Whiskey Fever 2
Story by TikTikKobold on SoFurry
Michael and Oliver have made it out of the rain, but are still in their wet clothes, but Michael can sense that Oliver is enjoying the look of his half-undressed state and decides to see how far he can push the rich prettyboy.
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“You’d still better get those clothes off if you don’t want to catch a cold,” Michael says. “I’m sure I got something around here to slip you into.”
Oliver pulls the towel down a bit, only to see the topless Michael stepping out of sight once more. He sighs and leans back against the door, only to feel how sticky and cold his shirt is. He shivers, wrapping his arms around his chest, but it isn’t enough to warm him up. Cursing under his breath, the redhead undoes the buttons on his own shirt, peeling the sticky and muddy thing off and letting it drop down onto the floor in a cold flop. He sighs and tries to cover himself up again, but it’s still so cold. So, he undoes his pants as well, stepping one let out of it and kicking frantically with the other, dressed down in his boxers.
As he struggles with this, Michael walks back in, a towel wrapped around his waist and another towel with some folded up clothes in his hands. He stands in the hall, watching Oliver feebly kick, sending water and mud over the front room. “Hey! Watch what you’re doing” he snaps, seeing the splotches of mud getting onto his furniture. He runs up, placing a hand on Oliver’s shoulder and grabbing the leg of the pants and yanking down with a decided pull, freeing Oliver from one embarrassing situation.
When Michael stands back up to chew him out once more, he has to stop mid-way up. Did his blurred vision betray him, or did he see what he thinks he sees between Oliver’s legs. He slowly stands back up, looking to Oliver with narrowed eyes, halfway in a squint and halfway in a sly look. “Well, lookie here. The spoiled rich kid has a soft spot, or should I say, not-so-soft-spot. Funny. I didn’t take you for the queer type.
Oliver brings his hands between his legs shivering and yipping out in a higher-pitched voice than normal. “I-it’s not like that! Geeze, Michael. What are you? Some kind of homogay?”
Michael stands tall, his hands folded over his chest, and he shrugs. “Bisexual, if you really must know. But let me see if I get this straight… you aren’t.”
“No. Wait, no, not that I’m not straight. I’m not bi, I’m, ugh!”” Oliver blurts out, hunched over and still up against the door. “I’m gonna score some chicks with that car of mine.”
“Oh, is that so? You really do think you’re straight. How cute.”
“I’m not cute!” Oliver blurts out.
“Well, I’m usually inclined to agree…” Michael says, then his hands go on the door on either side of the redhead and he leans in, his face right in front of Oliver’s. “But, this whole night, I’ve been enjoying watching you blunder around. Those cute little sounds you make, that excitement in your eyes when you found out we were going to be spending the night together... either you’re ‘miring, or you get off to being cold and wet. So, tell me, daddy’s boy, do you secretly want me to sweep you off your feet? Because, you know what? I think I will...”
Oliver’s eyes widen, his pupils shrinking as if he’s caught in headlights. He tries to shrink back, to get away from Michael, whose body heat is so close to his own. But his foot slips on the wet floor and he falls back.
Michael reaches down to grab him, but fumbles and falls over, winding up collapsed on the floor on top of Oliver in a tangled up pile together.
Their still slightly-wet bodies cling together a moment as the two push up, their skin brushing against each other for a moment, that tell-talle erection quite noticeable to Michael, and, maybe even more surprising, Michael’s is noticeable to Oliver.
The two men look each other in the eyes a moment, unable to say anything to each other. Michael was in for a little teasing, but now, seeing the young man underneath of him, who had been a pain in the ass at work, he just couldn’t help but feel at little excitement in his heart as well.
But it’s Oliver who makes the first move, pushing himself up by the elbows and wrapping his arms around Michael’s shoulders. He pulls him down so that he is pinned and looks him dead in the eyes once more. “F… fine!” he says. “You look good with your glasses off, okay? Can’t help that. It’s true.”
Michael chuckles and looks up towards the window of his apartment. Lightning flashes once more and the roar of the tempest is going nowhere. “Well, we don’t have anything to do tonight. Want to explore yourself a bit?”
“Geeze, what are you saying?” Oliver says. “This is totally not like you.”
“Seems you don’t know me, and you don’t know yourself…” Michael says. “That goes for two of us…” he whispers this, his mouth just inches from Michael’s lips. His hand strokes down, going along Oliver’s collar, and then along his side, and then fingers go underneath the elastic of his boxers. “If you’ll let me, we can try something we never would have tried otherwise. And you know what? I’m happy to never bring it up again, if you are.”
Oliver bites his lip, but then licks it, nodding quickly. “Okay, fine! Fine. Show me what it’s like to… I dunno, fuck a dude.”
Michael pushes himself up, sitting up, straddling Oliver’s body. “What a dirty boy... Let’s not mess ourselves up here on the atrium. You wanna come in the shower with me? We can clean off, too.” He stands up, holding his hand out to him
“Oh ha, ha!” Oliver says, and grasps onto his hand, that blush still present upon his cheeks. “But no using this against me in any way, alright?”
“Please, I’m going to enjoy this.”
Michael leads Oliver out of the living room and when they enter the bathroom, he lets go of the redhead and steps away towards the shower, letting his towel drop down. He keeps his front away from Oliver as he gets the shower running, but looks over his shoulder with a smirk. “What’s the matter? You usually have servants disrobe you or something, rich boy?”