Archive of Our Own

Anthony’s shoulders hit the soft mattress of the hotel room bed. Cora, the girl Anthony had met up with for the night, crawls into his lap, straddling him, the material of her skirt riding up the smooth pale skin of her thighs. Her jet-black hair tickles his chest as she leans down to kiss him, her lips sweet, if not a little sticky from the lipstick she is wearing.

“How is it possible?” she starts, her hands gliding over his bare chest, “That you’re even hotter in person than you are in your Instagram photos?”

Anthony smiles. He feels his face warm, and it’s a compliment, and it’s nice, but it’s also what he’s heard all his life. What should he expect, given this arrangement? He and Cora met through Instagram. He had used one of his side accounts meant for his paintings and yoga to click around on girls that were beautiful, that matched his aesthetic with their tattoos, their dark hair, and their perfectly modeled poses.

When Anthony had followed Cora, he hadn’t expected much, the same as when he had liked a handful of her pictures and she had promptly followed him back, sliding into his DMs before Anthony had the chance to do it for himself. It wasn’t anything desperate, it was confident, it was her treating him as if he were any normal guy she might want to talk to and not a ‘Youtuber’ or an ‘internet celebrity’.

One conversation led to another and then one day Cora mentioned a trip. Something about long laid plans to visit a friend. These plans would put her in California, at least for a day or two.

That’s how they ended up here. They had dinner, a couple of drinks, and then Cora called them an Uber and asked Anthony to come back to her hotel room.

Cora’s hands sweep down Anthony’s chest, over his stomach, until they reach the button of his jeans. She pops it easily, scooting back to open them fully. Anthony helps, raising his hips, letting her shed him of his clothes. She’s beautiful, truly. With a body to die for, light eyes, dark hair, and he can’t help but be hard at the thought of getting to hook up with her.

Underneath his arousal, Anthony has the smallest bit of nerves picking at his chest. The scenario in front of him is familiar, and he holds his breath a little as Cora begins to cup him through the thin fabric of his boxer-briefs.

Anthony hums and Cora smiles, her dark lipstick making her teeth shine bright, almost predatorily hungry.

“I bet you have a pretty cock too,” she says, her tone low.

Then, she tugs off his underwear and Anthony’s worst fears are all but confirmed. He doesn’t miss the way Cora’s eyebrows raise just a little in surprise, how her mouth quirks up on one side like she’s just unwrapped a gift she wasn’t expecting.

She recovers well, spitting into her palm and enthusiastically curling a hand around him, stroking his cock from base to tip. It feels good, of course it does. But Anthony is distracted. No matter how fast Cora recovered from her initial surprise, Anthony caught it, he caught the split-second look of shock and then disappointment that crossed her lovely features.

--

On Monday, Anthony is sitting in Ian’s office, which has become their shared office. Ian’s at his desk and Anthony on the couch, fucking around on his phone. He happens to check Instagram, and he sees a photo of Cora pop-up in his recommendations. It’s from yesterday, after she’d left California for Oregon, the real destination of her trip. The picture is of her, and the friend she is visiting, their smiles bright as they stand in a backdrop of sprawling nature.

Anthony sighs, the picture of her bringing up all those weird feelings from Saturday night. His noise inadvertently draws Ian’s attention and when Anthony glances up, he sees Ian’s eyes on him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just had kind of a weird weekend.”

“Oh?” Ian asks, setting his phone down and now focusing on Anthony, “What happened?”

Anthony locks his phone too, setting it on his knee. He sighs again, a little embarrassed to even be bringing this up to Ian, but Ian is his best friend. All he wanted for years was to be able to talk to Ian like this again, about anything, just like when they were kids. They have that now, and so, as embarrassing as it is, Anthony knows he can trust Ian with it of all people.

“You know how I don’t really like random hook-ups?” Anthony begins.

Ian nods, fingers steepling under his chin as he listens to Anthony.

“Okay, well, I don’t, but there’s a girl that I connected with, and she let me know she’d be in California this past weekend, just for a couple nights, on her way to Oregon.”

“Ah,” Ian says, “so you guys hooked up?”

“Yeah,” Anthony says, and while it’s not anything that new or strange to talk to Ian about sex, there’s still a flush that rises to his face at admitting this to him.

“So, what’s the problem? You said something weird happened? Did she bust out a kink without asking you?”

“No, nothing like that. You’ve just been on Feeld for too long.”

“I’ll have you know the Feeld community is huge on consent.”

Anthony rolls his eyes, bullshitting with Ian does make the whole thing a little easier, makes Anthony feel a little lighter about it all. It is weird, and maybe it’s not even as big of a deal as Anthony is making it out to be inside his own head.

“I don’t…” Anthony starts, “I don’t really know how to say it.”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Ian reminds him.

Anthony nods, ruffling a hand through his hair, “I know…I just…it’s embarrassing.”

“Anthony,” Ian says, getting up from his chair and moving across the expanse of the office until he’s dropping down next to Anthony on the opposite side of the couch, “it’s me. We’ve seen each other do so much cringe and embarrassing shit for years now.”

Anthony hums. That’s all very true, but it doesn’t feel quite as embarrassing as this.

“I could…ah, just tell she was disappointed.”

“Like she didn’t enjoy the sex?”

Anthony shakes his head, “I don’t think so. The sex itself was really good. We both really enjoyed ourselves. I just…” Anthony tips his head back against the couch. “It’s frustrating I guess.”

“What is?”

“People get this perception of me because they think I’m good looking or whatever. They get these, I don’t know, expectations, I guess. And then, I don’t measure up to what they had in their imaginations.”

Ian’s brow furrows and Anthony can tell he’s truly trying to understand what Anthony is saying. Anthony knows he isn’t making it easy.

“Alright, I’m just going to say it,” Anthony says, his heart quickening in his chest, “Cora, she expected my dick to be bigger than it is.”

Ian arches an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Anthony sighs. Every part of him wants the floor to open and swallow him whole, but he wills those thoughts away. This is Ian. His best friend. “After twenty something years of having sex, I can definitely recognize when a girl is caught off guard or disappointed by it.”

“What? Like this happens a lot?”

Anthony shrugs. “It has…”

“Anthony, I don’t get it. Are you saying you have-” 

“I’m telling you I have a small dick, yeah. I mean, not like a micro-penis or anything, but I’m a little…under the average, I’d say.” 

Anthony can feel his face burning, the embarrassment warming his cheeks. Now that he’s started talking about it, his mouth won’t stop moving. Ian’s lack of words, the way he’s studying Anthony, propels him to keep talking. 

“Not so much when we were in high school. I mean, teenagers really don’t have a lot of comparisons when they’re the first person you’ve slept with. In college though, I remember a girl I hooked up with at a party. She…she flat out told me that she expected me to be bigger because I was so hot and because we were on YouTube, like suddenly, making YouTube videos was magically supposed to make my dick bigger. No one else has really ever been that blunt to me, but I can see when they aren’t getting what they expected. It’s like…expecting a steak and then you get a bologna sandwich.” 

“Some people like bologna sandwiches,” Ian says after a moment. 

“But not when they were craving wagyu.” 

Ian reaches over, squeezing Anthony’s shoulder comfortingly. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you, man. No one should be making you feel bad about your body, especially a part of it that you can’t control.” 

Anthony smiles. Ian’s right, and he knows it, and Anthony is thankful that Ian is being sincere here which he knows is hard when so much of Smosh’s humor over the years has been centered around dick jokes. It just comes naturally for them. 

“Thanks, I know you’re right, but it still sucks when I noticed it. Have you, ah, ever had that happen to you?” 

Ian pulls back his hand and rests them in his lap. Anthony watches as he bites his lip. 

“No, not really.” 

“Lucky,” Anthony mumbles, really feeling sorry for himself in the moment, because it’s Ian, and it’s safe to do that here. He’ll adjust his frame of mind soon, push away all those bad thoughts through the power of meditation, but at the end of the day, Anthony is still human, and capable of slipping into a negative frame of mind the same as anyone else. 

“I don’t know if it counts or what but…I’ve had the um…opposite problem,” Ian admits a moment later, his own flush rising to his cheeks. 

Anthony blinks. 

“The opposite problem?” he asks, his mind whirling around Ian’s words, as if trying to click them into place. Suddenly, as if turning on a light switch, Ian’s meaning strikes him, “You mean…you’ve been told you’re too big?” 

Ian shrugs, his cheeks pink. 

“I mean, I’m no Jonah Falcon, but I’m above average if I’m being honest and sometimes it fucks things up for me.” 

Anthony scoffs. He has a hard time imagining that having a big dick is really a problem as Ian says it is. There’s a part of him too, that’s honestly surprised that Ian is telling him he has a big dick. That Ian does have a big dick. 

In all their years of friendship it had never really come up. There was the odd girlfriend here or there who might pass on details about one of them to the other - weirdly enough, Anthony’s girlfriend having described Anthony’s dick to Ian- but the two of them have never sat down and discussed their junk with each other face-to-face. 

Anthony, without really meaning to, lets his eyes slide down to Ian’s crotch. He’s wearing jeans today instead of his beloved corduroy pants, and Anthony’s eyes sweep over the bulge of Ian’s dick, as if he’s trying to see if he can tell if Ian is being honest with him.

Ian, of course, catches him. 

“Dude!” he says, laughing and slapping playfully at Anthony’s shoulders, “don’t stare at my dick!” 

Anthony snaps his eyes up to Ian’s face, feeling his cheeks warm.

“Sorry, sorry, yeah, that’s weird of me. I just…you never said anything before.” 

“Yeah, because you and I talk about our dicks together all the time.”

“Okay, fair,” Anthony says, “but you never even bragged about it before.”

Ian shrugs. “I don’t want to be the kind of person that brags about my cock, dude.”

It makes sense. Ian is a humble guy. He has trouble seeing all the great things about himself that Anthony feels he notices so easily.  Ian isn’t the type to go around bragging about having a big dick. Anthony knows this. At the same time, he’s surprised, even in their youth, when they exchanged stories of first kisses - false or not – their first times, that Ian never brought it up. 

“My point still stands,” Ian says, “no one should shame you for your body. You can’t control that shit.” 

“You said you have the opposite problem…chicks aren’t into your big dick?” 

Ian rolls his eyes, his face a soft pink and Anthony laughs at Ian getting embarrassed over it. 

“They feel…intimidated more than anything and not all of them, but some, honestly, it’s the dudes that are more impressed and down to fuck with it than the girls.” 

Anthony raises an eyebrow in surprise. For all their work on opening-up and being honest, this is also something they haven’t talked about a lot. The fact that Ian is openly bisexual and dates men, or, from a few of the stories he has told Anthony, he serves as a third for committed couples looking to have some open-ended fun. 

“I’d think it was the opposite,” Anthony says, his own face getting hot. 

“I think the guys feel like they got something to prove in a way, they wanna feel like they can take it all.”

“Oh,” Anthony says, so suddenly aware of his mouth going dry on him. 

“Shit, sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?” Ian asks. 

“No! No, I brought this topic up and we’re both adults. We’re not middle schoolers. I think we’re both aware we fuck.” 

Ian grins, waggles his eyebrows exaggeratedly at Anthony, “Oh, we fuck.” 

“Ew, I changed my mind,” Anthony says, pulling back. 

Ian laughs. It’s the perfect opening to change topics, to move to something else, but Anthony’s mind is stuck, like he’s walked into a tar pit, and each step makes him sink just a little deeper than before. He’s thinking of Ian in this new light, in the terms of having a big cock, big enough that it feels like a challenge to some of his partners and a deterrent to others. 

“But there are people who like it?” Anthony asks. 

“What?” Ian says, like he forgot what they were talking about, like maybe he was ready to move beyond this topic as Anthony probably should have. 

“Your big dick…people like it?” 

“I mean, some enthusiastically, yes. I’ve never had direct complaints. Maybe a couple ‘Wow, how do you expect that to fit?’” 

“Dude, what? Really?” 

Ian laughs, “What do you want me to say here?” 

“Just how big is it?” 

“I told you. I’m no Jonah Falcon.” 

“But you’re big.” 

“Yeah.” 

Ian won’t meet his eye, his face redder than before. When Anthony is lost in thought, Ian flicks his gaze to Anthony’s face. 

“Dude,” he says. 

Anthony snaps his eyes to Ian’s face, “What?” 

“You got this look on your face.” 

Anthony blinks, nerves flickering to life inside of him. “What? What do you mean?” 

“A look like…you want to see my dick or something.” 

It’s a joke. It’s gotta be. All Anthony needs to do is open his stupid mouth and laugh and they can call it a bit and move on with their day. Anthony has sidetracked them enough with this stupid penis conversation, and really, they do have actual work to do today while they’re both at the office. 

He has to say something, anything, but all he can do is stare, mind a little sluggish and frozen, as he spins that thought around in his head. 

Did he want to see Ian’s dick? 

Maybe in the way a person wants to see the world’s biggest cabbage on one of those side of the road attractions, for novelty’s sake. He didn’t want to see Ian’s dick for any other reason, just to understand what makes it so appealing to his partners, if he really is being humble or is he secretly packing a monster dong? 

“Anthony?” Ian questions, his voice way too soft for how close they are, for the conversation, for the space in their shared office. 

“I mean…” Anthony begins, aiming for joking. 

Ian, he takes that bait, diving headfirst into a joke, turning it into something funny as opposed to anything serious because maybe he too is of the belief that there’s no way Anthony would or should want to see his cock. 

“You had that chance when you first came back!” Ian jokes. 

Anthony laughs, “Fuck, well, I didn’t know you were packing heat at the time! You should have given me context.” 

“Oh, yeah, welcome back to Smosh, Anthony. Want to see my dick? Also, it’s really big.” 

Anthony laughs, letting the thoughts go, but something shivery works its way down his spine, settling into his gut in an odd sensation. It almost feels like it had when Cora had texted him coyly that she’d be down to fuck over her weekend stay if Anthony was. 

Anthony pushes the thought out of his mind, letting it go as he does his intrusive ones, letting it pass by without a comment. He lets Ian lead them into a new topic. The other man is quick to pull out his phone and show Anthony a meme he had found over the weekend that he had forgotten to text Anthony about. 

The rest of the day passes by normally and Anthony doesn’t even think about Ian’s dick or what size it might be, at least, not until he’s home for the night. He’s lying on his couch, music on his TV, a joint pinched between his fingers, idly burning as Anthony’s mind seems to laser focus on just one thing. 

Ian. 

Well, not just Ian. Ian’s cock.

He scours his memory. He tries to imagine all the near misses of times he’s almost seen Ian’s dick. They lived together for years, and he’s seen Ian in underwear and pajama pants, but for the life of him, he can’t seem to remember ever noting Ian’s crotch. Why would he back then? That was before Ian expressed interest in sleeping with guys, it was before Anthony was brave enough to consider the possibility for himself if it ever felt right. 

But now, Anthony is lying there, mind pleasantly stoned, and he spins the idea of Ian’s big dick in his mind like a spider who’s carefully wrapping her prey, turning those silky strands of web around the thought over and over again, until it’s all he can focus on.

He feels that same fixation on Ian’s dick as before. That strange shivery buzzing feeling is back in his stomach, and with his free hand, Anthony unlocks his phone, uses his thumb to tab up to the search engine and types in what’s on his mind. 

‘Big dicks’ 

The results are just about what you’d expect, and Anthony scrolls a bit at the plethora of fleshy and hard cocks that line his image results, but he swallows, takes a hit of the joint and his mind flickers back to Ian. 

Did Ian look like this? 

He was already claiming to have a big dick. Did it look even bigger when it was hard? Some of the guys in the pictures…they were huge. Their hands holding themselves fully at attention, with heads flushed and leaking. 

Anthony feels his own dick stir with interest in his sweatpants. Anthony, he leans over, setting his phone down on his chest as he reaches for his stone ash tray, stubbing out the joint and setting it into the built-in groove designed to hold the roaches. 

Anthony picks his phone back up, and he takes a breath as he clicks on one of the attached photos. It turns out it isn’t a photo, but a still from a video. The video is simple, a guy with a big dick jerking off for the camera. You can’t see his face, just the pale expanse of his thighs, his belly, the aching hardness of his huge fucking cock. 

Anthony’s one hand holds his phone while his other moves down the expanse of his own t-shirt covered belly, edging down towards his own crotch. Anthony cups himself through his sweatpants, grunts as he feels himself start to get hard under his own touch, excited at the video. 

He’s never directly gotten off to just a dude in porn before. He may notice a nice cock on a guy when he’s watching a girl get fucked silly, but he’s never sought out a dude beyond ‘testing’ himself when he was younger to see what turned him on. He’s learned since then, it is never just someone’s body that turns him on, it certainly helps, but for Anthony, the most pleasure comes from knowing the person as well, having a bond with them. Sure, this guy on screen has a nice dick, big, dripping, and Anthony is turned on by the sounds of pleasure the dude is making, grunting and groaning as he fucks his own fist, but in the deepest recesses of his mind, where he can’t even hide from himself, Anthony knows exactly why this video is turning him on. He knows it’s not about this anonymous, big- dicked stranger, it has everything to do with his handsome, funny, and apparently big-dicked best friend. 

Jerking off to the video of the guy getting himself off doesn’t get the feeling out of Anthony’s system in the way Anthony had hoped it would. If anything, it’s made it worse, solidified something into place, like he’s assigned himself a new trait, or a kink, highlighted something in his mind bright and underlined yellow that says ‘Hey, you might be into this now’. 

The very worst of it all is that he’s tangled this new kink into the knowledge Ian had given him. Anthony’s mind is a rough place at times. His brain is too fast, spinning, running with the smallest of things, sprinting away before Anthony can ever hope to stop it, to catch it, and subdue it. 

Even in the middle of his jerk off session he had thought about Ian. He wondered what Ian might look like doing that. Ian, laid out on his own bed, cock hard in his hand, stroking himself for Anthony’s viewing pleasure. 

Anthony hadn’t lasted long after that. He had shuddered and came all over his own hand to guilty thoughts about what his best friend might look like big, hard, and jerking off for him. 

--

The next day at the office Anthony tries valiantly to stay away from Ian. Though, nowadays, that is not an easy thing to do. He feels a pull to Ian even on normal days, and now that he’s got this thought in his head, this wondering about his best friend, he can’t help but watch him even more, his mind wandering to Ian even if his body is rooted still.

Ian, he isn’t doing anything particularly tempting or inviting, but Anthony can’t keep his eyes to himself. It should be worrying how often Anthony’s eyes slide down Ian’s body, zeroing in on his crotch, trying to picture the shape of it, the size.

He has to fight to keep his eyes from drifting downwards, his mind focused on those same circular thoughts. What was Ian packing? What did he look like naked and hard? Was he as big as Anthony imagined in his head?

None of this was cool of him to think about, but he can’t stop his brain from focusing on it as if in a singular tunnel vision and Ian’s big dick is on the other side.

Today there are some fellow YouTubers who are visiting Smosh. It’s no one Anthony is familiar with, someone Courtney had found on Instagram and clicked with their content, had gotten the office watching it, until finally it culminated in an invitation to come and visit. 

There are four members of the channel that are visiting and one of them is a woman. She’s very pretty, blonde, a kind smile, and she hangs around Ian. Anthony sees how she laughs at what Ian’s saying, how she smiles at him sweetly. Ian, he’s blind to someone flirting with him unless they flat out tell him they are interested in him, but Anthony, he can see them flirting a mile away, all the way across the expanse of the Pit set where he watches them talk. 

Anthony doesn’t own Ian, he knows it rationally but still jealousy flashes through him like white-hot lightning. The thought of this woman scooping Ian up, just like that. It makes Anthony’s gut twist. 

It makes him realize that whatever he feels for Ian is quickly moving beyond platonic and has become nearly untenable. Anthony doesn’t want Ian to flirt with pretty girls or, well, with anyone else. The way he sees it, the way it hits him like a brick, like a bolt to the brain as if the idea had always been there just under the surface and only now was making itself known. No, no, he doesn’t want anyone else to have Ian.

He wants Ian. 

Nothing happens with the woman and Ian, at least, not yet. If Anthony wants it to stay that way, he has to actually talk to Ian, and somehow, that’s terrifying, but what’s even scarier to him is losing the chance to try this with Ian, to let him know exactly how he’s feeling. 

That’s why at the end of their workday Anthony finds Ian in the cafeteria space of the Smosh office. He’s on his phone, smiling down at it, and Anthony feels that little twist of jealousy surge through him. 

“Ian!” he says, a little louder than he needs to, drawing Ian’s gaze upwards to him. 

“What’s up?” Ian asks. 

“I, um, wanted to know if you were busy tonight? I was thinking I could come over to your place?” 

“I’m not busy,” Ian says, plainly, but his eyebrow arches, “you want to come over on a random Tuesday night?” 

“Yeah,” Anthony says, shrugging, “if that’s okay.” 

“Hanging out with you is always okay with me.” 

Ian is smiling at him and Anthony can’t help but return that smile. Since reuniting Ian has always been a source of calmness and serenity for Anthony outside of that energized creative space the two of them so often find themselves in when they work together. Right now, Anthony feels a little sick, and a little scared, but he knows he has to take this chance.

“You want to get takeout too?” Ian asks, humming as he begins typing on his phone, “that Thai place we like?” 

“That sounds good,” Anthony says, but he doesn’t think he could even eat, not with the ball of nerves that is rolling like iron in his stomach. 

“Alright, cool, aim for six?” Ian asks. 

Anthony nods again, his heart speeding in his chest. He has no reason to be afraid. This is Ian. It’s just Ian. At the same time, that’s what terrifies him. This is Ian. This is his best friend Ian and Anthony could ruin everything between them if he fucks up by expressing how he feels to the other man. 

Like clockwork, Anthony shows up at Ian’s place at six pm. It’s not unusual for the two of them to hang out together like this outside of work, but still, inside Anthony knows this is no normal hang out session. That thought is making him feel keyed up in a strange way, jittery, his legs shaking the way they do after one of his yoga sessions. 

Ian is waiting for him inside the house, the familiar Thai menu spread across his kitchen table though the two of them are men of habit and usually default to their go-to meals so there isn’t a reason to even scan the menu. Anthony isn’t hungry, doesn’t know if he could eat even if he were. 

“So, what are you thinking?” Ian asks, his hand tapping the glossy paper of the Thai menu. 

“Actually,” Anthony says, clearing his throat, “can we, um, hold off on that for a minute?” 

Ian raises an eyebrow, “Sure, man. Of course, are you okay? You look a little sweaty.” 

Anthony groans and then rubs his forehead with his sleeve, swiping away the nervous sweat that’s broken out. 

“I’m…I don’t know,” Anthony admits, “I’m nervous.” 

“Why?” 

“I just…I have something to say to you and I really don’t know how to say it.” 

Ian frowns. “Is this…are you trying to leave again?” Ian asks, his voice is much smaller and timid now. 

“No!” Anthony says too quickly, “God, no. No, Ian. I told you I’d never leave you again and I meant it.” and he had. His promise to not leave Smosh, but more importantly, to not leave Ian. 

“Then what? What’s got you so worked up?” 

Anthony groans, but he’s backed into a corner as far as confessions go. What’s worse? The idea of Ian thinking he wants to leave Smosh? Or Ian knowing that Anthony is not only into him but is very interested in his cock and the size of it. 

“Anthony?” Ian tries again, gentler than before, “you know you can tell me anything. Did something happen with that girl? The one that made you feel bad?” 

“No,” Anthony says, shaking his head. Cora hadn’t even crossed his mind since he found out about Ian’s dick, “it’s kind of the opposite.” 

“Oh?” Ian asks. 

“Yeah, ever since that conversation I…fuck, man, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what you told me.” 

“About what?” Ian asks. 

Anthony sighs. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking of your cock.”

Ian looks like he almost wants to laugh, but then he must see the look on Anthony’s face, because he doesn’t. His eyes lock onto Anthony’s, holding his gaze and Anthony manages to not look away, he can’t, this is too important.

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” Anthony says, “I…this is damn embarrassing, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking of it since you told me. I even…fuck, I even got off to a video of a dude with a huge cock and I…”

“What?” Ian asks, his voice so calm that Anthony can’t parse out how he might be feeling.

“And I thought of you.”

The corner of Ian’s mouth lifts in a grin, and Anthony’s heart races.

“You’re a size-queen, huh?”

“What?”

“A size-queen. You get off on nice, big, cocks. You know, like mine.”

Anthony’s mouth goes dry. He opens it to say something, anything, not that he can even deny what Ian is saying but the boldness of Ian’s statement has made him dumbstruck.

“So, what you’re not weirded out?” Anthony asks, and the question sounds childish to ask, like he’s confessing a simple crush as opposed to a tangible attraction to Ian and a very specific part of him. 

“No, I’m not. I mean, I’m surprised. I’m the one who has experience fucking dudes and you’re the one suddenly jerking off to big cock porn.”

Anthony’s face burns red and hot. Ian looks him up and down, his blue eyes scanning Anthony from head to toe.

“So, what? You wanna be like one of those guys I hook up with, Anthony? You want me to fuck you?”

Ian’s voice is smooth and deep, and confident, and Anthony’s head spins. He’s never heard Ian like this before, and he swallows, lets out a small little sound and finds himself nodding his head like an idiot, totally caught off guard.

Ian, he doesn’t wait to see if Anthony might find words beyond just nodding. He suddenly crosses the expanse of his kitchen and then his hands find Anthony’s face, cupping his cheeks as he pulls the other man into a kiss.

The kiss is warm, has Anthony melting into it immediately. It should be weird, but it isn’t. It’s something that feels right. Ian’s mouth is urgent against Anthony’s, begging for entrance. Anthony doesn’t hesitate to open for Ian, to let Ian’s tongue slip into his mouth.

Even as they kiss Anthony’s hands seek out Ian’s waist, holding his best friend. Ian ups the ante and presses his body against Anthony’s own. The way Ian grinds against his thigh has Anthony gasping because he can feel the hardness of Ian’s cock, he can feel how big he is even through the barrier of his underwear and his pants.

“Fuck,” Anthony murmurs against Ian’s lips. He can feel the scratch of Ian’s facial hair against his mouth and chin as he talks.

“Sounds like that’s exactly what you want,” Ian says, his teeth biting gently at Anthony’s bottom lip, “but not in the kitchen.” 

Ian pulls back and he takes Anthony’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. Anthony feels dizzy in the best way. He squeezes at Ian’s fingers that are laced with his own. 

Ian guides Anthony out of the kitchen and into the living room, then down to the staircase that leads to his bedroom. Anthony’s been here before but never for the intention of having sex with Ian, and he can’t help the shiver that leaves him. 

Ian must feel it, as he looks back at Anthony, stilling in his bedroom to look at the other man. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I just…can’t believe this, you know?” 

“You have something you want to explore. It’s not a bad thing.”

It feels more than just exploring. That’s not the right word for it. It’s not because Anthony happened to discover that he’s into big dicks and it’s easy because it’s Ian. It’s the opposite, Anthony thinks. He’s into the idea of a big and hard cock because of Ian, because Ian told him he had one, and it’s not like Anthony would be so willing to jump into this with just any man, big dick or not. 

Anthony runs his tongue over his bottom lip, the taste of Ian lingering there. 

“It’s you,” Anthony says, feeling stupid and terrified all over again, “I wouldn’t be here with just any guy.” 

Ian’s eyes soften just a little, a hazy warmth of arousal but something else flickering underneath that in the familiar blue of Ian’s eyes. 

“I’m flattered,” Ian teases, but his voice is gentle, “Do you want get your clothes off now?” 

Anthony laughs and Ian does too, their laughter making the room feel that much lighter, lest stifling in Anthony’s chest. He nods as the laughter dies down, and then tugs his shirt off over his head, dropping it to Ian’s bedroom floor. His pants follow suit, leaving him in his underwear, his shoes long since abandoned at Ian’s front door. 

Ian does the same, shedding layers until he’s down to boxer-briefs, a better quality than what he wore back in their Sacramento days. Like this, Anthony can see the bulge of Ian’s cock, heavy, and huge. 

Only the smallest part of him is jealous of Ian’s size. More than anything else he is hungry. He wants him. He wants to feel Ian’s big dick in his fist, slick and huge in his hold. 

“Jesus, I think you were underselling yourself in our conversation,” Anthony says, forcing his eyes up to Ian’s. 

Ian drops a hand to his crotch, palms himself, and Anthony licks his lips. Ian sucks in a sharp breath.

“You look, like, mesmerized or some shit,” Ian breathes. 

Anthony smiles. “Maybe I’m just like that around you.”

Ian rolls his eyes, and he takes Anthony’s hand again, pulling the slightly older man closer, urging him over to the bed until they reach the edge, and Anthony unceremoniously crawls into the center, Ian following after.

“It’s your first time with a guy, right?” Ian asks.

Anthony nods, swallowing thickly as nerves and embarrassment kick up in his belly.

“Roll over on your belly,” Ian instructs, “let me open you up.”

Anthony is hard as a rock, but he rolls over on to his belly, and then Ian works to shed him of his underwear. Ian’s hands part Anthony’s thighs, urge him up on to his knees, his ass in the air. Anthony pillows his face on his hands, moaning from barely even being touched. He’s embarrassed but the lust burning through him overpowers that.

Ian hums and before Anthony knows it, Ian’s mouth is on his entrance. Ian’s tongue swipes over Anthony’s hole. It’s wet, it’s glorious. Anthony shivers in Ian’s hold, his thighs shaking as Ian traces his hole with his tongue, repeatedly.

“Has anyone ever done this to you before?”

“No,” Anthony admits around a shuddery moan, “never.”

“Mmm,” Ian hums, increasing his speed making Anthony gasp.

 Ian leaves him but only to find a bottle of lube and Anthony is still kneeling on Ian’s bed, knees spread, dick hard between his legs and dripping on to the bed sheets under them. Ian pops the cap on the lube and slicks his fingers up, seeking out Anthony’s entrance where his tongue had just been.

Ian uses his clever fingers and slowly wets Anthony’s hole, working meticulously slow, slow enough that Anthony feels each inch, each trace, and stroke, and everything is so, so slippery and wet as he feeds Anthony his finger.

Ian’s other hand pets Anthony’s thigh, then smooths lower, finding Anthony’s cock where it hangs between his legs. He feels embarrassed, doesn’t want Ian to touch him. The clear difference between their sizes is obvious and after a lifetime of his big dick, there’s no way Ian won’t be able to notice the difference between their cocks, and how much smaller Anthony is.

Ian strokes him fully, from base-to-tip, and Anthony’s own mind fills in that’s it’s not difficult to stroke all of him, not like it would be if Anthony were to stroke Ian. There’s some shame in Anthony’s belly, but it mixes with something else, an additional heat, an urge. 

“You feel good in my hand,” Ian says. 

Anthony moans, not holding back at all, not when it’s Ian. Anthony’s cock twitches in Ian’s hold. 

“Can you roll back over for me?” Ian asks. 

Anthony is confused, but then he obliges, rolling on to his back. He’s fully exposed for Ian now, and he has every urge in the world to hide himself from Ian, to hide his cock. He doesn’t, instead forcing his fingers to bite into the bedsheets under them. 

Ian sits on his heels in-between Anthony’s spread legs, his eyes scanning over Anthony’s body before his gaze settles on Anthony’s cock. 

“Mmm, look at you,” Ian says, approvingly. He reaches back down to take Anthony’s dick in his hand, stroking him again. 

Anthony’s cheeks burn and he’s got an idea stirring, because he’s looking at Ian, and Ian doesn’t seem disappointed, not in the slightest, not like he’s faking or acting. He’s looking at Anthony with a real and true sense of adoration that makes Anthony’s insides heat and clench. 

“Ian, can you stroke us both at the same time?” 

“Yeah? My cock against yours?” 

Anthony nods, “Yeah, man, please.” 

Ian sucks in a breath, and he shifts so he’s closer to Anthony, adjusts himself so he can hold both of them in his hand. Like this, their cocks are pressed together, Ian’s against Anthony’s. 

Anthony sits himself up on his elbows, watching the way Ian holds them both. Ian’s not that much bigger than him, not comically so, not like Anthony had imagined it might be. Still, undoubtedly Ian is bigger and the visual of their cocks pressed together, the size difference, it stokes that heat in Anthony’s belly. 

“You like that?” Ian asks. 

“Fuck, yes. God, it feels good, Ian.” 

Anthony bites his lip, his brain focusing on that one detail again, tangling around a singular thought, until the words come out before Anthony can stop them. 

“Ian, can you…will you…make fun of me a little?” 

“What?”

“I want you to make fun of me…I…I don’t know but it’s hot when it comes from you. When you insult my cock.” 

Ian bites his lip, his hand slowing on their dicks and Anthony whimpers at the loss of friction, that delicious slide of Ian’s huge cock against his own. 

“Is that what you really want? Didn’t this all start because of how you were feeling self-conscious?” 

“It did…but with you…I don’t know, Ian. It’s different with you.”

Ian bites his lips. He strokes them again, jerking their cocks together. Ian still looks unsure, but he seems willing to try, and Anthony feels nervous and aroused all at the same time. 

“Look at your cute, little, dick,” Ian says, mockingly, “so much smaller than my own. How do you even fuck with this thing?” 

Anthony moans, head falling back into the pillow, mouth open. An electric pleasure surges through him from spine straight to his cock. For Ian’s hesitation, he hit the nail on the head as far as this thought plaguing Anthony, this desire that burns through his veins.

“You like that? Me playing with your tiny cock?” Ian says, emboldened by Anthony’s response.

Anthony gasps, hips twitching upwards, fucking into Ian’s fist, his dick rubbing slippery against Ian’s own.

“Y-Yeah, Ian, fuck. Stroke my tiny cock.” 

“Spoken like a true size queen,” Ian teases, that sinister little smile gracing his handsome face, turned pink by his own arousal. He strokes Anthony through his own words, making Anthony arch up from the bed, hips rolling to meet Ian’s fist. 

Anthony throws his arm across his eyes, hiding his face as arousal and embarrassment surges through him. How did Ian so perfectly hit his buttons? How did Ian, at times, know him better than he even knew how to define himself? 

“Shut up,” Anthony mumbles, but he doesn’t deny what Ian is saying. 

Ian tsks. “Is that the way to talk to the guy getting you off? The only one willing to get your tiny little cock off for once?” 

Anthony groans, louder than before, his cock twitching in Ian’s hand. He doesn’t know why, but it’s different now, the shame in the size of his cock is gone, replaced by this heat, this need, this lens of Ian insulting him when Anthony knows deep down, he doesn’t really mean it. 

It’s like he’s flipped his insecurity on its head and gave it all to Ian. The other man molding it into something new, something that simmers like boiling water in Anthony’s belly, that urges him closer and closer to orgasm when all Ian’s done is jerk him off. 

“Ian,” Anthony gasps. 

“Hmm? Getting close? This pathetic little dick is going to shoot off already. You’re already small and you come too quickly? You’re a fucking mess.” 

Ian speeds up the movement of his hand, tightening the circle of his fist and stroking the two of them. Their cocks rub together, slick, and he can feel when Ian is pulsing against him, throbbing with his own arousal that matches Anthony’s. 

“I wanna see your face when you come,” Ian says. 

Anthony doesn’t hesitate to move his arm. His eyes meeting Ian’s as he fists his hand in the bedsheets under them. 

“How close are you?” 

“Close,” Anthony gasps out, his head lolling to the side, eyes fluttering and it takes all he has not to let them close in the blissful pleasure that fills up every inch of him. 

“Yeah, come on. Come. I want to see what this pathetic little cock looks like when it comes.” 

It’s Ian’s words more than his touch that pushes Anthony over the edge. He topples into an intense orgasm, all his shame, all his negative thoughts leaving him in the heavenly bliss of pleasure that overtakes him. He shakes, he arches, he thinks he might moan out Ian’s name as he comes in the other man’s grip, comes all over Ian’s hand and his own belly. 

Ian strokes him through it, keeps working his dick even as he comes, as if he’s milking every single drop of come from it that he can. Ian only stops when Anthony shivers and lets out a semi-pathetic little whine. 

“Do you want to keep going?” Ian asks, his voice gentle and his hand is on Anthony’s thigh, idly tracing the inky lines of the tattoos that bloom across Anthony’s skin. 

“Yeah, fuck, yeah. I’m good. I…I meant what I said. I want you to fuck me.”

“Jesus,” Ian says, “fuck. Okay, I’ll fuck you, but I have to finish opening you up. Do you have a preference for how you want to be when I fuck you?” 

Anthony shivers, that heat licking at his belly even though he’s just come. 

“On my back…” Anthony says, his face getting hot as he confesses what he wants, “I want to, ah, see you?” 

Ian smiles and it’s real, and it’s affectionate, and Anthony feels his heartbeat into double time in his chest. 

Ian’s fingers find Anthony’s hole once again, re-slickened with the cold lube made warm by Ian’s clever fingertips. This time, Ian presses a finger into him and Anthony shakes, groans, as he’s opened up for the first time. 

“Tight,” Ian says. He presses a kiss to Anthony’s knee, “try and relax for me.” 

Anthony nods, and takes a deep and shuddery breath, but he feels himself relax, sinking into the mattress, comfortable in his trust in Ian and that Ian would never do anything that would push Anthony past his comforts. 

Before long Ian is adding a second finger, and he’s scissoring them inside of Anthony, stretching that ring of muscle to allow Anthony’s body to take him, to take his big fucking cock. 

“I gotta be honest,” Ian says, “I’ve never been a guy’s first fuck.” 

Anthony licks his lip, the skin feeling a little chapped. 

“Is that? Is that a problem?” 

“Just that I don’t want to accidentally hurt you. I want it to be good for you.” 

Anthony props himself up on an elbow and he finds Ian’s free hand where it’s petting Anthony’s thigh. He links their fingers together, something far sweeter than the moment calls for. 

“You won’t hurt me.” 

“But-” 

“Ian, I want this. I trust you.” 

Ian nods, and he brings Anthony’s hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss there before he adds a third finger. Anthony hisses at the additional stretch of three fingers but he knows it’s necessary. Ian’s sure to feel much bigger than just three fingers. 

By the time Ian is done fingering him Anthony is half-way to hard again. 

Once Anthony’s opened to Ian’s satisfaction. He leans over Anthony’s body, fitting into the space between Anthony’s spread legs. He uses his hand to slick himself up, his cock shiny with lube. He’s so big, cock head deliciously red, dripping pre-come and Anthony shivers with the need, the hunger of it. 

Ian helps Anthony get his legs up and wrapped around Ian’s waist. Ian uses one hand at the base of his cock, the other at Anthony’s hip. He guides himself to Anthony’s hole, the wide head nudging Anthony’s entrance. 

Anthony gasps, the sound shifting into a moan when Ian rubs the head of his cock slippery and wet over his hole. Anthony’s dick is twitching back to full hardness against his belly, urged to life by the promise of Ian fucking him. 

Then, Ian presses, and he starts to notch himself against Anthony’s hole. He starts to stretch Anthony open. The feeling is different than his fingers, so much different, but it’s not bad. It’s a lot. Anthony breathes, relaxes his body the same way he had when Ian fingered him open, the same way he tries to go Zen when he’s in the middle of a long tattoo session. 

Ian starts to inch inside of Anthony, stretching his ass open to make room for his thick and hard cock. 

“Oh, fuck!” Anthony moans. 

Ian stills, “Do I need to stop or-” 

“No!” Anthony says quickly, “fuck, please don’t stop. I need to feel you.” 

Ian moans, the sound sending shockwaves of pleasure blistering through Anthony, making his dick throb against his belly. 

He shifts forward, feeding Anthony more of his cock, sinking in deeper and deeper and opening Anthony’s ass up around him. The burn of Ian’s cock is giving way to a dull thrum of pleasure and it’s better than Anthony had imagined. He already feels full and he has no idea how much of Ian is inside of him. It’s a blissful sort of fullness, the sense of being opened, taken, and that it’s Ian that has him, that is seating himself inside of Anthony’s body. 

“I’m half-way inside,” Ian says, as if he’s reading Anthony’s mind. 

“H-Halfway? Fuck, you’re so huge. God, Ian.” 

“Tell me if it hurts,” Ian says, his voice tight. 

“It doesn’t. It feels good. I feel so full. I feel you stretching me.” 

Ian groans, hips stuttering forward to feed Anthony a few more inches. Anthony’s heels dig into Ian’s lower back. His thighs tremble but in the best way, a use that makes him feel good. 

Before Ian pushes in all the way he already is pulling back, thrusting shallowly into Anthony.

The feeling makes Anthony’s toes curl and the movement, the utter fullness punches a whimpery moan out of him. 

“You make the prettiest fucking sounds,” Ian groans, shifting so he’s more properly leaning over Anthony, propping himself up by his forearms, bracketing Anthony in on either side of his head. 

Ian is over him, inside of him. His face is pink, hair hanging into his face, his eyes so fiercely blue that Anthony would happily drown in them, in this moment, give up everything to stay right here with the other man who means so much to him, more than he can put into words. 

Anthony cups Ian’s face the same way Ian had done back in the kitchen and this time it’s Anthony who draws Ian to him, who kisses him. The kissing is sloppier than before, a mess of moans, swallowing each other’s sounds as Ian rocks into Anthony slow and steady, perfectly tempo to not hurt him. 

It’s still shallow, Anthony can tell, and he groans a mix of pleasure and frustration. He wants to feel all of Ian. He’s not afraid of that. He slides a hand from Ian’s face to his hair, tugging gently and he earns a deep moan from the other man. 

“What?” Ian asks, momentarily dazed. 

“I want you to fuck me like you would anyone else.” 

“Who says I-I’m not?” 

“I can tell you’re holding back.” 

“I told you. It’s your first time and-” 

“I’m not telling you to pound me senseless though that sounds good as fuck. I’m telling you to fuck me.”

Ian groans, kisses Anthony again, and then, finally, Anthony feels him deeper than he has before. 

“Oh, fuck,” Anthony groans. 

“Yeah? Like that?” Ian asks, his voice breathy. 

“Yeah, yeah, just like that, Ian. Holy shit.” 

Anthony’s hands shift to scrabble at Ian’s back, blunt nails biting into the pale and freckled skin he’s all but memorized, but never got to touch, not like this. 

Ian sets a quicker pace than before. He’s so big, the feeling of him huge in Anthony’s ass. Anthony licks his lips, head falling back into the pillows as Ian snaps his hips against Anthony’s ass, fucking into him quicker and harder than before. It’s bliss. It’s perfect. The burn of the other man, his thick, hard cock fucking into Anthony. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” Ian growls, “you have no idea how good you feel.” 

“Like the best pussy you ever had?” Anthony jokes. 

“Better,” Ian says around a moan, kissing Anthony harder as his hips meet Anthony’s ass. 

They tangle that way, bodies twined, and Anthony can’t possibly ever feel as full as he does right now. It’s a deliciously hot feeling, the knowledge that his body is stretched, ass opened, desperately trying to accommodate the sheer size of Ian’s cock. 

As they fuck, Anthony’s cock bounces against his own belly, trapped between he and Ian’s bodies. The friction is gorgeous, making Anthony gasp and moan. He doesn’t think it can get any better, and then Ian tugs his hips upwards, tilts his body, and on the next thrust he smacks directly into Anthony’s prostate. 

“Holy fuck,” Anthony hisses, “Fuck!” 

“F-Found it, didn’t I?” Ian asks smugly above Anthony. 

Anthony digs his nails deeper into Ian’s shoulder. 

“God, please do that again,” Anthony begs. 

Ian, he doesn’t tease, and on the next thrust he nails Anthony’s prostate. Anthony swears to God he sees stars. Ian’s got him shaking, trembling, a mess of nerves on his mattress practically wrapped around Ian’s body, clinging to him like he’ll disappear if Ian doesn’t anchor him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Anthony hisses. “Ian!” 

“Yeah, yeah, come again. Come with me,” Ian urges, his own voice tight with arousal. 

Anthony can feel him speed up, can feel that thick head of his cock bump his prostate on each thrust. Anthony finds his body hurtling towards his second orgasm. He can’t even think, falling through an endless tunnel of pleasure, feeling when it overcomes him, when he shudders and loses it, splattering thick ropes of come between their stomachs. 

Ian hisses above him, hips snapping forward rougher than before as he chases his own orgasm. Anthony’s body is dull from coming, but like a livewire at the same time, and he feels that hot slice of pleasure scorching through him. He wants to ache. He wants to feel Ian tomorrow in every moment he makes, remembering this exact moment, how Ian looks right before he comes, how he feels. 

“Come,” Anthony pleads, “Come in me, Ian. I want to feel you come inside of me. I want to feel it drip out of me, leaking down my thighs.” 

Anthony can’t control the words that bubble out of him, leaving him from his deepest core, his most delirious wants. 

Ian moans, tucking his face into the junction of Anthony’s neck and shoulder, his teeth grazing Anthony’s skin as he grunts, and then buries himself deep inside of Anthony and comes, spilling himself inside of the other man. 

Anthony feels every twitch, every throb. He feels the way Ian is hot, slick, the way his cock is jerking inside as he shoots ropes of come into Anthony’s ass. He’s never, ever, felt anything like it in his life. 

The feeling is addictive. 

Ian leaves his head settled in that space of Anthony’s skin. He can feel the warm puffs of Ian’s breath against his neck. Anthony brings his hand up, rubbing at Ian’s back, petting the damp and sweat-slicked skin. 

Finally, Ian lifts his head. His eyes are so dark, pupils blown wide. He leans in and catches Anthony’s mouth in a kiss. The kiss is lacking the heat from earlier, but it’s no less passionate. It’s warm in a different way, heavier, like all the words he and Ian should say to each other, like all the complex feelings they’ve ever had for one another, and how again, not for the first time in their lives, their friendship is morphing into something else, blurring lines, crossing boundaries, but Anthony isn’t scared of it. He knows he and Ian can survive it, can survive anything if they put their minds to it. 

Ian props himself up on his hands, lifts his chest enough to create space between them, but he’s still inside of Anthony. That delicious, perfect, fullness is all he can feel and focus on. How open he is. Anthony experiments, he clenches around Ian’s spent cock and earns a hiss from the other man. 

“Way too sensitive for that,” Ian breathes, a shiver running through him. 

“Yeah?” Anthony asks, a smile crossing his face as he tightens around Ian again. 

Ian moans. “Anthony, I’m gonna have to retaliate.” 

“Maybe I want that.” 

Ian grunts and then he reaches between them and his hand is finding Anthony’s soft dick, stroking it, smearing the slickness of his come over Anthony’s sensitive cock. Instantly, Anthony’s head flies back against the mattress and he groans. His dick is way too sensitive, almost painful, but at the same time that pleasure is there, burning him alive as Ian strokes his limp cock, using the slickness of Anthony’s own come to make the slide easier. 

“A pretty little cock,” Ian praises, still jerking him off. 

Anthony bites his lip, wants to scream, wants to come, wants to let Ian do anything he wants to him. 

“So cute,” Ian adds, keeping up the touches, “can I get this cute cock to come again?” 

“Ian,” Anthony whines. 

“Hmm? Is that a yes? Should we try?” he speeds up his hand, tightens his grip. 

Anthony lets out a garbled sob and if he just told Ian to stop, then Ian would, he knows it. At the same time…he doesn’t want Ian to stop. He doesn’t want this to be over. Even if his cock is this side of painful, if the touch makes him twitch with sensitivity. 

“You really are so pretty,” Ian adds, “all of you. Cock included.” 

Anthony swallows thickly, lets his eyes flutter closed because Ian’s words are real, and meaningful, “don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.” 

“I-If I get my way…no one else will see my cock but you.” 

“Oh,” Ian says, blinking down at him, his face neutral before a smile takes its place, “that can definitely be arranged.” 

Ian keeps touching him and Anthony’s body betrays him, grows hard to Ian’s touch. When’s the last time he got it up again this fast? He can’t even remember. His dick is painful, but Ian’s words are sweet, whispered into his ear, his hand stroking wet and urgent over his cock. 

“Come again,” Ian requests, “please, pretty boy. I want to see you come again.” 

Anthony bites his lip, and he’d like nothing more than to come. His chest is heaving, stomach twisting in pleasure as Ian works him closer and closer to his third orgasm of the night. 

Then, he’s there. He’s there, over-sensitive cock twitching as he comes in Ian’s hand. His load is weaker, a dribble of white, sticky strings clinging to Ian’s fingers as he jerks him through it. 

“There it is, such a good boy. Good boy, Anthony,” Ian praises, and then, finally releases his cock. 

Anthony lays spent on the mattress, body feeling like a limp noodle. Ian slowly pulls himself free, Anthony groaning at both the feeling and the sudden loss of Ian’s cock inside of him, the absence of that fullness. 

Ian gets up momentarily, padding to his bathroom and grabbing a washcloth, returning to the bed prepared to wipe Anthony down. 

“Not my ass though,” Anthony says as Ian wipes the come off his chest and gently over his cock. 

“You freak,” Ian jokes, fond rather than judging. 

“I was serious when I said I wanted to feel you running down my thighs.” 

“And staining my sheets.” 

“I’ll buy you new ones…nicer ones. I bet you could use some anyway.” 

“Well, now I certainly can!” 

They laugh, and it’s like nothing has changed even if at the same time everything has changed. Ian tosses the washcloth to the floor and lays down on the bed next to Anthony. 

Anthony doesn’t feel like he can move. He reaches out and takes Ian’s hand instead of turning to face him.

“Thank you,” Anthony croaks, his voice feeling raw, “for this…for tonight.”

Ian squeezes Anthony’s hand. “Of course, Anthony.”

“I know I kind of threw a lot at you…a lot I didn’t even realize about myself.”

“That’s okay. What are our mid-thirties for if not experimenting and finding our truest selves? Even if our truest selves are kinky as fuck. We’ll do better next time.”

“Next time?” Anthony asks, his heart speeding up and he turns his head to meet those blue eyes that always feel like home.

“If that’s what you want?”

“It’s what I want,” Anthony says.

He’s never been more sure of anything in all his life.