Date: Sat, 11 Feb 2017 18:11:30 -0800
From: Gingham Shade <ginghamshade@gmail.com>
Subject: Fuck me, I love you chapter 12

Chapter 12: Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

A disclaimer: This story is fictional story. All characters were made up
and any similarities are just coincidental. This is a gay romance between
adults, it's my version of a dominant/sub relationship. So if that offends
you, please discontinue reading. Also, if it is illegal for you to read
such material in your country, you have been warned. I hope you're enjoying
it and that the story draws you in wanting more.

If you have any suggestions or concerns, do not hesitate to email me at
ginghamshade@gmail.com. Every author loves a bit of fanmail so I would love
to hear if you enjoyed the story!

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Bradley waited about a week for Anderson to come back. Usually, if the
bottom didn't fly back by then, it had made its nest elsewhere. He went
about his business as usual: training and managing his gym. Anderson was
still training there, but they never crossed paths since Bradley was never
around during lunch time. His life was full, and he reminded himself that
it was easier not worrying about Anderson's feelings anymore. It was
better, to be honest than lead him on.

Anderson had left Dr. Rezen's house that day sexually satiated, though in a
scholastic panic. They had finished their coitus in a blissful haze when
Wellington Rezen, professor and lover extraordinaire looked at him straight
in the eyes and said:

"I still expect an updated draft of your dissertation this week."

Anderson groaned. Hot and sweaty sex was killing the quality of his work
and he needed to get back on track. What was more confusing was how their
relationship would change now that they'd fucked.

"You have to ask yourself this question: would you prefer me as your
advisor? Or as your fuck buddy? I can't be both. It's bad enough we've
played around this long. There's no way we can pretend that we haven't
crossed a boundary. But if you still want me as your advisor, then I have
to be objective about your work. And that means I can't be fucking you as
your advisor."

It was weird to make that choice, knowing that he had found a good sexual
partner. But deep down Anderson knew that if he chose sex over his goals,
he'd lose the respect of the man he enjoyed. What made their friendship
work was a mutual respect. He couldn't give that up just for penis.

"Oh alright. I'm sorry, Wellington." He said, wincing at the ridiculous
Brazilian name.

"I think we should keep things professional. As much as I'm going to miss
you fucking me, I gotta finish my dissertation."

It felt good to stand up for himself, with someone who respected him for
it. Bradley would have found some way to trap him in unrestrained lust.
Thinking about him made Anderson wince:

*I've got to let him go.*

They had got up and hugged before he left the house.

"Since we won't be doing this again, I think it's ok that we don't disclose
this to the committee. And you can expect me to be even more rigorous in
reviewing your work, to protect your integrity."

*Why'd he have to be such an upstanding citizen?*

Anderson grumbled as he left the house.

The air was fresh and the sun was getting high around midday. Anderson
headed back to his room off-campus. He got on the metro and sat down,
flipping through Facebook on his phone. A couple of girls had made eye
contact when he came inside and one of them tried to flirt with him across
the aisle. It was flattering for Anderson, who still hadn't fully grasped
what a beautiful man he was.

As he got closer to downtown, a tall gorgeous black man came onto the train
and sat next to him. The two of them crowded each other with their long
muscular torsos. Pressed up against the delicious chocolate hunk, Anderson
found himself peering next to him at his neighbor's crotch. He was
surprised to see the commando imprint of a thick black cock serpentine
itself through the jeans. It gave a little pump, and a hand roaming down to
clasp the massive junk forced Anderson to realize he had been caught
staring.

"You busy today?"

He had a slight accent, and Anderson wondered if he came from California or
some place equally exotic.

It was obvious that the man wasn't used to the hot weather he was getting
in Texas, as little beads of sweat slipped into the crack of his muscular
chest. The man stared at him with a bemused expression. He could tell that
Anderson was inspecting his body and he knew he could pass any inspection.

"I could show you more if you want to hang out. I'm just off at the next
stop. My name is Andrew."

He reached over and shook Anderson's hand, the size of his hand dwarfing
Anderson's.

"My name is Anderson. I guess we're both Andys"

Anderson laughed.

"Well, Andy... maybe one of us will get to play Raggedy Andy tonight."
Anderson's ass twitched at the joke.

The metro pulled into the station and Andrew stood up to get off, not
looking back to see if Anderson would follow. In total shock, Anderson
waited a moment too long. An old lady sat down in the vacated seat, pinning
him in the row. He watched the silhouette of the man fade as the train
pulled away. Anderson kicked himself at the missed opportunity. He thought
about getting off at the next stop and hustling back on an opposite train.
Checking his watch, he calculated how much time had passed.

"Anderson?"

Anderson looked up to see a man standing in the aisle and looking at him.

"Bradley--"

It was Bradley, dressed in a polo shirt and some slacks. He looked good.
Really good. Anderson had to bite his tongue to maintain control. He wasn't
about to start fawning over the man again.

"Hey Bradley, good seeing you. Was just headed back home."

Bradley's eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, and his expression
was opaque. If Anderson was closer, he would have reached up and pulled
them off. He took a moment to examine the space separating them: Bradley's
sunglasses; an old lady fumbling on her phone; and a broken heart.

"You look good, Anderson. It's good to see you again."

The train pulled into a stop downtown, and Bradley stepped off the train.
As the bustle of people squeezed out of the doors, Anderson made an
impulsive decision and squeezed past the old lady to join the crowd.

For any ordinary person, Bradley would have been lost in the push and shove
of the throng. Anderson had no trouble identifying him from the crowd. The
broad shoulders and curved back were imprinted in his mind, and a flash of
memory brought him to that night when he happened upon Bradley in the
showers. Now, as then, he was pulled into following the man as the crowd
scattered into the bustling city center. Salarymen, executives, and
tourists crowded the streets, and Anderson realized that the lunch hour had
just gone into full swing.

Walking behind him he saw Bradley walk towards the lawn of the city center
park. Sauntering up to a cafe on the green, he bought some coffee. The lady
behind the cashier beamed at him and gave him a wink. Houston could feel
huge and distant, but Bradley had it wrapped around his fingers. Anderson
shook his head at the sight, wondering if he could ever escape his orbit.

Bradley sat down at a table and sipped his coffee, staring across at some
children taking pictures by the fountain. Every once in a while he took out
his phone and played with it.

*So this is what he does at lunch.* Anderson thought.

His phone buzzed, and Anderson pulled it out to see a text from Bradley:

"Are you coming?"

Anderson's face flushed a bit to be caught so easily. Like so many other
men trapped by Bradley, Anderson had ended up following him without
intention or invitation. Realizing there was no point in hiding, he stepped
towards Bradley, sipping coffee in a chair.

"How did you know I had followed you?"

He sat down in a chair next to Bradley, feet on the floor and arms crossed,
ready for any funny business.

"I didn't. I just hoped you would, and I gambled on it."

The statement felt uncharacteristic for Bradley, who was always confident
and in control. Anderson felt his heart skip a beat at the word "hoped".

The sound of children playing and the chatter ladies lunching did nothing
to intrude on this moment between them. Anderson realized he was finally
finding out where Bradley went every day. The answer before him seemed too
simple to be true, and he was forced to ask:

"Do you come out and people watch every day?"

The blue sky tinted orange on Bradley's sunglasses as he sipped at his
coffee. Bradley took a pause and looked at Anderson sitting there, trying
to make a decision.

"I like it. I've had people watching me all my life. I craved it at first:
loved the attention. But I realized that people watching you didn't mean
they cared about you. Many of them wanted something from me, and they took
it in the way they looked at me."

Anderson felt his jaw tighten. Was he part of that crowd who idolized and
took from Bradley?

"We all do it: expectations, fantasies, admiration. It's almost impossible
not to."

Bradley set his empty cup down on the table. He relaxed his back against
the chair and turned his body to face Anderson.

"When I come here, I know that nobody wants anything from me. And I don't
want anything from anyone else. I get to enjoy people being themselves:
families on vacation, men at a conference. There's no pretense between us
and no taking. It helps me clear my head."

Anderson wanted to reach his hand out and clasp Bradley's hand. Part of him
wanted to tell Bradley how much he cared about him. But then he remembered
that day in the car when they mated: how Bradley had slipped his fingers
into his hand and said "gotcha". Was it all a performance from this smooth
seducer? He felt cheap.

"I had a boyfriend once. He was a good sweet kid. Real bright. Made me
laugh like nobody else. Making love to him was a revelation every time."

Anderson felt a sharp pang of jealousy.

"But everybody gets bored sometimes, and we agreed to have an open
relationship. He would go out, fuck around, and come home begging for cock.
He changed. Turns out he got hooked on meth."

Bradley's hands had closed into a fist, as his voice faltered a bit.

"Sometimes he'd throw a fit, other times he just wanted to use me for a
fuck. It was weird: to look into his eyes and know that the person I cared
about didn't see me anymore. That the person I cared about was gone. I
stopped being his partner and we both became soulless machines, desperately
trying to recreate the love we shared. Meth took him away and left me with
an empty body. And when meth took him away, it took a part of me too."

Bradley paused and opened his hand in a conscious effort to relax.

"So I want you to understand, Anderson. I see the way you look at me when
we fuck. It's the same way he used to look at me before he got messed up."

He chewed the next words carefully as he tried to land the blow in the
softest way possible.

"If chaos comes back into my life, it will be because I opened the doors
and I welcomed it in. And if I fell for every sweet bottom who had a crush
on me, my heart would be broken into a million pieces."

Anderson could feel the tears welling up as he listened.

"So I'm sorry that I hurt you, but I can't give you what you want."

There was a ringing in his ears. Anderson felt hollow inside as he tried to
process what Bradley was telling him. The numbness quickly turned into
anger, as he felt the betrayal of their love-making. Was he just another
"sweet bottom?"

It was good that they were in public, or else Anderson might have made a
scene. Most of all he was disappointed in himself: for not standing up for
himself. For following Bradley to this place in the middle of the city to
listen to him tell him that he meant nothing to him. Anderson felt sick to
his stomach and stood up abruptly.

"I need to go."

He grabbed his bag and stalked back towards the metro.

Bradley watched him, his thoughts imperceptible behind a pair of
orange-tinted sunglasses.

----------------------------------------------

Anderson stomped to his room and threw himself on his bed. Tears streamed
down his face faster than he could wipe them away. The hotness stained his
pillow and he turned himself towards the wall so as to cover grief.

Hours passed as Anderson silently bled from his eyes all his resentment at
finding out the truth. Angry thoughts of vengeance painted themselves
against the white stucco wall, and Anderson slowly waded through a new
layer of heartbreak. Grief is like that: just when you think you're done,
some new wound excavates it for some pain you previously left behind.

He woke up hours later and saw the afternoon sun glow against the wall of
his bedroom. The day had been long and arduous. Anderson had intended to
get back to work, but his thoughts kept turning back to Bradley. It was in
this space that he discovered a bit of sympathy for his friend. The Bradley
he knew was sweet and kind. The Bradley he knew didn't treat him like
nothing. The Bradley he was getting to know had some deep scars in his
life. There was also a Bradley he might never get to know. It was this
realization that Anderson allowed himself to begin healing: he could not
forgive Bradley now, but he could accept that he was human too. And just
like he had listened to Bradley's story, Anderson knew that he wanted to be
heard as well.

Grabbing his keys, Anderson pulled on a sweatshirt and walked into the
early evening. Bradley should be closing the gym soon, and he could catch
the man before he left.

Walking into the gym, Anderson felt a strange sense of deja vu. It was
empty except for a light in the back where the men's locker room was.
Walking back, he felt his ears stretch, preparing himself for whatever he
might find in the showers.

As Anderson stepped into the locker room, he realized that the last shower
stall was running water. He slowly walked towards the final partition, his
heart pounded in his chest and throat.

Bradley was there. Alone. He was standing under the flowing water of the
shower, his naked body impeding the stream. His eyes were closed, and the
hair on his chest, arms and legs matted themselves in the water.

Anderson watched the body which had transformed him in quiet meditation. He
knew he needed to speak up quickly or he was going to lose his nerve.

"Bradley I need to talk to you-"

Bradley had opened his eyes at the first word. It was then that Anderson
noticed how red they were. His eyes were red, a soft pink that Anderson
knew all too well. And just like that, the urgency of his anger dissipated
into thin air. Anderson knew what the most important thing he needed to do
at that moment was: He stepped forward into the stream of soft warm water
and wrapped his arms around Bradley, holding the older man in a resilient
embrace.

They kissed, with Bradley's hands slowly rising to Anderson's side. Bradley
kissed Anderson with the hunger of a starving wild wolf, unsure if he could
keep himself from ripping the young man apart. He found himself in the
strange position of hesitating: waiting for Anderson to take the lead.

Anderson stepped back and tore his soaking wet clothes off of his body. He
needed to feel Bradley's fur against his smooth skin. Shucking off his
pants, he submerged himself once more under the shower and pressed into
Bradley's body.

Looking up, Anderson met the deep dark eyes that he had come to love once
more. There was nothing between them right now, and he needed to make sure
he didn't regret the next thing he did.

"Will you turn around for me Bradley?"

Bradley gazed down at his boy and slowly nodded, turning his body in a
lumbering sway. With his back towards Anderson, Bradley closed his eyes
again, waiting for what came next.

Anderson pumped some soap into his hands and felt his hands reach up along
the massive shoulders. Wrapping them at the nape of the neck, he slowly
pressed his hands against the muscles and swept the tension off of the
shoulders. He pumped some more, and lathered up the arms and lower back,
making sure to dip his hands into the crevice of Bradley's ass. Pumping
some more soap into his hands, he found himself on his knees, soaping and
rubbing the thick hamstrings and quads. His hands traced the body which he
had seen only from the back that night in the locker room.

"Turn around."

Bradley turned around to see Anderson on his knees looking up at him. His
cock was semi-hard and he could feel more blood rapidly pumping into it as
he gazed into Anderson's eyes.

Anderson leaned forward and kissed the head, letting it caress his cheek,
as he pressed his nose into Bradley's pubes. Breathing in the scent, he
could feel his own rock hard cock hitting the floor in a dense thump.

Anderson continued to lather Bradley up, this time up from the legs, up
through the waist and abs. His fingers gently combed the wet and matted
hair on Bradley's chest and abs. He finished the way he had started, with
both hands wrapped around Bradley's neck, his body pressed up against the
man he loved.

"Bradley. Please. Please. I can't let you go. I couldn't even if I tried.
But the only thing I can't be is nothing. I won't be nothing to you. Please
don't tell me I'm nothing to you."

Bradley leaned forward and kissed him, his gigantic body dictating a truth
he could never say. They held each other under the deluge of water, neither
one saying anything more.

They turned the shower off and dressed in silence. Bradley's hands fretted
being separated from Anderson. He smiled looking at Anderson, so full of
love in his wet clothes and grabbed his hand. They walked out of the locker
room to finish closing the gym.

A man stood there. A gorgeous looking Latino in his mid-thirties. Dressed
in a clean pair of slacks and shirt, his built musculature was clearly
visible through the fine Italian fabric. Whereas Rezen had a tall
statuesque elegance to him, this man was pure beef.

"Eric."

The name fell out of Bradley's mouth like a cannon, as Anderson's hand fell
from his clasp.

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To be continued...