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Unrequited - 6. Chapter 6

I wake with a start. We’re still on West’s sofa. He’s curled up, lying on his side with his legs over my lap. The lights are still on, but it feels late. I check my watch. It is late.

I try to make sense of the events of the night. Even though I don’t think I’m high anymore, it still feels impossible to untangle. I look down at him. He looks so peaceful. He has his hands balled up near his face, sleeping sweetly.

Panic washes over me. Pure, unadulterated panic.

What the fuck have I done?

He was drunk and high. What the hell was I thinking?

I think of the morning I woke up with Tyler, after West’s wedding. This is like that, but this is much worse. This is West. My best friend, West. My best friend, West, who has always, always been straight. If I thought the look of disappointment in Tyler’s face was bad after the night we spent together, something tells me, the look on West’s face is going to be even worse. The look on West’s face won’t just be disappointment, it will be disappointment, and horror. Quite possibly, it will be horror and disgust.

I get up carefully, lifting his legs and then easing them back onto the sofa. He hardly stirs.

I’m in a hot sweat. What the fuck have I done? He was out of it. How could I do this to him?

I pace up and down his living room. I’m frantic. I don’t know what to do. If I stay, he’ll have to face me when he wakes up. I can’t imagine that being anything other than very awkward for him. I don’t think I can handle seeing the look I fully expect to see on his face. I don’t think I could handle that. I don’t feel great about leaving him either, but right now, it feels like the better option.

I look down at him again. He is so, so beautiful. His black lashes are tightly knitted together. I reach down and stroke his scar gently, so gently, I’m barely touching it. I try my best not to think that this might be the last time I ever see it. He doesn’t move.

“I’m so sorry, West.” I whisper, my lips quiver as I say it, “Please don’t be angry with me.”

I get the throw off the back of the sofa and drape it over him, before turning off the lights and letting myself out. As the door clicks shut behind me, the empty sound jars me. It feels like the end of something. Something big.

My lack of judgement might just have cost me the most important person in my life.

* 

Obviously, I can’t drive, so I get an uber home and before I even get there, I’m questioning the wisdom of my decision to leave. He asked me to make a move, okay? So, that’s on him. That is completely on him. On the other hand, he had been drinking and was stoned for the first time in years. I knew that, and I still kissed him. So, that’s on me. That’s all on me.

Now that it’s happened, all I can think is that I finally, finally know that I really do love him as a friend. Now that I’m truly faced with the very real possibility that our friendship is over. I realise how much I need him. Even though I’ve spent years resenting him for not loving me the way I love him, the cold, hard truth is, the thought of not having him in my life at all feels worse than death.

I shouldn’t have made a move. I should have shrugged it off and we could have laughed about it the next time we saw each other.

West was Goddamned right, I’m no gentleman. I need to sort myself out.

I’ve cleaned up my act a lot and that’s all well and good, but when the chips are down, I’m still capable of making spectacularly idiotic decisions. No getting away from that fact. I need to make sure that I remember this about myself and I need to get serious about working on it. I need to be better. It’s time to start being better.

I toss and turn for the rest of the night, sleeping intermittently, waking in a feverish state. Horny the one minute and then filled with sickening regret the next. Dropping back to sleep, only to wake in a state of deep confusion.

What was all that he was spouting about not being straight? How stoned was he? What the hell was up with that weed?

I mean, that’s obviously bullshit. West has always been straight. He’s as straight as an arrow. If anything, he’s always been girl crazy. I would know. If anyone’s had a front row seat to witness how he feels about girls, it’s me. No doubt about that. He’s definitely straight.

What if he’s not though?

What if Sarah was right, all those years ago, when she said, “I think he flirts with you.”

My God. Imagine if he’s been flirting with me all this time and I’ve been too dense to see it. Even in my exhausted, overwrought state, I laugh out loud at the absurdity of that.

By the time morning finally rolls in, I feel as though I’ve run the gauntlet. I’m exhausted. I’ve played last night over and over in my head so many times, I hardly know what really happened and what I imagined. To make matters worse, I’ve realised that I left my car keys at West’s.

I’m definitely going to have to pull myself together. No doubt about that. I need to start soon.

At around ten in the morning, my phone buzzes. It’s West. I get such a shock when I see his name on the screen, that I almost drop my phone. I manage to catch it before it lands on the floor, answering it clumsily in the process.

“Hey.” I manage, sounding a little constipated.

“Hey, dumbass,” he says, “you left your keys at my place.”

“Um, I, yeah, I know.” I splutter.

“Can you drop by to pick them up? You parked my car in.”

Shit!

“I’ve got to head out soon, I have that golf thing today.”

Shit, shit, shit.

He told me about this last night. He’s playing golf with his boss later today.

“Sorry! I’ll head over now. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay. See ya.”

Okay, I think, that wasn’t too bad. He sounded okay. He sounded quite normal. Maybe, I’ve blown the whole thing out of proportion. Maybe, things will just be okay. Maybe, this will just be one of those weird things that happened, but we won’t make it weird, so it just won’t be weird.

Right?

I can’t deny, my heart is pounding by the time I get to his place. My breath is short and uneven. Despite taking a taxi to get here, I feel like I’ve run a mile. I take a deep breath and knock on his door.

He pulls it open quickly. So quickly, it startles me a little. It makes me jump, despite the fact that I must, on some level at least, have been expecting him to answer the door. He’s wearing chinos and a white polo. He smells like he just got out of the shower. His hair is damp and perfectly tussled. In short, he looks like something I’d like to eat a whole meal off. By the time my eyes make their way up to his face, any level of confidence I had, that this is all going to be fine, dissipates completely. His jaw is set, and his eyes are stony.

Oh fuck.

“Hey.” I say quickly.

“Hey.” He replies. His smile is notably absent.

Oh shit. He’s mad. He’s mad, or worse.

“Uh, West, I, um.”

He raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. He appears to be waiting for me to say something, though I’m at a loss as to what is required to defuse this situation.

“C-can I come in?” I say.

He swings the door open, stepping aside and letting me in. I twist my body to the side, to avoid touching him, but still, I can feel the heat blistering off his body. Once I’m in the hallway, I turn to face him.

“West, I, um.” I try again. He doesn’t seem terribly impressed by my lack of eloquence. He stands quietly, waiting for me to fill the silence. I try to speak again, but the truth is, I have no idea what to say.

“What happened, Andy?”

Oh, Jesus! Please don’t tell me he blacked out. Please do not tell me, I hooked up with him in a black out state. It just doesn’t make sense. I’m pretty sure we only had a few beers each. What the hell was up with that weed?

“Ugh, I…” I croak.

“Why’d you leave me like that?”

Oh, thank God. He remembers, that’s something, at least.

“I just, I just thought…”

“Jesus, Andy,” he laughs, looking a little incredulous, “are you freaking out?”

I stand there, stiff as a pole, looking at him wordlessly. I am indeed freaking out.

“Are you freaking out?” He asks again. This time, the way he says it, makes it clear that he requires an answer.

I open and shut my mouth a couple of times, before squeaking, “Yes.”

A broad smile spreads slowly across his face, his eyes are dancing in amusement. “Why?” He says softly.

“It’s just, uh, it’s because it’s you, you know. It was you. And me.” I sound like a twit, but I keep going, “It’s because you’re always straight. You just always are. And it was you, and you were out of it. And I’m a guy, you know?”

“Hmm,” he says thoughtfully, “sounds to me, like I should be the one freaking out.” He eyes me up and down carefully. “Do I look like I’m freaking out?”

As a matter of fact, he does not. He seems as calm and collected as I’ve ever seen him. He smiles at me slowly, moving towards me. For some reason, his movement unnerves me so much, I take a small step back when he does it. He takes another step towards me. When I step back this time, I find myself backed up against the console table. I look down at him. God, he’s standing close. The heat from before, is radiating off him now. I feel like I’m standing too close to a furnace. My skin feels like it’s being singed.

“Andy.” He says. His voice is low.

He’s still smiling, but his eyes are different now. He’s looking down at my mouth. He inches towards me again. He’s so close now, that the fabric of his clothes are millimetres from mine. The space between us feels static and charged.

I realise I’ve forgotten to breathe again, so I suck a long breath in. My head whirls a little from the quick rush of oxygen.

“Andy.” He says again. The way he says my name slices through me. It makes me feel like I’m coming apart. Like I’m falling again. I sit back heavily against the console. We’re eye to eye now, and he’s not looking away. The tension is unbearable, but I can’t look away either.

He looks at me slowly. I can feel his eyes tracking down my face, as he says, “Can I kiss you?”

His words slam into me with unprecedented force. Such force, that I damned nearly come in my pants. I clench my fists and fight for breath as hard as I can. I’m still looking at him. No matter what, it seems I can’t drag my eyes from his. His face is perfection. His eyes are honest and open, filled with desire. His mouth is parted slightly, giving me just the smallest hint of the constellation behind them. I take it all in. I memorise every small detail.

“I want to kiss you.” He says, his voice sounds like it’s been mixed with gravel. I feel like I did the other night. Like I’m out of my body.

“Ugheep.” I say.

It’s not a word. Not even close. But I must give a slight nod as I say it, as he seems to understand, that in whatever primitive language I seem to have reverted to, I’ve answered in the affirmative.

He reaches for me with both hands. Taking my neck and pulling me toward him, kissing me softly. He kisses me again, deeper this time, inching his tongue into my mouth. Probing gently, making me part my lips. As soon as his tongue finds mine, something breaks open inside me. It feels like hot lava gushing out of me, making me moan into his mouth. He looks at me in amazement. His mouth is open and he’s panting. There’s a wildness in his eyes that I’ve never seen before.

We kiss some more and then, a little more. We kiss until both of us are dizzy.

When he finally pulls away to look at his watch, I’m breathless. Shocked at the intensity of what just happened. Shocked that he unmanned me with nothing more than his kiss.

“Fuuuck,” he moans, “I’ve got to get going.”

I drive home in a daze. By the time I park and get up to my apartment, I have a message from West:

Can I see you tomorrow night?

My heart skips a beat. I stand there, grinning like an imbecile. Reading the message over and over.

A little later:

I can come over to yours. I’ll bring pizza.

I feel like a teenaged girl. I feel a serious temptation to shriek. West Baxter is coming over to my place to make out and he’s bringing pizza.

I manage to stifle it, but only just. I feel completely delirious. I wonder aimlessly around the loft all day. I don’t paint a stroke. I don’t even try. I consider calling Sarah or Tyler, but I can’t bring myself to say it out loud; Something is happening with West. I don’t need to say it aloud, to know I’d sound totally unhinged. Instead, I just play the events of the morning over and over again.

I’m slap bang in the midst of just such a dream, when my phone pings again:

Your lips are softer than I thought they would be.

Oh my God. I feel unsteady. I’m smiling like a complete halfwit. I’m totally beside myself. As I read his messages back again, my hand finds its way into my pants. I find myself swollen and hard. I don’t think I’ve softened completely since I saw him this morning. I jerk off until I can’t anymore. Once I’m done, once I can’t eke a single drop more out of myself, I still want more.

I want the same thing I’ve always wanted. I want West. I want him with every fibre of my being.

The difference is, for the first time, there’s a chance I might actually get him.

My heart clatters wildly in my chest when I hear him at the door.

A day has never felt longer. I’ve been checking my watch since I woke up this morning, counting down the hours until I’m due to see him. I’ve tried to walk the tightrope required to find some sort of balance between being horny for him and not being too horny. Even though driving home yesterday, sitting in the sticky wetness of my own come, was incredibly hot in its own way. I’m loath to repeat that performance again today. I feel that I’ve struck a balance. At least, I hope so. I jerked off when I woke up and again a couple of hours before he was due to arrive. Hopefully, that will keep me on the right path.

I open the door quickly. I smile when I see him, not just because I’m completely giddy, also, because he’s holding up a large box of pizza from Marco’s. My favourite. He comes in, dropping his duffel bag at the door.

Is he planning on sleeping over?

He opens the box, allowing the aroma to waft over to me.

“Hungry?” He asks.

“Starving.” I say, “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

He smiles at me. He smiles a little longer than he usually would have, his eyes twinkling slightly, as he takes a bite of his slice.

“Me too.” He says.

The pizza is delicious, as always, but tonight, I’m finding it hard to swallow. I chew it and chew it, but it just doesn’t seem to want to go down.

“You okay?” He says, “You seem a little tense.”

“Sure.” I say, but when I look into his eyes, I see an honesty there that I want to mirror, “I think so.”

“You nervous?”

I nod quickly.

“Me too.” He murmurs. I swallow hard, forcing the last bite of pizza down my throat.

He looks at me thoughtfully. “Wanna to break the tension?”

I’m not entirely sure what he means, but I like the sound of it. I nod again.

He leans over, kissing me surprisingly hard. My breath is instantly knocked out of me. He doesn’t kiss me for long, he pulls back after a few seconds, taking another bite of his pizza. He leaves me wide eyed and stunned. He smiles when he sees the look on my face. I can see that he’s trying not to laugh at me, but I know he wants to. I look away quickly.

“Does your head spin when we kiss?” He asks quietly. His voice is so neutral, he might as well be asking about the weather.

Though I want to be tough and I want to deny it, I can’t because this is West. He knows me and my bullshit and he would see right through me if I tried.

“A little.” I admit, amending my answer, when he raises an eyebrow at me. “Okay fine, a lot.”

“Is your dick hard?”

“Yes.” No way I could deny that. He only needs to cast his eyes downward, to have concrete proof of that situation.

“Mine too.” His voice drops when he speaks. There’s a timbre to it that isn’t usually there. In fact, I don’t think I’ve heard it before, not even in the middle of those hideous first year nights, when I used to listen to him talking to the girls he was fucking. I can’t help thinking that the kiss he offered me minutes before, did absolutely nothing to dispel the tension. If anything, it only made it worse.

“Don’t.” I say softly, “Don’t tease me like that. Don’t play with me.”

I’ll lose my mind.

He tosses the last crust of his pizza back into the box, wiping his hands carefully on a paper napkin. “Do I look like I’m playing?” He says, standing up and moves towards me.

I stand up too. I have a crazy urge to run. I don’t though. I stand still. Every part of my body feels hot. I feel hot and tense. The tension is everywhere. I can’t think about anything else. I’m so nervous I feel intensely uncomfortable in my own skin.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” He says.

Oh, no.

I can’t handle this. I can’t handle him talking to me like this. I will go insane.

“You been thinking about me?” He asks.

I’ve spent most of my life thinking about you, Dumbass.

I drag my hand hard across my forehead. I feel hot. I wonder briefly whether it’s possible to spontaneously combust. I started reading an article about spontaneous combustion once, but I don’t think I finished it, so right now, I have no way of knowing what level of danger I’m in. If such a thing is possible, I know there’s a very real chance of me going up in flames. Igniting. Being burnt to nothing but ash.

There’s only one thing I know, that quells this type of burn. So, I seek it and I take it. I grab him and smash my mouth against his, forcing my tongue so deep in his mouth that he gasps and then moans. He seems a little shocked. He takes a second to react, to respond, but when he does, he’s right there with me. His passion and fury match mine exactly. When I pull away to assess the situation, he takes it as an invitation, pulling at my t-shirt, yanking it up and dragging it over my head.

“Everything off.” He mutters, as he starts unbuckling my belt. “Everything off, I mean it.”

There’s an edge in his voice, that leaves me in no doubt whatsoever, that he means business. I kick my shoes and socks off, as he unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off his shoulders, dropping it onto the floor where he stands. He starts unzipping his pants, rendering me completely immobile. I freeze, watching him move, as if in slow-motion. He pushes his pants and his boxers down in one fluid movement, stepping out of them and kicking them away as if they are nothing but an inconvenience to him.

He’s completely naked. He stands in contrapposto, his weight on one leg, his body twisted slightly towards me.

Michelangelo’s David has nothing on him.

His body is solid. Deep dents and ravines carved into his flesh, where his muscles bulge and indent. His skin is smooth and flawless. Tanned and hot instead of cold marble. His chest is hairy. Hairier than it used to be when he was twenty. His pecs are covered, matted. A dark treasure trail runs all the way down to his dick, leading the way, drawing my gaze lower and lower.

“Everything off.” He says, again. He says it like someone who expects to be obeyed without any discussion.

I snap back into the present, quickly lowering my jeans and pushing my briefs down too. Stepping out of them with as much grace as I can muster, which isn’t much. I’m feeling flustered from the intensity of his gaze. He’s watching me, slack mouthed. His eyelids are lowered, and his breathing is so heavy, I can hear it from where I stand.

I’m not sure who moves first. Maybe, we both move at the same time, but somehow, we get to each other. We move until we’re so close, our hips and our dicks rub up against each other. I hear a sharp intake of breath from him. He must have felt the same jolt of electricity when we touched. I run my hands up his chest, combing my fingers through his hair. Our dicks are crossed, clashing like swords. Hot and charged. His hands are on me, too. They warm every inch of skin that they touch.

We stumble back to the sofa, he’s taking charge. He pushes me down and kneels at my feet. The sight of him like that, on his knees, looking up at me, is hard to describe. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s a rare and very peculiar feeling, when everything you’ve ever wanted materialises before you. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good. It’s amazing. But it’s also terrifying. I feel like my entire existence is on a knife-edge. I’m so close to having everything I want, but at the same time, I finally have something to lose.

“Andy,” he says, smiling sheepishly, looking down at my dick. “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing here.” He laughs a little, shaking his head, looking up at me with an openness that only West can manage, “I don’t know what I’m doing, I only know that I want it. I really want it.”

I can hear the desire in his voice. I can see the lust in his eyes, too. He does want it.

I take his left hand in mine. I curl it into a fist, extending his middle and forefinger, straightening them, gripping them firmly at the base. He studies me intently. He knows instinctively what I’m about to show him. He takes my dick in his hand, gripping it at the base, using the same pressure I’m using on his fingers. I lean forward and lick the tips of his fingers. I lick lightly, teasing gently. He does the same to me. Exploring. Timid at first. I lick his fingers harder, swirling my tongue over and around his fingertips. Over and under and all around.

“Mmmh.” I moan, as he does the same to my dick.

I press his fingers tightly together, I can feel his eyes on me, waiting for his next instruction. I tilt my head to the side slightly, pressing my tongue firmly where his fingers are pressed together. He gives a slight nod, before running his tongue up and down my piss slit. Flicking it gently.

I suck air through my teeth and nod at him quickly.

Yes, just like that.

I lift his hand again, taking his fingers fully into my mouth, massaging them with my tongue. “Just take what you can, don’t force it. Just take what feels good.” I tell him.

And he does.

“Oohh.” I groan. His mouth feels unreal. It’s so soft and warm. So wet. So West.

I use his fingers to show him how to suck, how much pressure to use, how to pull back with just enough suction. “You can use your hand, too.” I say.

And he does.

I’m moaning now. Not just to encourage him. I’m moaning in earnest. What he’s doing feels good. It feels amazing. He’s learning, but he’s already using his mouth and his hand with surprising skill.

Say what you will about West, but he’s always been a quick learner.

I lean back into the sofa, closing my eyes and relishing every sensation.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, it feels good. It feels really good.” Pleasure surges through me. It’s sudden and it’s strong.

“Ah, oh God, West,” I say, tapping his shoulder lightly, “if you keep doing that, I’m going to nut.”

His eyes light up and he dives down again. I’m instantly transported. I’m transported to a place where nothing exists except for him and me. There’s nothing now, except for his hands and his mouth. I feel like a distant memory. All I am now; he has in his mouth.

I come with such force, my spine arches back and my abs contract so hard they pull my torso up off the sofa. I feel myself shooting reams of semen into his mouth. I open my eyes as soon as I can. I want to check if he’s okay. I see him swallowing again and again, his eyes rolling back ever so slightly every time that he does it.

As soon as I recover, I switch places with him, pulling him down on to the sofa and taking his spot on the floor. I kiss him hungrily, tasting myself on his tongue. He moans softly into my mouth. I kiss a trail down his neck, noting with pleasure, the way he arches his neck for me. I run my hands up his arms. God, I love his arms. I work my way down his chest with my lips. He shudders uncontrollably when I reach his nipples.

“Andy,” he gasps, “I’m sorry. I should have taken my time with you. I shouldn’t have gone straight for your dick.”

I look up at him, smiling. “What?”

I keep using my hands on him, running my fingertips up and down his taut belly.

“I should have made all of you feel good,” he whines, “ahhh, like you’re doing to me. I should have taken more time. I’ll do better next time.” He’s starting to sound a little delirious.

I up the ante. I use my mouth and my tongue on him in earnest now. I bathe every part of him, except for his dick. He’s squirming for real now. His butt is clenching, propelling his hips right off the sofa, every time I allow my kisses to drift near his groin. He’s panting and gasping for breath. His abs and his thighs are shaking uncontrollably.

This would be hot, even if it were some random guy, but this is West. Seeing him like this is enough to make me lose my mind. I feel like I’m on the cusp of a spectacular meltdown.

“Fuuuuck.” He wheezes. “Oh, fuck, are you going to make me beg?”

I look right up at him, as I feel a dark sneer take over my face, pulling my lips back over my teeth.

“Yes.”

“Aargh.” He moans in frustration, thrashing a little before holding my gaze for a second. His pupils are so dilated, he looks stoned. He’s clenching his teeth as if he’s in pain. “Please, Andy.” He whispers, “please.”

I’d love to tease him more. I’d love to play with him and make him go crazy. I’ve no doubt in my mind, if he was anyone else, I definitely would. But this is West. My West. Even on my worst day, I could never deny him.

I sink down and take him deep into my mouth. I take as much as I can. I take him all. He’s moaning beautifully. The sounds he makes, ricochet off every wall in the loft. His hips are thrusting now, and he has his hands in my hair. Despite the terrible state he’s in, he’s not rough. He runs his fingers through my hair gently. So, so gently. It’s almost as if, I’m precious to him.

He shouts his release the second it finds him. He shouts over and over, until his voice is hoarse. As soon as I discharge his dick from my mouth, he grabs my head in both his hands and pulls me towards him. He cradles me tightly against his body.

For the first time in my life, after a sexual encounter, I don’t have the urge to walk it off, to take a little space to re-centre myself. For the first time, I’m content right where I am. I let myself sink into him, my ear against his sternum, listening to his heart galloping noisily in his chest.

His wild heart and mine.

*

 

Copyright © 2021 Jesse_H_Reign; All Rights Reserved.
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Thank you for reading. This is my first post on this site. I hope you enjoyed it. I'm a very new writer, so feedback is invaluable to me. 

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Chapter Comments

Wow! I think I need a blow job or a cold shower after reading this chapter! I am loving West and Andy, and I am enjoying their story.  I hope Andy is not just having an elaborate dream! Thanks. 

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84Mags

Posted (edited)

This was a really well paced chapter. It doesn’t surprise me that Andy awoke in disbelief and a bit of panic that his feelings are truly requited by West and not just a drunken/high mistake. I can only imagine how it felt for West to later wake up alone. I’m so glad West was able to look past whatever he was feeling once he saw Andy’s panic. West found a steaming hot way reassure Andy! 

Edited by 84Mags
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Wow n wow 

that was hot 

good West was open n not mad at Andy for leaving him or else it would have been another long wait. 
Happy for Andy finally 

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22 hours ago, JeffreyL said:

Wow! I think I need a blow job or a cold shower after reading this chapter! I am loving West and Andy, and I am enjoying their story.  I hope Andy is not just having an elaborate dream! Thanks. 

😂😂 my job here is done. Glad you are enjoying it

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8 hours ago, long1jo said:

Wow n wow 

that was hot 

good West was open n not mad at Andy for leaving him or else it would have been another long wait. 
Happy for Andy finally 

Thanks for reading

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19 hours ago, 84Mags said:

This was a really well paced chapter. It doesn’t surprise me that Andy awoke in disbelief and a bit of panic that his feelings are truly requited by West and not just a drunken/high mistake. I can only imagine how it felt for West to later wake up alone. I’m so glad West was able to look past whatever he was feeling once he saw Andy’s panic. West found a steaming hot way reassure Andy! 

Thanks - lots more to come

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I was worried Andy would screw it all up by leaving at the beginning of this chapter. It was a big relief to see them jump right back into it. His nervous tension was so endearing. Another awesome chapter!

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