Peaches certainly didn’t dress to impress. He wasn’t what I’d consider built, but his body certainly wasn’t so hideous as to deserve being hidden under sweatshirts two sizes too large and jeans that appeared to be falling apart at the seams. He knew he wasn’t homeless, right? Maybe some habits died hard. We weren’t yet at the point that he’d want me picking out outfits for him, but he could use a queer eye on his straight-guy fashion sense.
I ushered him into my apartment, which I had to myself for the evening because my sister was going to some party and probably wouldn’t get back until four in the morning. If we were close, she may have invited me to go with her, but alas, we were cordial with one another on the best of days, so instead I was stuck here. It was a good thing though, because that meant having Peaches all to myself.
“Wanna order a pizza and watch Netflix?” I asked him, because there really wasn’t much else to do.
“Sounds great.”
“What kind of pizza do you like?” I asked, pulling out my phone.
“I’m a vegetarian, so no meat.”
“I didn’t know you were a vegetarian.”
“I’m trying to be ecologically conscious,” Peaches muttered. “But also I have a weird sensitivity to meat. If it’s not cooked correctly, it makes me sick.”
“Weird. Is it some kind of disorder, or…?”
“Might be mental, I don’t know. Never talked to a doctor about it.”
“We’ll just get cheese pizza then.”
With the pizza ordered, I offered him a very quick tour of the apartment. I’d gotten the smaller bedroom, but it was right across from the bathroom, which came in handy when I needed to vom after a long night spent binge drinking. Because of my sister, I tended not to invite guys over, and so most of my nerdy paraphernalia was on display.
“You read?” Peaches asked as he gestured to some Star Wars novels I’d collected over the years.
“Why is that so shocking to you?” I asked, vaguely offended.
Peaches laughed. “Not shocking. I’m pleasantly surprised. How much useless information do you know about Star Wars?”
“Pfft, useless,” I replied, which made Peaches laugh again. “No Stars Wars knowledge is useless.”
“Do you have a light saber?”
“Maybe.”
“What color is it?”
“Purple.”
“I know nothing about Star Wars. I think I watched one of the prequels a long time ago, but not the other two.”
“Are you serious?”
Peaches shrugged. “I hope you’re still willing to be seen with me.”
“It’s debatable. But honestly, you’ve probably saved yourself a lot of pain. The acting in the prequels is atrocious. I kinda like the political intrigue though. And Padme’s hair game is on point throughout all of them, so there’s that.”
“Who is Padme?”
“Okay, we’re done with this conversation,” I said, physically pushing him down onto the bed. “If you say anything else, I may stop being attracted to you.”
Peaches smiled at me, and there I went again, being extremely attracted to him. I still hadn’t fully figured out why. Maybe it was the sincerity in his eyes, or the simplicity of his friendship. He never pretended to be cool or promise me more than he could give, and he seemed to like talking to me as much as he liked having sex with me. That was the biggest rarity of all.
I couldn’t help but reach out and push back some mousy brown hair behind his ears. He rested his hands on my hips, his thumbs sneaking under my shirt to stroke my hip bones. I wanted to fuck and hug him at the same time, but instead I just played with his hair until he pulled back and patted the bed beside him.
I had a variety of shows on Netflix that I thought Peaches might like, and he didn’t seem to care what I chose. Something told me Peaches was not up to date on pop culture at all, which in this day and age was nearly impossible. He didn’t even have a Facebook account, and his phone was some cheap-ass brand I’d never heard of.
“Living in the stone age, huh?” I asked as I looked it over.
“Sorry I don’t feel the need to hashtag my lunch.”
“You don’t hashtag your lunch, bozo,” I laughed. “You Instagram your lunch.”
“Whatever, it all sounds awful.”
The buzzer rang from the living room, so I leapt off the bed and dashed to the front door, where I waited for the delivery person to arrive. Maybe there was a line to the elevator or something, because it took him forever to show up. Once I’d taken the pizza, paid him, and returned to the bedroom, Peaches was sitting cross-legged in the center of my bed, lazily clicking through Netflix options.
“Sure took you a while. Did the guy have a special sausage pizza for you?” Peaches asked.
“I wish. But he was some teenager with braces, so hard pass. I say that as a former teenager with braces.”
“Braces, hmm?”
“Braces, acne, the whole shebang.” I threw open the pizza box and dropped it on top of my messy desk. “Granted, I still have acne. And my scrawny teenage body. And… pretty much everything but the braces.”
“You have acne?”
I rolled my eyes as I turned to him, offering him a piece of pizza on a paper plate. “Like you haven’t noticed.”
“I really haven’t.” He squinted at me, but I was wearing enough foundation to mask my breakouts. I still saw a dermatologist, but at this point there was no hope of getting rid of my acne—just managing it so I didn’t look like the Creature from the Lagoon. “I guess I haven’t been paying attention.”
“To my face?”
“I pay attention to your face. But I don’t examine it, and you look fine to me.” Peaches shrugged as he bit into his pizza. “I don’t get hung up on looks.”
I scoffed. “Says the person who dated a beautiful blond.”
“That was a happy accident.”
“Sure yeah, okay.”
“I’m serious! I would have dated Eddie if he was plainer. Maybe not if he was the Hunchback of Notre Dame, but… stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you don’t believe me!”
I flopped down onto the bed, tearing into a piece of pizza with a small groan of appreciation. “I believe you. Mostly. Are we gonna watch Netflix or what?”
Peaches gave up on conversation, and we settled in on my bed with my laptop perched on my thighs. At first I behaved myself because my mouth was occupied with pizza, but once I’d had my fill, watching Netflix became more of a “Netflix and chill” endeavor. By now it was apparent that Peaches was not the proactive sort, but I didn’t mind being aggressive, so even as he kept his hands to himself, I leaned and kissed the base of his neck, right above the collar of his T-shirt. He didn’t stop me or react, so I continued a trail up to the nook behind his ear lobe. I began to pull away, but he reached up and slid a hand into my hair, keeping me there. Then he twisted around and caught my lips with his.
My first kisses had been light and exploratory but they quickly turned violent as Peaches rolled onto his side to reach me better. Because I never wasted time, I fumbled with the fly of his jeans, diving a hand into his boxers and moaning when my hand came in contact with his cock. That seemed to jostle some inkling of dominance in Peaches’s subconscious, because moments later he shoved me onto my back and pinned me there with the weight of his body.
“Wait, wait,” I whispered, pulling away long enough to grab my computer and slide it further down the bed so we didn’t kick it onto the floor. Then I dragged him back into our previous position, wrapping my legs around his hips and grinding against him. I pushed my hands into his hair, which by now had fallen loose form its ponytail. He seemed to take that as a hint, because he started kissing down my neck and chest, shoving my T-shirt up to my neck so he could get his mouth on my skin. I had to grasp my pillow to keep from yanking him back up my body, because I wanted him to kiss me as he fucked me. I wanted my hands in his hair and his lips on mine and his taste in my mouth. I wanted to look into his eyes and know that he was seeing me—no one else.
Instead, Peaches mouth descended on my cock, and trying to survive another minute became my primary concern. My orgasm exploded sooner than I would have liked, but I did not give a single shit, because once my brain had pieced itself back together, its only mission was to return the favor. After some grabbing and pulling, I flipped Peaches over and mirrored his position from moments prior, sucking him down with very little of my prowess and a great deal of desperation. I felt Peaches’s hand in my hair—not pushing, just letting me feel the weight of it.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured with such affection and warmth that I paused, because it felt so out of place, so unusual. Peaches had never called me that before and didn’t seem like the type to throw out pet names to any guy who sucked his dick. But I didn’t have time to worry about it, because if I didn’t get back to work, Peaches’s eyes would open and I’d have to see him come to terms with what he’d just said.
After completion, Peaches’s whole body went limp. But instead of falling asleep immediately, he opened his arms and gestured toward me. So I curled myself around him in the way I’d been craving and rested my head on his chest. His breath on my scalp evened out and in hardly any time at all, Peaches was asleep.
“Peaches?” I whispered, which garnered no reaction. I sighed, digging my face deeper into his skin. How could I both feel elation inflate my chest and suffer under the weight of dread? Why couldn’t I just be happy for once? The guy I liked came over, ate pizza with me, and sucked my dick. There was no sad story there, so why did I keep looking for one? Why did I overanalyze everything Peaches said and did? Maybe he was calling me sweetheart. People did that in moments of passion. I’d certainly called guys some weird shit. Not sweetheart though. That was reserved for people you cared about. The last person to call me sweetheart had been Dylan—the last person to love me as much as I loved him.
I gently pulled away from Peaches, unable to sleep in his embrace. Then I grabbed my computer and watched Netflix until I finally drifted off an hour later.
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