His oncologist had talked about a prosthetic but Andrew hadn’t been in the right headspace to really contemplate it, not after the excruciating pain post surgery, so he’d put off that discussion indefinitely. Would that make him feel better about the prospect of sex? The fact that he would look normal, even if he no longer was?
Tentatively he reached down to cup his scrotum. Left side good. Right side saggy and, well, empty. The skin had drawn up a little and his cock tended to fall into the new space now. His package was now a flat pack.
The errant thought almost made him stop, but the counsellor he’d been to see a couple of times after surgery had told him to explore himself, get to know the new terrain. Andrew hadn’t done much more exploring than was required to wash. He hadn’t wanted to. Hadn’t felt much of a need to. He knew it was gone, what more could he possibly find out?
Maybe now was the time, though. If he wanted to be upfront with Brian about this love thing, he had to know if sex was on the cards.
Andrew scooted down a bit on the couch and opened the towel so he had more room to feel around. The air was cool on his dick, so he gave it a few loose strokes. Some ripples of excitement was more than he’d felt in a long time, so he kept it up and explored his scrotum with his other hand. Yup. Just the one nugget in there, and thank god, it was as smooth and egged shaped as always. His pubic hair had grown back after chemo softer than it had been, curlier and springy and the little stings of pain as he tugged on it transformed into licks of heat up his shaft. His guts were starting to get that warm, liquidy feel of anticipation.
A small moan escaped him. Andrew hadn’t felt that in forever. In his hand, his cock was thickening, each stroke bringing more heat and blood. A buzz went through it every time his hand worked over the head. He held his ball firmer, working out how to do it now there was less mass. A couple of experimental squeezes and tugs got it sorted and he started wanking faster, close to being fully hard. His back arched and he groaned. Jesus, it felt like he was learning how to wank all over again.
A startled laugh erupted from his throat at that thought, then a shocked yell as something new touched his cock head.
Andrew jerked and rolled one way. Archy yowled and sprang to the top of the couch. Back arched, he hissed at Andrew, then jumped down and sprinted for the stairs. Andrew toppled off the couch, barely missing losing his sole remaining ball on the corner of the coffee table. As he lay there, towel completely gone, once again soft dick still cupped in one hand, Andrew laughed. He was incredibly lucky Archy had decided to do his own exploring with claws retracted.
Upstairs, the cat was meowing piteously, probably looking for comfort from Brian. Andrew sobered. Neither of them would be getting that for a while.
With a groan of an entirely different sort than the previous one, Andrew stood, slung the towel back around his hips and went to fetch Archy. Maybe they could comfort each other in Brian’s absence.
A weird smell detoured him into the kitchen and he remembered the Pad Thai he’d been heating up. It came out of the oven mostly dry and crispy and largely inedible. Andrew scrapped it out into bin and rinsed the dish. Upstairs, he climbed into a pair of trackies and an old T-shirt, found Archy and cuddled him on the way back down to the kitchen.
“It’s just us, bud. Brian’s left us for a woman.”
Archy meowed as Andrew set him on the floor and got the salad out of the fridge.
“It’s my fault. Nothing to do with you.”
Feline head tilted as if to say “well duh.”
Resigned to taking all the blame, Andrew took his pitiful dinner to the couch and turned on the telly for a distraction. Archy spent a while sniffing around as if he suspected Andrew had been doing something nefarious to the couch, then settled down next to him to groom.
Halfway through the news, which was doing nothing to divert Andrew’s thoughts, someone knocked on the front door. Archy’s head whipped up from under his back leg and he stared at the door like he could repel the intruder with his mind alone.
“If only, bud.” Andrew got up and peeked through the peephole. “Great. Because my night needs to get worse.” Sighing, he stepped back and opened the door. “Hello, James.”
“Hey, was starting to think you weren’t going to let me in.” He held up a six-pack of beers and a bottle of organic, hand squeezed orange juice. “I come bearing gifts.”
Andrew grunted and led him into the kitchen. “Is there a reason you’re here with bribes?”
“Didn’t you get my text?”
Eyes rolling ceiling ward, Andrew realised his phone was still in his work pants upstairs, discarded in haste for his shower. Forgotten again with everything that had happened afterwards.
“Missed it. What’s up?”
“Well, I sort of need an answer re: the best man deal.”
Andrew turned to the cupboard for glasses to hide a wince. He had barely thought about James and Elle. What the hell was he going to tell him? Coming back around he caught sight of Archy batting a cherry tomato from his salad around the floor. Nothing was going his way tonight. May as well just add to it.
“Yes.”
James’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “Mate. You don’t know how much this means to me. And Elle.” He grabbed one of the beers and watched as he rolled the bottle between his hands. “You didn’t have to be so understanding about me and Elle. Especially since you were, you know, dealing with the cancer and stuff. A lot of guys wouldn’t have stayed my friend.”
Andrew shrugged. “Elle and I broke up years ago. I have no say in who she sees or marries. I’m just happy that you guys are happy.”
James sucked in a deep breath, held it, then let it out and smiled shyly. “We really are.”
“I know. You really suck at hiding it.”
His friend laughed suddenly, then put his beer down and hugged Andrew. “Thank you, man.” His arms were tight and he held on longer than a normal bro hug.
Huffing, Andrew gave him a pat on the back. “My pleasure.”
Andrew decided against a beer, poured some juice for himself and they went into the living room to discuss the wedding plans up to date. Archy joined them on the couch, presenting his belly for scratches. Only Andrew was brave enough to take up the challenge.
“I thought your mum really wanted a church ceremony,” Andrew said when James told him they’d finally decided on which celebrant to go with.
James grimaced. “Yeah. Had her heart set on the church she used to go to. You know, the one on the hill. We met with the pastor and he wasn’t a good fit.”
The sourness of James’s tone caught Andrew’s curiosity. “In what way?”
“He just wasn’t right.” James shrugged. “Elle’s given me this big list of things we have to do, too. Let me send it to you.”
Andrew gave James a moment to find the list on his phone and send it in a message, then asked, “Why wasn’t that pastor right for you? Didn’t he remember your mum?”
With a groan, James slumped back on the couch. “This is a different guy and he kept saying how he didn’t usually do our sort of weddings. Mixed-race,” he added dryly when Andrew quirked a brow. “Except that he would this time because Elle seemed very well put together.”