Page 74 of His Hungry Wolf

Taking the coldest shower I could, I left the bathroom, finding him lost in thought on the couch.

“All yours,” I said, crossing the hallway to my room.

Within, I wasn’t sure what to do. Did I close the door to put on underwear? He had already seen me naked. Hell, he had me in his mouth, and now we would be sleeping in the same bed.

Dropping my towel with the door open, I searched for a pair of underwear from my drawer. Looking back when I felt someone staring at me, I saw Claude enter the bathroom. This was going to be awkward, and it was all my fault.

I hadn’t bought a picnic basket by mistake. He had asked me if my suggested night off would be a date. Did I want it to be a date? Of course, I did. But I thought it would be like one of my silly closet-case dates I would take him on in school. Like then, I thought it would be enough to further my fantasy that we were dating without actually ruining things.

But that was not what happened. I blame the alcohol. Or, the fireworks. Could it have been the candles?

Whatever it was, it made it the most romantic night of my life. I was just a weak gay boy. What resistance did I have to a moment like that?

Searching for my best pair of underwear, I put them on and looked around. Doing some quick straightening up, I made the bed and got into it.

There was no way I was going to be able to decide on what our bedroom rules would be. So, turning off the lights, I abdicated the responsibility. I was going to pretend to be asleep when he entered. That way I wouldn’t have to know what I was doing, or look at his incredible body again. There was only so much I could resist.

As always, Claude took forever to shower. What did he do in there? Whatever it was, it had been long enough to legitimately claim to no longer be awake.

Lying in the darkness, I followed the sound of him around the room. As if he was staring at me, realizing I was asleep, he then quietly exited the room. Had he changed his mind about sharing my bed?

Turns out, he hadn’t. He was just getting his stuff. And when I heard his towel hit the floor telling me he was naked, I did what I shouldn’t have. I peeked.

Yep, he was just as hot as I remembered… And now my dick was hard again. Rock hard. Great! How was I supposed to fall asleep now?

With my eyes closed, I again followed the sound of him around the room. He did things I couldn’t recognize until he gently got into bed. With him settled, I could feel him inches from me. My heart thumped so hard I could hear it. It was so loud I was sure he could as well.

If he did, he didn’t say anything. He just laid there, I assume being oblivious and gorgeous. How had I gotten myself into this situation? Being this close to him without being able to touch him was torture. I was never going to sleep again.

After an hour lying there, traumatized, I was about to give up. Concluding that I would live the rest of my life awake, I rolled onto my side.

My movement must have woken him because as soon as I moved, he moved too. And when he moved, it was towards me. More precisely, it was with his chest touching my back and his arm wrapped around me.

Did he know he was doing this? Should I do something to get him off of me so he had fewer things to regret in the morning? I was about to wiggle to wake him up again when instead, I moved my hand to touch his. As our fingers met, his lightly tightened onto mine, and I immediately fell asleep.

The next morning, remembering what Claude and I had done the night before, my eyes popped open. It was late. Looking around expecting to find Claude, he wasn’t there. Nor was his stuff.

I was sure I had heard him move it into the bedroom last night. But this morning it was gone. He was gone. As I had thought, what we had done had been too much for him. He had disappeared on me again.

Scrambling out of bed as panic set in, I rushed into the living room. It looked like it had before he had moved in, empty. He had left me. I had kissed him, and the fallout had ruined everything.

Spiraling into despair, tears welled in my eyes. I couldn’t take this. Why did I keep messing things up? I was the screw-up Papa always treated me as. I didn’t deserve to be loved. I wasn’t worthy of anything.

That was when I heard a key enter the lock and the door open. I swung around to find a sweaty Claude entering the apartment. Taking one look at me, he said,

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

I quickly wiped my tears away.

“What are you talking about? I always cry in the mornings.”

“No. You always jack off in the mornings,” he said, correcting me as he got a glass of water.

“That was one time!”

He gave me a disbelieving look.

“It was a couple of times. I was in the midst of going through a lot of stress.”