Khalil reclined on the chair, hands behind his head, legs spread and staring at the screen as we watched the movie. I couldn’t focus, all I could think about was fuck he’s gorgeous. But what came out of my mouth before I could hold the words back was, “Can I play with your dick?”

He didn't even blink, he just unfastened his belt and said, ‘Knock yourself out.”

My eyes widened with disbelief but I exhaled a giggle that was probably too excited than I wanted to let on that I was. Khalil and I had been friends since the end of high school and now that we were in our thirties and rooming together to save money, I was starting to realize just how not-straight I was. And knew that he was kind of religious, so I assumed that me being gay was not exactly something I could tell him about. Maybe I was wrong??

I stared at his unbuckled belt, and imagined him taking that belt across my ass, and swearing at me in Arabic, pulling my hair and then shoving himself in my ass making me scream. That would probably never happen, but it was fun to think about. I reached for him, moving closer to him on the couch and fondled his button out of the hole on his jeans, then unzipped him. His lap was so warm. His breathing was slow and relaxed. 

I could barely hear the sound of the screen, the movie we were watching no longer captivating my attention. It was as if my own heart was drowning out the movie dialogue to distant muttering, as my own brain was just chanting OMG! I GET TO TOUCH KHALIL’S DICK!! I GET TO ACTUALLY PLAY WITH HIS DICK!!YES! YES! YES!!! PLAY WITH THE KHALIL DICK!!

I ran my hand over the warm fabric of his boxer briefs and glanced at his face to see if he was reacting at all. He wasn’t, it was as if I was braiding his hair or touching some place, innocent or public. I ran my hand over the fabric again, rubbing, until I found that slit in the underwear and slipped my hand inside. 

His breath caught a little bit and he cleared his throat. I wrapped my hand around him, soft, warm, very warm, I pulled it out through the hole and stroked it. He was uncut to my surprise. I got fixated playing with his foreskin. And running my finger along his slit. He was still pretty engaged in the movie, his body also wasn’t reacting that much at all. He was still soft. 

Was this what it was like to be straight? He had another man’s hands all over his dick and he wasn’t getting hard at all. And all because I wasn’t a woman. So his dick wasn’t interested in me. It hurt that he wasn’t reacting to me. I don’t know why I was foolish enough to think he would. I started telling myself things about maybe he’s just slow to rise, or maybe he had trouble getting it up. Or maybe it was just that the movie was more interesting and he wasn’t in the mood. Those were all better reasons than he was just too straight and therefore not interested in some other man rubbing his dick. My crush on him was too deep and too intense to accept that. 

After a few more strokes, I was about ready to tuck him away but I had an idea and I lowered my mouth and put his soft dick in my mouth. The room went silent as he pressed pause on the movie and tapped my head. I looked up at him.

“What are you doing?” he asked, looking down at me.

“What does it look like?” I asked with my mouth full of dick.

“It looks like you’re going to get your jaw sore for no payout. Take my dick out of your mouth.”

I let his dick fall out of my mouth and sat upright. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“For assuming you’d want a blow job.”

“I’m not going to get hard that way. That’s why I stopped you.”

“Because I’m not a woman?”

Khalil narrowed his eyes and frowned confusedly at me. “No. Because my dick doesn’t work that way.”

“How does it work then?”

“I have to watch something funny that makes me laugh, that’s the only way I can get hard.”

“Really? That’s the only way you can get hard?”

With a shrug, Khalil replied,  “My sense of humor is connected to my dick. It is like a puppeteer using my dick as its own marionette. If I don’t find something funny, then I can’t get hard. So if I find something funny, I get hard, but I may not always laugh. I may just get ..worked up more and more.”

“So if I were to turn on some stand-up comedy right now, that’d be like foreplay, right?”

“Maybe.” He frowned again as he looked at me. “You want to get me off, just say so, I know what kind of comedy works for me.”

“Yes. I want to get you off.”

Khalil leaned forward to change what we were watching on his laptop to some comedy playlist on his YouTube account. He pressed play and just let the playlist run. I found myself getting excited. And nervous at the same time. I didn’t expect him to be open to this. I tried to push the thought out of my mind and just watch the comedy videos with him. If anything, it would let me know what kind of humor he liked. 

The set went on for a while. I was afraid to get too invested in the set, to laugh and miss my moment to get him off. But my anxiety was too loud, and the awkward tension was making me sweat. “I didn’t expect you to be into this, I mean we’re both men, and you’re religious and I’m not, I was afraid you’d --”

“I’ll be happy to tell you my whole life story, after,” Khalil said, eyes glued to the screen, but he lifted up and lowered the band of his boxers so that his genital package was out of them over the top of the hem. “But not right now. Suck.”

I looked down at him; he was fully hard. He reached up to caress the side of my face. His touch was feather-light and pleading as it was guiding me back down to his lap. His gaze was sharp and soft all at once, like a bird.

“Suck …” he repeated his command, in a whisper. I could hear the unvoiced ‘please’ in the way his voice trailed off, and I nodded, lowering again and inhaling the warm head of his dick in my mouth slowly. His breath sharpened on the inhale in unison with each inch I took of him into my mouth, on the exhale, there was a rumbling growl. The laughter of the audience on the screen was a bit disconcerting. It felt like they were laughing at my performance, but Khalil wasn’t laughing, he was thrusting in my mouth, and his hand was playing with my hair, gripping the scruff, like a handle and breathing in time with my sucking strokes, like music.

He smelled like almonds and cinnamon, which contrasted to how thick and meaty he felt in my mouth. The tickle of his trimmed pubic hair grazed my nose, and I held myself there, nuzzling into the heat of him. Letting my tongue swirl around as much as I could, the head of him hitting my gag reflex, making my eyes water in pain.

I pulled up and off, to gasp and breathe. There was a string of drool, connecting my lower lip and his dick. I looked at him. He was staring at the screen, his eyes were dilated and dark. He glanced over at me, licking to wet his lips before speaking in a hushed tone of a voice.

“Does your jaw hurt, or do you want to keep going?”

I glanced at the screen, then back at him. He’d slipped his other hand up under his shirt to fondle his nipples. His chest was heaving, breathing hard. I looked down at his spit-slick dick and plunged my mouth back onto it. I was half tempted to watch him jerk off to see how he liked it stroked, but I wanted to feel him lose control in my mouth, I wanted that load painting my warm, wet hole.. 

So I started sucking him again, but my jaw was starting to get sore. He had more girth than my mouth was used to accommodating. He groaned softly, and I felt his hips squirm up and thrust into me again. The comedy set was getting more laughing and he was starting to wiggle more, unable to keep still. His legs opened wider. His breathing had more moaning than empty air. 

I was focused on just moving my head, his sounds encouraging me, like the laughter and applause seemed to be doing so for him. It was almost a transformation, the laughter that felt wrong, mocking to me at the start, now was egging us both on. And when it felt like I could barely hang on much longer, he barked a sound like a laugh that would have been louder if he hadn't strained the volume out with his teeth. His load ejaculated into my mouth with three squirts of thick, bittersweet fluid. I swallowed it. I felt the tension of his body deflating as he moaned and melted away from me, relaxing and softening. 

I fondled the head of his dick with my tongue before letting him slide out of my mouth. 

Looking up at him, he looked so satisfied and sleepy. But he smiled at me. I had never really seen him smile. He’d told me once that he doesn’t do fake smiles, so if I saw him smile, I should feel warm inside, because I’d earned it. And I did feel warm inside. I felt so warm, with his cum inside me. I moved to tuck him back in his underwear and lay my head gently on his lap. Listening to his breathing go from heavy to his slower, more regular pace, a thought occurred to me. 

“Did I just damn your soul to Hell?”

“Jahannam. And no.”

“No?”

“We didn’t do anything wrong, so why would I go to where the evildoers go?”

“I .. I thought you were straight.”

“Everyone thinks that. I’m not straight. I’m too much of a genderfuck to be straight”

“So bisexual then?”

“Mm, more like heteroqueer, but that’s a controversial idea to most LGBTQ people I’ve met.”

I moaned and gently nuzzled closer to him. He ran a hand over my hair. “You’re gay aren’t you?”

I froze against him, my eyes widened. But I nodded. “I think so, yeah. I like looking at men over women too much to be bisexual and gay feels more right anyway.”

“Mm, you give good head, I’ll give you that.”

I chuckled. “Thanks. I practice a lot in my head and on my toys. So it’s nice to have a real person to practice on as well.”

Khalil smirked, “Well, you can practice on me again sometime if you want. Maybe we can catch a live comedy show sometime, I have a new vibrating anal plug I have been wanting to try out. It has a remote control app that controls the speed and intensity of the vibration.”

I laughed then. “You would make a mess of your pants in public like that? Your load was pretty heavy just now, you’d make a giant wet spot in your pants if --”

“I was pent up.”

“Oh, so your load isn’t always that large?”

“I haven’t had a good orgasm in months…”

“Don’t you jerk off?”

“I only do it to take the edge off, not to completion. If I want completion, I want it to be with someone else. Like a partner or something. Going to completion on my own makes me feel hollow, empty, and depressed. So I just stroke til I’m almost there, then breathe until I start to soften again. And then go about whatever. Makes my climax more powerful when I do let go with someone else.”

“Like me?”

“Like you.”

“So earlier, when you suggested we go to a comedy show, was that you asking me out?”

“Yes.”

“So you want to be boyfriends or something?”

Khalil paused, “ I guess I’m alright with that label. If you need it to be labeled like that.”

“Yes!” I beamed almost too loudly. I moved up from his lap and looked at his lips. He looked at my face, and then I leaned in closer but paused before taking the kiss I so desperately wanted. 

“Pinch me.”

“Why?”

“So I know if this is a dream or not.”

Khalil’s eyes looked amused. He leaned in to complete the kiss, pinching my lower lip with a small bite of his teeth as he slowly pulled away. 

“You’re not dreaming, Lucas, I promise you.”

“How can you promise that?”

“I’m djinn-blooded, I know the realm of mirage, illusion, shadow, wishes, and dreams.”

“Djinn Blooded?”

Khalil kissed me again, and this time the kiss lingered. And I let it. If this was reality, I would believe him. He’d granted my wish, and I didn’t even need to speak it aloud for him to know what it was. Djinn blooded, indeed.