Xander Shows Me My Prostate

"Could we talk in the shower, maybe?" I suggest. Xander gives my sweaty, sticky, cum-dripping body a glance, then grins. 

"Yeah, I guess that might be a good idea before I let you sit on my couch."

I scowl at him. "Half this mess is yours, y'know."

He taps a finger on the end of my nose, playfully. "Yeah, but that half is inside you, isn't it."

One day, I tell myself, I'm not going to blush at the slightest provocation. One day. 

I let him lead me to the bathroom, even though by this point I know the way myself. Watch as he adjusts the water, somehow entirely comfortable and at home in his own naked body. It's these moments, after we've both cum, where my self-consciousness really roars up and threatens to overwhelm me. 

Somehow, when Xander is staring at me in the midst of our sex, lust unmistakeable, I can ignore the voice at the back of my brain which questions why someone who looks like him - why anyone, really - would be into a plain, ordinary guy like me. It's harder to suppress when there's nothing but the sound of the shower and the way he's happily humming under his breath.

Perhaps some of that uncertainty, that confusion, is visible on my face when he turns around. Maybe he just knows me better than I give him credit for. Whatever it is, he gives me a pointed, slightly concerned look.

"We don't have to talk tonight, if you don't want to," Xander offers. "Like, it can wait. Until you feel... well..." It's one of those rare times he seems lost for words, floundering. "I'm sorry, if it feels like I've been pressuring you... at all."

There's no shortage of stuff going on in my brain, and yet there's something about his vulnerability which cuts through it all. Makes me smile at him, in the hope that he'll smile back. 

"I want to talk about it. Now, I mean. Or, like, when we're done showering."

Xander frowns. "Okay... so why do you look so... unhappy?" Something darker passes across his expression. "I didn't... you're not hurt, are you? Because it seemed like..."

"I'm not hurt," I interrupt, before he can spiral any further into paranoia. "You didn't break me." He chuckles, but it still sounds a little uneasy. Another reminder that, for all I may have put him on a pedestal of sorts in my head, in the end Xander is only human too. "It's just... I get a bit, well, self-conscious. Sometimes."

It's like, I think, he'd forgotten that we're both naked. Sticky, and sweaty, and smeared with, well, all of the things which are apparently involved, inevitably, when Xander and I fuck. Some of which I can feel dribbling down my inside thigh, which is making me wish the shower would heat up already. 

"About how you look?" He asks it as though it's such a bizarre concept that he's almost apologetic for assuming that could be the reason. "Luka, you're gorgeous." 

My reaction is something between a scoff and a snort, mixed with the kind of awkward grunt you make when you really don't want to be the center of attention. I gesture at him, vaguely.

"No, you're gorgeous. I'm..." The words for that aren't going to be generous, so I give up. "People are going to wonder what's happening, if they see us... together."

I'm cursing myself, inwardly, now, because that's not what I meant to bring up. Was afraid, really, of seeming like I was drawing conclusions Xander might not be ready for. Of reading too much into the hints he's dropped, the vague shapes of what might be possible now that Lucy is no longer in the picture. 

The look he's giving me, though, isn't one of discomfort. It's closer to outrage, or just plain anger.

He takes a step forward, closing the gap between us. I have to stop myself from backing away, even in this small bathroom. 

"I don't want to ever hear you say that, okay?" There's exasperation in his voice, as he reaches out and grips my biceps. "Never. I'm sorry if you don't see yourself the way I see you, the way I think a lot of people see you. I don't know why that is. But you're..." Xander sighs, the air rushing out of him in one frustrated huff. "Fuck, you're beautiful. Okay? Beautiful."

We stand there in silence for a moment. Xander staring at me with that intense look, still holding my arms. I don't know what to say to him, to say to that. 

"Um, I should probably..." I start, finally, when time has stretched out long enough. Nodding at the shower behind him. Xander gently pulls his hands away; watches as I step into the cubicle. "Aren't you coming in too?" 

A grin, and then he's closing the door behind himself. Reaching for the soap, as I steady myself against the tiles and wait for his fingers to stroke down me. 

It's not sexual. At least, not really. Not intentionally. Though that's not to say there's nothing intimate to it. Xander's hands guiding the soap down my torso, fingers trailing into the crack of my ass as he washes me gently. Somehow just as intimate as when he was balls-deep inside me. 

There's part of me which is feeling like I should be planning what I'm going to say. Once we're out of the shower, toweled dry, clothed again and trying to fathom out the parameters of what we might be to each other. Part of me already cautioning that I need all the preparation I can get; reminding me that, while it may have been an unconventional one, Xander does have at least one relationship under his belt. Some experience in all this.

Whereas I... well, whereas I didn't even know I could feel like this about another guy until just days ago, at most. 

It's hard, though. To focus. To think beyond the softness of how he's touching me; the care which he's lavishing on my body. So far from the fierceness with which he fucked me earlier, and yet it's the same guy, the same sort of emotions just expressed differently. Something I'm trying to get to grips with myself.

"Come on," Xander murmurs, shutting of the water. Smiling at my grunt of displeasure; reaching out, instead, for a towel and watching me as I roughly dry myself. 

My brain is just starting to focus, just about anyway, when he pulls me in for a kiss and all my thoughts scatter again. Only enough sense left to allow him to lead me by the hand to the couch.

"We really don't have to talk about this now," Xander repeats. 

What I want to do is tell him that I like him. That I like him more than I ever thought I could like a guy; that it's the sort of like which doesn't stop at sex, hot as the sex is. But they're terrifying words. 

"I lied, when I said it could just be physical," I blurt out, instead. 

Xander stares at me. "Okay..."

"I told you what I thought you wanted to hear. No... what I thought you needed to hear, so you wouldn't..." My brain hits that wall again. "I think you lied, too. I think we both knew... knew that it wasn't..."

I trail off, frustrated at myself and frustrated at Xander for simply sitting there. Listening to me struggle to articulate myself, and not wade in himself. 

"It seemed like the best idea, at the time," he says, finally. I nod. 

"Yeah, I know." We're both aware there's a 'but' coming, too.

Xander gets there first. "But neither of us were any good at it. No..." He glances away, looking uncomfortable. "I can't talk for you, Luka. That's not fair. I can only say that I wasn't good at it, because I didn't really want us to be just physical. Even if we both knew we had to agree to that because of everything else."

I blink at him, wishing he'd look at me. Even if I couldn't read his thoughts from his expression, at least I'd be able to see his face. Hopefully see him smile.

"What did you want?" I ask him. 

He laughs, softly. "You." Turns, again, an 'are you some sort of idiot?' expression on his face, tempered with an honest grin. "I wanted you, Luka."

My frown is instinctive, brain trying to keep up. "I... I don't understand."

And I don't. Maybe the words he's saying, yes, but not the meaning behind them. Not what this really means for his feelings about me, feelings we'd both been so resolute could not exist. And not where that leaves me, and my own desires here. Separate from my new-found addiction to the way Xander can make my body feel, to the pleasure he can coax out of me, and take from me. 

I sigh, everything feeling heavy and confusing. "I don't understand," I tell him again. 

He's still smiling, but it's edged in sadness now. As though he was hoping I'd be able to give him a different answer, something beyond my own naivety. 

"It's okay. I get that this is... a lot. And probably not... well, probably not what you ever expected, or wanted."

I never expected to be sitting in my underwear on a guy's couch, trying to feel my way around the intimacies of our relationship to each other, I want to tell him. I never expected to have feelings for guys. Or to get off on the idea of them pinning me to the floor and working my body over with their hands, and their mouth, and anything else they could squeeze inside of me. 

"If we stopped talking about or doing stuff because I'm clueless about it," I say, shrugging, "I don't think we'd ever talk or do anything."

Xander laughs, a genuinely amused snort, and there's a rush of happy feelings in my chest. The sort you get when someone you think is great gets some good news, and you're just pleased to see them enjoying life in that moment. 

"I really like it when you laugh, when you're happy," I tell him. Figuring honesty, bluntness even, might be the only workable policy here. Maybe I can't articulate everything I'm experiencing, maybe I just don't have the language for it yet, but perhaps Xander can help me tease out the bottom line. If I can allow myself to be vulnerable with him.

His fingers feel warm, when he reaches out and cradles the side of my head. Staring at me with that amused look, and I can't help but smile back, even though I know I must look goofy as hell. Luka, out of his depth, but grinning like an idiot anyway.

"Just tell me... about what you want," I push him. 

Sighing, Xander strokes the pad of his thumb across my cheek. "I don't know if you're in a place to be ready for what I want."

I can't hold in my snort. "In case you hadn't noticed, I don't have a clue what place I'm in these days." I shrug. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to try. If I have the chance to..."

The words trail off, but it was a challenge anyway. One I can see Xander considering, brow furrowed as he stares at me. Not for the first time, I wish I could push my hands into his brain and drag out the raw feelings in there, see the things he wants to say to me, to do with me, unfiltered by what he thinks I'm ready for, or could handle. Because even if he's right, even if I'm not ready, at least then that's a decision I'm making, not one being made for me.

Xander nods, slowly. Like he's processing, too. Trying to figure out where his own thoughts have landed. 

"I think you're crazy hot. Like, I'm super, super into you, Luka. Even if you don't believe that." I open my mouth to respond, but he makes a gentle gesture to stop me. "And I think I understand some of why you don't, and why it's gonna have to be a show, not tell, thing that gets you past that. And that's okay, I want to show you."

I don't know why, but that makes me blush again. 

"But I also really like you. Much more than I thought I ever would when, well... when I started to pursue you, I guess," he continues. "And for a while I pretended that wasn't the case, because we had to. But now it just keeps bringing me to the point that I might be interested in something you're not."

I could guess, or intuit, or just plain assume, but I need to hear the words. Even if that's the only fixed, clear thing we have now, it's still a signpost. Whether I like it or not.

"What're you interested in?" I ask him. 

Xander smiles, softly. "Fuck, fine. I don't want to scare you away, but I would totally be in a relationship with you, Luka."

I should be observing my own reaction to the words, tracking how my instincts are responding, but instead I can't see anything but the expression on his face. Somehow both hopeful and resigned, a vulnerability which makes me want to climb into Xander's lap and kiss away his anxieties.

"I've... never been in a... relationship. With a guy," I admit. Shrug. "Or a girl, really."

Xander shrugs too. "It's a lot, I know."

I frown. "Is it?" He gives me a confused look. "Like, maybe it's not a lot at all, maybe that's just me overthinking it and you overthinking it, and us both overthinking... each other."

He chuckles. "Okay..."

I sit forward, suddenly feeling a strange sense of things focusing in my brain. As though all this time I've been picking around a dense forest, trying to find the right direction, and now a bright red thread has been plucked up out of the leaves. Something to follow, even if I don't know where it's going to lead me, and that's a choice I'm willing to make because the alternative is just being lost forever. 

"We've already hung out, and we've already kissed and, well..." I flush again. "Well, other stuff. Good stuff." I grin at him. "And it's been good. Really good. Like, stare at my phone hoping Xander texts or something good." 

Part of my brain feels like I should be self-conscious admitting that. Allowing him to see how much he's changed the topography of my life this past week. But I can't bring myself to care about it, or at least not to the extent that I'd not say it at all.

"So maybe this is just us putting... I dunno, a name to all that. And maybe it's a scary name mainly because we both knew we weren't allowed it before. Because of, y'know, a lot of stuff that doesn't apply any more" - I don't want to say Lucy's name, even if we both know who I'm talking about - "mixed up with all the shit people go through when they realize they're maybe into guys, not just girls."

Xander's staring at me. I wait, having to remind myself to breathe. 

"That all sounds very... rational," he says, finally. 

I frown. "Why does that sound like an insult?"

He laughs. "I thought you'd go running for the hills if I told you I wanted to date you," Xander admits.

I can't help it, can't resist it. Lift myself just enough on the couch that I can swing my leg over his, settle in his lap. Xander looking surprised but not unhappy, not by any measure; leaning back instead, his hands finding my hips. 

"I'm not freaking out," I tell him, and it's a statement of fact, and of surprise, and of commitment, all in one. 

"Me neither," he replies, grinning.

I roll my eyes. "Well yeah, duh. You're meant to be the older, more experienced, more worldly-wise one, remember?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot." He squeezes me, just a little, but enough to make me want to wriggle on his lap in happiness. "So what're you saying, then, younger, less experienced, charmingly naive one?"

I screw up my face. "Why do I have to be the one who asks?" 

Xander chuckles. "Because it's fun seeing you embarrassed?" Then, when he sees me open my mouth, quickly corrects himself. "Or maybe because it's good to be the one that chooses, sometimes."

He's right, I know he is. And yet it still takes effort - a surprising amount of effort, actually - to piece the words together in my brain and then hold his gaze as I say them out loud.

"I was... well, I thought, maybe, that... we could, y'know..." A deep breath. "We could try maybe dating. If that's, y'know, something you'd be maybe wanting to try."

As declarations of relationship interest, it's probably not the smoothest or most eloquent. Then again, Xander is the first guy I've ever asked out, I remind myself, so maybe I deserve a little slack along the way.

He's staring at me, and for a horrible moment I wonder whether I've misread the situation completely. Got the whole thing entirely, comically, cringe-inducingly wrong, and now Xander is trying to figure out the least-painful way to let me down. 

"Why?"

It's not the question I expect, nowhere close. So out of left-field, in fact, that for a moment I just boggle at him, brain scrambling to understand.

"What do you mean, why?" I manage to ask, finally. Xander shrugs.

"Why do you want to try dating?" 

I frown at him, wondering if it's a trick question. Some sort of joke, perhaps, only Xander isn't grinning like it is. 

"D-don't you want to?" My voice sounds strange to my own ears. Hollow and shaky, suddenly. 

When he smiles, there's a softness there; sympathy, almost. "I do, Luka, yeah. I can absolutely see me dating you, what it would be like being your boyfriend." He strokes a hand down my bare arm, more like he's checking to see that I really am something physical, tangible in front of him. "What I'm asking you is why you want to date me?" 

I can't stop the frown now, or the feeling in my belly like I've just gulped down three black coffees, one after another, and it's dawning on me that the shakes are setting in. 

"I... I don't understand," I tell him, helplessly. 

Xander leans in, his forehead resting against mine. There's no way I can't close my eyes; inhale the smell of him, something that has become so familiar to me this week, it's as though I've always known it. As reassuring as it is exciting. 

"We can be friends, and we can hook up, without dating," he explains, softly. "I'm not saying I don't want to be your boyfriend; actually, I think that sounds pretty fucking awesome, honestly. But I know I like guys that way. And so the question is whether you're rushing into something because you like the physical stuff we've been doing, and want that to keep going, or if you actually want, y'know, to be in a relationship with another man."

I sigh, feeling overwhelmed. My brain can just about understand his question, the logic behind it, but at the same time it's crying out for simplicity. For something, finally, to feel straightforward. 

"Does it matter?" I ask him. He takes so long to reply, I have to open my eyes. Find Xander looking back at me, a twist of something unexpectedly vulnerable on his face. 

"For me, it does. Because I like you, Luka. Like you a lot. And while it's fun having sex with you..." He cuts his eyes away, for a moment, before meeting mine again. "I guess I just don't want to get my hopes up, y'know, that it's something more. And then find out you aren't feeling the same way."

He says it so gently, so carefully, it takes a moment before the reality of it hits me like a slap. Because all this time - well, not all of it, maybe, but enough of it - I've been thinking of Xander as this totally confident, utterly self-assured guy. Someone aspirational, that I wish I could be a little bit more like, and who could hopefully like me too in the process. 

And in the process I've managed to overlook the fact that this could be meaningful and scary to him, too. In different ways to the torrent of feelings and uncertainties I'm going through, sure, but no less intense because of that. 

I slip my hands around his neck; pull his face in closer, so that my lips can brush his. A kiss that's far from the frenzy of earlier, in the hallway, and yet just as much of a turn-on. My cock thickening, as Xander's fingertips squeeze my flanks and I feel him swell underneath me. 

"I didn't mean to... to take you for granted," I tell him. They're not the right words, I know they're not, but I'm hoping he'll forgive me anyway. "And to answer your question... this is new to me, really new. But it's real, it feels real. And when I think about you..." 

I can feel myself blushing; wonder, if Xander had been keeping count of all the times he's seen that, been the cause of it, what astronomical number he'd have reached by now. Smile, at the idea of it, and at the idea of what I'm telling him now. How right it feels. "When I think about you, I'm attracted to you, but I also... I also really like you. Like, really, really like you. And I know I'm not good at this, and I'm new to this, but... I feel like that's as real as it gets?"

If I could peel open my head, let him go digging through my brain and see the truth of it for himself, I would. All I can do, though, is look at his face and hope he sees what he needs to in mine. 

Being smiled at has never felt so sweet. 

"Guess you've got yourself your first boyfriend, then," Xander says, then chuckles. The sound of it muffled, a split-second later, by my kiss. And for a moment we're happy just to do that, tongues and roaming hands and all, before I pull - reluctantly - back.

"I'm going to need lots, and lots, of lessons, I think," I tell him, as earnestly as I can. Xander grins, knowingly. "And we should probably go on, like, a proper first date, too." His eyebrow lifts, but he's still smiling. "And, fuck..." I make a face. "My fucking sister is going to have a field day with this, isn't she."

It's enough to trip him over into laughter, and then I'm laughing too, and then suddenly he's rolling us sideways on the couch and pulling me down on top of him. Our chests pressed together, his arms around me, and the heat from him is as much a physical thing as his erection where it's straining against my own. 

"Fancy learning something new?" Xander teases. "I should warn you I'm a very hands-on tutor." 

I bite my lip. Feel his fingers sliding down me until my cheeks are filling his palms; the squeeze of them promising, almost proprietorial. Love how he's looking at me, as if - out of all the possibilities in the whole damn world - there's nothing he'd rather be staring at right now. 

And hope, too, that Xander can see I'm looking at him exactly the same way. 

---

This is the final chapter of this story, and I want to thank everyone who followed along, who commented and voted, and who emailed me to let me know what they thought! It's been awesome to hear your feedback. Quite a few people expressed an interest in an ebook version, and so I'm happy to say you can get "Xander Shows Me My Prostate" from my site (where there are also some other stories if you're on the hunt for the next thing to read).

Here's to the next one!