I cut through the hedge that separated The Magnolia Hill Apartments from The Terraces on Rosedale for I was on my way to see two friends. I was excited and apprehensive. A strange thing, I know, but it was quite simple when you understand the situation. I was a sophomore starting the fall semester. I was majoring in graphic design. I was tall, over six foot two, with a lean build, for I never worked out. Ride a bicycle on occasion and walk across town to campus every day, but never went to a weight room since having to endure high school P.E. And I was gay and somewhat closeted. I knew it was stupid. Why not be open about it. It was the twenty-first century and guys were open about it all the time. I had intended to come out as soon as I got on campus, but I held back. The same old fears from back home. Fear of rejection. Fear of being ridiculed. Fear just for fear’s sake.
My freshman year had started out frustratingly. My dorm mate was straight. I mean pegged the sexual preference meter all the way to the hard right. No doubt he liked the opposite sex. But the thing was, he was laid back, easy going, and the first to get me to confess to being gay. He said he knew it within a few days and kept waiting for me to say something, and when I kept avoiding the issue, he pushed. Not hard, but enough to let me know it would be okay. He was the perfect dormmate, inviting me out with the guys or helping me with calculus. The problem was he couldn’t help me get past being introverted, so for most people that I came to know, I kept it hidden.
It was probably a bad decision, but I moved out of the dorm to a small one-bedroom apartment for I just wanted my own space. That introverted thing cropping up. I knew it could make my social life more difficult, but I hoped it would be the opposite.
Cutting between a Mustang and a Nissan SUV, I made my way to the main sidewalk that wound its way from the street all the way to the back loop where two of my friends lived. One of them was in graphic design too and the other was in architecture. And they were twins. And I was attracted to both and fearful to come out to either of them. Crazy, right. Two opportunities in one place, but I’ve not approached either one. The big problem for me was I didn’t know if either of them were gay.
Peyton and Preston were two southern boys, from somewhere in Georgia, a small place near Athens. They were about five-foot eight or nine in height, Preston about an inch taller than Peyton, and they had lean builds, the type genetics worked against them, for I knew both worked out, jogged in the mornings three or four times a week. I could see some definition in the arms and legs, but neither bulked up, built up real muscle mass like some jock on the football team. They both had black hair, green eyes, and fair white skin. But there were noticeable differences, both in appearance and in personality.
Peyton seemed not to care if he needed a haircut, and it was typically a tousled mess, sticking up on top or out the sides of a ballcap. He wore trendy glasses that looked good on him, but the way he would toss them down made one wonder how often he had to buy a new pair. He wore loose fitting clothes, hiking shorts, jeans, khakis, and plaid shirts or shirts with some playful print or a T-shirt with some obscure band name. His sneakers were ratty and worn and he wore them most of the time without socks.
Preston was the opposite. He looked like he went to a barber every two weeks for his hair was always neatly trimmed and perfectly combed. He didn’t wear glasses, and I wondered if he wore contacts or got lucky with good eyesight. He wore trendy fashions, the latest cut in jeans or some shirt with an unusual pattern or a banded collar, or this one particular white shirt with no collar, one that fully revealed his slightly long neck and a bit of the chest and shoulder. And he was more focused on his studies, on how he presented himself, and how others would perceive him.
Preston was in graphic design and thus the twin I came to know first. The one I wished was gay and kept looking for signs that he might be. When I met Peyton, I initially believed I was focusing on the right one, for if one of them was gay, it would have to be Preston. But over time, I came to question that assumption. First, there was the fact Preston was going with girls. A few dates with the blonde from English, then the redhead that worked in the campus bookstore, then a few others over the course of our first two semesters. I wanted to say the fact he didn’t date any one of them very long was a sign he was just pretending to be straight, but this was college and if that were the case my dormmate and half the floor would be gay, and I knew that wasn’t the case.
I began to look more closely at Peyton wondering if my initial assessment was wrong. It was intriguing to think the more casual in dress and demeanor was the one that could be gay. But there were those moments when I saw Peyton looking at me as if trying to see inside me. When we were out at the sports bar or the pizza joint on Garden Street, I saw how he sometimes looked at other guys. It was a look that was familiar; one I know I did on occasion. A look Peyton had caught me doing to some guy.
I approached their apartment, a second-floor unit that looked down the main drive so if one of them looked out they would see me strolling up the sidewalk. I was dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt with the heavy sole boots I bought over the summer. We were going to hear this band out of Chapel Hill play at The Playhouse, an old theater converted to a live venue for music. It was still light out, but just barely for the sun was below the western horizon and darkness was creeping across the sky. I climbed the steps to the first landing then to the landing at their door. I knocked, then went in without waiting on one of them to come to the door.
“Are you guys ready?”
“I am,” said Preston, “but Peyton is fucking around.”
I smiled because I heard the exasperation in Preston’s voice, for he hated to be late to anything, even though we had plenty of time. I crossed the small living dining area and entered the bedroom with its two twin beds. Preston was sitting up against pillows at the head of his with a novel in hand, and right before me sitting at the foot of the other bed sat Peyton in white briefs and nothing else. I could see his cock. It was stretched out to the right with a nice thickness that made me wonder what it would be like going through my lips. I made myself look up and saw him staring at me with a smile. I had to cover my stare, make light of it. Turn it back on him somehow.
“You got something stuffed in those briefs or are you happy to see me,” I said giving him a smirk to show that I had noticed his half hard cock, but it didn’t bother me.
“I’m happy to see you,” said Peyton as he leaned back resting on his hands. He laughed, making a joke about it, so who was fooling who.
Fuck. His cock pushed out on the front of those briefs, enticingly, mouth wateringly desirable. I wanted to go to my knees, slide my hands up those smooth thighs, cup them over that cock, then take it out to suck. For a moment, I pictured it, me down between his knees sucking that cock.
“Jesus Peyton, get dressed so we can go,” said Preston.
I moved to the side of the bed and sat, then lay back.
“Wake me when you’re finally ready to go.”
“Jesus, I’m getting ready. We can go in five minutes,” said Peyton.
I lay there hearing Peyton stirring around while picturing him sitting on the foot of the bed, cock visible through the white briefs. The bare upper body, skin so smooth and white it made Peyton look younger than his nineteen. And then the nipples. They had been enticingly hard, sticking out from the dark brown areola. I wanted to pinch them with my fingers or maybe flick my tongue across them.
“Okay I’m ready. Gavin, you’re driving.”
“Well, I guess it is a good thing I filled up this afternoon, but we’ll have to cut back over to my complex to get it,” I said as I sat up seeing Peyton in his usual attire. A ratty T-shirt, this one with “98% Chimp” on the front and faded worn jeans. I knew the pair for there was a hole in the crotch and when Peyton sat and spread his legs those white briefs would be visible. “Let’s go.”
I woke up late the next morning. I had a skull splitting headache, so I took aspirin and went to take a shower. I should have taken it when I first got home at two in the morning, but I was exhausted and a bit tipsy. After the club, we went back to the twins’ place and drank while talking about how good the band had been. Midnight became 3 A.M. far too quickly, and now I felt like shit.
The hot shower felt good and made me feel human again, but I was still tired. I slipped on a pair of boxer briefs and crashed on the sofa where I promptly fell asleep.
I was in a blue room with no windows or doors. I stood in the center of it slowly spinning around. I wasn’t scared but confused. I looked up and the ceiling was impossibly high. I looked down at the floor, large square tile, about four feet a side, and the same blue as the walls and ceiling. A knock, and I looked up to see a door in the wall before me. It is ornate, wood with carvings in the panels. Snakes. It was snakes. Intertwined together as to make it impossible to discern one from another.
Another knock, then someone calling my name.
I start toward the door, but it stays the same distance away, receding with every step. I reach out as if I can somehow pull it toward me, grasping at air. Another knock.
I sit up looking around confused. I’m on the sofa and it is dark outside. It was just a dream.
“Gavin, open up,” said Peyton outside the door.
The knock was real, mingled with the dream. I come to my feet wiping my eyes debating whether to call out for him to wait a minute and let me get dressed. “Fuck it,” I utter thinking about the night before when Peyton was in his underwear with his cock half hard. Such a fucking tease. I tug on my cock feeling it is half hard and decide to open the door.
“Hey, I was asleep on the sofa,” I say as I swing the door open.
I see it, his eyes look down, hold to my cock for a second, then look up into my eyes.
“I can see. What are you doing tonight? Preston is going to some boring ass book reading at the bookstore.”
“I hadn’t planned anything. After last night, I’m a bit beat.” I went back to the sofa and fell back on it, head propped on the arm, one foot on the sofa and the other on the floor. With legs spread I was giving Peyton a full view of my bulging crotch.
“Not surprised they way you tossed them back. I followed you back to make sure you got home okay.” Peyton went to the armchair and sat down. He propped his feet on the coffee table, pushing the remote over. His eyes went from my face to my cock, then once all the way down my legs. Was he willing to do more than just look. I wished it was true even as it drove me crazy with doubt. But not enough doubt to prevent my cock from flexing with my arousal. I tugged on it again, this time working it to the side so it could stretch out.
“You followed me back,” I replied after hesitating a bit.
“Yeah,” said Peyton, then he reached for the remote. “Anything on tonight?”
“It’s Saturday, so probably not, at least not until Saturday Night Live comes on.”
“You want to order a pizza?”
“Sure. There are coupons stuck to the frig. Call one in.”
“Pepperoni or mushroom?”
“Pepperoni. I’ve got sodas in the frig, so don’t order drinks.”
“Okay,” said Peyton, climbing to his feet and going into the small kitchen. I glance over watching him pick a coupon from the frig, then putting in the number into his phone. I listened to him order, give my address, then open the frig. “You want a coke or a ginger ale?”
“Ginger ale.”
Peyton came back into the room tugging his T-shirt off. There was no excuse about my apartment being hot. He just did it, something he had never done before. It should have meant nothing. Just two guys hanging out, getting comfortable, but it was Peyton. It was me. Peyton in just a pair of shorts and me in boxer briefs. The room felt charged with some tension, or at least it did to me.
Peyton channel surfed while we waited for the pizza to arrive, which took forever. I went from being aroused to bored back to aroused before that pizza showed up at the door. A couple of raps on the door and Peyton looked at me.
“You’re dressed; I’m not,” I said to him as he looked to me to answer the door.
“You think you’re the first guy to answer the door in his underwear? Go on, answer it. It’s paid for.”
I pulled the door open standing behind it. A jock looking bastard stood there, tank top revealing nice shoulders and faded jeans.
“A pepperoni?”
“Yep; thanks.”
When I reached for it, I moved from around the door, and his eyes moved down my body then back up to face me. I don’t know if he was put off my lack of dress or enticed by it. He handed me the pizza and promptly turned and walked away.
I set the pizza on the coffee table as Peyton came from the kitchen carrying napkins. I sat down on the sofa and was surprised Peyton sat next to me instead of the armchair. We were close, so damn close. I could see the hairs on his calves, how his old sneakers appeared to fit loose on his feet. I could see how the legs of his shorts were loose around the thighs but tight in the crotch. As I pulled a slice and sat back, I glanced at the lean torso, the skin impossibly smooth and clear. Not one mole or freckle in sight.
We talked about Preston, Peyton joking he would never get married for no one would be good enough. I couldn’t help but picture Preston older, middle aged and living alone. I wondered if the same fate awaited me. Could I find someone, looking at Peyton imagining it was him I could spend my life. We were different in many ways, the biggest being Peyton was more outgoing and laidback. I wasn’t as stoic as Preston, instead I fit somewhere between them. I could never go out as sloppily dressed as Peyton would dare do but I wasn’t so concerned with my appearance as to iron T-shirts and jeans. I reached to touch him, then leaned forward for another slice of pizza.
I tossed the pizza box and dirtied napkins, set the drink bottles in the recycle bin, and washed my hands. I looked up to see Peyton heading into my bedroom and I assumed he was going to the bathroom. I wiped the countertop, washed a plate and fork that had been in the sink, then headed back to the sofa. I was on the verge of sitting when Peyton called out.
“Gavin. Will you come here.”
“Yeah,” I uttered in reply, heading to the bedroom. I went through the door and froze. For a minute I wasn’t sure I was seeing right. Only the lamp on the nightstand was on, casting the room in a low ember glow. Laying in my bed beneath the sheet was Peyton. The blanket was kicked to the foot of the bed, and he was propped on one elbow looking at me standing at the door. It reminded me of some movie I had seen before, an older woman seducing a younger man, but the title escaped me. It was just the scene of her in bed that overlapped the scene before me. Peyton in my bed. His intent was obvious.
“Can we stop ignoring this thing that is between us,” said Peyton.
“You like me?”
Goddamn I sounded pitiful. Wasn’t it obvious. Peyton removed all doubt, gave me this opportunity to act upon my desires. Desires he shared.
Peyton chuckled, then threw back the sheet. “I have for a while.”
He was naked and half hard. His cock was lying heavily with the sac just as long behind it. The pubic hair was such a small area and not thick enough to conceal the skin beneath it. I touched myself as I looked at his body…at his cock.
“Gavin, take them off and come here.”
I did as he asked. Slipped the boxer briefs down until they fell around my ankles. I stepped out of them as I moved to the bed, feeling my nudity. Fully exposed to Peyton’s eyes. It aroused me, made my cock flex as I eased down on the bed.
Peyton rolled to his back, spread his legs, and I moved between them. I crawled upward until at his crotch and I leaned down to that cock. I licked the head. I licked along the growing shaft. I licked downward over tightening sac moving the nuts around within it.
Peyton moaned and held his cock up smacking my chin and lips with it. “Suck it, Gavin. Please…take it in your mouth for me.”
I opened my mouth and slipped my lips down that cock. I pushed down until the head hit the back of my throat and I nearly gagged. I still didn’t have all of it. But I took what I could and worked my lips up and down it until Peyton was pumping his hips.
“Fuck; it feels so good,” uttered Peyton.
I was making him feel good. I was giving him pleasure. It made me feel good. I renewed my efforts manipulating his cock with lips and tongue. And he fucked upward, pushing it into my throat.
“Gavin…I’m going to…”
He didn’t finish, instead he shuddered, shoved upward, and filled my mouth with cum. I swallowed and swallowed, then sucked the last out of his cock.
I had barely released his cock when Peyton was up and maneuvering me around and on my back. He got between my legs, and I was holding my breath knowing he was going to do for me what I had done for him. He held my cock, his fingers warm and firm with their hold. I gasped when his lips touched the leaking head, then slid over it and down until he had most of it. I threw my head back focusing on the feel of his lips and tongue. He aroused me. Pushed me to the point where I was gasping for breath. I ran my hands through the thick black hair, the softness sliding between my fingers and caressing my palms. Lips moved down my cock. Lips moved up to the head. Tongue swirled around it making me buck upward. Then lips moved down my cock.
I closed my eyes and came.
I lay there breathing hard. My cock was still hard, slowly being stroked by Peyton.
“Will you let me?” said Peyton in a whisper.
Let him do what? I really didn’t care. I would do what he wanted. I would do anything to feed this sexual appetite.
“Yes,” I uttered.
Hands lifted my legs, and I knew what he wanted. He wanted my ass, and I clutched the bed as my legs were lifted then pushed forward until thighs were against my chest.
“Hold your legs,” said Peyton.
I grabbed each leg by the calf and held them in place, ass turned upward and fully spread for Peyton. I looked between my legs as he moved to it. When his tongue dragged seductively over my ass, across the tightened sac, and along my cock, I sucked in air and felt my cock flex with my arousal. He sucked one nut then the other into his mouth, tugging and tonguing each one. I shuddered when he tugged on the right one until I thought he meant to tear it from the sac. Then Peyton bore his tongue into my ass, licked over it until I was wet and feverish with want and need.
“Peyton…do it. Do it. Put it in me.”
“You’ll really let me?”
“Fuck! Peyton, do it. Put you cock in me…please.”
He moved over me, took my legs behind the knees and pushed down until it was hard to breathe. He raked his cock across my wet ass, then pumped it over it and along the perineum until I couldn’t take it. I reached for that hard cock, putting it against my tight wet opening.
“Peyton.”
I shivered when the head penetrated me. Then I moaned and clutched the bed as Peyton pushed inch after inch into my depths. He held still for what seemed an eternity but soon was moving, pumping cock inside me. I felt the tug outward, the emptiness if left behind, then the push inward, slowly, going deeper and deeper until hips began to press against my ass.
“Goddamn you’re tight.”
“Fuck,” I uttered as his pace increased. Slowly, Peyton worked his hips faster and faster, until our fuck was physical, hips smacking against my ass. The bed squeaked and rocked beneath us, and when Peyton rose to his knees holding my legs at the ankles, the bed began to bang against the wall.
“Fuck, take me. Take me,” Peyton uttered as his hips smacked my ass over and over. A rapid brutal pace that made my cock hover over my stomach and drool its slick.
Peyton twisted my legs to one side and kept fucking. But now he made me see stars. Every shove inward made me shudder. Made me cry out. He battered my insides, just hammered them with his cock.
Peyton fucked. And fucked. Fucked until I wanted to cum. My cock flexed with my arousal. I was gasping for breath and sweating nearly as much as Peyton. I looked up at his sweating undulating body, feeling its movement inside me. Feeling its heat, or maybe it was my own. His body glistened in the dim light as sweat ran in rivulets down his body.
I came first. Without being touched, just Peyton hammering my insides, I came, hard, cum erupting from my cock raining it down on my chest and stomach. Then Peyton jammed his cock all the way inside me and tried to push deeper as he shuddered and jerked with his own release.
I was breathing hard, starting to sweat even though I had just laid there taking Peyton’s fuck, and I was still rock hard. I sat up and raked my hand down Peyton’s chest and stomach as it undulated heavily with his breathing. I raked it through the pubic hair then over the half hard cock toying with the wet head until it began to respond to my manipulation.
“You want to fuck me?” said Peyton.
“Can I?”
“Of course,” said Peyton as he rolled to his stomach, then shifted onto his knees angling his ass up. “Come on, Gavin, put it in me.”
I rolled to my knees between his legs and touched his ass, rubbed each ass cheek, then ran my fingers down the ass until rubbing over the tight opening. As I rubbed it, I felt Peyton push back against my fingers. I felt my racing heart as I touched him until I wanted to do more. Much more.
I leaned down and dragged my tongue over each ass cheek then down the crevice between them until working it over the tight opening. Peyton moaned and pushed back against my tongue. I licked over that puckered opening with greater intensity.
“Fuck…Gavin…please, put it in me. Fuck me,” said Peyton.
I rose and stroked my cock until so aroused I couldn’t hold back any longer. I scooted closer, put my cock to that wet opening, and pushed. The squeeze on the head of my cock made me shudder and I struggled not to jam every inch into Peyton, instead I eased inch after inch into him until over halfway inside him then held still.
After a few seconds, Peyton pushed back, and I felt the tightness slide down my cock until ass cheeks pressed against my hips.
“Fuck me. Fuck me, Gavin.”
I held his narrow waist and started to fuck.
“Fuck, take me. Take my cock,” I uttered as I worked it through that tight opening. I tightened my hold on his waist, fingers digging into the firm flesh, as I fucked. I fucked slowly. I fucked rapidly, hammering Peyton’s depths.
The bed rocked and moved in rhythm to our fuck. It shuddered with short thrusts where I kept my cock buried deeply inside Peyton. It rocked until banging the wall when I pulled nearly out and slammed back into his depths. And Peyton buried his face into the bed and moaned and mumbled unintelligently.
I wanted to see his face, to know how our fuck affected him. I pulled out and guided him to roll over. Peyton held his legs at the knees, pulled up and spread wide apart. I shifted to his ass and buried my cock inside him. I fucked him slowly watching his expressions, all the ways he displayed his arousal and emotions. Then I fucked harder seeing the mouth fall open and gasping for breath and uttering obscene pleadings.
I felt my own arousal. I felt the heat of my body, almost feverish as sweat trickled down my face and torso. It loosened my muscles, allowing me to move fluidly with our fuck. I reached for Peyton’s half hard cock and rubbed the leaking head and stroked the hardening shaft until he was trying to push upward through my fist. I held the cock tightly, squeezed it until the head turned red as I hammered his ass, jamming my cock into his depths over and over and over.
I came.
Shuddering and jerking, I kept slamming my spurting cock into his depths. Peyton cried out and I felt his cock flex in my hand. He came, shooting wad after wad over his chest and stomach as I pumped the last of my load into his depths.
Peyton stayed with me that night, snuggled up next to my body. Sometime around daybreak, he was working his ass against my cock until I was awake and ready to fuck. He left after lunch, wanting to know when we could get together again. I stood in the door of my apartment, looking at a man I had wanted for far too long wondering if it was real, if Peyton was really willing to reciprocate my feelings toward him.
“You want to go to that Thai place for dinner, then…maybe…come back here to watch a movie or something,” I said.
“Or something?” Peyton replied, laughing. “I’ll be here at seven.”
It wasn’t long before Preston knew. How could he not figure it out for before Peyton never came to my place without Preston, and now Peyton was at my place all the time, staying overnight more often than not. But the brothers were close despite their differences so there were still nights out to hear a band or go for dinner at the bar-be-cue joint on Roswell Road.
The semester ended, then another year was up. There were trips to the mountains or a beach over the summer, then long weeks where we only had texts and phone calls to make contact. Once August arrived, we soon found ourselves back at college ready for our junior year.
It was early in October when fall was really showing its beauty, the trees full of color, when Peyton and I were at his apartment. Preston had gone with his girlfriend to Atlanta for the weekend, the first time away that would become more often as the semesters passed. It gave us the rare opportunity to hang out at Peyton’s place. I had gone to my place after my last class, tossed my backpack down, and headed over. Peyton greeted me at the door wearing nothing but running shorts that revealed the lean body, one now so familiar to me. Every intimate detail. I stepped inside pulling him from the door, closing it with my foot as I dragged him to the bedroom. I was horny and full of anticipation of another weekend spent together without worrying about getting to classes.
I pushed him playfully on the bed, grabbed those shorts by the waistband and stripped him naked. I crawled up between his legs and kissed and licked then sucked his cock. I toyed with the head, dragged my tongue down the hardening shaft, worked the nuts around in their sac, then devilishly tugged on them until Peyton cried out, shuddering with the pleasure-pain.
“Gavin,” Peyton uttered when I buried my finger in his ass. I twisted and pumped that finger through the tightness until I felt it loosen. Then I used two fingers, then three, working his opening until it was loose.
I moved up over him, straddled his chest and wiped my cock across his face, then bounced it off the lips until Peyton opened wide and took the head. I worked my hips pumping it through the lips until I was rock hard. I looked over my shoulder and saw Peyton was stroking his own cock. I knocked his hand away and moved down until back between the legs. He raised them to my shoulders, and I scooted closer. With my cock at his opening, I pushed. I sank the head and half the shaft in that ass, then held still as he lay with his head thrown back, mouth open, and eyes closed.
“Fuck,” Peyton uttered.
I grabbed his ankles and spread the legs wide apart and began to fuck. I fucked slowly, savoring the feel of that tight ass on my cock. The tightness sliding along my cock as I pushed deeper and deeper until bumping against it.
I increased my pace. Fucked faster with more physicality. I fucked until sweating and I was banging against his ass. I slid my hands down his calves until holding each leg behind the knee, and I folded him in half pressing the thighs against the chest. His ass angled upward perfectly, and I resumed fucking. Hard. Fast. I hammered his ass until the bed protested beneath us.
Peyton stroked his cock as I hammered my cock into his depths. Hips bounced off the upturned ass and the bed squeaked and banged against the wall. I couldn’t get enough, not nearly enough. I fucked until gasping for breath and felt as if I’d combust, and I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to go forever, my cock connecting us.
Peyton cried out, guttural, animalistic, and I looked down in time to see his spurting cock rain cum down on his chest and stomach. It triggered me and I shoved into his depths and came.
The shower ran hot, releasing the tension in our muscles as I bathed Peyton, running soapy hands over his body. When he turned to the wall, head and hands braced on it and ass pushed out, I knew what he wanted. My hardening cock wanted the same thing. I was soon burying cock in that ass, then fucking it. I held his waist and fucked and fucked until I couldn’t hold back. I pumped another load into his depths. When I pulled out, I spun him around, stooped before him, and took his cock in my mouth. I wanted to feel that cock explode in my mouth. I wanted him to fill it with cum. I wanted to swallow it…every goddamn drop.
Peyton ran his hands through my wet hair, then he held my head as he fucked cock through my lips. He slid over my tongue, banged the roof of my mouth, and pushed into my throat cutting off my air. And when I tugged on his tightening sac, he shoved forward and blasted the back of my throat with cum.
Until Sunday morning, we lounged in bed, cuddled on the sofa while watching ridiculous movies, and we fucked and sucked until too spent to continue. At around one, we finally sat at the small dining table to eat lunch, ham sandwiches and chips. We were in our underwear, Peyton in tight boxer briefs and me in boxers that were loose and comfortable. Someone approached the door and unlocked it.
“Preston is back,” said Peyton as the door swung open and Preston walked in. He froze for a second just inside the door, then smiled.
“I take it things are serious between the two of you.”
“You want a sandwich,” asked Peyton, ignoring the comment.
I looked up and saw Preston smiling and shaking his head.
“It wasn’t like it was a secret, was it?” I asked.
“Nope, it was definitely not a secret,” said Preston coming into the room. “And yes, Peyton, make me a sandwich. I’ve been on the road since 7:30 and I’m starving.”
Peyton seemed to be more relaxed after that Sunday afternoon where the three of us hung out as we had done before Peyton, and I had started messing around then spending as much time together as we could. I still marveled at the way the twins seemed to communicate, at times nonverbally. Just a certain look or gesture seemed to relay some response or comment. But I also saw more clearly the differences. The things that made them two different people. The stoic serious Preston and the carefree, laidback gay twin brother, Peyton, my boyfriend.
