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162 pages, Paperback
First published December 11, 2018


He started stroking Tyler’s cock weirdly, as if it were…as if it were a clit.------------
“Say: thank you for your cock, Nick. I missed having it in my pussy.”------------
He wanted to crush his mouth against Nick’s and shove his tongue down his throat. And then he wanted to rub his crotch against Nick’s face, have him suck on his clit.------------
Nick whispered filth into his ear, saying what a good girl he was, how good his hand felt, how badly Nick wanted to spread Tyler’s legs right there and push into his hungry little pussy. It was humiliating. It was emasculating.------------
“Don’t worry,” Nick said, wanking his cock over Tyler’s face. “I’m going to eat you out so good, suck on your clit for hours until you beg for my cock.”------------









“You do realize that gay men aren’t the only people who can get off from anal stimulation, right? Actually, some gay men don’t even like it. A finger in your ass doesn’t make you gay, you twat.”
Tyler breathed out. Nick was right. Nick would know better. Nick was actually gay. Unlike Tyler.
“But,” he said, chewing on his lip. “The problem is, it’s messed me up—the finger thing. I can’t even wank without feeling like something is missing. I fucked a really hot girl yesterday and it felt—I dunno, so unsatisfying, man. A lot less intense.” He looked at Nick imploringly. “You’re gay—you get it, right?”
Nick looked at him strangely. “Not really, actually. I’m not…” He raked his fingers through his black hair with a wry smile. “It’s not really my thing, Ty.”
Tyler blinked. “But you’re gay.” He felt almost betrayed. Nick was supposed to be the person who would get it.
Nick gave him a somewhat pinched look. “As I said, not all gay men like it.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t do much for me. Not worth the hassle. I guess my prostate isn’t that sensitive. But it looks like yours is, so congrats. Enjoy.”

⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱*A Frustrating, Yet Hot Book*⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱
It was annoying that he still couldn’t lie to Nick for shit, even after all these years. It wasn’t like they lived in each other’s pockets nowadays. They didn’t go to the same school anymore: Nick was in law school while Tyler hadn’t bothered with uni after sixth form, choosing to work at his family’s pub instead. They had different friends these days, different interests and everything.
But fuck it. Nick Hardaway was still his best friend. They were bros for life; Tyler knew that. They hadn’t lost contact even in the year Tyler had lived with his grandparents in L.A. When he’d returned to London, their friendship was as solid as ever. Tyler had been the first person Nick had come out to, the person Nick had trusted the most. Like, they didn’t really talk about feelings—they weren’t little girls—but they both knew they had each other’s back, no matter what.
“Everyone gets sick of me.”
“Here we go again,” the girl muttered, sounding exasperated.
“They do,” Tyler said, and threw his drink back.
“Go home, mate.”
“Mum once told Dad that she wasn’t surprised that I don’t have any other friends besides Nick,” Tyler said into his glass. “I overheard.”
He could feel the girl’s eyes on him. She didn’t say anything.
“People get sick of me,” Tyler mumbled. “They always do. I’m too much—too needy.” He knew he was likable—at first. People always said he was easy to be around. He was loud, a little cocky, a bit of a whore for attention, but always well-meaning. People generally didn’t mind him. He’d always had plenty of buddies—but just one friend. Nick was the only friend who’d stuck around for years, the only one who hadn’t eventually gotten tired of him, the only one who didn’t seem to mind his dumb jokes, his immaturity and his neediness. Everyone but Nick always told him to grow up. Nick was the only one who seemed to like him the way he was.
But it looked like Nick had finally gotten sick of him, too. It was probably bound to happen. If his own parents found him a total disappointment, of course Nick would get sick of his shit too. It was inevitable. So there was no reason to be so upset. It was fine. He could deal.
“Gimme another bottle,” Tyler told the barmaid.
“Nope,” she said. “You’ve definitely had enough. Look, go home. Or call your boyfriend and tell him to take you home.”
“He isn’t my boyfriend,” Tyler said, his brows furrowed in confusion. He thought he’d already told her that. Or hadn’t he? “I’m not even his type,” he mumbled. “He doesn’t want me, not like that. Even if I were gay—and I’m not—he wouldn’t choose someone like me.” Tyler’s lips twisted. “He’d never choose someone like me. I’m…I’m me. He always goes for interesting, successful guys, not losers like me.”










I just think if it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it's stupid to pretend it isn't a duck.
.....Tristan
Can't wait to see what the author has in store for us next ;)
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“Are you seriously going to sleep? It’s barely ten!”
“I’ll have you know fucking you is a lot of work. Let a man sleep, Ty.”
“Is it…is it possible to be best mates who fuck and kiss, but exclusively?”
There was dead silence. Finally, Nick took Tyler’s chin in his hand and tipped his face up. Nick’s expression was a little pinched. “Are you looking for the word ‘boyfriend,’ maybe?”