Efrain and Cory

Efrain and Cory 16

Author’s Note -- This chapter was kind of a pain in the ass, but I still had fun writing it.  I’ve received a couple emails commenting on my epic grammar skills.  I probably read my manuscripts a dozen or so times before I post ‘em (and just as many times again AFTER I post), but I always miss one or two things.  Even had to put in a last minute revision for chapter 15, and I still missed shit.  It’s like one or two errors, but they haunt me at night.  Gawd, I need to find an editor before I hyperventilate!

I’m using some Spanish and Japanese slang in this chapter, so I’ll drop a few quick glosses here.  Acho and vato are Spanish slang for man and dude, respectively.  I can’t bring myself to have our boys call each other baby (Cory would do it, but it seemed too out of character for Efrain).  Acho and vato seem like a decent compromise, and would allow them to use the petname with people they aren’t out to.

Neko and tachi are Japanese slang for bottom and top.  Neko means cat and tachi is a type of sword.  Makes sense, right?  Nekokke is how the Japanese describe what we call “baby fine” hair.  Neko and nekokke are where Cory’s Kitten petname comes from.  Incidentally, Itoshi no Nekokke (literally “My Darling Kitten Hair”), probably one of my favorite yaoi stories of all time, influenced Cory’s character design and the story overall (Kurose Riku from Ten Count influenced Efrain’s character).  Bonus, fans of yaoi and shounen-ai are sometimes called fujoshi and fudanshi (meaning, rotten girl and rotten boy).  Romero went full fudanshi.  You never go full fudanshi.

This is my longest chapter to date, and probably the longest I’ve gone so far without an update.  Hope it’s worth the wait! ~ Dayne (dayne.mora@gmail.com)

Nifty <3’s you - http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html 

Chapter 16 – El Amorío de Acho y Vato

I carefully eased out from under Efrain’s arm and out of his warm bed.  I padded across the room toward my drawer to get something to wear.

About three weeks into our relationship (the fuckbuddy one, not the boyfriend part) Efrain decided that it was silly for me to carry a bag full of clothes and toiletries back and forth when I stayed over, and that it was even sillier for me to leave early so I could run back to my place to shower and change before class.  He cleared out a drawer in his bureau and set aside a space in his closet.  Pretty soon, I had a collection of underwear, pajamas, street clothes, and shoes at his place.

As I pulled out a pair of lounge pants to slip on, it occurred to me that I should have known Efrain saw me as more than just a regular hook-up.  A toothbrush and a bottle of my favorite body wash kinda pushed the confines of “no-strings,” a couple pairs of my shoes and some changes of clothes violated it all together.  We’d been a romantic couple before we even thought to add the labels.  The thought sent another wave of warm, giddy feelings over me – the kind where I can’t think of anything else but cuddling back up to him and kissing him awake.

It’s weird, but we kinda regressed to this stage where we spend stupid amounts of time snuggling and snogging.  Like, we’d be doing some random mundane thing, then one of us would give the other an innocent peck.  The peck would be matched with a nibble, the nibble would become a series of nibbling kisses, the kisses would lead to a tongue seeking entry, the tongue would gently coax its mate into the dance, and so on until it’s half an hour later and we’re still locked in a tantalizingly gentle exchange rife with longing gazes, soft caresses, and tender sighs.  We still fucked like rabbits, if the delicious ache in my hips was any indication, but within all that were the various wonderful emotions attendant to falling for someone.  I didn’t know about Efrain, but, God, I was falling fucking hard for him.

I guess we owed it to Indie for forcing Efrain and me to open up about what we wanted.

I pulled out a pair of soft fleece lounge pants and a t-shirt.  I grabbed my hoodie, too.  It was late October, and a hell of a lot colder than Texas.  The average high for Blacksburg was the average low for Cibolo.  I wasn’t quite sure if I liked this.  I mean, it would take another month or two for a cold front to mosey on down to South Texas.  Everyone back home was still in shorts and shit, while I was already bundled up in my hoodies and begging Mom to send me a winter coat.

I really wanted to get back in bed with my furnace of a boyfriend (he considered the current weather refreshing and was still in his t-shirts most days), but I really needed some water and ibuprofen.  I drank a lot more than I meant to last night, but I wasn’t suffering too badly.  I did figure out rather late that I’m a horny drunk and a lightweight, but I was quite pleased to discover that I never got hungover.  No, this had more to do with having a dirty washcloth crudely shoved in my mouth and getting held down while my boyfriend pounded my ass.

Man, last night was fun.

I knew Indie was in the kitchen even before I walked in.  I could hear the loud clanking of dishes from Efrain’s room.  It was his vacuuming that woke me up this morning.

He was at the sink, looking oddly cheerful for someone working his way through a massive stack of dirty dishes.  I vaguely remembered a room full of people last night; I think he may have had friends over for dinner or something.

For some reason, the noise seemed too loud for normal dishwashing.  The sound of clanking dishes got even louder when I said good morning to him.

He wasn’t wearing the dozen or so earrings I’m used to seeing him with, but still had in all his facial piercings – two sets of silver balls straddling the outer edge of his right eyebrow, a bullring through his septum (I still wonder how he blows his nose with that thing), and a little silver ball at either side of his bottom lip.  I could see the bar going through his tongue when he spoke.  Not going to lie, but those piercings were sexy as fuck (even Efrain had to admit he’s thought about what a blowjob from Indie would feel like).

“Coffee?” he asked.  He gestured at the coffee pot with his elbow since both hands were submerged in soapy water jostling dirty pots against each other.  The dishwasher hummed and sloshed under the counter.

“That actually sounds pretty good.”  I always loved cupping my hands around a warm mug when it got cold.

I already knew that Indie was a morning person.  He got up every morning, no matter what the weather looked like, to go running.  I’d often run into him when I slipped out to shower and change in my dorm room.  He was usually on his second cup of coffee or heading out himself.  I had offered him a lift to school a few times, but he always politely declined.

“How’s the hangover?” he asked sunnily and, for whatever reason, louder than he needed to.

“Nonexistent.”

Indie looked a little disappointed, but seemed to recover.  I didn’t know if it was my imagination, but the clanking of dishes seemed to get quieter.  I rummaged through their cabinets for the necessary supplies for pain relief and caffeination.

“You two seemed to have fun last night,” he said, a big leering grin spread across his face.

“Yeah,” I said noncommittally.  “I enjoyed myself.”

“Gave Laurel’s friends quite the show,” he said as he rinsed and dried his hands.  He turned and leaned his hip against the counter and calmly sipped from his cup.  “Oh, and you traumatized a fan.  I think he was a little uncomfortable being in a gay man’s home, but the sight of two football players all but fucking each other four yards away might have been enough to put him in the psyche ward.”

“I have no idea what…” and then I remembered, and my face went a little pink.

“At least they got the fuck out of my house,” he smirked.  “And before you started squealing.”

“I do not squeal.”

“You kidding me?  I can hear you both in my room with the door closed,” he said.  “Not a peep out of you last night, though.”

My cheeks grew hotter, and I was sure I was blushing pretty hard.  Fucking WASP ancestry and its fairer fucking skin tones.  I can’t even tan enough to hide my blushes.  Yet, I was surprisingly not embarrassed about being overheard.  I took a sip of my own coffee, keeping my own council as to why he didn’t hear anything last night.  I could complain about it all I wanted, but when I tasted Efrain’s cum drying on that cloth, I was so turned on I couldn’t think straight.  I wondered if it was sick that I wanted to suck on his jizzrag again.

“So, your little friend has nicknames for me.”

“Preston has nicknames for everyone,” I answered.  “At least what he calls you doesn’t end up on the GSA meeting agenda.”  Even if it is a regular topic of discussion between Preston and my roommates.

“I see.”

The conversation fell off and we drank our coffee in silence.  Eventually, Indie returned to his dishes.  Strange, but this might be the closest he and I have come to having an actually conversation since our disaster of a hookup nearly three months ago.

I made up another cup of coffee and poured one for Efrain, too.  Like Indie, he took his black.  The flavored creamer I used in my own coffee was something Efrain picked up just for me because I can’t handle it straight.  That happened in week two.  Another sign that I was never really NSA for him.

I nabbed a small tray to carry everything back on (I learned the hard way that you can’t open bedroom doors with coffee mugs in both hands).  I added a protein bar for him because he’s always grouchy until he eats something.

This practice started in week three; I failed miserably at doing NSA.

The sound of the door closing woke Efrain.  He sat up against the pillows, gloriously naked save for a pair of black boxer briefs.  I put the tray on the night stand on his side of the bed before I stripped down to my trunks and climbed back in bed with him.  Efrain’s warmth was a welcome comfort after the shock of cold air I suffered before I could get under the blankets.

He’d already unwrapped and devoured the bar by the time I snuggled up to him.  He chased it down with a sip of coffee and sighed contentedly.

“Best. Boyfriend. Ever.”  He took another sip as I reached over him for my own mug.

“Aren’t I the only boyfriend you’ve had?” I asked.  He shrugged.

Being a military brat, he went to mostly Department of Defense schools until his early teens.  Even though Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell had been lifted before then, and it really didn’t apply to service members’ families, DoD kids still tended to keep that shit under wraps, which really limited his romantic prospects. He told me that it had been easier when his family moved to Maryland and his dad retired from the Navy three years ago, but he was still wary of dating.  As much of a closet case as I had been in my hometown, I still dated guys.  Efrain had done little more than randomly hook up.  

I moved my toes over to warm them on his leg.

“Damn, you’re cold.”

“Damn, you’re hot,” I countered.  “Warm me up?”

He chuckled and set aside his mug.  He took mine too, and invited me back under the covers.  I cuddled up to his chest and he wrapped his arms around me.  The blankets in his lap had it covered, but with our legs and arms tangled up, his morning wood was unmistakable.  Mine decided to make a comeback, and we fell into kissing and thrusting against each other as a matter of course.

“Here,” he said while tugging on my trunks.  “Take these off and straddle me.”

He rolled over onto his back and shoved down his boxer briefs until his cock sprang free.  I got on top and he maneuvered me until our cocks were perfectly lined up, shaft to shaft.  My head sat slightly below his, and my nuts rested on top of his sack.  He grabbed the bottle of lube from where he left it last night and slathered up both of our dicks.

“You probably don’t remember, but you did this last night and I’ve been fantasizing about it ever since I woke up,” he said.  I wondered what he was talking about until he gripped our dicks together in one hand.  He slowly stroked his fist up our shafts, twisting his hand once he reached our heads, then sent it back down.  My breath hitched slightly.

“No, I remember this part,” I said, licking my lips.  

This time on the upstroke, he tightened his fist as it ran over the tip.  We both gasped and my hips thrust forward of their own accord.  The movement rubbed the underside of my cock against his and his fingers tightened even more around us.

“Fuck yeah,” he sighed.  “Ride me just like that.”

I rolled my hips against him, thrusting my shaft along the length of his, as he continued to stroke with his hand.  Efrain placed his other hand on my hip to encourage me.  As if I really needed it.  It felt amazing to be held together like this, but my sensitive underside sliding against his felt so good it bordered on painful.  Indie’s comment about overhearing us chastened me to keep it down, but I moaned aloud in spite of myself.

He added more lube, increasing the wet gushing sound of cock sliding against cock inside his fist.  Efrain switched hands, sending his free hand down to cup my balls and then his own.  My scrotum had merely been resting on his before, but once lubed up, our balls slid against each other with each thrust.  He moved his hand back to our dicks, stacking it on top of the other, and double fisted us, stroking along the shaft with one hand while alternating between squeezes and twists with the other.  He added the rocking of his own hip into the mix and I forgot all about keeping my voice down.  My hips bucked against him hard and my moans rose in volume.

Our vigorous movements rolled the bottle of lube across the bed.  It fell against my calf as if trying to suggest its other uses.  I picked it up and squirted some onto my fingers before reaching around to rub lube around my hole.  I was still pretty open from last night’s pounding, so the first and second fingers sank into me with little resistance.  I angled my knuckles down over my prostate, just as Efrain’s fingers squeezed over my head, and saw stars.  I fell forward with a loud cry, barely holding myself up with my free hand.

I splayed my knees out wider and pumped my dick in and out of his fists with abandon.  He watched me fuck myself with my own fingers and his hands.  The bed sheets, a soft sage green, deepened the color of his half-lidded hazel eyes.  Of all the things going on in that moment – our cocks sliding together, his rough fingers gripping me tight, my knuckles digging into that bundle of nerves, his hips rising to meet mine – his strikingly beautiful eyes were what tipped me over.  

My ass clamped down as I broke, nearly forcing my fingers out.  I dug in deeper, magnifying the tingling shocks throwing my body into near-convulsion.  Efrain begged me to keep moving as I unloaded on his chest.  It didn’t take long before his dick pulsed against mine and his cum joined the little puddles forming on his abs and pecs.

I sat back on my heels to catch my breath.  He milked the last drops before his hands fell away.  Small rivulets of milky white liquid slid down his side and over his shoulder.

“Damn, vato,” I panted.  “You need a shower.”

“You need a shower.”

“Naw, all I need is a washcloth.”

“Is that so?” he smirked and before I knew it, he had me rolled over and was pressing his chest to mine.  Two loads worth of cum squelched audibly between our bodies.  We both came last night, but I’ve since learned to never underestimate a 19-year-old male’s jizz-production abilities.  I tried to push him off, but my hands slipped in the mess coating his chest.  “I don’t know what you’re looking so disgusted for, acho.  Half that’s yours.”

“A third of this is mine,” I corrected.  “You went all Ol’ Faithful on your own damn chest.”

“Aw, someone’s indignant.”  He raised himself up on his elbows above me while I pawed at the rapidly cooling ejaculate.  A little bit dribbled off his chest and on to mine.  If it were any other erotic story, this would be totally sexy and we’d be going on about eating it off each other, but I really wasn’t a fan at the moment.  Especially with him grinning down at me like that.  I put my hands on his spunked up chest.

“What are you about to do?”

“Nothing,” I said, full naif-mode engaged.  And then I clapped both hands on either side of his face, coating his cheeks in goo and rubbing it into his stubble.

He laughed and brought up his lube- and jizz-smeared hands to mess with my hair.

“You bitch!”

“My bitch,” he cooed, still chuckling, and kissed me.  “Now you really need a shower.”

I’ve also learned to never underestimate a 19-year-old male’s capacity for immaturity.

Once in the shower, we made quick work of getting the other sudsed up.  I knew he was as perfectly capable of washing his own back as I was at shampooing my own hair, but I still liked how it felt.  He leaned in to give me a quick kiss while I lathered his chest.  I returned the favor, letting my mouth linger on his a little longer.  In keeping with our pattern since we used the b-word, Efrain rested his forehead on mine and we alternated between gazes and kisses until his hands stole up to cradle the back of my head.  Lips parted and tongues sallied forth.  I rested my hands on his hips.

I already knew how well his mouth could fire me up; I delighted in discovering how sweetly his mouth could make me melt.

Efrain made out with me under the hot water.  Despite having just cum, I was soon plumping up under his touch and he was responding in kind.

blah blah blah 19-year-old-male’s blah blah blah

“Think my ass is still open enough to take you?”

Rather than answer, he spun me around and had me kneel on the tile floor and lean against the wall.  He spat into his hand and ran that over his dick before settling against my ass.  The tip popped in and I gasped.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” I whimpered.

“You have no idea,” he said.  He threaded his fingers through mine and brought both hands up to rest against the wall above my head.  His chest pressed against my back and his tongue snaked out to trace my ear.  His dick pushed deeper.  I panted harder the further he delved until I felt his public hair against my ass.  He paused, waiting for me to adjust to the sudden fullness.  

“Ready for me to move?” he whispered into my ear.

“God,” I moaned.  “Please.”

He fucked me, movements agonizingly slow, while I moaned and cried out.  His harsh breathing tickled my ear.  His deep voice ran in an explicit narrative on how the tightness of my hole held him practically hostage, how my voice made him crazy, how much he wanted to feel me cumming on his dick.  Last night, he held me down.  This morning, I might have fallen had he not been holding me up.  I squeezed his fingers and let my head fall back to rest on his shoulder.  He took that opportunity to bite the sensitive juncture between my shoulder and neck.

“Kiss me,” he commanded.  I obeyed, moaning in his mouth as he surged within the tight confines of my body.

His hands fell away from mine.  I hated the little mewling noises I made in protest, but I couldn’t help it.  However, one arm wrapped around my waist and the other reached down to tease my cock and balls, which was a more than satisfying alternative.  I reached back to thread my fingers through his hair, holding his mouth to mine so he couldn’t break the kiss.  I left the other on the wall for resistance.  He pulled back and slammed into my ass moments later, and I screamed into his mouth.  My fingers tightened in his hair, and he growled in pleasure.  He grabbed my dick, and I pulled his hair harder.  Efrain let out a strangled moan.

He bounced my ass on his cock, setting a grueling cadence and matching it to the movement of his fist pumping my dick.  His balls slapped against mine as he thrusted.  It was all I could do to hold on while he pounded me for a second time in less than ten hours.  I was still a little tender from last night, but the ache heightened the pleasure.  No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t get enough of his cock in my ass.

I screamed into his mouth until I felt like would hyperventilate.  My body shivered in his arms.  His dick rammed into me, making mine leak crazy amounts of precum.

He tore away from me and forcefully shoved me forward until my cheek pressed against the cold tile.  He gripped my shoulders with both hands and fucked me harder.  I arched my back to meet his thrusts, angling him to hit my sweet spot.  It felt like he was fucking my ass in two, and I yielded to the abuse, begging him to fuck me harder.  I grabbed my cock and pumped it hard.  I bit my own arm to muffle my keening cries.  He growled through clenched teeth and plunged harder into me.  He’d been watching me and liked what he saw.

And then I broke.  My whole body seized up and my dick exploded in milky spurts against the tile.  My ass shuddered around him as he came just moments later, coating me from the inside for a second time.  I was shivering so hard I couldn’t keep myself up.  I sank down, letting his cock slip out of me, and rested my head against the wall.  It might take a day or two before I could sit down comfortably.  It might take me just as long to catch my breath.

“Good morning, acho,” he whispered huskily.  He sank down with me.  His arms came up around me and he laid his head on my shoulder.

“Good morning, vato.”

~*~*~*~

The underclassman came in asking for help with one of Professor Collins’ assignments, but he seemed more interested in the corkboard behind my desk.  He pointed to the drawing I’d found on my desk this morning, a chick with blue hair in this weird costume covered in Pepsi NEX logos.  I looked up the product to see if it actually existed, which it did, and also found out that the girl was a character from some Japanese cartoon about rabbits and tigers.  I still had no idea what blue chicks and Pepsi product placements had to do with rabbits and tigers, but I tacked it to the board all the same.

Then the guy started asking me if Blue Rose, or whatever her name was, was my “why-foo.”

“Why-foo?” I asked.  “What the fuck is a why-foo?”

“No, wifu,” he repeated slowly, as if slowness would help me understand what he meant.  Then, he spelled it out.

“Still don’t get it.”

“It’s the Japanese pronunciation of wife,” he said in exasperation.  “Like, your wifu is your anime crush.  Never figured you for a Blue Rose fan.”

“I don’t even know who she is really.”

“Yet, you have her picture…”

“Yeah, I’ve been getting these anonymous prank gifts lately,” I said, pointing to the row of trinkets in front of my computer monitor.  

In the couple weeks since my little disagreement with Efrain over Cory, a number of toys had joined the ranks – Mr. Freeze from the animated Batman TV series, the indomitable snowman from the Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer TV special, the Coke polar bear, and the Ice King from Adventure Time.  The little gifts amused me, although I had a sneaking suspicion that they weren’t supposed to.  In any case, I kept them out of curiosity.

“Somebody likes you,” he joked.

“Yeah, I highly doubt that,” I said and redirected him to his original purpose for interrupting my damn research.

~*~*~*~

“It’s this guy, right?”

Romero had plucked this picture off the corkboard above Cory’s desk.  Cory and his friends were in full gear, complete with eyeblack, and making silly faces.  He’d clipped it from the newspaper after the first home game of the season, back before he and Efrain were a thing.  Apparently, the photographer kept telling them to show him their “game face.”  I read the caption: “This is my game face!”  Hokies goof off before the game (left to right - JJ Teague, Denholm Whitlock, Mitch Lithgow, Cory Card, Efrain Garza, Paul Baker, Adrian Rice).  Romero pointed to Efrain, who stood next to Cory with his arm thrown companionably around his shoulders.

“Why are you asking me?”

“Cory’s still pulling the I-won’t-confirm-or-deny game,” he answered.  “Besides, you said it was him.”

“When did I do that?” I asked, and then I really thought about it.  Cory did mention that I outed Efrain during my little visit to Indie’s office.  “Oh.”

He looked back at the picture.  “Knew it had to be one of these guys.”

“Oh, did you now.”

“Yeah, spends way more time with them than us,” he said, sounding almost miffed.  “At least it won me forty bucks.  Gio thought it was Denholm.  ‘That jeans guy totally looks like he could take cock.’”

“So, you guys have become experts on who could take a cock,” I said acerbically.

Cory accidentally got the three of them hooked on Japanese gay romance comics, which has led to some rather hilarious conversations.  Especially, when Cory had to explain neko to me.  Rather than bottom, the Japanese used their word for cat.  After he explained that, I didn’t have the heart to let him know about the “neko pool.”  Seriously, what straight guy has a running bet with his roommates about whether or not their not-straight roommate takes it up the ass?

“Al bet on Mitch because it would be fucking hilarious if Cory was hooking up with some big black guy,” he continued.  “But, I had a gut feeling it was Efrain.”

“You do realize you’re saying his name wrong.”  I about jumped out of my skin when I heard Cory’s voice from the door.  He at least looked amused by the conversation.  “Stick to Wolfie.”

“Sup, Kitten!” I said.  I never told Cory about the neko pool, but that didn’t stop my name game.  I ruffled his hair playfully.

“Kitten?” Romero asked and I’m suddenly afraid that he’s about to make the logical connection.  My hand froze on Cory’s head.  “Oh!  Nekokke.”

“Huh?”

“Kitten hair,” Cory explained.  “Instead of saying fine hair is like a baby’s, the Japanese say it’s like a kitten’s.”

“Oh, I knew that,” I lied.  I checked my phone to cover the slip up.  “When are we supposed to log in?”

“Keenan said he’d be on at 5 PM, so 6 adjusting for the time zone difference.”

Cory had told Keenan about the new boyfriend, but his best friend wanted the details.  As his other best friend, I decided to invite myself.  We piled on to his bed with our backs against the wall and Kitten made quick work of setting up his laptop and logging into Skype.  Keenan Jerome was as handsome as ever.  He and Cory greeted each other before he turned his attention to me.

“Sup, Side chick,” he said.

“Sup, Main bitch,” I answered.

“So, a little birdy told me our man locked down a man.”

“They grow up so fast,” I said, pretending to cry.

“Met him yet?”

“Nope, Mr. Boyfriend plays football, so I only know of him,” I said.  “Cory has yet to introduce us formally.”

“Yeah, I’ve watch a couple of their games,” he said.  “Not half bad.”

Keenan gave him a mock clap as Romero bounced onto the bed on Cory’s other side.

“Have you met his friends?” he asked.

“Of course,” Cory said, as if he were asking a stupid question.  “We’re friends with a bunch of the guys on the team.”

“But, do they know that you’re going out?” he said.

Cory shook his head and Romero’s expression got a little tense.

“There’s this old song that my mom used to bitch at my dad for letting me listen to,” he said.  “It made fun of this graduation speech.”

“Go on,” Cory said, evenly.

“So, yeah, there was a line that said something like ‘if you haven’t met any of his friends, you are not his girlfriend.’”

“But, I do know his friends,” Cory said.

“But, not as his boyfriend.”

“True,” Cory conceded, a small look of defeat on his face.

“Plus, they haven’t met him,” Romero gestured to Keenan and me.  “Not to mention that you hid him from me and the guys.”

“Be fair,” Keenan said.  “It’s not like they can suddenly come out to their teammates.”

“And he couldn’t out Efrain to you assholes,” I added.  Gio and Al seemed amused by the whole business, but Romero took an unusual delight in Cory’s dating life.

“I guess same-sex couples get a free pass on this,” Cory said.  “I mean, I doubt we’d be able to introduce each other to our families since neither of us is out back home.”

“I don’t know why you haven’t done that, yet.”

“You don’t need to lecture me about this again.”

“Dude, seriously.  If Cam didn’t freak the fuck out after walking in on you and Alonso, the rest of them should be alright,” Keenan said.  “Just don’t, you know, let them walk in on you giving Efrain a handjob and it’ll all be good.”

“Oh, this sounds like a story I need to hear,” I said.

“Not going to happen,” Cory said.

“I’ll give you the details later.”

“I love you, Main bitch.”

“I love you, too, man.”

“I regret letting you two meet,” Cory groaned.

“That’s why you keep your side chicks separated, Kitten,” Romero added.

I looked across Cory’s lap over at his roommate.

“I should have mentioned this sooner,” I said.  “But, don’t you think it’s a little dangerous to be lying in bed with two gay men?”

“I’m not gay.”

“Listen, sugar, you can't be that good at sucking dick and still not consider yourself totally gay.”

“Aw, you’re just pissy because I won’t do it again.”

“God,” Romero chuckled.  “You two are still playing that joke?”

“God,” Keenan said. “People still think that’s a joke?”

Well, that’s one way to shut Romero Mackey up.