Page 7 of It's All You: An MM Best Friends to Lovers Romance (Mars Fitness)

I haven’t felt this warm and comfortable and cozy in freaking ages. A broad, solid chest under my cheek. That musky, spicy scent in my nose. A thick thigh between my own, perfectly angled for me to grind my erection against. It’s been too long since I’ve gotten laid.

I freeze. I haven’t gotten laid. The chest under my cheek and the scent in my nose and the thigh I’m humping don’t belong to some random stranger I picked up at a club. They belong to…

My eyes fly open as I fling myself away from Beau only to land partially on the coffee table, sending the bowl of popcorn spinning across the floor. I scramble to my feet, ignoring the bloom of pain in my ribs.

“Jesus. Gavin. Are you okay?” Beau’s propped himself up on one elbow, but otherwise, he’s still splayed out on the couch, all six foot two of delectable man that I’d been plastered against for god knows how long.

“Yeah, um, fine. Totally cool. Yep. I’m great.” I push my hair out of my eyes and back myself toward my room.

Beau sits up and—wait a minute. His hand goes to his crotch as he stands. He tries to hide it, but I know a hard cock under sweatpants when I see one. Is he—? Is that erection for me? No. It can’t be. He’s straight. He doesn’t like guys. And he certainly doesn’t like me.

“Um… sorry!” I spin around, race into my bedroom, and slump against the closed door. It must’ve been a trick of the light. Or a hallucination dreamed up by my exhausted brain. There’s no way Beau had a hard-on for me.

Behind me, the bathroom fan whirs to life, then the door closes, muting its sound. I squeeze my eyes shut as my imagination decides to take on a life of its own. It brings up an image of Beau, pushing his sweatpants down around his thighs. He’s not wearing underwear and his cock juts out from his body, long and thick. He takes himself in hand and a shiver runs up my spine at what it must feel like. The steely hardness encased in velvety soft skin.

I fumble with my own pants, frantically pushing them down so I can catch up with fantasy-Beau in my mind. He squeezes himself and the head of his cock is red and swollen. A bead of pre-cum gathers in his slit. He swipes it up with his thumb and rubs it into the smoothness of his glans.

I match his imaginary movements, circling around and around the glistening tip of my dick. My hips come off the door and I reach between my legs to palm my balls. I rub up and down the seam that runs across my taint.

“Beau.” His name escapes my lips and the sound of that single syllable, desperate and needy, makes me flinch while also making my cock jump.

I can’t be jerking off to thoughts of Beau, not to fantasies of him also jerking off in the bathroom across the hall. And yet my dick is harder than it’s ever been. I’m leaking pre-cum like I forgot to turn off a faucet somewhere. My groin tightens as my hand moves over my cock, twisting around the head.

I can imagine what Beau looks like, a sheen of sweat over his muscles, a stray drop trailing down the center of his chest. I can imagine what he sounds like as he grunts, the vibrations traveling through him and into me.

My knees go weak as I drop my head back and it bangs on the door.

I can imagine how he tastes, the saltiness of his skin, the slightly bitter tang of his pre-cum. I can imagine the heftiness of his cock on my tongue, the way it stretches my jaw wide, filling my mouth. I can imagine his fingers in my hair, gripping me, holding me in place as he fucks my throat, as he comes on my face.

A bolt of pleasure shoots up my spine as I orgasm. Ropes of cum land on my hand, warm and wet, and I milk myself for every last drop. My legs give out under me and I slide down to the floor. There are stars in my eyes and the floor tilts a bit underneath me.

From the hallway, the bathroom fan turns off and Beau’s heavy footsteps echo as he heads toward the kitchen. The fridge door opens and closes and more footsteps move into the living room. Then there’s silence.

All the lights are off when I work up the courage to open my bedroom door. Beau’s already on the couch, eyes closed, blankets pulled up to his chin. I don’t know if he’s asleep and I don’t linger to find out. I rush into the bathroom and quickly shut the door behind me.

Oh god, what have I done?