FSE

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By the Horns

Samson almost didn't want to go. Actually: not almost. He didn't.

The large foursquare house, hidden behind a giant oak scarred long ago from a rogue lightning bolt, looked alive with lights and people. The home sat alone on a stretch of unkempt road amongst the backdrop of woods and grey, thunder-less clouds. A few people he knew camped on the front porch with those classic red cups in hand or left to balance on the railing—a dead giveaway as to what was occurring here. A heavy bassline reverberated through the air, and Samson could almost feel his thick chest rumbling from the music. He wondered if the leaves on the oak shimmied more from the music than the breeze that crept through the early evening.

“Quit being such a stubborn bull, Sammy," Kyland joked as he thrummed a paradiddle onto the steering wheel. “Let's go!"

“I had something completely different planned, Ky." Samson held his arms crossed, making his muscular chest bulge even more. The silhouettes of a few partiers laughed amongst each other. Darkness draped over the dormer windows on the top floor, however. No lucky couples looking for that coveted alone time. Not yet, anyway.

“Oh, come on…two hours tops. Promise!" Kyland gave his pouting friend a playful punch. A cold look froze the next oncoming fist. Kyland pulled back with a grin, combing his fingers through his straight, blonde hair. Acted smooth. But Samson wondered why his friend had insisted on this party. Kyland was more doorstop than person. Polite, but quiet and unacknowledged. Samson blamed the few primer beers from earlier as the cause of his friend's surge of extroversion.

“Might be a huge guy in there just for you," he continued. “God, just imagine it! Two hulking muscle men humping like wild animals." Another cold look. “Duder! Quit being such a grumpster! Trust me, there's gotta be a guy in there. Blowing your load in some tight ass might finally put a smile on that fuckin' face!"

Kyland laughed, a sort of childlike guffaw he never outgrew since they were kids, Samson remembered, although they weren't friends at the time. That came much later when the intimidating setting of higher education forced two familiar faces to join forces at the same table in English 101.

The whispering light of his phone warned Samson of the time. The longer they waited, the less drinking, flirting, and bullshitting that would happen. Kyland would refuse to leave until he worked all this social energy out of his system first.

“Sounds like you're the one in need of wild animal sex in there."

“Eep!" Kyland became a mouse. “But there be people around!"

“Gotta swing outta the closet sooner or later."

“I'll stick with my private trysts at sleazy hotels and secluded parking lots, thank you very much."

“Safer that way?"

“Fewer prying eyes." Kyland glanced at the keychain dangling from the ignition. Smooth hands clutched at the steering wheel, no longer tapping out an excited rudiment.

Samson felt the tingle of the mood dampening. He set a mental reminder to throttle himself later for always being such a downer. A trickier situation inhabited Kyland's family life as he finished his final year of college while staying shacked up with the folks. As the only child, he bore the responsibility of continuing the family line, a responsibility he knew he'd never fulfill. Had to keep everything on the downlow to spare the feelings of super-religious parents.

Samson, on the other hand, came out swinging since the start of high school. Curious, horny boys were in no short supply. Fear over what anyone else thought—parents, other kids, whoever—didn't stop him from getting his dick sucked or pounding those who had the same set of genitals. However, he found that many of those relationships lasted as long as an erection. At best, he had made a few friends with benefits over the years, although acquaintances with benefits seemed more appropriate—a huge dick made brash personalities bearable, he found, so he was lucky in that regard. Kyland managed to stick around, though, despite the lack of—

“Duder?" Kyland interrupted. “You okay?"

Samson sighed, avoiding the curious look of his friend's soft, brown eyes. “Let's go in."

Somehow the larger man found himself strolling across the street with hands jammed down his dull-grey hoodie pockets, his friend jogging ahead in a fit of laughter as he waved at those he knew on the porch. Glancing up at the clouded sky, the last bits of daylight fizzled behind the gloom, pulling a sigh from Samson's lips at what he knew would later arrive. The scar on the giant oak made him almost wish the sky would suddenly crack and split his head with a merciful thunderbolt. He shook the image clean. Such a melodramatic thought.

Music blasted them as the door swung open. Butts occupied every available couch and love sofa position, stragglers standing about tipping their plastic cups into their mouths—miniature rest stops between flirtatious comments, life updates, and casual bitchiness. Somehow everyone breezed through the sludge of conversation between the din of hip-hop tunes and the surrounding chatter.

Samson eased between two conversing people blockading the kitchen entrance, following Kyland who exchanged back pats with the collection of arms and legs that comprised their lanky party host—the guy responsible for the last-minute text invitation.

Kyland beamed. “What's up, James?"

“Didn't think you'd come, ya hermit crab."

“What, and miss out on all the drunken festivities and cute girls?" Kyland sent a knowing look Samson's way.

“Honestly, thought you'd blame Netflix for yet another sit-in."

Kyland shushed him, placing a finger up to James's lips. “Hush, young one. I'm here now. I prepared for this mysterious plane known as the outdoors. Got a couple beers in me already, and I'm ready for more. Best hurry before I wizen up and realize I'm not lounging from the safety zone of my couch."

“Okay, okay, rules first," James said with a chuckle, smacking Kyland's fingers away before setting down his cup. He patted the beer keg occupying the counter alongside a bottled assortment of spirits and liquors. Some chick stumbled in with a high-pitched laugh, snatching a handful of tortilla chips from a bowl while ignoring the open jar of chunky salsa. James chastised her with a lewd joke, making her smack his chest with a drunk laugh before she stumbled back into the living room. “Where was I? Oh, rules!"

“Rules? Thought this was a party?"

“Ky, Ky, Ky…" James shook his head. “Just because my parents are out of town doesn't mean law and order should fall to the wayside like some spent courtesan!"

“Careful with such big words," Kyland said in a mock whisper. “Present company and all."

Samson pulled Kyland in for an immobilizing hug. “Don't need a big brain to know what happens when I crush you."

“James!" Kyland cried, reaching out a hand in a mock gesture for help. “Tell all my children I love them."

“Hold up, lemme grab a note pad!" James snatched an imaginary pad and pen. “What other last words you have?"

“An apology maybe?" Samson offered, his muscles tensing around the lithe boy, pulling him into his belly.

“All right, all right, I'm sorry! You're a genius. Top of your class. Valedictorian. Top scientists will preserve your brain in state-of-the-art research facilities. They'll poke and prod that beautiful—nay, gorgeous—brain of yours until they unearth the secrets to illuminating the murky, almost unreachable depths of the human intellect."

“That's better." Samson released his grip.

Kyland fake-coughed and gasped for breath before grinning, taking a cup of the keg's cool, amber liquid from James who offered the second cup to Samson.

“You remember Sammy, right?"

James looked the burly man up and down. “You used to have luscious brown locks, right? Why'd you cut it all?"

“Marks an important transition in my life, I suppose." Samson gave Kyland a brief look before returning to the party host with a shrug. “Just felt right."

“He cut it a week ago," Kyland clarified. Another mock whisper: “I suspect a quarter-life crisis is afoot."

“Looking for another hug?"

“My ribs are still recovering from the last one!" Kyland gave Samson's firm muscle-gut of a belly a few placating pats.

“A raincheck, then."

“Guys, guys," James cut in with a laugh. “Don't mean to interrupt your grab-ass session."

“May a thousand apologies forever reign upon you and your kin," Kyland offered with a bow. “Please, your rules. We must follow them. We must obey."

“Stop it. Just help yourself to all the booze you can stomach. If you throw up, you're cleaning it. Seriously, I will hunt you down if you hurl on the rug then disappear." The music cut out suddenly, drawing disappointed cries from the living room's crowd. James growled, shouting that he'll be there in a second. “And no drugs. This party is totally not 420-friendly. I swear, the moms has the nose of a bear. She'll maul me like one too if she catches a whiff of that."

“Roger that!"

“And absolutely no boning any of the fine ladies on offer, at least not here…in fact, no going upstairs at all. Gotta keep an eye on you kids! If my parents find love juice all over their bedroom, I'm done for." James nodded as if the very gesture would ensure compliance before disappearing into the other room.

Samson fidgeted: another phone check for the time.

Before he had a chance to rope his friend into a side room to talk, a group from the back patio piled inside for drinks. More of Kyland's friends he didn't recognize. A chubby guy with too much facial hair and a pink t-shirt featuring some Nintendo character exchanged cheerful, long-time-no-see greetings and fist bumps. After resupplying, the group dragged Kyland back out with them and arranged themselves on the patio furniture. Some shirtless guy attempted a backflip off the deck and flopped onto the grass like a dead fish, eliciting boisterous laughs. Kyland nearly spilled his drink as he slapped the back of his chubby friend and dared him to give such a stunt a try.

Deciding to let Kyland have his fun catching up, Samson inundated his cup with more beer and found a blank wall space to lean against in the living room, the music blasting back to life to ecstatic applause. Bass rumbled against the wall and crawled along Samson's back. Not his kind of music. His previous long hair made everyone think he donned the pretentious title of Metal Head. In fact, Kyland had given Samson hell for a whole week after having to suffer through a performance of Shostakovich's String Quartet Number 2 in A major, Opus Number 68. Kyland thought that even the name was yawn-inducing.

Dank room smells bombarded Samson's nostrils as he sipped his beer, the cheap taste of it lingering between swallows. The amount of people able to cram themselves into one room and hold conversations, flirt with each other, and grind hips while clutching their beers both surprised and impressed him. Still had no intention of joining, though.

A girl the same shade of blonde as Kyland but with the same deep-green eyes as Samson smiled at the grumpy-looking wallflower. Samson offered a polite nod but kept his arms crossed: thanks for noticing but please don't approach.

She did anyway.

“You're Sammy, right?"

“Samson, yes."

“Eppicla."

“What?"

“Yeah, I get that bunches. Friends call me Eppic for short."

“Quite the pretentious name."

“Yeah, I hate it. Don't know why my parents couldn't settle for something simple like an Alice or Sarah or Jennifer." She sighed, swirling her cup in hand. “Eppicla it is."

“My condolences."

“I'll manage."

“Well, it's nice meeting you…Eppic."

She stood her ground, unwavering, taking a sip of her beer. “You shouldn't be alone at a party."

Another sip.

“Not alone," Samson spat. “Gotta friend out back."

A quick glance shot down. At the bulge in his jeans, he knew. Same story with most people looking for a lay. “Like keeping to yourself?"

“Don't wanna bother him in front of his friends." This brought a quizzical look. “Here, let me save you the embarrassment of going through the motions of idle chatter. My dick gets hard from other dicks. Off you go, now."

The chick let out a laugh. “Aren't we a brash one? Although I must admit it's kind of a waste." She let out an exaggerated sigh. “Got your eyes set on Ky, don't you?"

Samson stood up straight. “You know him?"

A nod loosened up a wavy fringe of hair. A finger brushed it back into place behind an ear. “Sure hope so. We dated for a couple months. I also admit—look at me, a double admittance today; you must be a priest!" She shook her head, loosening more hair she brushed back again. “Anyway! I actually hid behind my girlfriends when you two stepped in."

Samson thought back to when he had first entered, remembering a group of girls inhabiting his peripheral vision. Blonde girl with green eyes: check.

“What happened?"

“Why did we break up?" She took a long sip of her beer as if savoring the taste of it like some connoisseur. “I saw the way you hugged him in the kitchen…you tell me."

Samson didn't care that she knew guys got him fucking hard, but the thought of outing his friend, at a party with so many people no less, made a rare butterfly thrash its wings within his stomach.

“Guys can hug."

“Quite the macho hug you gave."

“Doesn't mean anything."

Eppic laughed, a feminine chortle that seemed mocking and innocent simultaneously. “Why so serious? If you like him, you like him. The break-up was mutual. I could tell he wasn't into me. I don't think I've seen him with another girl since."

“Maybe it's just you. You scarred him from women for life."

“Ouch, that's not very fair!" She pouted before leaning into Samson close, their bodies touching, forcing his back against the wall until he could feel the rumble of bass again. A few partiers took notice before returning to their drinks and conversations. A grin plastered the chick's face, the aroma of beer entwined with her breaths. Samson became a trapped animal. He resisted releasing a defensive bite as a free hand slipped to the bulge sliding down a pant leg. She gave a firm but pleasurable squeeze. “Sometimes we girls just lack a certain edge versus the competition."

She gave a chuckle and a wink before ambling back to the center of the living room where her girlfriends gyrated their hips, laughed, and drank. None took notice of Samson who downed the last of his beer before crushing the cup in a giant paw. The cup clattered along the floor.

Samson needed to find Ky. They should leave. Now.

The backyard had transformed into a minefield of red cups, a couple guys who feigned death by intoxication serving as casualties. A circle of friends chatted around a patio table pockmarked with more cups and bowls of peanuts and M&Ms. No sight of Kyland. Perhaps he had strolled back inside without Samson noticing?

The guy with the pink Nintendo shirt raised his cup. “You lookin' for Ky?"

“Yeah."

“In the woods with a guy almost as big as you." He gestured towards the trees the fenceless yard bled into. He turned to the group of friends at the table. “Jeff, right? Muscly guy with the sleeve tattoo of a dragon devouring a Texas Longhorn?"

The group agreed.

Samson nodded his thanks before hoofing it down a dirt path the family here had probably forged from years of morning walks through these woods. The patio lights choked behind several layers of trees, prompting the smartphone's glow to provide its small guidance past low-hanging branches and upturned roots.

Behind a wall of insect noises and the hoot of an owl came two voices. Both male. A battery-powered lantern blared from a clearing where a felled oak offered its death as a seat for Kyland and his new companion, a large, muscular man probably only a year or two his senior. True to Nintendo-boy's description, Samson could make out a faint image of a green dragon seemingly pulled straight from the Chinese zodiac, its gaping mouth snapping around a panicked bovine dinner. Samson imagined the dragon using the cow's horns as toothpicks.

Kyland stood. “Sammy, what are you doing here?" Both hands hovered down to block the erection protruding from the open fly of his jeans. As if he had any reason to be ashamed. The other man—Jeff, he remembered—turned, a meaty, intimidating erection angled high. The man didn't bother to hide himself. In fact, the smirk he carried suggested a challenge.

“Whatever happened to hotels and parking lots?" Samson's brow furrowed. “Let's go."

“Hey, Ky here's a big boy," Jeff said as he rose to his feet. His erection bounced up and down, stiff as the branches hanging nearby. “He can stay if he wants."

Samson felt himself sucking in a breath. The sight of a huge, bouncing dick made his cock twitch. He batted away the idea of unzipping his fly to join them.

“Sammy, I'm in the middle of something here." Kyland's head gestured towards his hook-up.

“Well, hold on now," Jeff said, grabbing a hold of his cock and giving it a stroke. A drop of pre-fluid oozed from the slit of his mouth-filling glans. A large pair of low-hanging nuts rested outside the open fly, inviting a fondle. The man looked virile and ready to fuck, ready to pump Ky full of his seed. “Maybe he can join. Seems to be packing quite the whopper himself. You know a guy's hung as fuck when his bulge is visible in the dark."

A month or two ago Samson would have stripped off his pants and hopped right into fucking. But his mid-twenties were creeping in. He found himself growing bored of seeing unusual faces, of pounding a new asshole every other weekend, or having a few regulars stop by for a quick unzip before heading out. None of them saw his true self. Kyland, however, came the closest…the only person to ever see him cry, a random call one night informing him of his brother's deadly car accident. Kyland was the only friend to ever hit him up to Netflix and chill or to jam buttons on the latest Xbox, to drive for some late-night burritos or to just bullshit around and talk about guys and school and religious nonsense and the crumbling state of the world. Not once did Kyland ever egg him for a fuck. Perhaps…perhaps this meant something.

“Let's go," Samson repeated, clutching his friend's hand to drag him back to the party.

“Dammit, Sammy, what's up with you?" Kyland pulled his hand free and stuffed his dick back in his pants. Zip! “If you need to go, just take my keys. I can hitch a ride with Jeff."

Jeff slipped in from behind, wrapping his arms around Kyland, his head resting on his shoulder. “I'll get him home safely. We were just catching up."

“Yeah, he graduated from the same university a couple years ago. We had the same math class together."

“Unless you two were comparing sizes," Samson countered, “I don't see how your dicks have anything to do with math."

“Sound jealous!" Jeff reached down to clutch the bulge of Kyland's crotch.

“I haven't had dick in months, Sammy," Kyland said, irritated. Keys jangled into his hands, fresh from his pocket. “You get laid all the time."

“What?"

“Here." He tossed the keys, which landed at Samson's feet. “I'm too smashed to drive anyway. And all I want right now is to get smashed."

Samson stowed the keys away in a pocket, although he had no intention of leaving without his friend.

“I'll take good care of him, don't you worry," Jeff said as if reading Samson's thoughts, planting a kiss on Kyland's neck. “Gotta big dick I'd like to feed him. He's got one hungry ass. We're a perfect match."

A tack stuck an image to Samson's mind of what would have happened had he arrived a few moments later: walking in on Kyland bent over the felled oak tree, offering up his smooth ass to the lamp-tinged darkness; Jeff plowing him from behind, plunging his entire meaty length inside nonstop, the slaps of their bodies battering the woods surrounding them. Lustful grunts and moans finished off the thought.

Samson shook his head. “Ky, I never wanted to come to this party in the first place. I wanted to share something with you, back at my place before you got plastered and had the brilliant idea of coming here."

“You can show me what's on your Xbox later." Kyland moaned, Jeff kissing at his neck again, before drawing a hand to embrace him.

Samson's fists clenched but he kept his cool. “Please, Ky."

“Hey shit-for-brains, he said later, all right?" Jeff stepped around Kyland to go toe to toe with their intruder. His dick lay limp along his thighs, although Samson didn't mind adopting the role of boner-killer this evening.

Samson quickly sized the man up. A well-chiseled body for sure. Thick chest, beefy arms, a toned midriff, massive thighs that strained against his pants. Definitely hit the gym on the regular like he did, but Samson had a few more inches in height, a muscle gut that gave his body some extra weight, and a high pain tolerance. Advantage: Samson.

“I'm not talking to you," Samson said, sparing Jeff only a quick look before cocking his head to the side for Kyland to move. “Please, Ky, can we go?"

“Just…tell me why."

“Because…"

“Because you were just finding your way out." Jeff placed a hand on Samson's shoulder, attempting to turn him around like some loose-ass bottom. Samson shot him a look, refusing to budge.

“Hands off."

“Not until you leave."

“Please don't fight guys!" Kyland forced his lithe frame between the two taller, beefier men. He looked almost ridiculous, like a chihuahua coming between two pit bulls. “Samson, what is it?"

Samson glanced at the man who kept a hand on his shoulder still. He glanced down at Kyland's worried face. “I was hoping to…"

“Hoping to what?" Kyland clutched at Jeff's hand, prompting him to loosen his grip and then eventually let go.

“Hoping to show you something…and maybe you'd want to, uh, be with..."

“What?" Kyland said, confused.

Leaves crunched beneath Jeff's feet. His fly zipped up. He picked the lantern hanging from a broken branch. “You two gentlemen have something to work out. I'm heading back to the party. Ciao!"

“Jeff, wait a sec!"

“Ciao!" Jeff repeated with a curt handwave.

Jeff faded into the trees. Kyland slung out his smartphone and toggled on flashlight mode.

“Sammy, my dude, I love ya and all, but you better have a damn good excuse for costing me some serious dick. That was the biggest dude I've seen. My ass clenched when he whipped that monster out!"

Another zip. This time, Samson fished out his own meaty member. “Bigger than this?"

Kyland's jaw dropped as the light of his cellphone unveiled Samson's size, which cast an impressive shadow. A beautiful vein stretched down the entire length, leading Kyland's gaze to the plump glans covered in foreskin. “Dude, I always knew you were hung, but damn…"

Seeing his friend nearly salivate at the sight of his member hanging nice and low made his dick throb. He thought about pulling Kyland in for a kiss, unzipping his pants, and bending him over across the fallen oak.

“I was hoping you would…"

“What, this?" Kyland said, gesturing at the humongous piece of meat before him. “Dude, I…I thought it would have been weird. We've known each other as kids. It's good to just be friends. Sometimes…sometimes fucking a guy can make things weird. I don't want that."

“It's…" Samson scratched at his elbow. “It's not just that. There's something special about tonight. We should leave soon. An hour or so."

Scurrying through the woods, Kyland kept asking what this was all about, but vague answers tumbled from Samson's mouth, much to his friend's annoyance. Even Samson's phone seemed upset, dying just as the patio lights appeared. All the backyard patrons had moseyed on inside, music still rumbling into the night and making the glass on all the windows vibrate. Samson glanced up into the sky still painted grey—a tumbling sea of clouds as turbulent-looking as the rolling fog in his mind.

Kyland stamped inside, his steps a little unsure. Samson wondered how much his friend had to drink, although that didn't matter. He'll let Kyland say his goodbyes and they'd drive home. He'd show him then.

A few new faces had arrived at the party, James offering the same rules to the new guests from the kitchen before turning to greet Kyland with a hug.

“Where the hell did ya go?" James asked with a drunken laugh.

“Went to the woods to learn how to spell cockblocked."

“What?"

“Never mind."

Samson followed Kyland to the front door, preparing to leave, but his friend suddenly took a nose dive into the living room's crowd. Blonde hair. Green eyes. Ex-girlfriend spotted.

Kyland gave a faux look of surprise as he approached. They hugged—the short-lived dance of the exes before exchanging the safe inquiries into their day-to-day lives.

Samson glanced at his phone for the time. A black screen. No clocks on any of the walls. Still plenty of time last he checked, but not knowing for sure made his elbow itch. He tapped some guy with ear gauges and a black t-shirt sporting some punk rock band's name designed as a unicursal stone maze; he seemed out of place with all the hip hop music still blaring from the speakers. He offered the time before turning back to his conversation.

“About an hour left," Samson grumbled beneath his breath. He took the same spot along the wall as usual, keeping an eye on Kyland. He never should have agreed to this party. He wasn't used to seeing his friend so…interactive before. Kyland's idea of socializing: asking Samson permission for the last slice of Hideaways Pizza from the gaping grease-stained box on the coffee table. A video game would explode with gunfire onscreen as he'd pick at all the sausage one by one and pop them into his mouth before eating the actual slice.

Kyland yammered away at his ex-girlfriend from behind a rotating wall of people, smiling and laughing as the conversation called for it. He acted as if he hadn't lost his chance at 'some serious dick' not long ago. At this rate, Samson thought as he watched, they'd hitch back together and marry before dawn.

A shadow drifted over him, as if the light from the kitchen were settling into its own dusk. Jeff stood with a beer in hand, a cocksure grin plastered all over his face, although Samson doubted the alcohol had anything to do with it—just all that damn bulge that challenged the one sliding down Samson's leg.

“Now you know how it feels," Jeff said, ambling over as he killed his beer and tossed the cup aside. James shouted from the kitchen for Jeff to clean up after his own lazy ass. Jeff paid him no mind.

“How what feels?"

Jeff gestured towards Kyland and his ex-girlfriend who had settled themselves onto the freed loveseat between a rapid-fire exchange. The chick glanced up at Samson with a smile, as if she knew she were winning. “Getting cockblocked."

“Huge dick? Muscles? Good looks?" Samson sized up the man who stood so close they would touch if one of them got hard. “Check, check, and check. Shouldn't be too hard to find another guy to fuck. Kyland's mine."

“Not if she has any say. Looks like he might reconsider his attraction to the fairer sex." Jeff dropped a hand on the wall above Samson's head, leaning over him. He pulled in close. “How 'bout you and I have a go? I'll consider letting you split me open with that huge piece of meat you have tucked away. Care to be the first guy I've ever bottomed for?"

Samson shut his eyes, a charge surging through his crotch, making his dick ache for a tight piece of ass. The image of the man's boner from earlier made his offer tempting. He imagined Jeff's entire length slapping against his muscular stomach while Samson plowed him rough and deep.

His cock twitched again. Things started getting tight.

“Tonight is not a good night, believe me."

“Oh?" An adventurous hand from the arm with the sleeve tattoo tugged at the front of Samson's waistband, prompting the bulge hidden there to grow in anticipation. Jeff licked his lips at the outline of glans and shaft now clearly visible through the navy-blue denim. “Can't help but think you disagree."

“You're a tempting one-time fuck," Samson said, grabbing a hold of Jeff's wrist, making the dragon devour his hand instead, “but I think I'm done with meaningless endeavors. A new leaf and all that."

“How about you turn me over instead?" Jeff snuck in for a kiss, exchanging the taste of beer and saliva. He rubbed his growing bulge against Samson's with a groan, a few partygoers taking notice of the gay-as-fuck display occurring before them.

Samson interrupted the advance, clutching at the man's shoulders, making the muscles in his arms and chest bulge. A fierce glare made Samson's eyes nearly pop from his skull.

“Oh, you busy, Samson?" There Kyland stood, his ex in tow looking on with a grin that betrayed her possible meddling. “Bold move making out in front of everyone."

“Samson here is a hot guy," Jeff said with that lusty look Samson had seen so many guys give him before dipping in to choke on his dick, before bending over invitingly. “I can see why he interrupted the two of us earlier."

Kyland's face dusted red. Samson wasn't sure if his friend was upset at the perceived theft of his hook-up or at being outed in front of his ex and anyone nearby who could understand the conversation through the party noises. Kyland shook his head and stamped his feet towards the door. He swung it open with a clang as the knob struck the doorstop. Missing keys paralyzed his exit as he stood there patting an empty pocket. Nearly mowing down Samson, he opened his mouth to demand for the keys but snapped his mouth back shut and thundered up the stairs instead, Eppic following close by after wagging a finger mockingly at Samson.

“He'll be fine," Jeff said. “Wanna head upstairs for another room?"

Samson's fists transformed into concrete blocks.

“Absolutely not, you fagling." James stood with his arms crossed, tapping his foot in such a way that clashed with the hip hop beat. “Keep that humongous thing in your pants."

“James!" Jeff said with a laugh. He backed away from Samson, pocketing his hands. “Sorry, bro. You know me. Love the fellas."

“You're lucky you saved my ass in that cooking class. I hated our final project. The professor assigned all the gross shit. Tomatoes." His body shook in disgust. “Mushrooms." Another shake. “Onions." Yet another. “Wouldn't have invited you here otherwise." James blasted a grinning Jeff with a mock look of anger. He then gave Samson a curious glance, making him release his fists. “Did I just see Ky head upstairs with some girl?"

“Yeah, his ex," Samson said.

“Dammit. He's gonna get me killed."

James hovered over the first step as Samson spoke. “I'll get him."

The stairs creaked under Samson's weight as James let him pass. At the end of the dark hallway, orange light fanned from the bottom of a closed door. Two muffled voices. Samson crept in closer to eavesdrop, careful not to let the wood flooring groan and give away his position.

“—like him so much," came Kyland's voice, wavering as if he were holding back tears. Samson had never seen or heard him cry before. He blamed the alcohol for allowing such feelings to emerge. “Can't believe he'd just come in and steal the guy I like, especially after what he just said earlier."

“You just need to be honest," came the chick's voice. “What's the worst that can happen?"

A pause. “Breaks off the friendship. But I like him so much…he's such a steady guy. Like nothing moves him…he's a stone: strong, steadfast…reliable. He's so different from my home life. My parents…god, they would never understand. Every little thing would set them off, every imperfection of mine. Not being active in church, getting a few B's when the rest of my grades were perfect, not getting hitched yet with the promise of grandkids. Every day they let me know, even silently, that I'll always be the imperfect child—forever a disappointment. When I'm with him…I don't have to worry about all that. I'm worried that I'll only push him away."

“You still need to tell him. Better a word said and the outcome known than a word unsaid and being left to wonder."

Samson groaned…an unexpected sound as if he'd been sucker punched in the gut. He turned to leave…he had to get out of here. Time's up.

“Hello?" Eppic called out. The door creaked open, allowing the orange glow from the lamp on a bedside table to escape down the hallway. “Samson?"

“Tell Ky I'm leaving." Samson produced the keys. “I'll walk home."

Ignoring the keys, instead she let a frown scrunch up her face. “I think you two should talk."

“Bad timing. I need to go."

“No," she demanded. “Just because you're like stone, doesn't mean you should be such a blockhead. Ky wants a discussion."

“What are you doing?" Kyland cried. “I don't want to talk to him!"

“Too bad!" Eppic's hand formed a shackle around Samson's wrist, which was so thick her fingers couldn't touch. But she summoned a strength in herself…and perhaps a weakness in Samson, a release of his stubbornness, that offered her the superhuman ability to force him into the room. “You two, talk. You'll thank me later, Ky." With a wink, she closed the door, the sound of her footsteps fading into the party downstairs.

Cheers and muffled party tunes bled through the closed door. Paintings of potted flowers adorned the walls. A simple four-drawer dresser occupied the wall opposite the queen-sized bed where Kyland sat, arms crossed. His eyes settled onto the picture of James's family, framed ornately on top. Not much else inhabited the room, suggesting this was some rarely-used guest bedroom. However, the tension hung thick like a humid day. Samson didn't feel at all welcomed here.

“You're mad at me."

Closed eyes and an expressionless face emitted a serene look, but Samson knew better. His inner senses blared their warning sirens: a storm approaches—be leery of the calm.

“Go ahead," Samson continued. “Yell at me. I can take it. I know you're shy about getting with the fellas, and I ruined your shot at one."

“Wait, you ruined?"

“Yeah. I overheard what you said with Eppicla. You like Jeff. He kissed me, you know. I didn't kiss back."

“No, no, no…I'm mad at Jeff. While we were sitting in the woods before getting it on, I confessed to kinda liking—"

Samson let out another groan. No time…he had to get out.

“I'm sorry, Ky." He clutched at his gut. Faint light pooled from the window, clouds revealing a curious full moon. “We'll need to talk later."

“You okay?" Kyland stood, extending a comforting hand. “Don't hurl in here. James will have our throats."

The door flung open, rattling as it struck the doorstop. Samson trudged down the hall. The familiar pain tore through him, like a full-body Charlie horse: how it always started. He should never have come to this party. He could have always showed Kyland the next month—or the month after, if needed. At the bottom of the stairs, the whole gang of them: James, Jeff, and Eppic amidst a fiery conversation. He'd just push past them.

A growl escaped. “Fuck."

“Sammy, what's wrong?" Kyland approached from behind, placing a hand on Samson's broad back. “I'm getting worried."

Another surge of pain. It was coming on quick. He'd never make it.

“Over here. Let's get you to the bathroom. You can puke in there."

“No, it's not that." Samson doubled over, drawing a worried gasp from Kyland and a couple looks from downstairs. “It's something else, something about me.... We should leave."

“Neither of us are in the state to drive," Kyland warned, worry fully seated on his face as if the expression had been superglued on. “Let's sleep this off. James will understand if we crash for the night."

“No, you don't understand."

“Please, Sammy? My head is…swimming right now. Better just to stay here than…die on the road. Remember your brother?"

Samson's eyelids almost disappeared—he gave his friend such a big look. “F…fine."

The lock clicked into place after Kyland guided his groaning friend back into the same guest bedroom. The bed groaned as Samson took up a seat at the edge. He combed a hand through his short, brown hair, the other arm clutching at this side.

“How much did you drink?"

A few reserved gasps escaped before Samson looked up at the worried face gazing down at him. “Ky, it's…not the alcohol. I've only had the one cup, anyhow."

“Then what is it? Food poisoning? Appendicitis? Your impending firstborn?"

Samson cracked a smile despite the pain. He glanced out the window, at the moon's catalytic glow. His feet tingled from the vibrations originating downstairs. That damn music was ubiquitous. “I'm an idiot."

Curiosity replaced the worried expression. “What makes you say that?"

“You deserve the simple pleasures, Ky," Samson said, muffling another groan. “I should never have interrupted the thing you had going on with Jeff. Not every day you get dick like that."

“No, no…I'm glad you interrupted, now that I've had a minute to cool down and talk to my ex."

“What did she tell you?"

“Her impressions…of you…and me…" Kyland joined Samson on the bed, sitting close so that their legs touched. “She said she, uh, knew about me. For a long time now. Figures. Astute as ever. Eppic said to be true to myself."

Samson offered a small smile. “The words I'm attempting to live by today."

“I know you're not feeling well, but I need to know…" Kyland placed a hand on Samson's leg. The muscles there tensed, but Kyland didn't retreat. Instead, he slipped his hand over the denim and over the ridge of Samson's member lying along his leg. Their eyes gazed upon each other as Kyland touched and fondled. Samson felt his heart race and he wondered if Kyland's did the same. “Do you like me?"

The hand stroked at the sensitive tip of his glans. Samson felt himself getting hard.

“I…I think I…" Breaths began their upheaval, sounding as if he were about to hyperventilate. Samson stood.

“S-sorry! Did I do something wrong?"

“No, listen, Ky… It's happening."

“What's happening?"

“You'll see…just know I won't hurt you. I never would."

Samson tore off his grey hoodie and the shirt underneath, revealing a broad chest and a large but muscular stomach. Smooth, brown hair covered almost every inch of him. The shoes, socks, and jeans flew off next, joining the rest of his clothes on the floor, revealing a plump but tight-looking rear. Powerful calves and stocky, muscular legs bore all his weight. Kyland's eyes grew both hungry and worried as he watched the giant, uncut cock and a pair of hairy, low-hanging nuts swing pendulously from Samson's loins.

The clouds outside shifted uncomfortably. Silver moonlight blasted through the window, cutting through the dim lamplight of the room.

Before Kyland had a chance to stutter a response—the sight of a hairy, muscular, and very hung man in all his naked glory before him—Samson clutched the bedpost with a growl. Muscles tensed under his skin, each vein nearly exploding.

“Whoa, whoa, Sammy! You need help! Let me get James and the others."

“No!" Samson stumbled after Kyland and slammed the door back shut. “No help. No police. Nothing!"

Samson doubled over, clutching his stomach, making Kyland stumble back onto the bed. A roar shattered the air as Samson arched his back, a tearing sound forcing a gasp from his friend who could only look on in horror as he clambered to the other side of the bed.

Saliva dripped in thick ribbons from his mouth as Samson's body stretched and grew, coarse, brown hair coming in thickly. With each heaving breath, his muscles seemed to inflate. A pleasurable groan escaped his thickening lips, his face protruding into a bestial muzzle with flared nostrils while the other end of his body flung a ropy tail that flicked and battered the air. The feeling of pain that had coursed through him like grinding electricity formed a trickling stream of euphoria that pulsed through his veins, fingering into every inch of his powerful body. His malehood rose and stiffened to its full, massive length in tandem to the bony protuberances that slipped from his temples, curving out to form a set of intimidating horns. Samson took a step towards the tear-stung Kyland but glanced down as he approached, watching his toes fuse together and his feet thicken into plate-sized hooves. His new feet clopped over the hardwood floor as he stumbled around and found his footing. Everything seemed to pause as he finished transforming, his body, now fully covered in a brown pelt, taking on the form of something half man, half bull.

Kyland felt for the window at his back, feeling the cool pane upon his clammy palm, although he dared not turn away to open it.

“Ky, it's…me." Samson gestured with open palms at his eight-foot-tall body.

Kyland blinked, a hand clutching at his chest as if trying to stop the hammer pounding inside there. Green eyes almost seemed to glow back at him. “Oh, my god, that's you in there, Sammy?" His own eyes roamed all over the minotaur-looking creature in the room. Samson felt a curious gaze groping at him, especially as Kyland settled upon the erection that wouldn't go down. “You are a big, hunky mass of bovine beast!"

A relieved sigh blasted the room. “I'm glad," Samson's voice rumbled. “Thought you were about to hop out the window and take your chances plummeting to the lawn."

“The thought crossed my mind," Kyland said, licking his lips, his eyes unable to tear away, “but I admit another one immediately superseded that at the sight of all…this. What happened? Get bit by a were-bull on some clandestine trip to Greece you haven't told me about?"

“Afraid that's not how it works." Samson shifted uncomfortably, the hardwood floor groaning beneath his weight, his erection still strong and hard as ever. “Been like this for a while now. Heredity, I think. My only guide comes in the form of scribbled rants from a musty old journal left by my great grandfather who had the same…issue."

“Biting me won't pass your gift along?"

“Gift?"

“Look at you!" Kyland said, approaching without hesitation. Samson sat so the two could see eye to eye. The bed protested the weight. “You're a hulking minotaur of a man…and look at that dick."

“You like?"

Kyland's eyes went solemn. “Honestly…I like you no matter what, Sammy. I just…didn't want to risk our friendship simply to slake my curiosity…" Kyland reached a hand around the bull's head, pulling him in, his eyes full of lust and want. He kissed the flat end of the muzzle, placing his free hand around the broad glans of the dick still jutting up mightily between them, pulling a groan from Samson. “…just to satisfy the fact that I want you so badly."

The hand stroked down the entire length of thick bovine cock, probably to size it up, although Kyland's touch still elicited a grunt. He kissed that muzzle again, deeply this time, his hand growing confident, stroking all that hardness faster. Samson kissed back, a strong hand pulling Kyland into it. When they released, Samson encouraged Kyland's head towards his cock, although his friend put up a little resistance, caught off guard.

“Please…" Samson said, “I need it."

Sliding down the foreskin with a firm stroke of that shaft, a wet, hungry mouth explored the pronounced ridge of his glans, pulling all sorts of animal-like noises from Samson's own mouth: grunts and groans, a lustful growl. Saliva drooled down Samson's length as Kyland bobbed his head along, taking in a little more each time he sunk in. An approving growl coaxed him further, the fat head of Samson's dick prodding his friend's throat. Kyland fell into a good rhythm, stroking off all that meat, deepthroating him without gagging, eliciting an impressed bovine grin.

Kyland pulled free. “God, you taste amazing." A tongue flittered out to lap at a bead of pre-fluid forming along the slit. His free hand stroked at the tent in his pants, making him sigh. After lapping up all the precum, he rolled his palm over the sensitive head, making Samson bite at his lower lip and let out a slow grunt. Kyland looked up with a smile. Just as he prepared to dive in for more, two loud knocks on the door snagged their gazes.

“Hey, what's going in there? Everything okay?"

“Fuck, it's James…" Kyland stood, his erection quickly dying down.

The doorknob shook. “Why's the door locked. Come on, answer me."

Kyland squeezed his temples, unsure of what to do.

“Answer it," Samson whispered. From this angle, the bed—and, more importantly, the beast lying on it—weren't visible if he kept the door open only a smudge. As if realizing this himself, Kyland approached the door cautiously, unlocked it…creaked it open an eye's width.

“What's up?"

“Everything all right in there?" James's voice.

“Yeah, Sammy had a bit too much to drink. Not feeling so hot, I'm afraid." Kyland waved a discreet gesture for Samson to make a noise. A groan feigning sickness slipped through the crack of the door.

“Holy shit, is he all right? Sounded like a dying cow!"

“Yeah, what the fuck kinda alcohol you serve in this joint?"

“Drink at your own risk," James countered. “Said so in the waiver I had you sign before entering the premises."

“Might need to stay overnight, if that's cool."

“If he pukes, he's cleaning it," James reminded. “And why are you hiding behind the door? Can I come in?"

“Samson's actually…uh…naked right now. Feeling feverish. I've seen his junk before, uh, unfortunately, so I'm not shy about making him comfortable and looking out for him. I'm too drunk to leave or I would have taken him back to his place."

“Feverish? From a few drinks?"

“Uh, yeah…it's a rare condition some people get. Learned it in my health class. Some weird genetic thing that triggers the immune system to fire when exposed to a certain level of alcohol. Looks like Samson got the short end of the stick genes-wise."

“Sure sounds like it, huh." Short uncomfortable pause. “Well, let me know if you guys need anything. Party should be going for another couple hours before all these assholes start heading home. Didn't know your friend was such a lightweight, jeez—a big guy like that, crippled with a fever from a few drinks?"

“Yeah, sucks to be him. I'll hit you up if we need anything."

Kyland sighed with relief as his friend returned to the party. The door clicked shut. After locking it, he double checked the doorknob before spinning around with a grin.

“Where were we?"

Somehow Kyland found his clothes torn off him, exposing his slim, smooth body. His hands clutched the comforter that made his legs itch. He presented his bare ass to the beast, large hands spreading him open. A long, rough tongue lapped at the sensitive ring of flesh, making it clench. Kyland sucked in a breath. Arched his back. Felt his dick get hard. The thick tongue slipped inside him. Another breath.

“God, Sammy…"

Samson grunted as he worked, loosening things up, making him moist and ready. His dick remained hard the whole time, leaking pre-fluid, some dabbing onto the sheets. The musky taste made his mouth go wild with hunger as he worked. His hands spread Kyland open wider. He drove his tongue in deeper. Kyland let out a spittle-flinging breath. Hands clutched the bedsheets so hard, the wrinkles he made were probably permanent now.

Kyland was a moaning mess. But he begged Samson to stick that massive thing in him already. He mentioned how he'd been craving dick for so long, and the thought of breaking that dry spell with Sammy's huge cock in this…form…it drove him mad with desire.

Samson snorted, stood tall, his stiff malehood bouncing along before landing atop the small of Kyland's back with a heavy smack. Grunts. More heavy breaths. Samson's muscles tensed as he moved into position, holding a slim waist with one hand while lifting his heavy shaft with the other. A sensitive sphincter puckered and winked as the flared cockhead pressed into it, testing its comfort, its resistance. The boy tensed beneath him, almost melting in the were-bull's grip. Kyland was at his mercy. The boy sucked in a lungful…let it out slowly. The nervous breath sent a reminder for more preparation, to help ease in what was to come. Saliva pooled in the were-bull's mouth before he deposited some in his hand. He then slathered the viscous liquid over his member. Another adjustment, a realignment. Kyland sucked in another breath…braced himself…then Samson slipped in.

Kyland tossed his head back with a growl. “Fuck, you're so huge! Wait…wait…"

Samson grunted, massaging the globes of Kyland's ass as he stood waiting for the tight sphincter to ease up, to let more in, to allow him to experience such mind-numbing pleasure…to let such a large, powerful man plow him like a field. The were-bull slipped in inch after inch as Kyland relaxed, pulling back as needed before slipping in again. The tight hole squeezing around him felt amazing…the extra girth granted from his transformation stretched the boy wide, filling up every available space. The moist passage, Kyland's body heat…a lustful grunt made him buck in a few sudden inches, meeting resistance.

“Fuck, Sam…" Kyland tensed, throwing his head back again. Saliva dripped from his lips onto the bed. About three-fourths of that cock penetrated his tight ass. Samson knew his friend had reached his limit. But soon came the thrusting, slow at first, the bed creaking below them. Samson prodded Kyland's sensitive innards, but the boy in his grip only growled lustfully from each thrust, pressed back, craved more. Samson's huge nuts swung back and forth as he fucked, his muscles bulging and flexing from the motion, euphoric feelings of pleasure almost thrumming through his entire body. He couldn't believe how good it all felt—to fill someone up in this form, his raw power, his animal lust sending him into a haze as he thrust faster, grunted louder, slammed more and more of his thick length into Kyland's hungry ass which clenched around his arousal so pleasurably he almost came.

Both men stopped, huffing, bodies heaving. The urge to cum tingled from deep within, radiating through his dick, pulling his nuts in close. Samson resisted the desire to thrust away madly and unload everything his balls had. Several hot breaths later: the feeling subsided, giving the go-ahead to pull out without risking orgasm from the pleasure of doing so. Kyland's asshole gaped wide, pre-fluid leaking out as Samson's dick sprung free, so fully engorged and excited that it rose up and smacked his firm belly, leaving a trace of wetness along the fur there.

“Done?"

Samson grunted a “no" and pulled Kyland to his feet, spinning him around so he could lean in for a passionate kiss. Their tongues touched and exchanged the taste of saliva and passion. Kyland reached down to stroke off his own six-inch erection, smiling at the feel of the were-bull's muzzle touching his face, at that thick bovine tongue jammed down his throat. A hand reached up, touching the side of that muzzle. Samson released the kiss to look upon his lover adoringly. Not wasting another breath, he pulled Kyland in for a tight embrace, his hard member pressed tight between them. Coarse fur tickled bare skin. More pre-fluid seeped out, dabbing the naked man with its wetness. Roaming hands found their way to the huge horns jutting out the sides of Samson's head. He clutched them like a pull-up bar, sizing up their girth, their sturdiness.

“Let me ride you standing up, Sammy…"

The were-bull grunted in understanding. Two smooth hands gripped at his sturdy horns firmly as he lifted the man onto his chest: one hard dick bounced free while the other pressed into the crease between two large pecs. Kyland straddled him. Coarse fur tingled his bare skin some more, forming goosebumps. Their mouths found each other again. They moaned and kissed, tongues searching for the other. A mouth roamed Samson's neck, kissing and nibbling there, a curious tongue lapping at the scruff. Kyland inhaled the were-bull's musky scent.

“God, Sammy…you're intoxicating…."

The rest of their moment together went by in a blur of thrusting and gasping after Kyland had finally released him, reaching down to guide Samson inside him. The bull had eased him down onto his cock, Kyland's warmth engulfing him once more. Kyland whispered for the were-bull to fuck him. Samson's hips bucked back and forth, forcing out a succession of gasps, broad hands holding him tight around the waist. At one point, Samson's body slid back into the wall to help ease the fatigue of their love-making. Kyland beat himself off, whispering “oh god" and “fuck yeah" as Samson filled him up, pressed sensitive parts inside him, stretched his hole wide. Made him feel good.

Wrapping an arm around Samson's veiny neck, Kyland pulled himself close, stroking himself off faster. Whimpered.

“God…Sammy…I'm gonna cum…"

Samson's long ears flicked; his tail thrashed. These quiet words sent the were-bull into a fervor: muscles engaged, body tingling with pleasure as Kyland hung on tight. Meek moans betrayed how good the boy felt. A hand clutched at the neck scruff. Kyland whined. Samson bucked his hips in, his nostrils sending out a blast of hot breath. Bestial noises grew louder and desperate, his hips working to shove as much of his dick inside his writhing friend.

“Fuck," Kyland whined. “Harder, Sammy…"

Quick, rapid grunting indicated the were-bull's impending climax. His big arms wrapped around the boy clinging onto him. Kyland whimpered again, his hand powering through, stroking off the sensitive glans as it rubbed against bull fur and muscle…until the feeling became too great. He tossed his head back with a loud, satisfying curse as his dick spurted its first hot stream of cum all over Samson's meaty chest. Kyland dipped his head back in with another whine, fingernails digging into the were-bull's fur as he unloaded a second and third stream.

The scent of semen, sweat, and Kyland's hot breaths made the world tilt, Samson's mind going for a spin. All the pleasure he felt toppled him over the edge. One final thrust sent jet after jet of hot seed deep inside Kyland. A massive bellow escaped, but he didn't care if everyone in the party downstairs heard. His massive dick pulsed and pulsed, unloading everything contained within his huge balls.

Kyland released more hot cum with a gasp, one pleasurable stream striking Samson beneath the chin. A few more spurts dribbled thickly from his glans, getting all over his palm and fingers.

Semen dripped down Samson's shaft despite how tightly Kyland clenched around him. The final spurts sent one last grunt through clenched teeth. Kyland collapsed onto his chest as they both heaved, their bodies spent.

After a moment of recuperation, the two looked at each other. Samson let out a satisfied growl. Kyland smiled, lifted his head up to kiss that muzzle. As their lips explored each other, the were-bull's dick softened, eventually slipping out with a quiet slurp. Thick, white cum oozed out the gaping hole, some dripping onto the floor.

“I thought you looked so handsome before," Kyland said as he slipped off with a stretch, glancing at the swinging piece of bull meat, eyes wide as if surprised he had so much of that inside him, “but I will say you're hot as fuck as a bull."

He stretched along the bed, his naked body inviting the were-bull to slip over the sheets and lie next to him. Samson's body was so large he had to wrap an arm around Kyland to prevent him from bruising his butt slipping to the hardwood floor.

Kyland glanced up at the monstrous creature holding him, unafraid—instead he offered a cute, inquisitive look. “Are there any others…like you?"

“No," Samson grunted. “I'm…all alone, Ky. You're the only one who knows about…this. About me."

Kyland propped himself up. “You may be the only one of your kind, you know…but you're certainly not alone. Not anymore."

Samson smiled so wide he worried his face had become permanently disfigured. His green eyes almost sparkled in the moonlight. He pulled Kyland in for a kiss.

The two spent the rest of that night holding each other, the buzz of the music downstairs still rumbling until plenty past midnight. The glow of the moon embraced them like a white, weightless sheet. They talked about many things as their hands traced over each other's body: tiny gestures of curiosity and approval—a touch that meant acceptance, and perhaps—and this thought tickled the back of Samson's mind as he listened to Kyland reveal how much he enjoyed having him around, what more they could do to each other now that they were no longer just friends—something more.

No longer just friends, yes. No longer just friends.

That morning, the sun splintered into the bedroom. Kyland had slept in the crook of Samson's arm, sleeping through his slow return to human form. Kyland smiled when he woke, feeling all that firm muscle hugging him close to a warm, hairy body. Glancing down, Samson's morning wood saluted the new day. Samson stretched groggily, scratching at his firm belly. Noticing Kyland next to him, a grin woke from his face—a face once so stern, so solemn, immutable as stone.

After a quick blowjob and swallowing down Samson's humongous load, making sure not to let a nice morning stiffy and any of its juice go to waste, the two men threw on their clothes scattered over the floor, made the bed neatly, and then snuck down the stairs.

Remnants of last night's party remained: chips and candy dusted the floors and furniture, and red plastic cups inhabited every surface that could hold one. The faint odor of sweaty bodies clung to the air like morning dew on the grass outside. Relief washed over Samson: no Jeff, no Eppic, no loud, encroaching music. In the kitchen, however, James padded around with a post-party grumble, throwing on some coffee. Filtered through the fog of a hangover, James greeted his friends with an unenthusiastic “good morning."

“How's the fever?" James asked, looking Samson up and down.

“Fever?" Samson wondered before grinning sheepishly. “Oh, yeah! I'm feeling much better. Best I've ever slept in a long time." He threw a knowing glance at Kyland. The gurgling coffee machine spilled its welcoming aroma across the room, offering a modicum of comfort.

“My, aren't you cheerful!" Their party host frowned at the grin that seemed out of place on the larger man. “Sure you didn't break any of the rules I set last night?"

“Nobody threw up," Kyland said, raising his hand in a promise.

“You sure? I swore we all heard an animal dying upstairs through all the music. Thought you may have barfed big time. I had no desire in seeing any of that."

Samson and Kyland only grinned, exchanging more glances.

“How about we help you clean up, here?" Kyland offered. “Gotta trash bag?"

James seemed to lighten up from the gesture, offering the two some coffee and strawberry Pop-tarts. Cleaning up the house and the backyard felt hardly like work. Kyland and Samson kept quiet but exchanged glances as their bags filled with trash. Samson pinched Kyland's butt when he bent over to pick up a few cups from the ground. James offered a sideways glance. Kyland giggled. Despite the flirtatious touching, the place looked halfway decent in no time. James shooed the two out of his home as he dragged out the vacuum.

After a goodbye and an earnest thanks for the invite, the two found themselves back in Kyland's car. They looked at each other, both smiling, teeth flashing.

“A smile suits you," Kyland said, unable to contain his grin.

“Yeah?"

Samson too. His cheeks hurt.

“Yeah."

The engine kicked to life, Kyland racing his car home as fast as he could, as fast as the heart thumping deep in his chest.