Jack and Ethan sat side by side on the sagging couch, half a grocery bag of snacks still on the coffee table between them. The landlord, Mr. Latham, leaned against the doorway with his clipboard in hand, eyes flicking between the two of them like he wasn’t sure if they’d take this well.
“So here’s the arrangement,” Mr. Latham began, tapping his pen against the clipboard. “My nephew Connor needs a place. He’s a good kid, quiet type, loves his cat more than life itself. You let him stay here, take the small bedroom, and I’ll cut your rent in half.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “Rent in half?” He glanced at Ethan, already seeing the gears turning. “That’s… huge.”
“Yeah,” Ethan muttered, trying not to sound too eager. “But what’s the catch? Kid messy? Weird habits?”
“No catch,” Mr. Latham said with a shrug. “Connor works remote, doesn’t go out much. If anything, you might forget he’s even here. Just him and his cat, Mr. Whiskers.”
Ethan smirked. “That’s the cat’s name?”
Mr. Latham gave him a look. “Don’t make fun. Connor’s sensitive about that cat. Treat them both with respect and you boys are golden.”
Jack leaned back on the couch, arms crossed, pretending to weigh the pros and cons. Half rent was a no-brainer. More money for beer, gear, and… other things. But he kept a straight face, shooting Ethan a look that said you thinking what I’m thinking?
Ethan covered his grin with a hand. “So, when’s he moving in?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Mr. Latham said, already jotting something down. “And remember — half rent. Don’t blow this deal.”
The landlord clicked his pen, tucked the clipboard under his arm, and let himself out. The sound of the door shutting left the apartment unusually quiet.
Jack exhaled through his nose, then smirked. “So we’re about to get a roommate who never leaves, and he’s obsessed with his cat?”
“Sounds like sitcom material,” Ethan said, grabbing a handful of chips. “You think he’ll notice what we’ve been up to?”
Jack grinned wider. “Not if he’s too busy playing pet dad.”
The next morning, Jack was halfway through pouring cereal when the knock came. Ethan shuffled out of his room shirtless, hair sticking up, looking like he’d just lost a wrestling match with his pillow.
Jack opened the door, and there stood Connor: lanky, glasses slipping down his nose, arms wrapped around a huge cardboard box labeled “Mr. Whiskers’ Kingdom.” A cat carrier dangled from his other hand, the occupant glaring like it owned the place.
“Uh… hey,” Connor said, voice flat but polite. “I’m Connor. This is Mr. Whiskers. We come as a package deal.”
Jack had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the way Connor gestured at the cat like he was introducing a celebrity. Ethan leaned against the wall, eyes on the carrier.
“Bro,” Ethan whispered. “That cat’s judging us already.”
The cat meowed, long and disdainful, like it had caught them red-handed.
Connor set the box down and pointed at the smaller bedroom. “I’ll just… set up in there. Mr. Whiskers likes a window view. He gets depressed without sunlight.”
Jack raised an eyebrow at Ethan, muttering, “Great. Roommate comes with emotional support cat that needs better lighting than us.”
They watched as Connor fussed over the room, arranging a scratching post like it was fine art. He even set a tiny water fountain on the nightstand.
“Dude,” Ethan whispered, “I think this cat’s living better than we are.”
When Connor finally emerged, brushing cat hair off his hoodie, he said matter-of-factly, “Mr. Whiskers approves. This apartment will do.”
Jack and Ethan exchanged a look — the cat approved? That was the standard now?
Connor opened the fridge, saw it was half full of leftovers and beer, and frowned. “Don’t worry. I meal prep. But Mr. Whiskers is picky, so I’ll need fridge space for his salmon.”
Jack coughed to cover a laugh. Ethan mouthed salmon like it was the funniest word he’d ever heard.
Connor didn’t notice. He just set a bowl of food on the counter and said to the cat, “Dinner’s at six, Whiskers. Same as always.”
The cat jumped onto the counter, looked at Jack and Ethan, then knocked over their bag of chips without breaking eye contact.
Ethan held up his hands. “Okay, this cat’s alpha now.”
Jack groaned. “Bro, we just got owned in our own apartment.”
That night, the three of them ended up in the living room. Connor had claimed the recliner, laptop balanced on his knees, a soft hum of cat videos playing. Mr. Whiskers perched on the armrest like some tiny furry landlord keeping tabs.
Jack sprawled across the couch in his gym shorts, legs wide, stretching like he was on display. Ethan dropped down next to him, so close their thighs pressed together. Jack didn’t move. If anything, he shifted a little, letting the heat of Ethan’s leg settle against his.
Ethan smirked, grabbed the TV remote, and leaned in just enough that his shoulder brushed Jack’s chest.
“Bro,” he said casually, “you hog all the space.”
Jack stretched his arms behind the couch, letting his knuckles graze the top of Ethan’s neck. “Maybe you’re just sitting too close, bro.”
Their voices were easy, teasing — the kind of banter that could pass for nothing more than roommates talking trash. But every word carried a charge, like they were testing the limits of what Connor would notice.
Ethan shifted again, hand on his own thigh, thumb drumming just inches from Jack’s leg. He leaned over to whisper, low enough that Connor’s cat videos drowned him out:
“You’re warm, bro. Real easy to get comfortable next to you.”
Jack’s pulse quickened. He kept his eyes on the TV, but let a slow grin slip. “Careful, man. You get too comfy, you might not want to get up.”
Their thighs pressed tighter, the air between them thick with an unspoken dare.
And then — Mr. Whiskers leapt up between them like a referee. He landed square in Jack’s lap, tail flicking right in Ethan’s face.
Jack hissed a breath through his teeth, caught between laughing and cursing. Ethan flinched back, paw swiping his chin.
“Bro…” Ethan muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing at the cat. “Your boy’s got timing.”
Connor didn’t even glance up from his laptop. “Oh, that’s just how Whiskers shows affection. He likes to assert himself in new spaces.”
The cat kneaded Jack’s shorts with sharp little claws, purring like an engine, while Ethan sat there, jaw clenched, shoulders tight.
Jack forced a casual laugh. “Yeah, bro. Guess he, uh… really wants attention.”
Ethan’s eyes flicked to Jack’s lap, then back to the cat, then to Jack again. His grin turned wicked. “Don’t worry, man. He’ll get bored eventually.”
Jack bit his lip and gave a tiny shake of his head, like don’t push it here. But his eyes said the opposite: later.
Mr. Whiskers purred louder, utterly pleased with himself.
Connor set his laptop aside, clearly on a mission. “Alright, bros, I thought we could do a little roommate bonding. You know, games, snacks, maybe some Netflix or something. Build some vibes.”
Jack leaned back on the couch, thighs brushing Ethan’s again, flexing his shoulders subtly. Ethan sat up straighter, catching the shift, letting his knee graze Jack’s just a little longer than necessary. Their smiles were easy, casual — the kind that could be nothing, but felt like everything.
“Sounds… fun,” Jack said, voice low. He reached over to grab the bag of chips on the coffee table, and his fingers just barely touched Ethan’s hand. Both froze for a split second, then Jack let his hand linger, brushing Ethan’s knuckles lightly.
Ethan smirked without looking away from Connor. “Bro, you’re hogging all the snacks again. Save some for the little dude.”
Connor grinned, oblivious, waving a hand vaguely toward the bag. “Little dude? Whiskers? He’s got his own stash in the kitchen, man.”
Jake glanced at Ethan, eyes sparkling. “Good to know, bro. But a little sharing never hurt anyone, right?”
Ethan’s knee nudged Jack’s again, a silent reminder of how close they were. “Depends… on who’s sharing.”
Connor, still completely in the dark, started pulling out a deck of cards. “Okay, let’s play a game. Nothing serious. Just for laughs.”
Jack leaned back, letting his shoulder bump Ethan’s, letting the contact linger just long enough that Ethan shivered. “Bro… you feeling lucky?”
Ethan’s grin widened. “Always. But luck’s not what wins this game. Strategy is.”
Connor’s eyes were glued to the cards, narrating rules like a cheerful referee. “And no cheating, guys. Seriously. I’ve got an eye on you.”
Jack whispered under his breath, leaning toward Ethan: “Bro… if we win, maybe we can celebrate later.”
Ethan’s breath hitched ever so slightly. “Celebrate, huh? Might need more than chips and cards for that.”
Connor laughed loudly at his own joke, “Yeah, Whiskers, we’re bonding! Isn’t that fun?” He had no idea the tension he was surrounded by — the subtle touches, the knees brushing, the thighs pressing.
Jack draped an arm over the back of the couch, dangerously close to Ethan’s shoulder. “Bro, you sure you’re ready for this game?”
Ethan’s eyes flicked toward Jack, then at the cards. “Bro, I was born ready. But maybe some… motivation wouldn’t hurt.”
Connor clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s deal!”
Connor shuffled the deck like he was running a casino. Cards snapped crisply, his focus entirely on his “roommate bonding” ritual. Jack, meanwhile, sprawled loose across the couch, legs wide, thighs brushing Ethan’s. Every time Ethan shifted, his shorts rode higher, showing a flash of muscle and dark hair that made Jack’s pulse tick up.
Jack pretended to stretch, arm lifting over the back of the couch, his chest pushing forward so Ethan could see the sweat-dark outline of his pecs under his shirt. Ethan caught it with the corner of his eye, lips twitching at the silent show.
Connor dealt the cards out. “Alright, bros, straight face game. No tells. Gotta be stone cold.”
Ethan leaned close to glance at Jack’s hand. Their shoulders pressed, warm skin sparking under fabric. Ethan’s breath brushed Jack’s ear when he whispered, “Bro, you got a good hand?”
Jack smirked without looking up. “Depends. You countin’ what’s in my palm, or what’s sittin’ in my lap?”
Ethan bit down a laugh, his thigh pressing harder against Jack’s. “Bro… not fair. You’re making me lose my poker face.”
Connor, oblivious, wagged his finger at Ethan. “Hey! No teaming up. This is a free-for-all.”
Jack leaned back, eyes on Connor, but his hand casually settled on his own thigh — close enough that Ethan’s knuckles brushed against it when he picked up his cards. Each touch lingered, too casual to clock but too loaded to ignore.
Connor was grinning, deep into the rules. “Okay, two-card draw. Keep it clean.”
Ethan slid a card forward, his fingers grazing Jack’s wrist as if by accident. Jack felt the heat of it, pulse thrumming low. He countered by shifting closer, their hips pressed now, enough that the fabric of Ethan’s shorts bunched against Jack’s shorts.
Jack muttered just low enough for Ethan: “Bro… if I win this hand, I’m takin’ my prize right here.”
Ethan’s smirk broke into a low chuckle. “Better win, then. ’Cause I don’t play for second place.”
Connor slapped his cards down dramatically, missing everything. “Pair of twos, baby! Read it and weep!”
Jack and Ethan exchanged a look — the kind of look only bros with too much heat between them could decode — and both laid their cards down half-heartedly, laughing when Connor cheered like he’d conquered Vegas.
Connor leaned back smug. “Guess I’m the alpha here, bros.”
Jack’s hand dropped casually to Ethan’s knee, squeezing once before pulling back. His grin never slipped. “Sure thing, bro. Alpha.”
Ethan covered his mouth to hide the laugh, shoulders shaking, then whispered sideways, “Bro, you’re killin’ me.”
Jack let his gaze trail down Ethan’s chest, then back up, eyes heavy but playful. “Not yet, bro.”
Connor stood to grab a soda from the fridge, calling over his shoulder. “Next round’s mine too. Watch out, boys!”
The second he turned, Ethan’s hand slid over the back of Jack’s thigh, a firm squeeze hidden from view. Jack swallowed hard, grin fixed as he muttered under his breath, “Bro, we’re gonna lose this game on purpose.”
Ethan’s laugh was low, dark, and full of promise. “Bro… I’m already losing.”
Connor slammed his cards down like he’d just hit a royal flush.
“Boom! Trips, baby. That’s three kings. Nobody’s touching me tonight.”
Ethan leaned back, jaw flexing, eyes darting sideways to Jack. His breath was still a little fast, not from losing but from how close they’d been sitting all game. Jack’s thigh pressed solid against his, and every time Ethan shifted, he caught the faint musk of sweat and soap clinging to Jack’s body — that post-gym scent he knew way too well by now.
Jack grinned wide for Connor’s benefit, but his hand had dropped low again, thumb dragging across the inside of Ethan’s knee under the table. His touch lingered, casual to anyone else, but Ethan bit down on his lip to keep from groaning.
“Damn, bro,” Jack drawled, eyes locked on Ethan, not Connor. “Guess you’re just too good for us.”
Connor puffed his chest out, rocking back in the chair. “Hell yeah, I’m good. King Connor, that’s me.”
Ethan coughed into his fist, shoulders shaking. He turned, lips brushing close to Jack’s ear, muttering so low Connor couldn’t hear:
“Bro… if you keep doing that, I’m gonna flip this table and mount you right here.”
Jack’s smirk deepened. His knuckles trailed higher on Ethan’s thigh, heat rising in both of them. His voice stayed smooth, teasing, but his eyes burned.
“Do it, bro. I dare you.”
Ethan’s cock twitched hard in his shorts. He grabbed his cards like a shield, leaning closer until his bicep pressed firm against Jack’s chest. Their faces nearly brushed, both of them staring at their “hands” but breathing each other in.
Connor leaned over the table, pointing at his pile of chips. “Don’t be salty, bros. Can’t help it if I’m on fire tonight.”
Jack’s hand slid higher — grazing the outline of Ethan’s bulge through his shorts. Ethan’s breath stuttered, his free hand clamping the edge of the table.
“Bro—” he hissed, half a laugh, half a warning.
Jack leaned in, lips almost on Ethan’s cheek, whispering back, “What, bro? You folding already?”
Their thighs pressed tighter, their shoulders locked together, heat radiating in waves. Ethan tilted his head just enough that if he turned another inch, their mouths would’ve crashed.
Connor, oblivious, clapped his hands. “Final round, bros! Winner takes all.”
Jack and Ethan snapped apart just barely, still burning, still pressed hip-to-hip, both sporting obvious hard-ons under the table that Connor didn’t notice. Jack shoved his last chips in with a cocky grin, but his gaze was locked on Ethan’s lips.
Connor laid down his cards again, cackling. “Straight flush! Hell yeah. That’s three in a row. I’m unbeatable, bros!”
He jumped up, arms spread wide in victory. “Told you I was alpha!”
Ethan’s face was buried in his cards, shoulders trembling, not from defeat but from trying not to laugh — or groan. Jack leaned close, voice low, full of heat.
“Bro… if he knew how close you were to riding me under this table…”
Ethan finally looked up, eyes dark and hungry. He didn’t say a word, but the promise in his stare made Jack’s cock throb.
Connor flopped back into his chair, scooping up the cards. “Damn, I’m good. Y’all are easy prey.”
Jack’s grin never slipped. His hand slid off Ethan’s thigh reluctantly, brushing the heat one last time. “Yeah, bro. You got us.”
Ethan’s smirk twitched, the tension in his body vibrating like a live wire. Under the table, his knee knocked against Jack’s. He muttered just for him:
“Bro… when he goes to bed, you’re done.”
Jack chuckled low, licking his lips. “Promise, bro?”
Connor stretched with a yawn, oblivious. “Game night victory, baby.”
Jack and Ethan just stared at each other, bodies coiled, both seconds away from forgetting Connor existed.
Connor stretched, rubbing his belly like he’d just eaten a feast.
“Alright, bros. I’m wiped. Gotta crash. Mr. Whiskers needs his beauty sleep too.”
The cat meowed like backup, and Connor scooped him up.
“Don’t stay up too late playin’ with each other.”
Jack and Ethan froze, eyes darting to him, but Connor was already walking off toward his room, muttering about brushing the cat’s teeth. His door shut with a click.
Silence.
Then Ethan exhaled hard, cards dropping out of his hands. His eyes snapped to Jack’s.
“Bro… finally.”
Jack didn’t waste a second. He lunged across the couch, smashing their mouths together, the kiss hot and messy. Ethan groaned deep into it, hands gripping Jack’s shoulders, dragging him closer.
Jack shoved him back into the cushions, climbing on top. His cock was already hard, straining through his shorts, pressing into Ethan’s thigh. Ethan arched up against him, grinding back, their bodies sliding with desperate friction.
“Bro,” Ethan gasped between kisses, his breath ragged. “I almost lost it at the table. You—” His words broke off when Jack’s tongue shoved deep into his mouth.
Jack pulled back just enough to smirk, his lips wet.
“Same, bro. You begging me with your eyes all night. Thought you were gonna make me bust in front of Connor.”
Ethan’s laugh turned into a groan as Jack’s hand slid under his shirt, tracing every hard ridge of his abs.
“Bro… you’re the one who kept touching me under the table. You wanted this.”
Jack ground down harder, their cocks brushing through fabric. Both of them shuddered.
“Damn right I did.” Jack’s voice was low, hungry. “Been holding back all night. You’re mine now, bro.”
Ethan grabbed his jaw, dragging him into another kiss, teeth clashing. His hips bucked up, grinding their bulges together, both of them leaking, cocks like steel.
Jack pulled back just long enough to yank his own shirt off, tossing it aside. His body gleamed under the dim light, sweat already breaking. He pressed chest-to-chest with Ethan, skin hot, muscles straining as they rolled against each other.
“Bro…” Ethan’s eyes flicked down, catching the thick outline straining Jack’s shorts. “Get that cock out. I need it.”
Jack grinned like a predator, shoving his shorts down just enough to free himself. His cock slapped against Ethan’s stomach, hard, swollen, pre dripping like it had been waiting hours. Ethan’s eyes went wide, his breath catching.
“Fuck, bro,” Ethan whispered, licking his lips unconsciously. “I was thinking about that the whole game.”
Jack smirked, pressing the head against Ethan’s thigh, smearing pre across his skin.
“Should’ve folded earlier, bro. I’d already be inside you.”
Ethan groaned, grabbing his ass and yanking him closer. Their cocks slid against each other, wet and throbbing. Jack hissed at the friction, grinding harder, his abs flexing.
“Bro—” Ethan’s voice cracked, raw and desperate. “Please. No more waiting. Fuck me now.”
Jack’s smirk deepened, but his eyes were blazing.
“Say it again, bro.”
Ethan’s body trembled under him, cock jerking as he growled the words:
“Jack… fuck me.”
That was all it took. Jack grabbed Ethan’s shorts and yanked them down, baring his ass, already twitching with need. He lined up, rubbing the fat head of his cock against Ethan’s hole, teasing, smearing slick across it.
Ethan’s whole body arched off the couch, hole fluttering, begging without words.
“Bro… don’t tease. Give it to me.”
Jack leaned down, lips brushing Ethan’s ear.
“Oh, I’m gonna give it to you, bro. Every inch.”
And with one slow, hungry push, he started to slide in.
Jack gripped Ethan’s hips tight, holding him steady as he pressed forward. The blunt head stretched Ethan’s hole wide, slow and deliberate, until it finally popped past that first tight ring. Ethan’s sharp gasp broke the silence, his fingers clawing at Jack’s shoulders.
“Fuuuck, bro…” Ethan hissed, voice trembling, “you’re splitting me open.”
Jack’s grin was wicked, sweat already damp on his forehead. He pushed deeper, inch by inch, savoring the heat that gripped him like a vice. His cock throbbed as Ethan’s ass swallowed him, tight and hot, squeezing every ridge.
“Damn, bro…” Jack growled low, his breath hot against Ethan’s ear. “You feel like you were made for my cock.”
Ethan bucked helplessly beneath him, teeth clenched as his hole stretched wider around the thick shaft. His own cock slapped wetly against his abs, smearing pre.
“Fuck—Jack—I can’t… you’re too big.”
Jack slammed his hips flush, burying himself to the hilt in one final push. Ethan’s back arched hard, a strangled moan ripping out of him. Both froze, panting, locked together chest-to-chest.
Jack stayed deep, grinding his pelvis against Ethan’s ass, his cock pulsing inside.
“Feel that, bro? I’m all the way in. That hole’s mine now.”
Ethan’s fingers dug into Jack’s back, dragging red lines down muscle. He nodded frantically, eyes squeezed shut, sweat dripping down his temple.
“Yours, bro. Fuck—your cock’s owning me.”
Jack pulled out slow, dragging his cock until only the swollen head stretched Ethan’s rim, then shoved back in with a wet slap. Ethan bit down on a groan, muffling it against Jack’s shoulder.
“Shh, bro…” Jack whispered, smirking. “Connor’s passed out in the next room. You don’t wanna wake Mr. Cockblock.”
That set Ethan off, laughing breathlessly before choking on another moan as Jack started a steady rhythm—long, deep thrusts that made the couch creak. Each stroke dragged along every nerve inside him, Ethan’s hole clenching tighter every time Jack bottomed out.
Jack’s voice went rough, husky with control fraying.
“Goddamn, bro, this ass… it’s like heaven choking my cock. Never felt anything like it.”
Ethan’s voice cracked, muffled by the couch cushion he buried his face into, trying to keep quiet.
“Fuck—Jack—don’t stop. Stretch me open, bro. Use me.”
Jack hammered harder, the slap of skin echoing, both of them biting back noise. His abs tightened, cock slamming in balls-deep, the slick stretch getting wetter with every thrust. Ethan writhed under him, toes curling, body trembling.
Jack leaned close, lips brushing Ethan’s ear, whispering like a threat.
“You begged me for this, bro. Don’t forget it. Begged me to fuck your ass.”
Ethan’s muffled voice was raw, desperate.
“And I’d beg again, bro—fuck—I’d beg every night for this cock.”
Jack groaned deep in his chest, hips snapping faster, his balls slapping against Ethan’s ass. The rhythm built, harder, deeper, until the couch shook beneath them, both of them teetering on the edge.
“Bro—” Jack hissed, jaw clenched, “I’m close—fuck—you’re milking me—”
Ethan arched back into him, voice breaking into a plea.
“Fill me, bro. Cum in my ass. Give it to me.”
Jack’s whole body tensed, driving in one last brutal thrust that buried him to the root. His cock jerked, thick ropes shooting deep inside Ethan, filling him with heat. Jack groaned low, biting into Ethan’s shoulder to muffle it, body shaking as he pumped load after load.
Ethan moaned at the stretch and the flood inside him, hole clenching around Jack’s pulsing cock. He reached down and stroked himself furiously, his orgasm ripping out, cum spraying across his chest and stomach as his body bucked.
Jack stayed buried, grinding his cock through every spasm of Ethan’s orgasm, their bodies locked together in sweaty, trembling silence.
When the aftershocks finally eased, Jack chuckled against Ethan’s ear.
“Bro… that was the hottest fuck of my life. Mr. Cockblock has no idea what he’s missing.”
Ethan laughed weakly, still catching his breath.
“Fuck him. You’re the only pussy I need in this house.”
Jack snorted, nuzzling into his neck, still balls-deep inside.
“Bro talk just hit different when you’re stuffed full of cock.”
Jack and Ethan lay tangled on the couch, sweat cooling on their skin, cocks softening but still warm from the recent pounding. Their chests rose and fell in sync, shoulders pressed together, and Jack’s arm draped over Ethan’s torso, holding him close.
“Bro…” Ethan’s voice was low, teasing even in his exhaustion, “that was insane. Can you believe Connor’s just… in the next room? Totally clueless.”
Jack chuckled, his breath hot against Ethan’s ear. “Dude… he has no idea we just turned the couch into our own private gym. Bet he wouldn’t survive one round with us.” He grinned, smacking Ethan lightly on the shoulder. “Your ass feels amazing, bro. Tight as hell, perfect rhythm.”
Ethan laughed, rolling his eyes, but the smirk on his face said otherwise. “Yeah? Your cock? Fuck, bro… you really know how to work a hole. I think I could get used to this.”
Jack leaned back slightly, propping himself on one elbow, eyes tracing Ethan’s abs and the curve of his hips. “We’re like… the ultimate bro duo. Gotta keep our strength up, though. Can’t let this level of awesome go to waste.”
Ethan nudged him playfully. “Bro… I have ideas. Like, next time, maybe somewhere we can’t get caught… showers at the gym, maybe? After leg day?”
Jack’s eyes lit up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Bro… I like where you’re going with this. Just think of the cardio, the sweat… the bro bonding. Plus, zero couches, zero witnesses.”
They laughed quietly, still pressed together, bodies sticky but comfortable, the thrill of their secret lingering in the air.
“Bro,” Ethan said after a pause, resting his head on Jack’s chest, “we’re really pushing it, huh?”
“Damn right,” Jack replied, rolling his eyes with a smile. “But that’s what makes it fun. Gym tomorrow… showers are on. We’ll see who can keep it together first.”
Ethan grinned, feeling Jack’s heartbeat under his ear. “Bro… it’s on. You better be ready.”
Jack smirked, pulling him closer. “Oh, I’m ready. You’re gonna regret tempting me, bro.”
They stayed tangled like that for a while, the quiet of the apartment around them, sharing whispered jokes and lingering touches, already imagining the next round of sweaty, risky fun.
If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Wattpad.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
