Yearn by A. Ellis (story books for 5 year olds .txt) 📗

challenges—okay, continuously work at overcoming the challenges—of being a gay Black man, I could definitely face the obstacle that was Khi.

I knew we’d never really liked each other and that seemed to have gotten worse over the years. I knew Khi was dealing with recent breakup shit and I had nearly zero experience with relationships. I knew it was probable we’d never be friends.

However…

The silent treatment was pissing me off. For one, it made for imperfect working conditions. Partners needed to communicate. The best pairs built a bond and Khi’s refusal to speak to me was hindering that bond.

I also knew I needed to apologize for the past. Khi may have acted like he didn’t want to discuss it, but I needed to make it right. Maybe the way I’d treated him wasn’t something that ruined or changed his life—I wasn’t conceited enough to think I could have that effect on him—but it was still shitty and I wanted to clear the air. Was it selfish that I’d expect Khi to bend to my will just so I could get something off my chest? Yeah, probably. But guilt over the way I’d been back then was eating at me and I needed to fix things with Khi.

By the time the long-ass shift ended, I’d come to a decision.

I wasn’t going to stop trying to speak to Khi. I’d make him coffee, I’d comment on patients, I’d ask questions. We were housemates and work partners; I’d treat Khi just like anyone else.

The plan had a very high probability of backfiring or at least getting me a black eye, but I was done dealing with the awkward tension. I’d make the man talk to me one way or another.

Feeling satisfied with my plan, I looked forward to a couple days off with updated life goals. One, continue creating and pushing my designs to fashion companies big and small. Two, move Khi’s and my relationship from hate to at least tolerate.

I had a feeling we’d both changed a lot since high school. I knew I’d done a complete one-eighty. I figured some of Khi’s attitude issues were more from whatever shit he was dealing with from the breakup than me specifically—maybe there was hope. We could talk, put the past behind us, and at least end the thick-ass tension that surrounded us every damn minute of the day.

The next day, Khi made enough noise getting out of bed to make me think two raging rhinos were on the loose in my room. On purpose or he was just loud as fuck? Or was I just unusually prickly because he continually got under my skin? I didn’t know, but I mentally cursed him because I knew there was no way I was getting back to sleep.

Cracking an eye, not wanting him to have the satisfaction of knowing he’d woken me, I caught sight of Khi bent at the waist as he pulled on a pair of socks and running shorts. His firm ass was encased in tight boxer briefs and I gritted my teeth to keep from licking my lips—I was supposedly asleep, drooling over my roommate’s ass wasn’t part of slumber.

Khi straightened and slipped the shorts up to his trim waist, but not before I saw the profile of a very impressive bulge.

Fuck.

I’d maybe decided I was going to treat Khi like my other friends and colleagues and eventually make him talk to me, but lusting over the guy who hated me was not part of the plan. Yeah, he was my very first crush, but I’d screwed that up royally—not that there’d ever been a chance Khi would go for a guy like me—but popping a boner over him now wasn’t a good idea. Not good at all.

In the dim room, peeking through just a tiny slit in one eye, I mourned the loss of Khi’s naked back—all that smooth, coppery brown skin—as he pulled a hoodie over his head. Keeping the hood up to cover his extra short fade, Khi slipped in his earbuds and sat to pull on his running shoes. Grabbing his phone—not seeming to even try to be quiet—he left the room, the door giving an audible click to announce his exit.

I huffed and rolled to my back. What a show to wake up to—despite our animosity or whatever we wanted to call it, there was no denying that Khi was a fine-ass specimen. My thick morning erection strained against my boxer briefs in a display of agreement over just how fine that man was.

Fuck.

Reason one-million-and-one why it was so much better when Khi and I were on opposite schedules was now staring me in the face. When I didn’t see Khi as much, it was easier to forget how much I’d liked him way back when. Easier to ignore that he was sex personified, a walking wet dream.

Yeah, his pissy attitude and silent treatment were a decent boner-killer, but at that moment, all I could see when I closed my eyes was his glorious body as he’d dressed. Tight ass, strong thighs atop long legs, broad back…and that bulge. That very promising protrusion had my imagination going wild as my hand reached under the waistband of my underwear to grip my cock.

Whether girth or length was responsible for the tantalizing picture Khi’s dick had made as it filled out his briefs didn’t matter. With a hand on my throbbing cock, I was immediately submerged in a daydream involving my mouth and Khi’s dick. I stroked myself as I imagined dropping to my knees and sucking him off. Allowing my mind to wander further, I pictured Khi behind me as he pressed into my ass, filling me with that delicious cock. I was totally vers, so giving or taking wasn’t an issue, but fantasizing about Khi fucking me was enough to have my cock shooting hot, thick spurts over my fist.

As my release cooled on my stomach, I threw an arm over my eyes.

Fuck.

Jacking off to a hot