Every Boy's Nightmare - PART ONE of Guns & Roses

Was That a Real First Date

Dinner was phenomenal, the conversations turned to much easier topics, and Chris was finding that the noose was just choking him out.

He couldn’t recall a time he had ever spoken this freely, been that playfully inclined, and more, when they were done, boxed up, and finishing their drinks, he was feeling fat, happy, and a little tired, it was close to midnight, and really, he found, sleep sounded amazing. More, sleeping in Caleb’s giant bed sounded really, really good. It all felt very right, and not in the same manner he had found with Mikael.

None of that prior influence was marring this interaction occurring and it wasn’t even painful so much as eye-opening to realize.

This felt very spontaneous, organic, easy, and comfortable, while also being one the most exciting joy rides of his life. Every brush of fingers, every feline smile given, made him damn near pulse at the edges of his being with delight.

It was like the strongest black magic of his life, and all he could think, was how much more he wanted to know about Caleb, and more, he was thinking he really just wanted what he had talked about. Just to see where that mutual want and chemistry led, and not even just in bed at this point, though that was there.

It was all of this man, inside and out, and the more they flowed and vibed, the more that want intensified.

He also had to fight back the offer a dozen times or more, for Caleb to just take him home if he wanted to.

It was sick; he knew Caleb wanted to take him back, he really did, but his own brain whispered that he was surely just lying to placate his feelings and emotional frenzy. When they stood and Caleb grabbed the bill, he was nervous, feeling a little vulnerable from sharing some of that childhood with him, and said abruptly, “If…if you want, my house is close.”

Caleb paused and really throughout this whole evening and their interactions in general, Caleb had realized that Christian really couldn’t help himself on this kind of shit.

He wasn’t even offended anymore and didn’t believe for a second he even wanted to go home. In fact, he was sure, being alone by himself was akin to torture most days for the man, so, Caleb just glanced at him while he wriggled out of the booth, caught an arm around his waist, and said, “I don’t want.”

The relief was visible in that dark stare, just soothed a lot of tension in that face, and Caleb smiled. One thing he was also realizing, was that he was enjoying that Chris was more petite than himself.

Beautiful, graceful, elegant, and just five foot ten inches of stunning aesthetic housing at least twenty feet of inner turmoil. Caleb was sure, he could deadlift that lighter weight in a millisecond, and just, it was quite appealing if he was honest.

But then, how they were vibing was, in his mind, not so much male or female, but just very geared to what they both liked as people in general.

Caleb had always loved being physically powerful, and strived in his life to be very competitive with it, mainly so he could shock the hell out of people who came for him in any way he needed to with a smackdown of easy power. He geared a lot of time and effort into making himself stronger than most people, and that strength included his responses, his body, his lifestyle, and his tactics.

However, he fucking adored, just loved, that Christian didn’t.

He could not imagine that languid, silken body jacked to the nines. Chris was just a lovely mix of male aesthetics that would have looked just as good in a dress, which was weird to think about, but that was just how the curves, length, and shape of his body were built. That ass alone? Fucking amazing. The sleek cut and contour of arm and chest were just stellar. They were very opposing in almost every way except the whole having a dick thing.