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At first, we don’t really know what to do. After weirdly deciding that we’re going to “date,” we sit there awkwardly for a bit, laughing in that silly, nervous way two kids do when they admit they have crushes on each other. It feels so childish, so juvenile — but at the same time, I’m all about it. I just don’t know what to do next. The only question in my head is: “Now what?”
It’s not like we act differently. Our flow remains the same for the rest of the night: we shower separately, get ready for bed separately, sleep in our separate beds. Nothing noticeably changes — until the next morning, that is.
I’m leaning against the counter, chugging some OJ out of the carton and checking up on social media when Zane shuffles into the kitchen, having clearly just rolled out of bed. His hair is a mess and he’s only wearing his boxer briefs and his eyes are sleepier than usual. I chuckle when he wanders in, and he smiles at me sleepily.
“‘Morning,” I tell him.
“‘Morning,” he mumbles back, running his hand over his face.
I laugh. “Rough night?” I tease.
“You have no idea,” he says, and as he passes me, he leans in for a quick kiss on the lips. I’m stunned for a moment, and when Zane pulls back, he looks just as surprised as I feel. We stare at each other for a second, confused — not by the kiss itself, but how strangely natural that felt. It was automatic and totally organic, like we’ve been doing it for years.
And then, both of us burst out laughing at the same time. “That was…”
“Yeah,” he says, shaking his head.
There’s a pause before I snort again. “Um. Anyway. Want some OJ?” I offer him the carton.
He smirks and says, “Thanks *babe*” before grasping the carton and taking a swig.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t.”
He laughs after swallowing. “Too much?”
“It just sounds weird coming from your mouth,” I tell him.
“You signed up for this, you know,” he says with a grin, handing me back the orange juice before turning around to rummage the cabinets for cereal.
“I know,” I say. As I take another sip of the OJ, my eyes are fixed on Zane’s backside, eyeing his musculature, the dimples in his lower back, the way his underwear hugs each cheek of his (frankly) deliciously-fat ass. I guess I don’t have to discreetly ogle him anymore now that things are out in the open.
“You have any plans tonight?” he asks, going for the Raisin Bran.
“Might kill a man later,” I joke, and Zane chuckles as he pours his cereal into a bowl, “but I can probably reschedule.”
“Reschedule, then,” he says, looking back at me with a grin.
“I’ll need a reason.”
“I was thinking,” he says, pausing at the fridge, “that we could… y’know, go out tonight.”
I smirk slightly. “Like on a date?”
“Yeah, like on a date,” he says, eyeing me over once before grabbing milk out of the fridge. “I’m sure you could push back your murder plans a couple hours.”
“For you? Sure,” I say, and he smiles at me cheekily as he gets his breakfast ready. “What do you wanna do?”
He shrugs, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “Was thinking something basic, like dinner and a movie.” He swallows his bite before adding, “To be honest, I just really want to go to Pho Saigon again.”
Even though it’s breakfast, my mouth waters at the thought of Vietnamese food later on. “That sounds so good right now.”
“Right?” he says, grinning. “And it’s right near that nice theater. The one with the reclining chairs.”
That *is* a pretty nice place. They even serve alcohol there. “I don’t even know what’s out, though,” I say, trying to think of a movie preview that I’ve seen recently.
Zane just grins a bit. “There’s that Aladdin remake…”
“Oh God no,” I say with a laugh. A live-action version of Aladdin came out, and even though I’m undoubtedly curious as to how they revamped my favorite childhood movie of all time, I know it’ll be bad. I just know it. Live-action remakes are never a good idea.
“It could be fun,” he says with a laugh. “And I know you’re curious.”
“I mean… Maybe a little.”
“Good enough for me.” He smiles and then comes over to me. I swallow thickly as he gets closer, and his eyes home in on my lips before he leans down and kisses me again — this time, holding it for just a little longer. “Mmm,” he says when he pulls back, and I laugh, looking away shyly. I can feel him grinning at me, but all he says is that he’ll be in the living room before exiting the kitchen and leaving me alone with a fluttering sensation in my chest.
~ ~ ~
It’s only a thirty-minute stroll to that area of town, so Zane and I decide to take advantage of the good weather and walk to Pho Saigon. Even though it’s not *terribly* hot, part of me wishes I settled on wearing shorts instead of jeans. I spent a good ten minutes fussing over what to wear after I showered as if Zane was someone I was trying to impress. When I realized I didn’t need to pull out all the stops for someone who’s been invested in my life since we were infants, I felt canlı bahis instantly more relaxed and settled with jeans and a simple t-shirt — and *still*, Zane smiled at the sight of me and said I looked good. It was so strange to accept such a simple compliment from him. I felt like I was glowing.
Towards the beginning of the walk, I do something I usually do with someone I’ve dated for a while: I hold his hand. I reach over, and when I take Zane’s hand in mine, he looks down, pauses, and then laughs. “What the hell?”
“What?” I say with a little grin. “I like holding hands. Get used to it.”
“Fuck, you’re gayer than I am,” he teases, but he responds by shifting our hands so that our fingers lock together instead of just our palms. I smile gently to myself, appreciating how nicely we both fit into the spaces between our fingers. “You know we’re in public, right?” he asks after a moment.
“And you’re cool with that?”
I bite my lip, looking around a bit as we walk down the sidewalk. “I think so.”
He chuckles softly. “If you wanna let go, I won’t be offended.”
But I don’t let go. I’m determined to hold his hand the entire trip to the restaurant, if just to test myself. I’m fully aware of people looking at us as we walk by. None of the looks are noticeably disapproving, though — and even if they were, I’m sure my good feelings would make me barely cognizant of any negativity. I feel as giddy as I was with my first-ever girlfriend, but with an infinitely more special twist.
We don’t separate our fingers until we get to the restaurant, and the hostess leads us to a two-person table before giving us menus and heading back to her podium. I sit back in my chair with a sigh, my eyes on Zane even as a waitress comes by to pour us waters. We’re on a fucking date. A romantic date, our first one. How the hell did this happen?
“I told Baba that we made out,” I say suddenly as we both scope out the menu.
Zane looks up at me with slightly wider eyes. “You *did*?” he asks, a mix of surprised and amused. “When?”
“After your surprise coke party,” I mutter, and he blushes but laughs slightly.
“You didn’t tell him about–?”
“No, I didn’t tell him about the fucking coke, dumbass,” I murmur, shaking my head.
“Just making sure, sheesh,” he says, biting back a smile. “Well? What’d he say?”
Zane blinks a bit, leaning in more for clarification. “‘Finally’?”
“Yep. Apparently he and Rashida have had it in for us for a while now.”
Zane seems to find that particularly funny, because he lets out a loud enough laugh to draw reproachable stares from the couple nearby. “Nice to know we have their blessing,” he says, shaking his head with a grin as his eyes go back to the menu.
I look at him for a moment before asking a question. “You haven’t talked to Seth at all, right?”
Zane looks up at me only with his eyes before shaking his head. “Nope. Avoiding that shit like the plague for now.”
I wince a bit. “Probably best,” I murmur. Who knows how that man is doing?
Zane scoffs. “I wonder what he’ll say when he finds out you and me are…” He trails off, smirking slightly. “Well, *if* we get together.”
I laugh. “Having doubts already?”
“I’m giving you a chance, baby, don’t worry,” he says with a teasing wink. When I roll my eyes, Zane just chuckles to himself.
Dinner goes by nicely. It doesn’t feel *too* different from any other time we’ve gone out together, but I do notice that everything has that slight romantic edge to it — like I’m looking at him through a different lens. He looks handsomer, sexier, more carnally appealing. He seems more attentive, more playful. And his eyes? They’re piercing. His eyes feel like they’re seeing me, really seeing me.
And then, when we get the check, something hits me. Usually it doesn’t matter which one of us picks up the bill. Sometimes one of us handles the whole thing, and sometimes we split it if we have cash, but it never seems to matter either way. We don’t even have running tabs on each other. Now, though, it seems strange. Do I be the gentleman and pay the bill? I can’t even use that stupid fake-feminist “Let the girl pay the bill” excuse because Zane is no girl. So, who pays? Suddenly it’s imperative that this question be answered. I completely flood myself with sudden anxiety. I don’t know why my head is fucking with me like this right now, but the looming presence of the bill is stressing me out and reminding me how odd and sudden this all is.
I decide to be vocal about it. “This is so weird,” I say aloud.
Zane looks up after he checks the price on the bill. “What is?”
He raises an eyebrow, keeping his attention on me. “Too weird for you?”
“No, just… weird,” I say, unsure what I’m actually trying to get at. I decide to pick his brain a bit. “How you feelin’?”
“You know me, dude,” he says gently, smiling a little bit. “I just like being with you.”
A feel a smile form on my lips, so natural and automatic, bahis siteleri so responsive to Zane’s energy. I feel the same way. I just like being with Zane, and that’s all there is to it. “Maybe we’re still thinking about this too hard,” I say. Correction: maybe *I’m* still thinking about this too hard. Relax, Khalid. It’s just a check, and it’s just Zane.
“Maybe,” Zane says softly, licking his bottom lip. Then, after seeing me bug out for a moment, Zane offers a solution: “Wanna get drunk and fool around?”
I grin a little wider, my groin tickling. Maybe that’s all we need to be doing: having fun and getting physical. “Hell yeah.”
We decide to split the bill clean in half before wandering around downtown. On the way back towards the apartment, we come across a bar we’ve never been in. It’s a bit stuffy, but it’s not overly crowded like most bars are on a weekend, and we decide that this is a decent enough place to at least grab a few shots and be on our merry way. However, after our fourth shot of tequila, eight o’clock hits — and apparently, it’s karaoke night.
“Guess we came at a good night,” Zane says with a slight grin when the KJ makes the announcement that karaoke will be up and running in fifteen minutes. He’s leaning his back against the bar, facing the small stage situated across the room.
I glance at him, swiveling in my chair to face him. “You should sign up.”
His head whips towards me. “Are you crazy? No way.”
“C’mon,” I say with a grin, tugging on his shirt. “You’re good, man.” Zane just rolls his eyes and scoffs, and I laugh. “What?”
He just smirks slightly to himself. “You’re being an ass.”
“I’m being dead fucking serious,” I tell him, putting my hand on his thigh. “You’ve got a great voice. Plus… I need some embarrassing footage of you for blackmail purposes.”
That gets a laugh out of him. “Oh, so *that’s* why you want me to sing in front of a bunch of fuckin’ strangers.”
“C’mon, pleeease?” I say, leaning in a bit. I put my chin on his shoulder, trying my best to peer pressure him into it.
He tries to avoid looking at me. “No, dude. I’m not good enough for that.”
“First of all, you are, and second of all, it’d make me happy,” I say, pulling that manipulative trick.
He rolls his eyes again. “Since when do I care about that?” he says with a grin.
“Come onnn,” I groan, feeling drunk enough to keep pestering him. “What’ll make you say yes?” I ask with a slightly sultry tone to my voice.
Zane peeks at me through the corner of his eye, smirking. “If you suck my dick–“
“Done,” I say immediately, not even letting him finish his sentence.
He turns his face towards me a bit, searching my eyes, probably deciding whether or not I’m to be taken seriously. After a minute, he sighs, pushing me away before slapping the bar to get the bartender’s attention. “I’ll need a few more shots,” he says. “Quickly.” I just chuckle, my chest tingling with excitement.
Once we each have a few rounds of additional shots, Zane stands up and shakes off the nerves a bit, clearly feeling the alcohol hitting him. “I don’t even know what song to sing.”
I stand next to him, adjusting his shirt and patting his chest like I’m his boxing coach about to send him off into the ring. “You know Sinatra well.”
He makes a face. “Sinatra’s not appropriate for a bar, dude.”
“Well I don’t fuckin’ know,” I say with a laugh. “Do something fun, then.”
But Zane is already grinning, clearly settling on something in his head. “I have an idea,” he murmurs before kissing my cheek and then heading to the end of the bar where the KJ is set up. I sit down in my seat, eyeing Zane curiously and trying to listen in on their conversation. He first asks her if this is where people sign up for karaoke, and when she confirms, he smiles. “Great! Do you have any Disney?”
She looks surprised that someone would ask that question. “Um… I do, actually.”
“Sweet,” Zane says with a grin. “What songs specifically?”
She almost laughs, giving Zane a look that’s essentially asking if he’s serious. “Really?” she asks. “C’mon, man, no one’s gonna wanna hear Disney.”
“It’ll be fun,” he says, trying to be charming.
“I’m gonna have to say no to that one,” she says.
“C’mon, please? It’s for my boyfriend.” Zane points to me, and when she looks in my direction, I smirk and give her a tiny wave, trying my best not to laugh. For a moment, she seems to soften and reconsider. Maybe she thinks it’s sweet that this big dude wants to sing some Disney classics for his lover.
But in the end, she still shakes her head no. “Sorry, big guy.”
Zane looks at me, biting his lip for a moment. He seems to ponder something for a second — and then, in an instant, he’s leaning over the KJ’s little booth and snatching her microphone from her table mic stand. He brings it to his lips and immediately starts singing a song my brain instantly recognizes as from Aladdin: “Arabian niiights, like Arabian daaays, more often than not are hotter than bahis şirketleri hot in a lot of good waaays!”
I burst the fuck out laughing, watching the poor girl attempt to snag the mic out of his hands before he pulls away. But he’s too quick for her. He sidesteps her attempts to stop him and moseys through the bar with the microphone cord dragging behind him, singing drunkenly at the top of his lungs while the KJ tails after him. “Arabian niiights ‘neath Arabian moons…”
I’m not the only one who finds this funny. A lot of women particularly are snickering or cheering him on, and a couple gruff-looking gentleman slam their pints down on the tables with glee — but eventually (and all too quickly), Zane’s fun is cut short. A hulking stranger (who, by his facial expression, clearly doesn’t find this amusing) blocks Zane’s way. Zane stops mid-song and laughs before playfully apologizing for his little stunt, turning around, and handing the KJ her mic. Still, even as the KJ gives him an irritated look, the bar erupts in cheers for Zane’s brief but beautiful display of showmanship, and he has a wide grin on his face as he makes his way back to me.
I laugh and clap for him as he gets closer. “That was incred–” But I’m cut off by Zane planting his lips firmly on mine, kissing me hard. I moan a bit, caught off-guard by how quickly I’m melting into this kiss.
Before I can really get into it, Zane pulls away, grinning at me slackly. “I’m so fucking drunk,” he says with a laugh, his arms on either side of me, pinning me to my seat against the bar.
I chuckle softly. “I can tell.” He smirks, eyes flickering to my lips once before suggesting we still see Aladdin like originally planned. “What?” I ask. “Why?”
“Because I wanna make out with you in the back of a theater,” he says, looking like he’s resisting all urges to kiss me right now.
I just grin. “We could do that at home, dude.”
He rolls his eyes before sighing, leaning in even closer so that he doesn’t talk so loudly. “Fine, I’ll be honest,” he says, his facial hair tickling my cheek as he murmurs in my ear. “I wanna suck your cock in the back of a theater.”
Well, that gets my attention. I gulp, my body responding. Suddenly, I’m forgetting all about our previous agreement. The thought of my dick getting any sort of attention right now is completely filling my head. “Isn’t it too late?” I ask.
I bite my lip, pulling my phone out and checking movie times at the nearby cinema. “Last show’s at… 9:45,” I say.
“What time is it now?”
“Perfect.” He grabs my hand and tugs me out of my chair, smirking. “C’mon, stud.”
Giggly and drunk, we quickly leave the bar and start heading towards the theater. We only just make it to the movie on time because we got sidetracked (aka, we hardcore made out in a dingy alleyway for three minutes) and then ended up walking in the wrong direction for a bit. By the time we pay for our tickets and head into the theater, the final preview is just ending. The two of us find a seat as far back as we can manage, smiling at the people we pass by: three or four separate couples, and two large families that have a set of kids each. No one’s in the back row, though, so there’s plenty of opportunity to do what’s on Zane’s mind.
The seats are great because you can both recline them and lift the armrests up. The row of seats can effectively become an elongated couch if we were with a dozen people. We don’t go as far as lifting *all* of them, but we lift the armrest in between us so that we can be close.
I’ve barely gotten myself comfortable when Zane leans over and kisses me deeply. I laugh against his lips but quickly find myself falling into motion, kissing him back fervently, our tongues taste-testing each other. With the alcohol in my system, I can only really focus on him: his lips, and his hand sliding down my front. Once his hand reaches my waist, he makes quick work of my jeans, opening them up and slipping a warm hand inside. I moan out hard enough to break the kiss, and both of us laugh quietly against each other.
“I’ve never done something like this,” I admit, referring to the whole “getting my dick sucked in public” thing.
“I’ll take good care of you,” Zane says with a grin, kissing me firmly once before shifting his mouth down to my lap. My eyes open wide when I feel his soft, sure lips wrap around my growing cock. It doesn’t take long for him to bring me to hardness. I hold my hand on the back of his neck as he bobs up and down in my lap, sucking me slowly and deeply. Even over the music in the movie, I can hear those soft, wet sucking noises pretty clearly, and the thrill of people being in the row in front of us is surprisingly strong.
Zane pulls off before reaching into my underwear to fish my balls out. Then, with one hand lightly stroking me, he kisses and laps at them. I groan softly, slouching a little more in my chair and gently squeezing the back of Zane’s neck. He takes one ball into his mouth at a time, rolling them around with his tongue and causing my cock to throb. A thick drop of precum escapes the head of my dick and when Zane feels it drop against his thumb, he rubs it along the underside of my cock, getting another happy moan out of me.
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