The next morning I woke up with my usual pre-coffee headache. Caffeine was needed, and fast. I yawned and stretched. My laptop still opened on a random page. Thank God I didn't pass out with Mark's live stream page up. Talk about an uncomfortable conversation if he randomly walked into my bedroom.
I shuddered at the thought. His dark brown eyes narrowed in anger at me not telling him about knowing him already. What would he do if he was so angry that he wanted to leave?
Deep breaths. I needed to take deep breaths and calm the fuck down. I'll just have to find a way of admitting to him the truth. That I had been watching him naked and masturbating as part of my life for the past year. Invited him to be my roommate and now enjoy him do those same wonderfully sexy things literally across my hallway. Not to mention I made out with him like a horned up teenager on my pool table.
Holy hell, this was a mess.
At this point coffee wasn't even a want, it was a necessity. I needed something to calm my nerves and wake me up,. Having a panic attack at 7 in the morning while half asleep couldn't be healthy for me.
I snatched a pair of sweatpants off the edge of my dresser and pulled on the first torso clothing item I saw; when I stepped out into the hallway and flicked the lights on I saw it was a Tool shirt. I scurried into the kitchen like some kind of rodent to get away from the light, my head hurt to much for that amount of light at the moment.
The hall lights illuminated the kitchen enough for me to see what I was doing, setting up the coffee machine and sticking a piece of bread in the toaster while waiting for my dirty bean water mistress. There was a creak somewhere in the house, but I was much more interested in the lack of noise from the machine, and the gorgeous dark roast that was filling up my cup.
I needed a distraction. Something boring to get my mind from wrecking things with Mark. Porn was so much more fun when the object of my fantasies wasn't under the same roof. When I could only just imagine how he looked in morning light, or what type of aftershave he wore.
"Morning Jack."
I jumped at the deep rumble. My coffee spilled as I turned to see Mark standing sleepy eyed at the refrigerator. He was wearing bright red underwear so tight that my own dick throbbed in sympathy.
"Uhhhhhh..."
I could tell that the strangled noise was coming from me. A weird collection of squeaks that was the startled cry of the grown man going from normal to horny in less than five seconds.
"Are you all right?" He asked. His head tilted to the left in such precious confusion that I squeaked again.
"Yes! Fine! Good! Never better!"
I winced at myself. Here I am in the early morning hours screaming at the hottest man on the planet. This was bad. Really really bad.
His brow raised in confusion and the most adorable crinkles appeared around and in between his eyes, his soft brown eyes narrowed just slightly. He looked like he was going to ask something, and as much as I wanted to hear more of that raspy morning voice of his, I don't think it could handle it.
"Sorry," he barely seemed to catch my mumble, standing a little straighter, but still wearing that curious look, I took a deep breath and gathered my thoughts before speaking, "You scared me from half asleep to fully awake in like, .5 seconds and I really wasn't prepared for that."
I looked at me for another few seconds, he still had a little sleepy glaze over his eyes, and it must have been affecting his thinking. He cracked a little smile, which quickly turned into a bashful grin, raising his arm so he could run his finger through those soft ebony locks.
How the hell can he pull off so many looks at once? Sexy as sin and cheek-pinchingly cute? That has to be a crime in some part of the world.
"Sorry about that, shoulda said something before I was right behind you."
I waved my hand in what I hoped was a casual way. One that gave an air of relaxation and ease that I was definitely not feeling in any part of my body. It seemed to work, and he went back to opening the fridge. His body flexed as he bent over to grab something from that back shelf.
Holy Christ, that ass of his should be made illegal.
"You want some?" He asked, still with his head in the refrigerator.
"What?" I yelped.
He stood back up with the almost empty jug of milk in his left hand. The confused look on his face had returned.
"Milk," he said. "Did you want some?"
"Oh," God I sounded like such a dumbass, but the silly way his face scrunched when he was puzzled was almost convincing enough for me to continue sticking my foot in my mouth, "I don't put anything in my coffee."
His adorable expression turned into some mix of both playful, and real disgust.
"You drink it black?"
"Yeah? What, you got a problem with it big guy?"
Wow that came off a lot more combative than I intended, but thankfully he huffed out a laugh and sat the milk on the counter, turning in search of the cabinet with bowls.
"As a matter of fact . . nah," he chuckled a little to himself, grabbing a small bowl and setting it next to the milk, "I have nothing against it, I'm just not a big coffee person myself. I'll drink it if I'm like, super tired, but it makes me really jittery most of the time and I hate that feeling."
He poured Raisin Bran cereal into the bowl, then poured milk on top. His focus so much on making sure not to spill anything that he didn't notice me as I stared. Openly stared at this hunk of a man in my kitchen eating breakfast in nothing but underwear.
"Any plans for the day?" he asked.
"Getting ready for work. Then maybe finally get to the gym after the last six months, but not looking forward to it."
He giggled at that, and actually gave me a look from head to toe. I think my heart might have actually stopped for a moment.
"You look great to me," he said. "Perfect the way you are."
It's a good thing he only spent another few seconds looking at me before turning back to his cereal, my face felt so hot he would no doubt see it, even in the dim lighting.
"Thanks." As lame as it was, it was the first thing to come out of my mouth, once I realized I had just been standing there quietly for a good 20 seconds or so. His shoulders jumped a little with a silent laugh, finally turning back to me once he put everything away.
"Just being honest, I don't see why you'd need to go. Not like I'm disapproving or anything, if you want to be a little healthier go for it." He shrugged and bit and leaned back against the kitchen counter, bringing a spoonful of cereal to his mouth.
It was kind of pathetic that the sight of a small dribble of milk stuck in his facial hair was enough to send a delightful shiver down my spine.
"I just want to tone up a little bit, mostly my arms."
He again glanced at me, but his time focused on my biceps and forearms. The slightest crease of a frown on his brow line. Then he took a few steps over to me and wrapped his left hand around my right arm.
"Let me feel you flex," he said playfully.
My could feel my skin burn at his touch. A warm soft sensation that brought me right back to how he held me so close on the pool table. The way his mouth felt on mine as we kissed. My vision started to look fuzzy on the edges.
"Jack? Are you....oh shit, I'm sorry," he muttered quickly as he took his hand away. "That was way too forward of me to just think that I could touch you. I just don't realize that other people aren't into - "
"It's fine," I replied as I grabbed his left wrist to stop him from backing away. "I'm fine with it. Really. Was a little surprised is all."
His face relaxed into relief, and then that same smirk was back.
"I guess it would help if I wore pants when I start manhandling you, huh?"
"It wouldn't change much." It was out of my mouth before I had even thought through the words, and while there were a lot of other things I could have said, the words still made my face heat up.
One of Mark's brows arched up, the smirk on his face only deepening, he glanced down at where my hand still had a hold of his wrist before looking back up to meet my gaze. There was a question in his eyes, and before I could really think through what that was, I moved his hand back to my arm.
He casually wrapped his fingers around my bicep, his hands nearly large enough to completely envelop my arm. After a few seconds and another curious gaze from doe brown eyes I flexed, pausing briefly before trying again and putting more effort into it.
He seemed a little surprised at first, squeezing the skin he had under his hand before pulling away, a soft smile on his face.
"Oh, you could tone up pretty fast," he looked up at me and something flashed across his face, "not that you really need to or anything. You've got a lot of muscle there already, just some short arm exercises should help define everything."
I blinked at him as he continued to smile. Such a warm smile that I could watch for the rest of my life if I had to do it. Screw that. Watching any part of him would always be wonderful.
"T-thanks," I stammered, and he chuckled again.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're really adorable when your embarrassed, Jack?".
He leaned in and touched my face gently with the back of his hand. "Your cheeks turn such a lovely shade of pink."
I swallowed hard and coughed loudly.
"Better let you get to work," he said finally stepping away and placing his bowl in the sink. "Don't want it to be my fault for getting you late."
There was so many things I wanted to say in response to that, the one at the tip of my tongue being I wouldn't mind as long as you were here. I had to shake the thoughts out of my head, scolding myself for even thinking them.
Mark hasn't even been here five days and I'm already acting like some love sick teenager, there's no excuse for my thoughts and actions and I really need to get my shit together.I opened my mouth to say something, but whatever it was died before it ever got out as Mark walked by me, settling his hand on my shoulder and planting a chaste kiss on my cheek. He continued on his way, no doubt going back to his room, without looking back or saying anything, leaving me there, confused and more than a little weak in the knees.
I needed to start getting ready for work, if I didn't I would either be late, or march myself into Mark's room and push him into the bed.