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— Saturday: Late Noon: Apartment —
“Do you like me, Bert?”
“Really Ernie? This again?”
Bert looks up from his book, giving the man at the other end of the couch a knowing glance.
“I sure like you, Bert, and I just want to know if you like me.”
“The answer is the same as last time,” Bert grunted, trying to return to his book. Must be some real spell binding stuff, Ernie notes.
“Just the same?”
Something lingers in Ernie’s words, not enough to make comment on, but enough to know this isn’t just their usual bickering.
“Yes, Ernie, I’ve always liked you, if I didn’t like you I wouldn’t be living with you.”
“Even when I bother you?”
“Yes.”
“Even when you say you’re annoyed with me?”
“Yes.”
“Even when you say you’re gonna move out?”
Bert let’s out a defeated sigh, setting his book down.
“You know I don’t mean that when I say it. Ernie, what is this really about?”
“Why don’t you like saying it back?”
“Saying what back, Ernie?
“I like you”
“I do”
“You never say it unprompted.”
“Well, well Ernie, it’s unnecessary! You already know I like you!”
“But what if you no longer liked me?”
“Why in the world would I no longer like you?”
“Because you don’t say you like me.”
“Jesus Ernie! I- I just don’t go out of my way to say it because- because I’m afraid people might get the wrong idea”
And just like that: an entire afternoon has been derailed into some unnecessary conversation about their relationship. Why does he ever bother…
“The idea that you like me?”
“Yes- wait no- I- you know what I mean!”
“But you said you do like me!”
“Yes and I do, but you know what I mean when I say people might get the wrong idea.”
“That you like me?”
“That I like, like you.”
“You won’t say you like me because you’re afraid people will think you’re gay?”
A bit brazen for Bert’s taste, but close enough to the point he was getting at.
“Yeah… something like that.”
“But Bert! I say that I like you all the time, I sing from the roof how much I like you, and I’m not worried about being thought of as gay!”
“Well, we’re different people, and I don’t want people to think of me as something I’m not.”
“Gay?”
“Yes, gay.”
“What’s wrong with being gay?”
To think he was going to spend his day off leisurely reading modern classics, foolish of him really.
“Ernie!” Bert exasperates, “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being gay! It’s just we’re not gay!”
“How do you know I’m not gay?”
Bert to comes to a full, stuttering, screeching stop.
“Well, you’ve never- are you gay?”
“I don’t know, never thought about it much, I like to think I’m pretty happy though.”
“Ernie!” He groaned out, “stop messing around!”
“I like everyone, Bert!”
“But do you like guys in particular?”
Bert was seconds away from grabbing his friend by the yarn of his sweater and shaking the answer out of him.
“I’m telling you in honest, I’ve really never put that much thought into it, never felt the need to."
“Huh? Come on! Everyone’s though about it at least once!”
"Okay what about you, Bert? Have you ever thought about having sex with a guy? have you had sex with a guy?"
Bert's face turns beet red, his mouth gapped open in shock. He couldn't believe the direction this conversation was taking.
"Ernie! That's- that’s personal! You can’t just ask someone that!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking with a mix of embarrassment and frustration, but mostly embarrassment.
"I just want to understand, Bert. You said you're afraid of people thinking you're gay, but... if you've never... you know... then why does it matter?”
Silence flooded the air between them as Bert tried to make his feelings, his years of yearning for something that he wasn’t even sure he wanted, fit into one digestible sentence.
He couldn’t do it.
Bert let the silence fester.
“Come on Bert, it’s been fifty years, we can’t keep doing this passive dance forever. God knows you wouldn’t do this with anything else.”
Bert took a deep breath, feeling the weight of Ernie's words pressing upon him.
Ernie reached out, squeezing Bert’s hand, his brows knit into a silent plea.
Bert finally looked up, his eyes locking with the other man’s.
Ernie was right, he didn’t have respect for that type of avoidance.
Ernie continued, "I mean it Bert."
Silence hung between them, their eyes fixed on each other. It felt like an eternity, like an oceanic voyage. Suddenly Bert felt a spark, a flicker of something like fear, or joy, or perhaps it was dread?
He couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, but something was certainly rising within him.
An intensity from within burned bright, an intensity that had been locked away for far too long.
Then, in one sudden motion, Bert grabbed him by the collar, clumsily pressing his lips against Ernie's.
Ernie's eyes widened in surprise and Bert's lips remained pressed against Ernie's for a few moments, his eyes closed, his breathing halted.
Then, just as suddenly as he had kissed him, Bert pulled back, leaving the pair gasping for breath.
“Better?” Ernie smiled, feeling out of breath as he looked up at the other man with nothing but adoration.
“Better.”
With that Ernie threw himself around Bert’s waist, smashing his face half hazardously into Bert’s chest. The other man tentatively hugged back.
They stayed like that for a while, but a silence so perfect could only last so long.
“And to answer your question: no. I haven't. I've never, um, been with anyone in that way."
“I assumed,” Ernie laughed.
“I figured as much,” Bert sighed, relaxing into embrace.
Another moment of silence passes.
“You know, it doesn’t have to be complicated,” Ernie murmured into Bert’s sweater.
“What do you mean?”
“Sex.”
“Bit too philosophical for me, Ernie,” Bert flushed, looking off to the side.
“I’m not talking philosophy,” Ernie corrected, staring into him with those eyes, pools of color so dark one would drown if they looked for too long.
Bert’s gaze locks with Ernie’s for a second time that night, and he feels a shiver run through him, his pulse beating in his ears.
“What do you mean?”
“If you’d be willing, I mean, I don’t see why we shouldn’t…” Ernie let the words trail off, Bert got the point.
Bert could feel his cheeks burning as his imagination ran wild at all the possibilities, his breath quickened and his heart raced. The thought of being intimate, skin to skin, filthy flesh on filthy flesh… he wanted nothing more than to explore Ernie's body. The thought alone was making his blood run hot.
“So… is that a yes?” Ernie asked, peeking his head up from where he was resting, curious about his friend’s silence.
Bert shook his head, shaking away his train of thought.
“Yeah! I mean, uh, yes… but with time! You already know I haven’t done it before so I have to, uh, study up a bit.”
“Dork,” Ernie snickered, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek.
— Tuesday: Early Noon: Apartment —
“You meant study as in actual books?”
“What else would I have meant?” Bert asks, unloading a stack of books from his bag.
Ernie watches incredulously, examining the titles.
“Uh, Bert, I’m pretty sure this one is just erotica,” Ernie probes, squinting his eyes as he flips open the cover.
“Oh quit that will you!” Bert scolds, snatching the book back.
“Oh come on Bert, you’re being ridiculous! You don’t need to study for sex, it’s like you’re trying to take the fun out of it!” Ernie teased with a witty half seriousness.
“Practice makes perfect.”
“But you’re not even practicing, you’re reading about practicing.”
“And what exactly do you suggest I do, oh wise sex master?” Bert rolled his eyes, hoping his passive aggressive sarcasm would serve as a good enough mask to hide his discomfort with.
“You could just actually practice,” Ernie offered, unfazed by Bert’s defensive wit.
“You’d be surprised at how far reading can get you, but what would you know about that, Mr. Just-Go-For-It?”
Ernie snickers at that.
The teasing was good natured and Bert couldn’t help but return a flustered smile at how ridiculous that comeback was was.
“Point is,” Ernie continued, “you have to start somewhere! And i’m pretty sure reading is just an excuse to prolong the inevitable, you’re just stalling!”
“Okay… and what would you suggest? Where should I start with this supposed real practice?”
“Have you ever had a blowjob, wait, even better, have you ever given a blowjob? I know you said you’ve never had sex, but blowies hardly count. At least I don’t count them,” Ernie rambles, obviously fond of the topic.
“Never even thought about it.”
“What do you mean you’ve never thought about it? What have you been thinking about, if not that?”
Bert laughs nervously, that dorky smile still plastered to his face.
“Well, I might’ve thought about what it would be like once or twice,” Bert muttered, crossing his arms.
“Well, we both have the rest of day off. I certainly wouldn’t mind.”
“But I haven’t started even reading anything yet, Ern! I’d be terrible, we, I can’t just-“
Ernie cuts him off with an index finger, pressing it firmly to his mouth. Perhaps one of his most go-to ways of silencing him.
“Think of it this way: I blow you, and because I blow you, you now know what feels good and what doesn’t from experience. Then, when you go to blow me for the first time, you’ll have a basis to work off of. It’s like practice. The best part: all you have to do it sit there. Simple.”
With that: Ernie removed his finger, waiting for a response.
Bert had never thought of it like that before, but now that he had it did make sense.
“I guess it couldn’t hurt.”
“That’s the spirit!”
Bert gives him a weary smile and Ernie gives one back, taking his hand and pulling him closer.
Bert felt a heat creeping up behind his ears and into the back of his neck.
He couldn’t believe he’d actually agreed to it. It almost felt unreal as Ernie pushed him back into the couch. His gut did a full flip when Ernie dropped to his knees.
Ernie got straight to work, rucking Bert’s shirt up, pressing his hands up and down Bert’s sides a few times before hooking his thumbs into the belt loops, tugging them gently.
“Oh, yeah,” Bert replied dumbly, lifting up his hips, already feeling a bit hazy.
Ernie snickered at that, bringing Bert’s pants down to his mid-thigh. Drinking in the sight of Bert’s half chub through his boxer briefs.
Bert struggles not to turn his head away, nervous from all the attention, not that being nervous made him any less turned on, in his little experience: uncertainty only added to his arousal.
Ernie pulls him to the edge of the couch, his head resting idly against Bert’s inner thigh as he teased him through the fabric, savoring every second much to Bert’s dismay.
It’s not that he didn’t like it, it just that it was all so different than what he used to imagine. It was one thing to imagine it, another to actually do it.
His heart was beating so fast it felt like he could hear it in his ears. The thought of Ernie seeing him, really seeing him, it made him a little nauseous.
Lucky Ernie didn’t plan on giving him much time to think as he engulfed Bert, the sudden warmth seemingly hard booting Bert out of whatever shame he might have been feeling.
Ernie swallowed around the cock twice, joyously watching they way Bert fumbled to get a hold of himself, sweaty palms clenched to the side arm of the couch.
Swirling around the head, thumbing the tip of his tongue into his slit, drinking back the precum. There was no way Bert was gonna last more than a minute if Ernie kept up this pace.
Bert’s head fell back as Ernie continued his ministrations, hovering clenched hands near his head, begging for something to ground himself on.
Ernie got the message, letting go of the base of Bert’s cock to intertwine Bert’s hand to his scalp. Bert gave the roots a light tug, earning himself a grunt of approval, making note of the way that response sent vibrations through his cock.
Centering a hand on each thigh, Ernie brought himself down to the base, nose pressed flush against his pubic mound, looking up at Bert through his eyelashes.
“Ho- holy fuck, Ern,” Bert rasped, burrying his fingers in Enrie’s hair.
Ernie moaned as he felt the cock twitch heavy in his mouth, tasting the spurts of pre-ejaculate ooze down his throat, he figured it was time to go for the kill.
Really steadying himself now, Ernie swallowed around it once more, gesturing for Bert to take the lead, giving him full permission to fuck his mouth and throat as hard as he pleased.
Bert, drunk with lust, took the offer.
“Oh, yeah just like that, good, so good,” Bert cried out, a hot twist of warmth growing in his gut as he fucked into the heat.
The sight of Ernie below him pushed him over the edge, seeing his roommate flushed below him, drool dripping down his face, looking up with pure admiration.
“Ernie, Ernie, oh god, I’m!”
Ernie hummed, dipping back down to the base, holding Bert’s hips still as he twitched, drinking in his release as it came, like some sort of sex fueled succubus.
Once Bert was definitely done, and subsequently left an overly sensitive and out of breathy mess, Ernie popped lewdly off his cock, making sure to zip him back before curling up next to him on the couch.
“So,” Ernie cleared his throat, “how was it?”
“I think I died.”
“You seem pretty alive to me, Bert, though I could check if you’d like.”
“Shut up,” Bert mumbled, his voice a strained whisper, the words coming out dry and breathless.
“Mmh, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” Ernie snickered, leaning in for a kiss.
“You’re awful,” Bert groaned, meeting Ernie’s lips with a throw pillow.
— Sunday: Late Noon: Apartment —
“Does this make us official, or something?” Bert asked, sinking further into the bath, bubbles covering his fidgety hands.
“I think we’re been official for a long time,” Ernie responded, sitting on the edge of the tub.
“But officially what? Boyfriends?”
“I’ve always thought of you to be a lot more than a boyfriend.”
“It’s not even legal for us to get married.”
“We don’t have to be husbands if that’s what you mean.”
“Than what’s more than a boyfriend?”
“What have we always called each other?”
Bert sat for a moment, thinking.
“Best friends?”
“Mhm”
“I like that.”
“Me too, Bert.”