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The Affair

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So, I guess I'll tell you the story of how things got weird between me and Jamie. It's not a great story, but I suppose it makes well for a night of heavy drinking. And since it's only been a few days... the wound is still bleeding pretty well. Not that I ever expected it to last, I knew early in that somehow we just wouldn't make it. Best friends might make better lovers, but not when there are other entanglements far more important. I know that I wasn't meant to be with him, that his wife was the love of his life. I think I'm just glad that for a while I could be the 'like' of his life... as well as his best friend.

It started simply enough, you know... I had been up into the wee hours of the morning tinkering with my latest wire frame sculpture when I heard the gentle knocking over my music. I turned down the volume, figuring it was one of the boys just waking up a tad too early. "Hey, still bedtime..."

I was a little shocked when I turned to see Jamie knocking on the open door. He smiled slightly, holding up his spare key to my house. "Hope you don't mind, let myself in."

"Yeah, yeah... sure." I grinned reflexively, realizing I must look quite the mad scientist wearing nothing but my splattered smock and an ancient pair of boxer shorts. "What's up?" I nervously smoothed back my eyebrows as he leaned over on the door frame.

"Couldn't sleep." He waited for a long while to fully let himself into my studio, just tossing his jacket into my easy chair. I nodded and stretched out, realizing the dull ache in my hands. "I thought I'd see if your light was on... it was."

I nodded and watched him examine my latest work, it was far from complete... but he was one of the few people I trusted to actually give a real opinion over what he thought I wanted to hear. "I've been working on it since I put the boys down..."

More nods and a murmur of approval from Jamie as he examined the sculpture.

I was actually kind of glad he seemed to like it. Ever since we'd signed on to a good sized project together I was worried that things were going to change between us, but he sure seemed the same. He turned back to me and smiled, arching his back scratching his belly a little. After a quick glance I realized he was only wearing an undershirt and pajama pants, like he'd just rolled out of bed... then I felt the blush creeping up in my face as I fixated on the brief flash of bare skin through the barely buttoned opening of the old cotton pants.

Somehow I shook my mind back to quasi-normal reality and we ended up in the kitchen, half a day old pizza warming in the oven as we stood by the center island talking about the specials we'd been signed to do for Discovery.

I was mesmerized by him sometimes, the way he gestured with his hands or the way his tired eyes seemed to be completely confident... like he was always in control of the situation. He slid himself up on the low counter and reclined as we spoke, just enough for that flash of inner thigh to tease me again. Not for the first time I felt the more primal portion of myself surface, that deep underlying urge to just maul him.

"Adam?" Jamie's voice pulled me away from my wandering and I lifted my eyes up from his crotch to his slight smile.

"Sorry, uh, distracted. Tired." I covered, forcing out a yawn as I pulled away and checked the pizza, turning the oven off.

I turned back to find him off the counter and right in my face. "Did you even hear what I've been talking about?" He shook his head slightly.

Of course I hadn't, I'd been too busy watching that delicious flash of skin... imagining how it would taste. "Yeah, yeah. Of course."

Then he had a hand on the back of my neck and I was leaning in, his mustache tickling my face as our lips brushed before the tentative lick of his tongue against my lower lip. I would have pulled away in mild shock, but his other arm snaked around my waist, pulling me in even closer.

There was a pause then, that moment you always get before something really wrong or really good happens. Then we were pulling away as the oven timer went off... laughing and blushing like we were a couple of drunk college kids. "Uh... pizza." I managed to stammer out.

He nodded, his blush beginning to subside as he collected his wits again. "I didn't think you were actually listening."

"I wasn't."

"I said that I wanted to kiss you." He smiled at the corner of his lips, making my blush renew.

"Why?" I forgot about the pizza entirely, watching his eyes cloud up from behind his thin glasses.

"I don't know."

A steady pulse pumped through my body as I was stuck at a cusp of decision. To make a move, to not make a move. He was my best friend, all truth be told... but he'd taken the first step. It would be so easy to just reach out and take what I wanted.

Maybe he saw the indecision on my face, or maybe he just understood what I wanted. "Adam..." His voice dropped to a low purr and he reached out and cupped my cheek. He couldn't finish what he was about to say because I pushed in close and kissed him.

It wasn't right, I knew it... he was my best friend, married to a beautiful woman and for reasons unknown kissing me very deeply in my kitchen. "Jamie..." I tried to say something about stopping, to tell him that we didn't know what we were doing and that it wasn't right, but the words didn't come out like that. Instead I whispered; "I want you."

I saw the same decision I faced in his eyes, not as well hidden as he might have thought. Then he just nodded slowly and responded; "Alright."

Somehow we left the kitchen, the details after that moment of absolute acceptance are gone anymore, I know I kissed him over and over as we pushed closer to my bedroom, bumping into each other and the walls all the way down the hallway. Then we were in my bed, musky sheets seeming to swallow us up in the dark as we peeled off clothing.

I nuzzled at his neck, my hands pushing down his pajama pants and cautiously getting the first touches of the flirtatious skin I'd been watching for years. I was handling him like he was nitroglycerin, my fingertips taking in the sensation of caressing his thigh as I kissed the shallow curve of his shoulder.

A gasp hitched in his throat and I felt his hand on top of mine, guiding it farther inside his thighs. I was on my side, almost laying on top of him as he pushed into the mattress - flat on his back... when I gently cupped his cock it seemed to push itself into my palm.

He wasn't my first, I'll clear that up right now. I'd experiment a bit when I was in college, and since I'd not been interested dating much... sometimes it was easier to find men that wanted no strings than a woman that didn't mind if I was gone in the morning. Of course, things have changed since Jamie... but that isn't really important to the story of our pseudo-relationship.

Anyway, after guiding my hand to his cock he reached over and gently took off my glasses... setting them on the nightstand like we'd done it a hundred times before. Then I heard a very low moan as Jamie whispered my name.

He wanted it, wanted my touch... I obliged, of course. My hand stroked his hard length as I clamped my mouth on his nipple, gently flicking the hard bud with my tongue before raking my teeth over it.

He groaned, pushing closer to my body as he pushed his hips into the strokes. I looked up with blurry eyes as his head dug into the pillows, his hands clawing at their white cases as his lips drew up as tightly pressed as his eyelids.

I could feel the familiar dance of my own arousal, my body wanting... needing something more. Without asking I stopped short and blindly groped for the drawer on my nightstand, my fingers sweeping up a lonely foil package and a slightly over sized bottle of lube. I felt Jamie's fingers on my chest, gently stroking down to my belly button. "I need... now..." I let my voice slip into that pleading tone I usually took to get my way with him. "Please..."

He took the rubber out of my hands and opened it as though he'd never seen one before, rolling it onto his cock as I began to apply the thick lubricant to my asshole. I didn't care if I looked like a slut... I didn't care that everything between us had taken a drastic unexpected step. I just wanted him to fuck me. Hard.

I pushed my body close as I crawled on top of him, gently lowering myself down onto of him. It was more than I had expected, but nice... he seemed to be smiling and almost laughing as I began to rock my hips against his gentle thrusting. The room seemed to get warmer than actually possible, his low grunts barely audible when mixed with my subtle whimpers.

I knew in the back of my head that any time we could have an audience, that I hadn't even thought to lock the door and the possibility of one day spending a lot more than expected on therapy for the boys hadn't occurred to me. Of course, now I can only imagine fielding the question; "Daddy, why are you sitting on Uncle Jamie's lap naked?" Ah. The innocence of children. Thankfully, they saw nothing... and if they heard our quiet gasps and moans it could be explained off by saying I was exercising. It wasn't a lie, just one of those things parents sometimes have to tell their kids to prevent their advanced education until they're ready.

Where was I? Oh. Right. So I was just riding him for all I was worth, pushing myself up with my hands on either side. Then his thrusts became erratic and I clung to him, feeling the last few thrusts bang into my sweet spot as he unloaded into the rubber. Then, as I felt him going limp inside me, I sat back up and stroked the impending orgasm out, slowly and deliberately coming over the curve of Jamie's belly.

***

Yeah, I guess it was pretty unexpected. After a few minutes to come back down we both just kind of laid in my bed and stared at each other. We laughed, but I think it was the only way to break the tension of what had happened. It was like a porno, and not even a good one. He admitted that he had let himself in solely for the purpose of having sex with me. Told me that he'd been thinking about it for weeks and just had to know if it was everything he expected.

When I asked if it was, he just said that it was... 'interesting'. In that little vague voice he uses when he knows it'll just leave me hollow and wondering. We didn't really talk about it past that, he went home and the next day and while everything had changed... nothing was different.

We must have met like that a dozen times before he even felt comfortable touching me. I didn't really realize it at the time, but I was always the bottom... taking it in my ass or my mouth never receiving more than a hand job and the knowledge that I made him come at my own will. More often than not when I'd have a long night in my studio - working on whatever my project of the moment was - some time around two or three in the morning I'd hear the steady knock on the open door. Sometimes I'd even hear his pickup truck pulling up the drive but act like he caught me completely off guard. Then, we were working late one night in the workshop when something completely unexpected happened.

I was working on a ballistics dummy by myself, listening to a little hard rock to tune out Jamie's grinder on the other side of the shop. Of course, I'd gotten so into gluing the mold I hadn't even heard him stop... let alone coming up behind me. Then his hands were on my shoulders, gripping tight against the tension.

My hands slipped, a thin line of glue tracing up the side of the clear plastic. "Fuck."

"Sorry... thought you saw me." He chuckled, pulling away. "Still working on the mold?"

"Just finished." I wiped away the glue with a shop towel before it could dry, upset that it still left a tacky bit behind. "Ready to call it a night?"

He sighed and nodded, taking his glasses off to rub his tired eyes. "Yeah, but I really wanted to get some stuff done for the night."

I could understand that, after all I was usually the impatient one. "How 'bout a break then? Go get something to eat?"

We made it out to his truck in the silent lot. It seemed everyone else really had gone home for the night, but it never really bothered us. After settling in and resting the keys in the ignition he let his hand rest on my thigh. "Adam... I feel kind of bad about the way things have been between us lately."

The confession took me completely off guard in all honesty. Jamie wasn't the chatty type, let alone the touchy-feely-open-up-to-you type. I shook my head, feeling a blush creep up, "It's alright, man. I understand... you haven't done anything wrong."

He pushed past my reassurances, like he always does when I try and tell him it's not even worth talking about. "Serious here, Adam. I mean... I've never even tried to do anything."

The blush was working it's way into my chest, the curse of being a unnaturally pale. I suddenly wished we weren't parked right under a light so maybe he couldn't see me too well. "It's okay, Jamie." I chuckled, nervous. I felt cornered... like suddenly the cab was far too small.

His fingers moved, tracing up the curve of my zipper and pausing at the button. "Don't play difficult, Adam... I'm trying." I wasn't playing difficult, you know... just kind of nervous with the way he was fingering my fly. He followed it up with; "Can I try?"

I wasn't even sure exactly what he was asking... I mean, did he want me to try and pin him to the window of his truck? As hot as it sounded, I could picture the headline; 'Local Mythbusting duo reenact the love scene from Titanic in a pickup truck cab... complete with steamed up windows!'. Just for the amusement factor, I could even imagine my hand print on the windshield like Kate Winslet. "Sure." I shook the image away, willing to try anything for the sake of getting him to back up off the intense stare.

"Alright, hold these." He took off his glasses and pressed them into my hands. Before I could really react one way or the other he had already unbuttoned my jeans and was lowering the zipper.

"Aww." He smiled, his finger pulling down the waistband of my boxers over my cock, teasing it hard. "I never realized you were red down there too..."

I blushed deeper still, feeling myself grow rigid as he wrapped his first two fingers around the shaft, pushing up the head.

"And pokey..." I could feel him smiling, leaning in enough for the tips of his mustache to brush against the sensitive skin.

"It does that..." I giggled slightly, trying to find a place to put my hands and settling with the left one on the head rest and the right gently stroking Jamie's head as I turned closer towards him. He bent down, licking the tip rather unexpectedly making me feel like a puddle of warm cheese. "Mmm..." I couldn't hold back biting into my lip as he carefully wrapped my cock in his warm mouth. It felt... weird. To see his head in my lap, feel my cock tongued with the warm wetness from someone I could never really picture in that position.

It couldn't have taken ten minutes in all, I felt my balls twitch as he applied a light suction... then *bam*. He pulled up, a few thin strands of my come drying in his mustache, looking as though he'd just swallowed a bug. "Sorry..." I giggled again, somehow managing to pull my boxers back up and button my jeans. "I... I didn't mean to just... so fast... you know... in your mouth." Ah, so very eloquent, I know... I was probably worse than I remember even.

He smiled, wiping away the sticky substance before laughing very gently. "That was... interesting."

"Yeah." I nodded, pushing myself closer as he turned back towards the wheel... I realized the windows had actually gotten a little foggy and the idea of drawing a smiley face in the window briefly flitted through my mind before I settled back on Jamie. "Do you want... I could, uh... you know... you."

"No. No." He chuckled again, taking back his glasses and patting the apparent strain in his pants. "It's alright."

***

He never touched me again like that, you know? And in a way it kind of hurts... but I mean, what should I expect? He's a straight guy. Straight men don't understand that not only is it sometimes nice to take a shot in the mouth... sometimes it's REALLY REALLY nice. For a couple weeks we were touch and go at best, I tried to cheer him back up and get him out of his funk. But nothing really seemed to work. Then I just got tired of playing games and outright asked him what was going on.

"Jaaaammmiiieee..." I called out in a falsetto, coming up behind him with Buster in his wheelchair. "Tell old pal Buster what's wrong... he'll make everything better." The falsetto continued.

"Cute." He chuckled dryly, going back to the piece he was fiddling with. "What do you need, Adam."

"Adam is not here right now... see?" I crouched behind the chair, reaching out to move the dummy's arms. "Only us. We can talk like oooollllddd friends. About the good old days... before things got all weird."

"Your juvenile sense humor never ceases to amuse me." He deadpanned, not even turning to face me.

"Come on man, I'm trying here." I sighed in resignation, standing back up. "You've been acting really weird lately and it's giving me creepy vibes."

"I'm not acting weird." Jamie set down the piece, moving on to something new. "I've just been thinking."

"About?" I prompted, resting my hands on Buster's shoulders.

"I'm not comfortable with this conversation, Adam. Just drop it." He warned. Much like his usual warnings, I figured it was all bark with no real bite.

"If you don't start talking to me... I'm going to be forced to use the dummy again. And, uh... he really hates having to do the talking for me." I figured humor was the way out.

"Stop it." He turned and walked away, towards the side door.

"Come on, Jamie! What did Adam do??" I pitched up the falsetto again, but he was probably even less amused than the first time. When he didn't respond, I followed him out the door. "Seriously, man. What'd I do?"

"Have you ever thought that maybe the problem has nothing to do with you?" He raised an eyebrow, straightening out his beret and giving me a glare that could peel paint.

There was a long pause and I carefully studied his face, the way he turned away when he realized I was trying to figure him out let me know right away that I was the problem. "Just... talk to me, okay? I hate it when you just fucking hate me."

"I don't hate you, Adam." He grumbled under his breath, sitting on an old chair we'd had out back for ages. "I'm just not in the mood to deal with you."

"Why?" I knew I was pushing the subject, but I could see him beginning to crack under my pressure.

His voice grew quiet and he twisted the tip of his mustache nervously. "I told her about the affair."

Boom. Bam. I could have been laid out flat for all it mattered. At first I thought that maybe he'd had some other affair that I didn't know about, but I really knew he meant the things we'd been doing. "What?"

"I couldn't take it anymore, Adam. I couldn't hide it from her."

I stared down at my sneakers, not wanting to accept what he was saying. Clearly she hadn't taken it well... hell, who would? 'Hi honey, I'm banging my best friend... just thought you should know.' Cripes. That would explain his foul mood. "And?"

"And what?" He caught my eyes as I looked up, feeling the guilt sit in my stomach like the third bowl of Froot Loops.

"And what? What do you think?" I raised my voice a notch, knowing I really had no place to be upset.

"She asked me why I did it. And I didn't know, Adam. I still don't know. What the hell have I been thinking lately?" For the first time in all the years I'd known him, I watched Jamie get defensive and appear something other than completely in control of the situation. It was scary.

"Maybe you just wanted something different..." I offered weakly, trying not to take it too hard.

"I don't want to think about it, Adam. Not right now. Maybe not ever."

"But... what about..." I started, feebly asking what the hell was going on with us, then.

"Nothing new." He sighed back. "Just... no. We can't. Not now." He pushed himself up to his feet, pacing back towards the door. "I'm sure you understand."

Sure. Of course. What does it matter, right? He's still my best friend. I mean, no amount of arguments or awkward moments can change any of that. But... it fucking hurts, man. I'll tell you that much. It's like having your soul ripped out with a spoon. To want something you know you can't have no matter how much he still wants it too. I want him, goddammit. Apparently it's just too much to ask for.