Damon Suede

Even though they were two guys, the thought of losing him felt like amputation using a fork with no anesthesia.

Dante flexed one perfect arm till the olive bicep strained against his T-shirt’s sleeve like a grapefruit. He licked it.
Griff almost smacked him.
Dante winked, proud of himself.
Griff smacked him.

“Loretta says you’re pining over some girl.” Her hazel eyes searched his. “She nice?”
Griff swallowed, watching her chew.
“You coulda brought her, you know. I’d love to meet her.”
What was he supposed to say?
Uhhh. No. I think I might be gay, and I’m probably in love with your heterosexual son, who has porked half of Brooklyn, and, oh yeah, he’s doing online porn now and wants me to join him for the next world-wide-whackfest.

“No one deserves to be punished for loving with an open heart.”

It was all fucking fake except for what Griff was feeling about the man next to him.

I love you, Dante Inigo Anastagio. You’ll never know how much.

I’d rather die with him. He won’t be alone this time.

And just like that, he knew with a terrible certainty: he couldn’t hide forever.
Even if it wrecked him, nothing was scarier than losing the chance to tell the man he loved the truth.

Christ, he’s gorgeous. And right then, Griff knew. I’ll never love anyone else. I would never want to.

Griff raised his own beer, readier than he’d ever been in his entire life to laugh about nothing special with the only person who would always be special to him.