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“You’re fucking beautiful like this, Ry,” he praises. The words shoot through me, but not as much as when he leans in, lips brushing against my ear as he whispers, “Come for me, Ry. Cover our cocks in your cum.” Before giving my ear a wet, teasing lick, I can’t stop my mind from imagining what else his mouth can do.

He’s so filthy when he’s telling me exactly what he wants from me, and I break on his command. I groan as the tension snaps and I come all over his hand and cock,just like he told me too.He curses under his breath, still fucking up into his fist, chasing his own release. And fuck, he’s loud as he follows me over the edge.Just the way I like him.His dick jerks against mine, his release coating my skin.

For a moment, neither of us moves. The only sound in the room is our ragged breathing trying to come back to normal as we stare into each other’s eyes.

Logan is still straddling my thighs when he lets go of our cocks. Then, without a word, he lifts his hand to his mouth.

The one that had just been wrapped around us, stroking our cocks.

The one that’s still coated in cum.

Ourcum.

And without breaking eye contact, he licks the cum off his fingers—and my jaw drops.

It’s another thing I’ve read a hundred times, but watching him do it? Seeing his tongue drag slowly over his knuckles withmycum on them?

Something inside me snaps, and the sound that leaves me doesn’t even sound human.

“Jesus Christ,” I choke out, my whole body tensing again. “Fuck, Logan. Fuccckkkk. That’s so sexy. Why is that so hot?”

Logan’s lips form a smug smile as he drags the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip, and he slowly licks it before pushing it in his mouth and letting his lips close around it. The whole time his icy blue eyes never leave mine and when he pulls his thumb out with a pop, I can’t fucking breathe. All I can think about is how his mouth would feel sucking my cock like that.

How did I think I was straight before when that was so fucking hot?

The fantasies I’ve been having about him arenotfriendly. Not with how strong my desire is to crash my mouth to his, or how much I want to hear him moan, or how many times I’ve envisioned us coming together, or feeling his tongue on me. And watching him lick our cum off his fingers? That feels like the moment everything in my world finally shifted into place.

I thought I’d had plenty of what I previously thought of as ‘great sex’ in the past, but nothing, not a single experience, has ever made me feel the way I feel right now. Like myentire body is still aching for more, even after I came harder than I knew was possiblejust from his hand. I want to know what his mouth would feel like on my dick, my mouth, my hole. What it would be like to have him own me entirely, to hand over every bit of control and let him take me apart. What it would feel like to have him inside me, to be inside him.

I want him. Every single piece of him. I want it all.

These thoughts should probably send me into a full-blown identity crisis, but they don’t. Because at the end of the day, I’m still me, and Logan has always been mine. Sure, maybe this changes a few things, but what doesn’t change is how right being with him feels.

He’s always been my favorite person, and now I want him in every way possible. I want to kiss him senseless and figure out what else we could be.

So, I’m not going to sit here and analyze the past ten years of my life, or wonder how I never realized I was attracted to men, or continue to question everything I know about myself, because the simple truth is I want this. And nothing has ever felt as much likemineas Logan does.

He climbs off my lap and goes to the bathroom to get a hand towel, and when he comes back, he raises an eyebrow like he’s asking if I want him to clean me up. I nod because yeah, as hot as it was watching him lick my cum off his fingers, I’m not sure I’m ready to treat our cum like frosting just yet.

He doesn’t say anything as he wipes me down, his touch surprisingly soft and gentle. And then, like wiping me clean wasn’t the most intimate, boundary-blurring thing we’ve ever done in our friendship, he tosses the towel aside, turns toward me, and pulls the blanket up over both of us and snuggles in.

“Goodnight,” he whispers before pressing a kiss to my forehead, and I swoon at the gesture.

15

RYDER

The drive to my house feels longer than usual. We haven’t been here since the second email came, and we decided we should probably make sure everything’s okay. My brain is in overdrive, cycling through every possible scenario, and none of them are good.

What if he broke in? What if it’s not just words this time? What if he’s waiting for us? What if my stuff’s been stolen or trashed? What if, what if, what if…

I try to convince myself it’ll be fine, but the knot in my stomach says otherwise. Because if his goal is to freak me out, he’s done a damn good job, but there’s no way I’m going to let him see that. I prefer to do all my spiraling in front of Logan and Logan only.

As much as I try to stay rational, I can’t shake the tightness in my chest. I shouldn’t feel this anxious pulling up to my own house, but I do, and that alone feels wrong.

When I park in the driveway, everything looks the same as when I left it. I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybewindows shattered, my front door hanging open, a giant neon sign saying, ‘he’s been here,’ but none of that was there. I’m sure that if something had been vandalized, one of my neighbors would have called me or the police.

Still, that does nothing to quiet the unease gripping my throat.