I Felt Something: Greg McKeon & Gabe Bradshaw

Gabe Bradshaw stormed into the house, his cheeks flushed with more than just embarrassment. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife as his stepdad, Greg McKeon, raised an eyebrow at the sight of his flustered stepson. “What’s eatin’ ya, kiddo?” Greg drawled, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that sent shivers down Gabe’s spine.

Gabe huffed, his words tumbling out in a heated rush. “It’s that damn step-uncle of mine!” he exclaimed. “We were dancin’ at the bar, and I swear, there was some kinda spark. But it ain’t right, is it?” His eyes were wide, a mix of confusion and arousal that wasn’t lost on Greg.

A slow, wicked smile spread across Greg’s face as he stepped closer, his own body responding to the raw, unfiltered need in Gabe’s voice. “Well, now, that does sound like a pickle,” he murmured, his hand reaching out to grip Gabe’s shoulder. “Why don’t we try to figure this out together?”

Before Gabe could protest, Greg was pressing against him, their bodies aligning in a way that left no room for misunderstanding. Gabe’s breath hitched as Greg’s hand boldly cupped his crotch, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through him. “Is this what you felt with him?” Greg’s voice was a husky whisper.

Gabe could only nod, his own hands instinctively exploring the bulge in Greg’s jeans. The air was charged with electricity as they ground against each other, the line between right and wrong blurring into nothingness. “Yeah, but it’s you I want,” Gabe admitted, his voice thick with lust. “Invite him over next time, and let’s see where this leads.”

With a growl, Greg captured Gabe’s lips in a searing kiss, their bodies moving in a primal dance of desire. Clothes were hastily discarded, and the two tumbled onto the couch, a tangle of limbs and raw need. As they gave in to their baser instincts, the world outside ceased to exist. All that mattered was the heat between them and the promise of an even wilder encounter to come.