I wake up feeling more rested than I have in a long time. I reach over and feel for Gabe, my hand making contact with his rising and falling chest.
"Good morning, Sleepyhead," he says to me, his voice gruff. I sit up and lean against him.
"Good morning." I kiss Gabe's cheek, and he smiles.
"Did you sleep well?" He asks me, reaching up to tousle my already messy hair.
"Yeah," I tell him. For once, I wasn't tossing and turning, plagued by anxiety. Something about Gabe, the way he held me, the steady rhythm of his heart against my back, his smell, just makes me feel safe. I've never felt that with anyone before. "What about you?"
"So well." Gabe wraps his arms around me and pulls me into him. I feel his dick through his boxers, pressing against my ass. "I kept you warm, didn't I?" He whispers into my ear.
"You did," I whisper back. "You kept your promise."
"It wasn't hard, you being so cute and all. I can hardly keep myself off you." He nuzzles into my neck. "And don't think I forgot my other promise." I feel my cock twitch. "But not until you're ready, of course."
"I just need a little more time." Gabe pulls me in closer, letting me sink back into his torso.
"No rush, ever. I'd never, ever make you do something that you don't want to do."
"Thank you," I mumble into him. My lips brush against his forearm, the soft hair tickling my skin.
"You want some breakfast, pretty boy?" I attempt (and fail) to restrain my smile. I turn to face Gabe, and he mirrors my expression.
"That sounds perfect." Gabe climbs out of bed, still half-naked, and offers his hand to me. I take it, and he pulls me up like I hardly weigh anything. Gabe bends down, his boxers hiking up his ass, searching for the clothes he flung off last night. I retrieve my backpack to change, trying to do so as quickly as possible.
Gabe looks over at me as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants. I look at the floor, feeling awkward. It's not like he hasn't seen me change 100 times in the locker room, but I still feel so exposed.
After we finish getting dressed, I follow Gabe out of his room. We walk down the short hallway, and I look down to check if anyone's lights are on. I'm not sure that I want to meet the parents with bedhead and eye bags. Everyone looks to still be asleep, so I let myself relax a bit. We step into the kitchen/living space, and Gabe flips on a light switch.
The kitchen is about the same size as mine but has a small island with barstools in the middle. There's still something odd to me about Gabe living in an ordinary house. That's not to say he acts spoiled (because he doesn't), but he just seems so perfect that I'd expect him to live in a castle or something.
Gabe opens the pantry and turns to me. "You like pancakes?"
"Love them," I respond. He pulls out a box of pancake mix, hands it to me, and then bends down to grab something else. I notice the hem of his underwear peeking out from his sweatpants.
"Heads up!" Gabe warns, tossing a bag of chocolate chips up at me. I, still fixated on him, feel the bag hit me and fall to the floor. "Good catch," he teases, picking it up. Thankfully, it wasn't open.
"To be fair, I wasn't expecting to be attacked with a bag of chocolate chips." I set the pancake mix on the counter, and Gabe places the chocolate chips beside it.
"Attacked? And you had plenty of time to react. Distracted by all this, huh?" He asks, standing up and gesturing to his body.
"Pfft, me? Looking at you? Never." I smile slyly, and Gabe does the same.
"Look all you want," he tells me, echoing our first interaction.
"I just about had a heart attack when you said that to me in the locker room." Gabe opens a cabinet and pulls out a mixing bowl.
"I just about had a heart attack saying it," he laughs. He opens the pancake mix box, rips the plastic bag, and dumps it into the bowl.
"I honestly thought you were fucking with me. You left me so confused." Gabe opens the fridge and takes a half-empty gallon of milk and a carton of eggs.
"So confused that you spanked me a few minutes later?"
"I did not spank you. I accidentally lightly tapped your butt. Your cheeks shouldn't have been in the way of my hand." Gabe reaches around me, his warm skin brushing against mine. He opens a drawer and pulls out a measuring cup.
"Sorry, my cheeks should have been more considerate. I just forget how much space they take up. My ass has its own gravitational pull, as I'm sure you've noticed, your eyes always feeling the need to stare down at it." He measures a cup of milk, pours it into the bowl, and stirs it with a mixing spoon.
"Gabe!" I gawk. "How are you so obsessed with yourself?" I ask (mostly) sarcastically. Truthfully, I wish I had an ounce of his confidence.
"I mean, we can both see it, right?" Gabe leans against the counter and shakes his hips, making his ass bounce in his sweatpants.
"You're nasty," I tell him, though I do feel the gravitational pull.
"And you love it, huh?" He continues stirring the pancake batter, moving his hips in sync with his hands. He opens the carton of eggs and cracks two into the bowl.
"Is this some kind of strange foreplay?" Gabe opens the chocolate chips and empties half the bag into the batter.
"I don't know, is it working?"
"A little," I concede. "But I'm not eating you out in your kitchen while your family's home." Gabe turns to me, eyebrows raised.
"You want to eat me out?" I feel myself blush.
"No—I mean, that would be weird." I'm covering this about as well as I did about the dirty boxers.
"I wouldn't be opposed if that's what you're worried about. I might have to do some manscaping first, though. So the only cake you'll be eating today is of the pan variety." I can't help but laugh at that and the absurdity of the entire conversation.
"You're a weird guy, Gabe," I shake my head, smiling.
"Yet here you are, fantasizing about rimming me." He shakes his head right back.
"No," I retort, "here you are, fantasizing about me rimming you."
"Mmmm, I think we can agree that the feeling's mutual. But you were the one who brought it up."
"I guess that's true," I admit. "But you're the one who brought up your ass in the first place, so who's the real culprit here?"
"The culprit is the guy who wanted to eat my ass and didn't even tell me!" Gabe squats down and opens a cabinet, pulling out a pan and placing it on the stovetop.
"I bet you never expected to say that sentence in your life."
"Yeah, but I didn't expect to be dating the cutest guy at school either, so I guess crazy things happen." He kisses my cheek.
"How is your transition from overt homosexuality to saying the sweetest things so smooth?"
"I guess you bring out the best in me. And the gayest in me. You're quite impressive, really." Gabe turns one of the dials on the stovetop. He grabs a ladle and spatula from the container of random kitchen utensils.
"I'm glad you think so." Gabe holds his hand over the pan, waiting for it to heat up. I look around, seeing the family photos on the walls and the calendar pinned to the fridge, and realize I hardly know anything about his life outside school. "What's your family like?"
"Oh, umm, pretty normal, I guess. Nuclear family. My mom stays home, my dad's always out of town for work, and I have a sister in middle school. I tend to stay out of the house. Things are always awkward when my whole family is together." Gabe pulls his hand back from the stove, scoops some batter with the ladle, and pours it into the pan. It creates a perfect circle. "What's your family like? Is it just you and your mom?"
"Yeah, my parents are divorced, and my dad lives out-of-state – Ohio, of all places. My mom lives off child support and alimony, but the child support goes away once I turn 18." Gabe slides the spatula under the pancake and flips it, revealing its charcoal-black face. "Looks delicious," I remark.
"Well, that was actually on purpose, in case you were wondering. I like my pancakes nice and crispy." He gives me a self-satisfied smile. He twists the knob on the stovetop slightly to the left, reducing the temperature.
"Oh yeah? You're going to eat that?"
"Watch me." Gabe opens a cabinet and pulls out a large plate. He lifts the pancake with the spatula and puts it burned-side-down, showcasing the new pale face.
"It's like the pizza," I comment. "I'm starting to think you don't know how to use an oven."
"I'm hearing a lot of backseat baking from this side of the room," he says, gesturing toward me, "and I do not appreciate it. The first pancake's always wonky."
"I'm still waiting for you to eat it," I pester. Gabe gives in, picking up the pancake with his bare hand and taking a huge bite out of it.
"Mmmm!" He exclaims, mouth full. "Mhmm-mhmm mmm, that is spectacular. Just how I like it. Chef's kiss." He kisses my cheek. "Try it," he offers, holding it in front of my mouth. I oblige, taking a small bite. Despite being so burnt on one side, the middle is partially uncooked.
"Wow," I say, swallowing it. "I think you should stick to basketball and not baking."
"Dickhead!" He laughs, punching me on the arm lightly. "You just can't stand that I'm so great at everything."
"Everything?" I question. "Even driving? The squirrel, remember her?" Gabe gasps dramatically.
"You do not bring Squirrelina into this!"
"Squirrelina?" I repeat. "You killed her again by naming her that."
"How dare you! You've broken my heart, Jake." He starts to fake cry. A few seconds later, we both burst out laughing, too loud, considering that Gabe's family is still asleep. "Well," he says, "I think it's your turn to make the pancakes. Show me how it's done." He throws the burnt pancake like a frisbee, landing it squarely in the middle of the plate.
I scoot around Gabe, brushing against his side, and grab the ladle. I scoop up some batter and pour it into the hot pan. It comes out a bit oblong. "Mine was better," Gabe remarks.
"Yours was burnt." I wait about a minute or so, watching the air bubbles in the batter. I pick up the spatula, slip it under the pancake, and flip it, revealing a perfectly brown face. "That's how you make a pancake. You're so welcome."
"No, no, let me show you something." Gabe grabs my shoulder and turns me toward him. He places his hand on the back of my head and brings me in for a kiss. He then takes my hand and places it on his lower back. My thumb traces the waistband of his sweatpants. He pulls away momentarily. "Feel it," he tells me. I move my hand lower, right onto Gabe's ass. I squeeze it lightly. "You like that?" He whispers.
"Yeah," I whisper back. Gabe pulls away again.
"Looks like your perfect pancake is burning," he says, regretfully shaking his head. "What a shame."
"Damn it, Gabe, that was just to fuck up my pancake, wasn't it?" I move it onto the plate with the other partially eaten and burnt pancake. "All of them are going to suck at this rate."
"Doesn't bother me," Gabe says, taking a bite out of the freshly burnt pancake. He chews, looking up toward the ceiling in thought. "It's good, but not as good as mine."
"You're such a dick," I tell him, smiling.
"And thankfully, you like those!" He laughs, mouth full.
"Shut up, so do you!" Gabe shakes his head vigorously.
"I deny these allegations. Now, are you going to move out of the way to let me make you breakfast, or what?"
"Fine," I walk over to the island and sit on one of the barstools. "Umm, excuse me, Chef, could I get a non-burnt pancake?"
"I'll see what I can do for you, handsome." Gabe gets to work, carefully pouring batter into the pan. I watch him mindlessly, enjoying his presence. He's so pretty—his messy black hair, his kind eyes, his perfect jaw, his muscled arms, all of him. And the craziest part is that he's mine—he's my boyfriend. It all feels surreal.
Gabe walks over with the pan, placing a nicely browned pancake before me. "Your pancake, sir."
"Thank you so much. But, no plate?" I look down at the food sitting straight down on the counter.
"I didn't realize you were so fancy. Would you like some truffles and gold leaf with that, too?"
"No... but some syrup and a fork would be nice." Gabe rolls his eyes and retrieves everything for me.
"Don't get used to this," he warns, handing me the syrup. "I only make pancakes for my very best conquests."
"Eww!" I exclaim. "Never call me one of your conquests again."
"Sorry, would you prefer the term 'hoe?'"
"Oh my god, I hate you."
"Don't lie to yourself, Jake." Gabe leans over the island, looking me right in the eyes. "I think we both know how you feel about me." I'm about to kiss him when an unfamiliar voice takes the moment.
"Well, Gabriel, aren't you going to introduce me?"
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