Straight

XXXI (second half is NSFW)

Brett looks away, far away in the distance. There seems to be a bubble around them, that keeps the whole rest of the world out. It's just them, just the two of them now. 
"I don't know what came over me, that first night here, when I asked you if you wanted me to wank you." he says hoarsely. "I was so fucking horny that night, and I saw you like that, your dick all big and beautiful... it was stronger than me. And then I felt so guilty afterwards. Because was that even right, when I felt this way and you didn't know? But you liked it, I could see that, and for a while I could kid myself into thinking that it was okay."
Eddy squeezes Brett's hand softly, urging him on. 
"And then?"
"And then I fell deeper, for you. And I felt like such an idiot. And I tried, I really tried. I even tried to get you the date with Jill. And then you got sick."
Eddy shakes his head. 
"I thought you getting me that date meant you wanted us to go on the way we always had."
"Were you not sick?"
Eddy shrugs and squeezes Brett's hand again. 
"I was lovesick. I knew by then how I felt. And I knew we couldn't carry on like that. It was... it was a low point, Bretty."
Brett blinks at him, once, twice. Then he sighs deeply. 
"I was an idiot. Such an idiot."
"We both were, I think."

He smiles at him. There's one more thing he has to say, and he knows very well what he wants to do after he says it. 
"Just... Brett... don't feel guilty about anything, please. It took... I guess it took this to make me realise. If you'd've said, before... it would have been different. Things... they've worked out okay, don't you think?"
Brett heaves the deepest sigh, then raises his hand and strokes Eddy gently over the cheek. In a way no best friend would ever stroke a best friend. 
"I can't believe I get to do this." he says quietly. 
Eddy smiles again. 
"I hope I get to do a bit more than that. If... if you're up for it? No more hurling?"
Brett smiles too. 
"No, no more. I'm not sick at all, not anymore."

Eddy bends over to him. He thinks briefly about the bed, but no. It was this couch, where it all began. Well, for him, anyway. He can't believe his luck as he pushes him back, makes him lie down and kisses him again, insistently this time. His libido has woken up from the slumber it was put in last night, and his dick starts to strain eagerly against his jeans. He presses himself against Brett and groans when he feels Brett's dick grow in response. Brett is in sweats, and he doesn't want to hurt him, so he yanks open his jeans and makes to lie back down,but Brett grins wickedly and tugs his jeans further down. A surge of something pulls through him as he kicks the jeans off and lies on top of Brett in his underwear. 
Kissing him is the best thing in the world. So much better than it was with Vanessa, with Jill. Because Brett is home, Brett is real. He is everything. He can feel Brett's erection under his own, through the fabric of his sweats, and he pushes gently. Brett's answering little groan makes him hotter. Knowing that he loves him makes everything so much better, so he pushes again, but this time Brett meets him halfway, pushing up at him eagerly. Their dicks line up so beautifully, and before Eddy knows it he starts thrusting, the friction between them becoming the whole world, giving, taking, giving, taking. 
"Oh God." Brett groans, and Eddy knows he is close. An orgasm is building inside him like a tsunami, taking everything with it in its wake, every bit of angst, every worry, every tear. He thrusts again and again, Brett meeting him halfway now. 
This is not wanking. This is lovemaking. 
Brett's deep groan tips him over the edge and he comes, and comes, pulling Brett so close they're almost the same person. He feels him pulse, underneath him, feels his warmth spreading through the fabric, mixing with his own. 
"Oh my God." Brett says hoarsely. "Eddy, oh my God."