CAUTION: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD
There he stood, barely even conscious of his own being as his mind and heart twirled in an indescribable dance of emotion. He listened closely, not breathing, as the voices of his apparent love-interest and the man he had just been seconds away from intimacy with conversed like normal merely feet away from him. The front door clicked shut as Jerry fully entered, and George heard Kramer's voice begin to answer the question he had been posed.
"Yeah! I needed it when I went fishing last weekend," the curly-haired man responded nonchalantly. George grimaced at the implications of the statement, but from the inflection of Jerry's voice, he was all-too accustomed to the antics of his neighbor.
"Fine, but can I have it back?" He requested, the slightest tinge of impatience showing through his easy-going voice.
Kramer chuckled, "Yeah, sure thing. It's in my tub, I'll go grab it."
George heard footsteps make their way towards the door he stood beside, and suddenly was brought back to full consciousness. He turned stiffly as Kramer entered the room, jaw tight and cheeks (unfortunately) still red. He made eye contact, trying to visually convey his mixed-emotions to the other man, but was met with an oblivious wink and grin from the taller man.
Luckily, Kramer didn't say anything as he walked by, and was completely casual as he grabbed the spaghetti strainer from his bathroom and returned to give it back to Jerry. George decided not to even consider what ungodly actions the cooking utensil was used for by the other man, and instead held his breath as he waited for Jerry to leave.
"Thanks," the comedian said quickly.
"No problem, buddy," Kramer bantered, his grin audible in his voice, "what do you need it for so badly tonight, by the way?"
"Just a last-minute date with a girl I met a few weeks ago," he answered smoothly, unaware that his words were causing emotional turmoil only a few feet away. The sound of his footsteps as he walked to the door thumped in time with George's descent to the floor. "See you later," Jerry called out, and the door clicked shut. There was silence for a few seconds, and George simply sat against the wall, torn in countless different ways.
"Hey, George…" Kramer opened the door, peering in with caution at his friend. The shorter man didn't look up, but began to chew at his lip. The curly-haired man stepped into the room, towering over the other with his arms by his sides. He bore an expression of sympathy—a rare look for him—and George felt surprised that he wasn't acting like his typical self and ranting on about something or other. They were silent for a minute, and then George spoke.
"Well…if I had any doubts before, they're gone now…" he sighed, looking up and resting his head on the wall.
Kramer gave a half-smile, "about loving Jerry or your sexuality?"
George couldn't hold back a laugh, "I'd say both."
The taller man laughed as well, and reached his hand down to help his friend up. George tottered to his feet, rubbing at his stinging eyes beneath his glasses, and sighed. The two moved back into the living room, though they now sat at opposite ends of the couch. Awkward silence spanned, though quite understandably in this case, as neither man wanted to speak first. Neither knew what to say, or what the other was thinking. George noticed the empty wine glasses sitting on the coffee table and sighed, breaking the silence. In once swift motion, he stood up and picked up both his and the taller man's glass.
"Refill?" He asked, and Kramer grinned.
Night was nearly upon him, but George was still just wandering around aimlessly. His hands were deep in his pockets, and he wished for the hundredth time that he was tired. If he was tired, he could go home and sleep. Sleeping was the only thing that really made sense to him anymore, despite the fact that his dreams created nothing but pain.
"God, I'm an angsty mess," George spoke under his breath, shaking his head. It was hard, though. He was getting a grip on his sexuality, something that he'd never even considered prior to four months ago. Not to mention he was coming to terms with feelings for his best friend, who just so happened to be one of George's only friends. In fact, Jerry really was the only person George would have ever felt comfortable telling all of these things to. Even though…somebody else had found out first. George's face paled and his pace picked up.
He didn't know why he was having so much trouble blocking it out of his head; didn't know why he continued to think back on it despite the anguish it caused. It had been such a confusing span of time, those first three months after discovering his newfound feelings. And in the end…
George violently turned and began to speed walk to the road, jaw tense and gaze steadfast on the ground ahead of him. He had to block it out, he had to move on. He couldn't keep dwelling on past mistakes, on past misjudgments. The balding man briefly considered hailing a cab, but decided against it. His apartment wasn't far, and he still wasn't tired.
The sky was dark now, and street lamps illuminated the sidewalk in halos of light that began to bleed together as George hastily passed them by. There were very few people on the sidewalk with him that night, and even fewer cars. George remembered that it was a Sunday—he had work the next day. The thought perturbed a grimace on his face, and he picked up his pace even more.
Finally arriving home, George threw open the door and dropped his coat onto the bench next to him. He rubbed at his head, and looked around. It was silent, empty. The short man walked lowly to his room, and slipped out of his clothes as slowly as possible. He avoided looking in the mirror, not in the mood to see the emotions that he now saw on his own face every second of every day. Instead, he took a shower.
The warm water poured onto George's head, and he closed his eyes. It felt nice after being outside in the cold for at least four hours, and he finally felt his body relax.
Ten minutes passed, and George finally grabbed the soap and began to wash off. He rubbed his arms, his chest and his stomach, noticing that it had gotten even smaller. He hadn't meant to lose weight, but with all the walking he'd done lately, it had just kind of happened. Rinsing the soap away, the short man stepped out of the shower and dried off before proceeding to his bedroom.
George crawled under his covers, staring at the dark ceiling in complete silence. He unconsciously rolled onto his left side and gazed at the empty section of his bed.
Sleep, he could already tell, was not something that he would be experiencing any time soon.
The sound of a ragged moan filled the apartment as the shorter of the two men, drenched in sweat, came all over the other's chest. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his hands clenched into the bare shoulders of the man below him. He rocked forwards, riding out his climax, and then collapsed onto the other's chest.
"Lay back, Georgie," the gruff voice of Kramer instructed, and George obeyed. He fell back onto the couch, arms over his head and expression completely submissive. Kramer pulled out and began to quickly rub at his swollen manhood. His face was red and he bit at his lip, and after just a few seconds he, too, came in three spurts over George's stomach.
Both men were now sticky and exhausted, and they laid back on the couch in Kramer's apartment for a few moments in comfortable silence.
It had been three weeks since the day that George had come to terms with his feelings, and this was the ninth time that he'd had sex with Kramer. The thought, which at first had mortified the shorter man, was now commonplace amongst his frenzied thoughts of Jerry and his true self. Of course, the first time (and even the second and third…) had been horribly awkward, and George had fought against his urges as much as he could. Yet, it was to no avail.
George felt something touch his hand, and blinked in surprise. He glanced down to see Kramer's fingers just barely brushing his own. He peered up at the other, but the taller man's eyes were closed as he rested his head on the back of the sofa. Maybe it was just an accident. George slowly moved his hand in towards his body, away from the other's. It was then that he felt the hand again, moved barely even three centimeters, but still brushing against his own.
At that moment, George sat up.
"I'm going to head home," he said quickly, heading into Kramer's bathroom to use his shower before he left. He heard movement behind him, and turned just as Kramer grabbed him by the hand. The taller man looked down at him, a troubled look in his eyes.
"You don't have to go!" he argued, "there's nothing stopping you from staying longer."
George rolled his eyes, barely registering that they were both completely naked and covered in semen. "Kramer, it's late. If I stayed any longer, I'd have to spend the night!" No response came, and it dawned on George that spending the night might have been exactly what the taller man wanted. His face heated up slightly, but he quickly shook his head. "I-I can't stay! It wouldn't…feel right!"
Kramer bit his cheek, "and why not? We've 'slept' together plenty of times."
George turned to fully face the other, crossing his arms over his bare chest, "Kramer…you do realize…that all…all of that…" he struggled to phrase his sentence, eyes darting around the room (anywhere but Kramer's face) as he spoke. "What I'm trying to say is, it didn't mean anything…"
Kramer looked straight into the shorter man's face, brows knit in a serious expression. "I know that, George! I was the one who told you that you were in love with Jerry, remember?"
George sighed and nodded, looking off to the side, "Yes, exactly…and, well…thats the exact reason that I wouldn't feel right about staying the night."
Kramer nodded slowly, looking deflated. He took a step back, scratching his neck. George sighed again, shaking his head slowly.
"Look, if you want to stop…this…." the shorter man paused, "I get it. We probably shouldn't have gotten so involved in the first place." Kramer shrugged, frowning. It was rare that the tall man was so nonvocal, and George couldn't stop the gnawing thought that he was causing the other man a lot of stress.
George headed into the bathroom without another word, leaving his friend (or friend-with-benefits?) in the den. He showered off quickly, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist.
Out in the living room, George found his clothes on the coffee table. He pulled them on hastily, and glanced around in search of Kramer. The taller man had seemingly disappeared. George wondered if he should seek him out, or just leave. Luckily, he didn't have to make the decision, as the curly-haired man came out of his bedroom with something in his hand. His face betrayed nothing as he held out his hand to the shorter man.
"What's this?" George asked impatiently, but his expression became daunted as he realized that Kramer was handing him a key. "Is this…?"
Kramer nodded, "It's a key to my house," he grinned, but George noticed some mixed emotions behind his eyes, "I had it made a couple days ago, in case you ever wanted to just show up."
George didn't know what to say. He took the key and put it into his pocket with a short nod. "Thanks," he muttered, and turned to leave.
Mind spinning, George forgot to take precaution before leaving Kramer's apartment. He walked out of the front door, and almost ran straight into his best friend.
Jerry was leaving his own place, and his back was turned when George came out. The shorter man's eyes bugged out and his entire body froze. He didn't know whether to run back inside or face the music, but Jerry turned before he could react. The brunet looked surprised to see George, and then very confused.
"Hey!…uh…" he glanced right past his friend's face, "why were you at Kramer's place?"
George had no answer, and he was certain that Jerry could see the panic on his face. His mind reeled as he desperately looked for an excuse, but Jerry held up his hand before he could say a single word.
"Y'know what? I don't wanna know. Kramer's apartment is a land that I'm happy to not have to venture into more than necessary." The comedian grinned, and George forced a flicker of a smile. Turning and heading down the hall, Jerry bid adieu to his friend. "I gotta go grab a few things before the store closes, but I'll see you later George!"
George gave a short wave to return the sentiment, and watched his best friend as he made his way down to the end of the hall. Once he was on the elevator and out of earshot, the balding man let out a whooshing sigh and rubbed at his eyes under his glasses. He couldn't believe how close of a call that had been, and realized more clearly than ever that what he was doing with Kramer needed to stop. Even if he did have an opportunity to come out to Jerry, how would he ever be able to explain why the hell he was fucking his neighbor?
George reached into his pocket and pulled out the key that Kramer had just given to him. He studied it for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek and shaking his head ever so slightly. Finally, George leaned down and, in one swift motion, slid the key under the door of Kramer's apartment. Standing back up, George felt a strange sensation spread through his stomach, but turned and hurried away before he could give it a second thought. He looked straight ahead and strode with a tight jaw, hurrying to get as far away as possible.
Okay!
So...uh...
Yeah, this was never actually going to get a second chapter to be honest. I don't know why I suddenly got inspiration for this of all things, but here it is! I've had to move to rating up to M (and if I make a third chapter [no promises]), I might even include a full-on sex scene or something so...just be warned ;).
Im surprised people read this, but hey! It's a really cool thing that this story got a little bit of attention :) I appreciate the people who read and especially those who decided to review it! Thanks so much!
As you can now see, at this point in the story, there might be a hint of a love-triangle forming~ quite the drama isn't it?
Also, if I continue, Elaine will more than likely make an appearance!
