This story is part of Project Cheaters (2020)
Trigger warning for this and future chapters: BDSM, violence, cheating, seduction, turning gay, trauma, PTSD, consensual rough sex, bondage
All characters depicted in explicit scenes are consenting adults (18+).
Enjoy 😉

MATT

"Do you want to eat?" Brandon asked me, stepping out of the bedroom.

I was fine, but I will probably be hungry in an hour or so. "Yeah. What are you ordering?"

"I am cooking."

"Right… then I am good, thanks."

"Shut up. It's not that bad, Matt."

"It is. I am not eating anything you've made, even if you call it food."

"What's wrong with my cooking?"

"I love you, man, but I already gave you numerous chances, and after the last time, you lost my trust. I've been sick for two days. Plus, yeah, let's not forget – it's disgusting."

"Suit yourself, stay hungry. You can live on cum for what I care."

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

As we came close to the kitchen, there was an unmistakable scent of something burning.

"Yeah, smells real tasty, man," I smirked at him mockingly. "I am ordering something," I said and reached for my phone.

"What do you mean?" he turned to me quizzically.

"Something is burning, man."

"Shit! No!!" he turned and ran to the stove, opening the lid and taking out a big spoon to steer it.

"Fuuuck, I was looking forward to that…" he said, disappointed.

"For real, man, cookbooks. Or you can even use the internet nowadays. Watch some videos if it's hard for you to read." I was grinning as I came closer, looking at the weird content of a pot in front of me.

"Fuck off, lover boy. I am really upset about it."

He tried to steer it and pick out the most burned pieces.

"I am sure it is not that bad. I bet there are some meals that should be burned on purpose."

I looked at it again. It mainly smelled of burned meat.

"I am not eating this, no way!"

He ignored me, trying to save whatever that thing was supposed to be.

"Man, why is it so hard to look at the recipe?"

"Where is the fun in that?"

"I don't know, maybe raising the chance to avoid food poisoning?"

He took a bite. "It's not that bad. Taste it," Brandon put a spoon with that mush in front of me. I looked at it like he had a dead rat in there.

"No thanks. What have you mixed in there this time?"

He shrugged his shoulder and steered it more to look. "I don't know. This is rice. Chicken. What is this called?" he pointed to a piece of vegetable with a spoon.

"Celery."

"Right, so that. Peas…"

"What's this?" I pointed to a mushy blob.

"Not sure, but it may be a pear. It was nearly bad, so I chopped it there."

"For god's sake, why?"

"Why not? It's just nutrients. The taste is just something you are used to."

"There is a reason for that."

"What?"

"Avoid – food – poisoning," I said very slowly

"Ah, food poisoning. Stop being so soft."

Then he looked at my arms and laughed. "Forget I said anything!"

"Seriously, man, taste that."

He put the spoon in front of my mouth, and I recoiled, "I am not eating that, man." repeating.

"Suit yourself. I AM eating that."

I watched him take a bite and chew it.

"Do you even actually like what you make?"

"Sometimes." he shrugged his shoulders again and reached for the plate.

"But I know what's in it, so I know there's nothing bad so… I won't get food poisoning!" he said as if it should be clear now. But, if you saw the mash of ingredients in a red sauce, you would get why it still wasn't. This man has been "cooking" for himself for the past few months, and I feel like he just refused to get better at it.

"You want to tell me you never had food poisoning from your… ehm… meals?"

"Well… only a few times, but I learned a lot from that."

"Tell me, please, what?"

"Let's see, for example, that dairy with lemon or beer is not the best combination." he winked at me.

"Right, I'm getting pizza." I took my phone and ordered one.

We sat in the living room, he ate, and mostly we just mocked each other or talked about what was going on in our lives.

Brandon sold his start-up a couple of months ago and was now in a phase where he was trying to decide what project he would start next. Brandon could probably live in a nice house, but he said he preferred it simple, and with that divorce settlement he endured, he kept saying that he just wanted some chill.

I enjoyed his company and the taste of such a carefree life. It reminded me of when we were in our twenties, creating projects on a coffee table in the living room, sitting on the floor, and taunting each other.

"Dude, should I buy you a Christmas present?"

"Why?" I looked at him.

"Just asking if you were going to be here that long?"

"No, I will be here a week, tops."

"Shame. I already had a few ideas." Brandon looked at me with a wicked sneer.

"How sweet of you," I said sarcastically.

But that got me thinking. Maybe I could buy something for Thomas, I will be meeting him in the office anyway, and I always buy something for Dora.

"Are you now thinking about a gift for Thomas?"

"Yes." I froze when he snickered, "I mean…"

He raised his hand.

"Straight as an arrow, I know, I know, save your breath."

"I am!"

He moved his fingers on his lips as if zipping them with that playful mocking look in his eyes that just wasn't leaving him. "Locked and sealed."

I just shook my head and started into the window. Then, I fell into my thoughts again.

"So what are you buying him?"

"I don't know. I was thinking about some chain."

"Like a necklace?"

"No, for bondage."

I heard a burst of laughter from Brandon.

"Sure! Great idea, man, go for it." he was laughing so hard he had to stop eating.

"I am sorry I told you."

"No, please! I am so grateful you don't have a filter with me. It's special." he put a hand on my wrist and squeezed lightly as if he tried to assure me it was ok, but when he did that, I cringed in pain.

"Right… sorry," he put his hand away in consideration, "you know what?"

I looked at him.

"I am going to the pharmacy so you can get some rest. I will buy something for your…" Bran looked meaningfully at my arms "Lovemarks." he finished with a smirk.

"Do you want me to grab something else?"

"Sure, you can grab some lube so I can show you what you've been missing."

"No, thanks, man. I am afraid I would become gay for you and walk around beaten up for the rest of my life."

"I am not gay," I repeated through my gritted teeth for like the hundredth time…

"Sure you not," he winked at me, "I was talking about myself."

"You never considered it?"

"Sure I did. Do you remember little Johnny Simmons?"

"You had something with him?"

"No, but I tried it. The thing is… it just felt weird… I can't really describe it. He was a nice guy, but seeing him taking my cock just felt like… I don't know… out of place. Like you would feel if you see a grandma down there… not that he was ugly, it just wasn't appealing to me…" he shrugged his shoulders and took his plate again.

"Probably the tubes would work with enough stimulation, but in the head, there was this weird feeling," he looked at me. "Does that make sense?"

"No. But you get points for trying. Why didn't you tell us?"

"I didn't want to out him, I guess."

"Right. I remember you two were quite close back then."

"Yeah, he got hots for me then big time, and it was quite flattering."

"Still nothing?"

"No, we remained friends."

"So, how did that feel for you?"

"Thrilling, captivating, and hot as fuck." I looked ahead of me, thinking about this weekend.

"Right, you are definitely straight as they can come," he said now plainly as he continued eating.

"Would you finally stop that?" I was slowly getting burned out from repeating it all the time.

"No," he swallowed calmly, "Dude, it's really fine if you bi. Why do you need to be only straight?"

"Cos I am!"

"Right, I give up. Just let me tell you. When you admit that…" Brandon pointed his finger at me, "dips on saying I told you so!"

I seriously put a hand on his shoulder and looked him straight in the eye.

"I will not."

"Sure, then you will never hear it."

He finished that thing he called food and stood up.

"Now, do you want something?"

I did, but I just knew he would not stop mocking me after that. Still, the pain was uncomfortable.

"What? I can see you twitching. Say it. I am a big boy. I can take it," he stood there, hands on his hips, watching me patiently. But there is no way he will let that go if I ask.

"Come oooon…" he rolled his eyes. "Ok, last chance, or suffer your silence," he said theatrically.

"Something for my ass," I whispered, regretfully looking at the coffee table.

I heard choking, I glanced at him, and he was beetroot red from trying to suppress his laughter. His eyes started watering, and then he just managed to say – "Sorry. Please…" he coughed, "What?"

"My ass hurts a lot! Thomas had something for that. It was in this blue tube."

Brandon looked like he was going to suffocate from how much he tried not to burst out laughing.

"Sure, ass cream – blue tube. I will ask, bro," he wiped a tear from his eye. "I am sure that cute lady will believe me when I tell her it's for a friend."

"Fuck you."

"No, man, please don't!" he raised his hands in front of him. "I think you will need all that magic blue cream, and I won't have enough dignity to return for more."

"Fuck it. Just forget I asked."

"No, man, I think me laughing my ass off as I will try to form that sentence will make her believe it is actually for a friend." he was trying to catch his breath now. He wiped away tears of laughter and smiled at me like one happy kid.

"I love you, bro! I am so happy you came here. You brighten my days!" 

Then he just took his plate heading to the kitchen. 

"Damn… Poor guys, missing all the fun."

I had to smirk too. Bran was really shitty, but I honestly loved how he could just ease the situation sometimes.

Soon he left, and I landed heavily on the couch. I browsed a couple of sites on my phone looking for chains and stumbled upon some artists who made them special to order. Of course, it could be expensive for a regular employer-employee Christmas gift, but I loved how I could customize it to his or – let's be honest, I still haven't given up – our needs.

I started to feel excited and felt my cock slowly filling. I am definitely weird…

Someone rang the bell. Pizza!

I went to the door and opened it. This guy stood there in a cap with the pizza logo on it, and his eyes looked like he hated his job.

He looked at me, and there was this amusement in his brown eyes. I looked him over. He was cute. Who knows how he looks without the cap? Fuck his cap; how does he look without that oversized pizza jacket?

I checked him out without thinking about it or even finding it weird. I could also see him staring at me when I returned to his brown eyes. At first, I thought I must look scary. There were marks on my body plain as day, and I am 5'11" with a broad muscled body. Maybe I am intimidating, but he traveled with those cute eyes down to my exposed stomach and semi-hard dick with an audible gasp and a shyly excited look in his eyes.

"Your pizza, sir." he stammered, and the only thing I thought about was how I could break him. Damn! Have I been this way before?

"Right, thanks."

I let it go with a smirk. I liked him calling me sir. I wanted to ask Thomas to call me that at work, me being his boss and all…

"How old are you, boy?" he was definitely checking me out, and I liked it. I suppose this apartment and Brandon just brought me back to my cocky butch twenties. If Johny Simmons came out as gay to me, I would probably destroy him. And this little guy, for sure, is also horny gay… Are the gays everywhere now?

"24, sir." Good. "Do you want to come inside?" it's not like Thomas and I are suddenly exclusive. He was the one who threw me out in the end.

"Sir?"

.

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>> Chapter 12 – Pizza boy

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This story is part of a larger collection of stories set in the same city, at the same time, happening to a group of friends and acquaintances.

Each story is a standalone storyline, but some side characters may have their own story either in this project or my other.

Feel free to check out my profile or Patreon page for more content.

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