Xander Shows Me My Prostate

The water had stayed hot, but the burritos were definitely cold by the time we'd emerged from the bathroom. Xander had made himself reasonably useful in the shower, though it did seem like he was particularly keen to make sure my ass was clean. 

That, unsurprisingly, had included a lot of attention and a number of fingers, as I silently considered the possibility that he could just fuck me again.

Instead it was out, dripping, into the embrace of the extra-soft towels I was still jealous of. Sharing knowing looks and grins as we caught each other's eye; as I turned away, suddenly feeling coy at his staring, I caught a glimpse of him gazing at me in the mirrored cabinet. Wanted to believe that there was something more than lust and amusement in that fleeting expression. 

The microwave took care of reheating breakfast. That just left the rest of life to figure out somehow. 

"What if I like guys?" I blurt out, unprompted, sitting at the little counter in his kitchen. Xander glanced over from the coffee machine.

"Do you?"

I blink at the question. It's not the one I expected him to counter with. 

"I mean, I like... you," I reply, managing to keep the stuttering to a bare minimum. "And you're a guy."

A grin. "That's true. You're so observant." I roll my eyes, but that doesn't stop his chuckle at his own joke. "Does it matter if you do?"

I frown, thinking. That's closer to the question I'd thought he'd ask, though expecting it didn't mean I was any nearer to knowing an answer. In the end, blunt honesty laced with uncertainty wins out.

"Like... when I'm with you, when it's just us... it doesn't feel like it matters," I tell him. Xander nods, but stays silent, waiting for me to carry on. "And when I told Dan, my friend who... who took the photos..." I can feel myself blushing at the memory of it, ridiculous as that reaction is given everything that has already happened this morning. "Well, he didn't seem to care, really. That you and I... y'know."

Silence, for a moment. "But..." Xander prompts.

I sigh, frustrated at the fact that we both know that "but" was coming. Was inevitable, even. "But I don't know if the rest of the world would get it. Or be okay with it. And I don't know if... fuck, I don't know if I can be okay with it not being okay. Does that make sense?"

He clicks the power button on the brewer, and turns to me. Arms folded across the t-shirt he pulled on after we both dressed again. I can't help but search his face for any sign of disappointment; the possibility that my cowardice has been a let-down.

"It's easy to say that people should just do what feels right to them, and fuck how everyone else feels. But that's really hard to do, in practice," Xander points out. I nod, feeling simultaneously relieved at his understanding, and miserable that it's the reality we're in. "And you don't actually have to tell anybody who you're into. Male or female." 

I'm frowning again, but it's mostly because that feels kinda... un-Xander. Like, trying to hide who I'm interested in, who the real Luka actually is, feels like something I'd do. As opposed to Xander, who seems to have no problems whatsoever being open, blunt even, about his truths.

"Is it not cheating?"

Xander smiles. "You don't owe anybody answers. You can choose to give them, sure, and not to deny them if you're asked. But there's no shame in keeping your private life private unless you actively want to share it with someone."

The words make sense, even if I feel like there's some part of that missing. Something between the lines that I'm not reading. Maybe Xander sees that in my face.

"I think it's easy to get confused with being okay with something yourself, and being, I dunno, 'loud and proud' about it all day, every day." He pushes a hand back through his damp hair; I force myself to try to focus on deciphering his words, what he's trying to explain to me, rather than the way the muscles in his arms swell intriguingly as he does it. 

"Like... whether you're cheating to yourself, you mean?" I suggest. Xander nods. 

"I think so, yeah. If you're having sex with guys, and maybe having feelings for them..." I see his glance away; what could even be a flinch of something close to guilt there, just for the briefest moment. "Well, if that's the case, but you're telling yourself it's not happening, that's not your truth, then I guess that could be a type of cheating. Even if it's only really yourself that's getting hurt in the process."

I swallow. "Have you... I mean, do you ever have, um, feelings... for a guy, I mean." I'm blushing, cheeks red hot suddenly, and feeling desperate with it. "Not like... I don't mean..." Dammit, Luka, this is why you think before you speak. "I just... generally. I mean generally. Not..."

My voice trails off, and for a moment Xander doesn't seem inclined to replace it. Just stares at me, jaw working, as I try to decode what's going on inside his head. 

"I have, yeah," he says, finally. "And it's not like that's... a problem. Only the timing, maybe."

Nine-tenths of me is screaming that I should change the subject, move on to something less awkward. Somehow, though, that little which remains isn't letting me comply. 

"And if the timing was different? Had been different, I mean?"

The smallest of shrugs. "It's not like I'm only interested in guys sexually, Luka."

I'm not sure how, but it manages to be much smaller and much larger of an answer than I was hoping for. Both, at the same time. And that just leaves it even more difficult to understand. 

Sighing, I stare down into the mug of coffee Xander sets in front of me. Feeling the steam from it on my face. "I wish this could be easier."

He laughs, not unkindly. "It'll get easier. Or, at least, the things that seem like problems now will clear up, and you'll get new problems to replace them with."

I know I'm going to burn my mouth, taking a sip so quickly, but I do it anyway. Sometimes the payoff is worth the pain, after all. Look up to see him watching me, smiling still. 

"Reassurance and doom all in one go. Thanks."

Xander laughs again, then glances up at the clock on the microwave. "Damn, where did the morning go?" 

I chuckle. "Mostly with you inside me."

His eyebrow lifts. "I remember it the other way around."

My face is blushing, but it's not as hot as my chest feels, thinking about how I'd pounded into him. Picturing Xander prone, offering himself to me, demanding - no, begging - me to fuck him harder, rougher. 

I shouldn't be able to get hard again, not after everything we've done so far today already, but my dick doesn't seem to have got that message. Or, perhaps, it sees that as a challenge thrown down.

"Are you busy this afternoon?" 

It's an innocent question, I know, but I still feel guilty asking it. As though I'm prying; as if the subtext there is far more than the five words might first suggest. I don't even quite know what I'm hoping for, here. Whether I'm angling for more sex, or just to hang out with him, spending time in Xander's company. 

"I've got something with Lucy, actually," he explains, and I try not to let the way my stomach clenches show on my face. Nod, instead, and lie to myself that I'll examine the way I'm feeling right now later, when I'm on my own again. 

"Can you give me a ride home first?" I ask him, instead. Aiming for breezy or, failing that, casual. Just us two buddies, hanging out, nothing more to see here.

"You thought I'd make you walk?" Xander sounds amused. 

I shrug. "Just don't want to be a headache for you, is all."

He stares at me, for a moment. And then there's almost a sigh; caught, just before it could be considered real. "You're not, Luka."

I nod, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Staring down into my mug, wondering how I managed to make it almost all of the way to the bottom. 

"Well, I don't want to... y'know, hold you up," I tell him. "So any time is fine with me."

It shouldn't feel this awkward. Not after all we've done together. Not after how we agreed - how we insisted - that we'd be with each other. 

"You want more coffee?" 

I shake my head, draining what little remains and setting the mug down on the counter. "I'm good. We should probably go."

It feels different in the car. Then again, when Xander picked me up this morning, when we were headed from the cafe to his apartment, there was something else on our minds. His hands on me, toying with my cock, fingers pushing to play with my ass. It all seems like a long time ago, compared to the quiet right now.

I'm not going to be the one who asks when we're seeing each other next. Not after almost putting my foot in it so many times already. Xander wants simple, physical... no headaches. That's what I'll give him. 

He puts the car in park, hand slipping onto my thigh. It doesn't feel wrong to slide my own on top of his, squeezing him as he grips me. 

"Thank you... for today," I tell him; immediately feel awkward. Xander tightens his fingers slightly, just for a moment. 

"Next time we'll have the burritos fresh," he says, smiling. I snort. 

"You've got a one track mind. I just didn't guess it would be about breakfast."

He shrugs, and then - a glance around us so fast, I could second-guess whether I'd seen it at all - leans in and lands a soft, brief kiss on my lips. I have to fight the urge to look, hurriedly, to check if anybody I might know is walking past the car. And, for that matter, fight the urge to pull him back into me and make the next kiss a lot less brief. 

"Message me," he says, "and send me more of the results from your photo session."

Shaking my head, ruefully, I reach for the door handle. "There we go. That's the track I expected."

Xander grins, and if he's at all embarrassed about being called out then he's hiding it well. I can't help but grin back, feeling a little ridiculous at how easily he can make me happy, but not really inclined to fight it, either. 

I'm still smiling when I close the front door behind me. 

It's tempting to go straight to my camera roll; pick out another of the photos that Dan took of me. Only it feels a little, well, like attention-seeking to do it right after Xander has left. He's probably only just leaving my block now, and I'm sure that anybody with common sense would be telling me to hold off and wait until later. 

Plus, it's not like he's probably thinking of me right now, anyway. Attention almost certainly on his girlfriend. 

I do unlock my phone, though, and pull up my messages. More because I don't really want to dwell on the idea of Xander and Lucy, even if there's still some part of me which finds the concept of him telling her what he and I get up to as hot. Can still remember, in fact, the shock and spark of lust that ignited in me when he first described it, the nature of their agreement. 

"turns out you're a good photographer" I text Dan, instead. Don't have to wait long for his reply, either. 

"fuck yes I am, so he liked the pics???"

I debate just how much I want to tell my best friend about Xander's reaction. Twenty-four hours ago the idea of explaining to him what I'd been doing with another guy would've been... well, impossible. Never-gonna-happen levels of nope. Now, somehow, Dan had ended up taking news of it all in his stride; more than that, had actively made himself my dude-sex champion and coach. I had the photos saved in my gallery to prove it. 

"only sent one, but he liked it," I admit. 

"so did you do the deed???" 

I could refuse to tell him, I know. Make it into a joke; bypass all the questions I know he's going to have. And yet, even if talking about us fucking isn't quite the thing about Xander and me that's on my mind right now, I can't bring myself to squash the conversation completely. 

"yeah, it was good," I admit. 

A second later the phone screen lights up with a call. Rolling my eyes, I thumb the button to answer it. 

"'Good'? Dude, are you fucking kidding me with that lame-ass answer?" Dan sounds peeved, but amused with it, too.

I shrug, even though he can't see me. "Wasn't sure how much detail you wanted."

It's not an unfair suggestion, but I still hear my best friend snort. "So you fucked him?" 

It's a relief that he can't see me blushing, he'd only tease me about it. "Uh, yeah."

"And?"

Another shrug. "Like I said, it was good."

I get the feeling Dan is counting, slowly, to ten in his head. "Dude, you're impossible. Did you at least last more than ten seconds?" 

There's no way to keep the giggle inside. Not when I imagine Xander reaching back to claw his cheeks further apart; the way he begged for me to pound him harder. "Yeah, I did."

Dan makes a noise I interpret as relief. "And did you... y'know..."

We can talk in circles, I decide, or we can just be blunt. And the latter route is probably faster. "Did I cum in him? Yeah, I did."

Another moment of silence, this time edged with surprise. Maybe even shock. Then I hear Dan laugh. "Fuck, dude, you're full of surprises."

It's what Xander said about me, I remember. Can see his face as he said it, as his fingers swept his freshly-sprayed load from across my chin, my cheeks, and into my wide-open mouth. As I waited for permission to swallow him. 

Maybe I won't tell Dan about that part, I decide.

"But you liked it, right?" my best friend presses. I can't help laughing again.

"Yeah, of course. And he seemed... well, he didn't seem disappointed."

Dan huffs, as if the idea of anything else is impossible to even think about. "Well of course he wasn't. You're a fucking stud."

I know he's not being serious, not really. But still... there's something about him being able to joke about all this, about our being comfortable talking about it at all, which makes me feel grateful, suddenly. 

"You gonna send him more of the pics?" 

Maybe it's just a guy thing - instinctively wanting dirty photos when you know they're out there - but it makes me grin to think of both Dan and Xander coming back to that topic. 

"Yeah, I guess. Need to decide which."

There's a moment's pause. "The one where you're jerking off, the last one," Dan says, finally. "Your dick looked really big in that one."

I snort. "Stop thinking about my dick, dude."

Dan chuckles. "You're the one who jerked off with my cum," he points out. 

"Only because you were jacking off and got cum all over my fucking dick, idiot," I fire back. 

He sighs, theatrically. "Wow. You help a guy out with some free lube, and this is the thanks you get."

"You're generosity personified," I tell him, voice dripping sarcasm. Hear him laugh in response. 

"So you gotta tell me now, which do you prefer?" Dan sounds genuinely curious, but I'm not completely sure what he's asking.

"What do you mean?" 

"Y'know," he explains, "fucking a guy, or getting fucked in the ass by a guy?"

The silence isn't so much because I don't want to answer, but because I don't know what that answer actually is. "I dunno," I say, finally. "They're really... different."

"Like, how, though?" There's something new in his tone; something that jolts me back to that moment when he was sitting next to me on the couch, squeezing his erection through his sweatpants. Like the question is more than just idle interest. 

"I need to be drunk for this conversation," I tell him, hearing Dan chuckle. 

"There's still vodka," he points out. 

I snort at the idea. "Bad vodka, yeah." 

"Does the job, though," Dan counters. He's got a point. 

Sighing, I silently concede defeat. And it's not like I'm looking forward to the idea of sitting around, desperate for a distraction, and attempting not to think about Xander and Lucy doing... well, whatever it is that couples do together. "Fine, come over." 

The bottle is still where we left it, on the coffee table in the basement. Even just the sight of it is enough to give me a premature hangover. Dan's access to alcohol is useful, I just wish he had better taste, too. 

We're playing whatever his favorite video game is right now, some sort of racing sim that I'm terrible at. He's not much better - despite what he claims - but is still good enough that he's winning pretty much every race. At least the mindless button-pressing is keeping my brain occupied. 

Dan's so focused on the screen, meanwhile, that I thought he'd forgotten all about our conversation on the phone. Instead, I'm trying to overtake him through a series of switchback corners when he blurts out a question. 

"So, like, how did it actually feel?"

If this was real life, I'd have just earned myself a few thousand dollars worth of bodywork repairs. Thankfully they're only pixels. 

"How did what feel?"

He frowns, though doesn't look away from the TV. "When you fucked him, idiot."

I should've guessed he would be fascinated. After all, my best friend isn't just perpetually horny, he's also obsessed with finding out weird sex shit online. Hence, for example, trying to eagerly to get me to try fingering my ass while I'm jerking off, not to mention the various other odd stuff he's got hung up on before that. 

"Uh... like, tight. Hot. Lots of friction," I tell him. I've somehow managed to give my car a matching set of scrapes on the opposite side, something I suspect that in real life wouldn't leave me still doing eighty miles per hour.

"What about getting fucked?" He shoots a look my way. "Is it like, y'know, your fingers?" 

I sigh, hammering the buttons and wondering why I still haven't managed to overtake him. "Do you really want to know all this shit?" 

Dan shrugs. "Come on, dude, who else can you talk about this stuff with?" 

He has a point. I mean, there's Xander, but it's more likely I'd be actually doing it than talking about it. 

"I guess it's a bit like with your fingers. But... thicker. More... god, I don't know. Solid, maybe? And deeper." 

It's difficult to describe it, more difficult than I'd expected anyway. Not that I can't remember what it was like when Xander nailed me, but more that the physical stuff gets all kinda caught up with everything else I was feeling at the time. Hyper-aware of the heat of him, of the feeling of him being wrapped around me. The smell and the taste of his skin. It's impossible to tease out just the way his dick inside me felt. 

"But good, right?" Dan presses. 

I shrug. "I mean, I was hard when he did it. Stayed hard, I mean."

A nod. I've noticed him fumble his gamepad a few times, like he's distracted. So it's no surprise when another question comes. 

"Was he hard? When you fucked him?" 

It makes me frown, trying to remember. Xander was hard when we were kissing, in the run-up to us having sex. And he was definitely hard after I came, when he'd straddled my chest and fed me his load. "Yeah," I tell Dan, "I think so."

"Damn," he murmurs. I'm watching our race, but still see him absently squeeze at his crotch through his basketball shorts. Wonder which part of all this is getting him worked up; whether Dan's picturing it happening to him, and if so which role he's playing in his imagination. 

For some reason, that just makes me want to tease him. 

"Then he jerked off while I fingered him," I say. Dan's head snaps around, eyes searching my face, before he turns back to the game. 

"Fuck, you mean after you'd just cum in him?" He chuckles. "That must've felt..."

"Squishy," I finish for him. "And really hot, and wet, and soft." 

Dan's nostrils flare. I've pretty much given up on the race, hands just going through the motions now, because it's more fun to watch my best friend's expression as I give him more details about the way Xander and I used each other. 

"He was sitting on my chest, so I was right there when he blew."

Dan's car sideswipes a barrier; he hisses out a curse. Not that I think he's much concentrating on our game either. "Shit, did he cum on your face?" 

"In my mouth," I correct. As though it's the most normal thing in the world, a guy unloading across my tongue as I massage his cum-slicked prostate with my fingertips. 

He turns to look at me, his own mouth hanging open. "Dude, what the fuck?"

His reaction is enough to make me wonder whether I should've said quite so much. Because Dan looks about as shocked as I can remember seeing him. 

I shrug, awkwardly. "What?"

He's staring at me as though I've grown a second head or something. There's a treacherous part of my brain suggesting that it could just be that he's used to being the weird, kinky one, and now suddenly I'm threatening to upstage him.  

"Did you swallow it?" 

I hold his gaze for a second or two, then turn to look back at the screen where both our cars are just sort of idling, now. Race finally ignored. "What do you think," I tell him, blandly. 

Dan's face is the picture of shock, but I can't help but notice the way his hand is kneading his crotch. The silky blue shorts he's wearing isn't doing much to hide the fact that he's boned up. 

"Don't freak out," I warn him. He gives me a lopsided grin. 

"Who's freaking? Just surprised at you, is all."

I raise an eyebrow. "Just seemed right at the time, y'know."

He chuckles. "And then what?" 

I look, pointedly, down between his legs. "Are you getting off hearing about all this shit?" 

Dan follows my gaze, almost as though it's news to him that he's hard and toying with himself through his clothes. Then looks back up at me, expression hardly coy. 

"Just sounds hot, is all. And it's not like you haven't seen it already." 

I roll my eyes. "If you're looking for permission, I don't care."

There's part of me which is curious if he'll do it. Like, I know what happened last night, after he'd taken the photos of me. How we'd both ended up hard and playing with ourselves. That'd seemed... not normal, sure, no, but maybe inevitable somehow. 

Now, though, it feels like Dan's just looking for an excuse to get off. 

I watch as he reaches into the loose leg of his shorts, nudging the glistening nylon aside as he pulls his cock out. There's no denying how turned on he is right now, meat thick between his fingers. 

"So what did you do next?" he asks, repeating his question. I sigh. 

"How much detail do you want?" Dan shrugs, grinning at me. He's not jerking himself yet, just kinda feeling on his dick. I toss the gamepad down, and sit back against the arm of the couch. "Fine, then. We ended up in the shower together." 

I could tell him about the conversation Xander and I had. How we'd litigated just what the bounds of our interactions could look like, could become. The frustration I'd felt, and my unwillingness to push the subject because I knew there was no way I could do anything but lose out at the end of that. 

And so I tell him the stuff I know Dan wants to hear, instead. 

"He picked me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist and rode his cock while he pressed me against the wall," I recount. Watch my best friend's eyes widen a little; the way his hand is sliding up and down his hardness now. The length of it still sticking out of his rucked up shorts, his fist tugging on it against his thigh. 

"You nailed him, and then he did you in the shower?" There's a burr to Dan's voice now, a thickness I'm starting to recognize. I nod. 

"Yeah, and then he blew in me. And then we both played with my hole."

Dan's not the only one hard, I realize. My cock trapped against my hip, swollen in my shorts at the story I've been telling him. Over the memories I've raided to help turn my best friend on. 

"He really loves your ass," he observes. I shrug.

"We played with his, too," I explain. "I think he just likes ass stuff."

Dan's smile is loaded. "Yeah, I get that."

"Have you managed more than three fingers, yet?" I ask him, slyly. He shakes his head, staring at me. 

"If he likes your ass so much," Dan suggests, swallowing, "you should make him a video."

---

Huge thanks to everyone who has commented, shared, or rated this so far - I really love hearing what you think!

If Luka's exploration of his sexuality has you looking for more straight-boys-discover-gay-play tales, and you enjoy your erotica filled with ass-play, cum, college boy hookups, and some remote-control sex toys, then I think you'll like my story "Seven Days to Squirm" too...