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The Perfect Gay III

작가: Writer
last update 게시일: 2026-08-07 14:42:25
Sunday morning came gray and heavy. Marcus sat three rows behind Daniel and watched the back of his neck the entire service. Daniel kept his head down during the prayers, Bible open on his lap like always, but every few minutes his shoulders would tighten and he’d shift in the pew like the hard wood was pressing somewhere it shouldn’t.

Marcus knew exactly where.

When the final hymn ended and people started filing out, Daniel didn’t move. He stayed seated until the sanctuary emptied. Marcus wai
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  • All Yours: Short Romantic Stories   CHP 5

    My flight was delayed. Again. Three hours and counting at O’Hare, and the storm outside wasn’t letting up anytime soon. I’d already walked the entire terminal twice, eaten some dry sushi that cost way too much, and now I was stuck at the airport bar nursing a gin and tonic. My phone was almost dead, and I was bored out of my mind. The guy two seats down had been sitting there just as long. He looked like he traveled a lot—button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, laptop open in front of him, but he wasn’t really working. Dark hair, sharp jawline, early thirties maybe. When I glanced over for the third time, he caught me. “Yours delayed too?” he asked, closing the laptop. “Yeah. Supposed to board an hour ago. Yours?” “Denver. This storm is screwing everybody.” He slid over to the seat right next to me. “I’m Caleb.” “Ava. Austin.” We started talking to kill time. He was a consultant, flew three or four times a month for work. I told him I was a graphic designer coming

  • All Yours: Short Romantic Stories   Chp4

    The gym was finally almost empty at 10:30 p.m. on a Thursday. Just how I liked it. I’d had a shit day at the clinic—double shifts, cranky patients, and a doctor who couldn’t stop micromanaging. All I wanted was to sweat it out, blast some music in my headphones, and not think for an hour. I was on the treadmill, hair up, tank top already sticking to my back, when he walked in. Tall, built like he lived in the weight room but not in that showy way. Dark skin, short beard, sleeves cut off his shirt so you could see the muscle in his arms. He nodded at me when our eyes met in the mirror and I nodded back and kept running. He started on the bench press. I moved to free weights. Every time I glanced over he was focused, but I caught him looking a couple times too. Nothing creepy. Just… aware. I finished my set and headed for the water fountain. He was there getting a drink. “Busy night,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Exactly why I come late. Less people.”

  • All Yours: Short Romantic Stories   Chp3

    I needed milk. That’s what I told myself at 11:47 p.m. when I pulled on sweats and drove to the 24-hour grocery store two blocks from my apartment. Really, I just couldn’t sleep again. Another night staring at the ceiling thinking about the text my ex sent earlier—“hope you’re doing okay”—like he hadn’t fucked his coworker three months ago. Milk felt like a good enough excuse to get out of my head. The store was dead quiet. Fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, only a couple other people wandering the aisles. I grabbed a cart and headed for the dairy section, hair in a messy bun, no makeup, just existing. He was in the same aisle, reaching for eggs. Tall, maybe six-two, wearing a faded black hoodie and jeans that fit right. Dark tattoos peeked out from his sleeve when he moved. He glanced over when I stopped next to him for the milk. “Late night essentials?” His voice was casual, a little amused. “Yeah. Can’t sleep, apparently milk fixes that.” I grabbed a carton and tossed i

  • All Yours: Short Romantic Stories   Chp2

    The bar smelled like spilled beer and old cigarettes, the kind of place where nobody asked any questions. I’d only stopped in because the rain was hammering down and my shitty umbrella had flipped inside out two blocks back. My clothes were soaked, my hair stuck to my neck, and I just wanted a whiskey to warm up before I called a ride home. I slid onto a stool at the end of the bar. The bartender, a tired guy with a tattooed neck, nodded at me. “What’ll it be?” “Whiskey. Neat.” He poured it without a word. I took a sip, letting the burn settle in my chest, and looked around. Tuesday night, so it wasn’t packed. A couple of old guys arguing about baseball at one table. A woman scrolling on her phone near the jukebox. And then him. He was sitting two stools down, nursing a beer, elbows on the bar like he’d been there a while. Dark hair, a little messy, stubble that looked a few days old. Black t-shirt stretched across his shoulders. Not trying too hard, but something about th

  • All Yours: Short Romantic Stories   Chp1

    The office cleared out early because of the holiday weekend. Most people had bolted by three, but I still had that stupid Q3 report to finish. By seven-thirty the whole floor was dead quiet except for the hum of the vending machine down the hall and the rain tapping against the windows. I was the last one left in our department. Or so I thought. I heard heels clicking on the tile before I saw her. Lena. She worked in marketing, two cubicles over from mine. Dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and a mouth that always looked like it was holding back a secret. We’d flirted for months—harmless stuff at first. Compliments on each other’s coffee orders, inside jokes during boring meetings, the occasional lingering look when no one was paying attention. Nothing ever crossed the line. Until tonight. She stopped at my desk, leaning against the edge with her arms crossed. Her white blouse was unbuttoned one more than office policy allowed, and the way the rain made the city lights blur behind

  • All Yours: Short Romantic Stories   Chp6

    The last day felt different from the start. Alex woke me with his cock already sliding into me from behind, slow and deep, one arm locked around my waist. No teasing this time. No edging. Just steady, thorough fucking while the early light crept across the bed. He kept me there on my side, thigh hooked over his hip, and worked me until I came twice—quiet, shaking orgasms that left me limp against him. When he finished he stayed buried inside me, breathing against the back of my neck, and didn’t pull out for a long time. “She’s back tonight,” he said eventually. “I know.” His hand slid down between my legs, two fingers pressing against where we were still joined, feeling how stretched and full I was. “I’m not done with you.” “Good.” We barely left the bedroom until afternoon. He took me in the shower again—hard and fast against the wall, one of my legs hooked around his waist while water poured over us. Then on the kitchen counter while coffee went cold beside us. Then on the li

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