It was a lazy spring afternoon. Some Saturday where there was nothing to do but shop, eat, or sleep. Amar and Dana were home alone in their apartment watching some sports event on the television. Both of them were barely paying any attention to it and lounging on the L-shaped couch; Amar on one side and Dana on the other a bit farther away. 

The day snoozed by with the enthusiasm of syrup or sweat slinking down skin. It was one of those days that was so surreal and sleepy that it didn’t feel real at all. The tide of the day was spiked high on the derealization scale and low on the energy scale. 

So perhaps it was that lethargy that inspired Amar to unzip his pants and slip his hand into his boxers and started rubbing the hair above his sex with a sigh of relaxation. Dana was still sleepily watching the screen when he heard his boyfriend’s breath change rhythm and he roll-turned his head toward him and saw his hand busy down there. His hand rubbing the fluff of dark hair, like petting some animal, some demanding, regal pet that just crawled in his lap and stretched his legs apart. His eyes were fixed but unfocused on the screen ahead of him. 

Dana turned back around, non-plussed by the event at all. The sounds of Amar’s breathing however was starting to make his own body feel jealous at the lack of being touched. Clearing his throat, he adjusted his posture on the couch, and slipped his hand down his neck to his chest.  He could feel the tightness of his binder making his breath harder to reach at deeper levels. But he didn’t want to deal with the dysphoria of wrestling his body out of it. He listened to the dim rumble of the sports announcer on television, and the jingling sound of Amar’s pants as his hand moved.

Then…

He moaned. Amar moaned a soft, needy sound, it was shameless and pouty.  He didn’t realize how horny he’d been til his fingers found that part of himself.  Amar’s fingers had slid past the jungle of hair and slipped one, two fingers into his slit, feeling the wet heat of his own body hungry and hard for his touch.  It sent sparks of pleasure and pleading through his whole body.  It felt like a mouthwatering pinch of ‘please don’t stop’ and he rubbed the tip of his finger over the head of his cliddick.  

Dana couldn’t hold it anymore. He wanted his cliddick stroked too.  He shoved his hands into his sweatpants, into his boxer-briefs and found his slit already drooling, wet with sweat and musk and horny honey. He spread his legs and bucked his hips up, his fingers fast flicking his cliddick like strumming a guitar, trying to make his body sing. He was staring at Amar and his hand just moving in his jeans so fast, the belt on his pants jingling like the way a bed post would rock and knock on the back wall of a bedroom. Amar moaned again, and Dana exhaled harsh enough that Amar opened his eyes and saw Dana jerking off too.  Their eyes locked with each other. Dana licked his lips. His hand froze, fear gripped his heart. Neither of them said anything for a long moment, just staring at the other, their movements frozen. 

The sports announcer talked like a distracted voyeur about goals and saying the names of other men who weren’t in the room. Amar and Dana held each other in that awkward embrace of eye contact.  Dana licked his lips again. Amar’s body clenched, throbbed, needing the climax no matter what. What he was doing before, felt too good to stop now. And asexuality aside,  Dana was safe. He was safe. He was safe. He was safe. That meant him seeing this was okay.  Letting Dana witness his orgasm was okay. It was okay. There would be no laughter or abandonment afterward. It would bring them closer.  It had to.  

Amar’s brow furrowed, he frowned as his self control crumbled and he started moving his hand again in his pants. Liberally making noise now, staying staring at Dana, who exhaled like he’d been holding his breath, he exhaled and smiled, as he continued his masturbation movements too. He looked across to where Amar was sitting on the other couch, and leaned back against his own farther away spot on the other couch, his hips bucked up, hand moving fast with his hips in a thrusting motion. 

The pucker, the clench, the squeeze of need was gripping Amar’s body and dangling him over that edge. His moaning picked up, before he was inhaling sharp breaths through his nose, his body spasming as his fingers hugged that cliddick like a gag, pinching the pleasure out of but clenching his whole body. He squeezed his eyes so tight as his orgasm ripped through him that tears burned his lids, caught in the drain trap of his lashes. He opened his eyes, his mouth open in a silent O as his hand kept going, staring at Dana. 

Dana was nodding and bucking his hips into his fingers faster, before he barked a harsh noise of his control finally breaking. He groaned a long hissing sound as his eyes rolled demonically and his body shook and went limp as he just came, so beautifully and Amar watched him just completely fall apart and it was better than any thing he ever saw on his screen, or anything he imagined.   

Taking his hand out of his pants he licked his fingers clean and Amar wanted to lick them. He settled for taking his hand slowly from his own pants and licking his fingers clean - mirroring Dana’s action.  

“Good game?” Dana asked, an inside joke making his lips smirk, even as the shaggy haircut swooped in his eyes was now sticky with sweat.

Amar smirked back. “The best,” he said.

“Want a beer?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

Dana pulled up his pants and pushed himself up off the couch and went into the small kitchen to grab two bottles of beer from the fridge and returned, sitting next to Amar this time, not across from him on the other couch. He sat hip-to-hip next to him. Amar straightened up, and zipped up his jeans and re-looped his belt, and then accepted the bottle from Dana. 

Twisting off the bottlecaps they took a swig in unison, and then as they lowered the bottle to rest next to them, the hands that were next to each other, reached for the other and interlaced their fingers, holding each other's hands.   

The game went to commercial and they closed their eyes. Amar’s head leaned to tip against Dana’s and it was as if they were both imagining being at the game live, with all the thousands of fans in attendance, drinking warm beer and eating  expensive hot dogs and cheering when the teams made goals. Like a real date, a date where they weren’t broke queers, trying to make ends meet, but financially stable and thriving. And every Saturday night they went out and did something fun and exciting. 

The commercial break ended and the sports announcer’s voice returned to the room. Amar and Dana opened their eyes.  Amar took another drink. Dana squeezed his hand and took another drink as well. The drone of the game went on, the sun took its time across the sky. After all, it was just a lazy spring afternoon.  

Some Saturday where there was nothing to do but shop, eat, or sleep. Amar and Dana were home alone in their apartment watching some sports event on the television. Both of them were barely paying any attention to it and lounging on the couch. Each boy more focused on the way the other boy’s hand felt in his.  

The day snoozed by with the enthusiasm of syrup or sweat slinking down skin. It was one of those days that was so surreal and sleepy that it didn’t feel real at all…