smiling. “Pushing papers around here doesn’t exactly make me feel like a hero, but last night, in my dream, I was.”