4

I don’t waste time arguing with him, mainly because I don’t want to. I lick a long, hot stripe over my palm, wetting it with spit. When it’s enough, I plunge my hand down my pajama pants and grip my length. Wesley’s gaze is searing, heating me all over. He follows my lead, trailing his free hand down his chest until it comes to rest on the waistband of his grey sweatpants.

The sheets obscure the rest of him, and suddenly the most important thing to me is seeing all of him. With my other hand, I tear off the covers, kicking them down our legs to tangle around our ankles.

I glance down at Wesley’s crotch.

“Fuck, you’re big.” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”

Wesley bites his lip hard, teeth sinking into the plump redness. I catalog every detail, every blink of his eyelashes as he rubs the front of his sweatpants. He exhales roughly but doesn’t close his eyes. He’s looking at my hand moving slowly over my cock, hidden underneath my pajamas.

“Take those off,” he says. The command lights up my nerves like a damn Christmas tree.

I do as I’m told, letting go of myself to lift my hips and shimmy my pants down my legs until I’m left exposed. Cold air hits my cock and I grip myself again, hissing. I feel delirious, like I’ve gone mad with want.

“Now you,” I say breathlessly. “Please. Let me see you.”

Wesley groans and stops rubbing himself long enough to tear off his sweatpants. His cock bobs up into the air and, as far as cocks go, it’s gorgeous.

He wraps long, calloused fingers around the length with a familiarity that sends sparks down my back and starts a painfully slow rhythm that makes me sweat just from watching him. I let out a soft, broken sound when he rubs over his tip, gathering precum and spreading it down his length.

I’m not thinking clearly when I press my body closer to his, fitting my front against his side until my hips are in line with his thigh, my cock pressing against his skin. Gasping at the sensation, I press my forehead against his shoulder. It’s all too much, too fast and my hips jerk once, hard. A loud moan rips from my mouth, and I feel so wanton it makes me dizzy.

Wesley says nothing, only shifts his head so he can watch me better. His eyes spur me on, and soon I’m dragging my cock over his skin, rubbing the head with my palm in between thrusts.

There’s a small, heart-shaped birthmark where his shoulder meets his neck. I want to latch my mouth onto it and never let go.

“Ollie,” Wesley practically groans and, somehow, his voice is lower than usual. My breath hitches at the sound of my name, pleasure pooling in my hips. “Oliver, look at me.”

When I tilt my head up against his muscled arm, brown eyes catching blue, he leans down and captures my mouth with his.

For a moment, I’m too starstruck to do anything more than lie there in shock, trembling against him. But when he starts pulling away, something clicks in my head and suddenly I’m gripping his arm and pressing our lips together, swallowing that little ‘mm’ sound that makes me hot all over.

Kissing Wesley is euphoric, and I can’t believe we haven’t done it sooner. His mouth tastes a bit like toothpaste, a bit like the sweet tea he had before bed, and his lips are pillow-soft against mine. When we pull away to breathe, he licks and nibbles at my lips until they’re swollen red. Gasping against his mouth, I grind deeper against his thigh and watch as his fist speeds up over his jutting cock.

“I like the way you touch yourself,” I say, gasping. “You look so good.”

“Christ, Ollie.”

Wesley groans again, deep and rumbling, and it’s almost enough to drown out the howl of wind outside. He leans down and kisses me once more, and this time I lose myself in the feeling. I’m too far gone for thoughts. For the first time in forever, my head is empty and all I can focus on is his lips against mine, the pressure building in my balls, the pleasure cresting through me like a wave.

I come with the taste of him on my tongue, my hips jutting against his hip, and the distinct feeling that I would do anything this man could ask of me. Come coats my hand, a few drops landing on his skin.

Wesley’s breath hitches, and he throws his head back against the pillow, speeding up his strokes. His hips pump into the air as he chases the same high.

I want nothing more than for him to feel as good as I did. Without thinking, I force myself to sit up despite the lethargy coating my limbs and straddle his thighs. Absently, I use my clean hand to push up his sleep shirt to expose his tight stomach, watching his abs flex with each thrust. He looks good spread out like this.

“What— what are you doing?” Wesley says.

“Watching,” I say. “You look amazing.”

Wesley eyes me for a moment then juts his chin to where my dirty hand rests on my thigh. “I want to taste you.”

My nose wrinkles. “Is that not weird?”

But he shakes his head frantically, a low groan falling from his lips as his strokes speed up.

Oh. “Okay.”

I press my hand against his mouth, watching in fascination as he licks my palm. His mouth is gorgeous and, dazed, I slip two fingers past his lips. Wesley sucks, lapping at them until they’re clean. I wasn’t sure about it at first but seeing him lick my come like it”s a delicacy sends new sparks of arousal down to my spent cock.

“You do that so well,” I say quietly and nibble at the faint stubble on his jaw. “God, you’re amazing, Wes. You’re gonna make me hard again just from watching you.”

Wesley squeezes his eyes shut, mouth clamping down on my fingers as he pumps his cock steadily, his orgasm much quieter than mine was. It’s still fascinating. I catalog every detail of how his come splatters against his hand, some landing on his shirt and hip, how his mouth falls open around my fingers as I caress his tongue. I shiver, overwhelmed.

When he’s finished, he takes off his sleep shirt and uses it as a makeshift napkin, cleaning both of us up. I slip into my pajama pants, settling onto my side of the bed again. This time I’m facing inwards.

Wesley wraps his arm around me, pressing my face against his chest. The scent of pine and sweat and sex consumes me, and it doesn’t take long before I fall asleep.

I think I feel the press of soft lips against my forehead, and I enter my dreams with a smile on my face.

*

The next morning, the storm is over, and the wind has died down, but the snowfall is too high to hike through.

Like always, I wake up before Wesley does. It’s funny, for such a practical and organized person, he’s the heaviest sleeper I know.

Breakfast is ready by the time he wakes up; a full plate of pancakes made from store-bought mix, but I added milk and an egg to make the stack extra light and fluffy. I fill two metal mugs, coffee for him and sweetened hot chocolate for me, and bring it to the bedroom on a makeshift tray.

I place it gently on the bedside table and squat down beside Wesley’s sleeping figure. He looks peaceful like this, the ever-present wrinkle between his brow smoothed out.

I’ve always known Wesley was a good-looking guy, but I’ve never let myself see how breathtaking he is. He could be a model in another life.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” I say, shaking him a little. “I made your favorites for breakfast.”

Wesley groans and blinks his eyes open blearily. When he finally sees me, a tender, radiant smile lights his face, and my breath hitches in my throat. I know a lot of his facial expressions, but this smile is new. I blink, staring at him for a moment, and I don’t notice his hand reaching out until he’s grabbing my chin and enveloping my mouth with his.

I can’t help the sound that pulls out of me as I brace myself, one arm on the bed, the other gripping his shoulder. His tongue is languid, lazily coaxing more sounds from me like spun gold, and I relax into his embrace, ignoring the taste of both of our morning mouths. I want to pull closer to him, to meld myself into his skin, and stay there forever.

His other hand catches mine and guides it down over his chest and between his legs to the large bulge resting there. Running off of instinct, I grab him through his sweatpants and rub, like he did to himself last night.

Wesley moans appreciatively against my mouth, and heat flashes through me like a flame.

It takes us a while to get to breakfast. By the time we’re finished, Wesley is sitting against the headboard, sweaty and flushed. I’m straddling his hips with my shirt somehow lying on the floor, and the food is lukewarm.

As we eat, I can’t help but sneak glances at Wesley. He doesn’t look like he hates me. He’s the calmest I’ve ever seen him, his shoulders relaxed and the same, blinding smile gracing his features.

“What’s the matter?” he says.

I turn my face away, feeling flush.

“Nothing,” I say quickly.

My chest is tight, anxiety thrumming in my veins and down my fingers. I can’t believe this is real. Three years of keeping my hands to myself, of making sure not to stay too close to my best friend in case he thinks I’m weird and leaves me forever.

Now I’m sitting in his lap, my mouth full of the taste of him, and the sky hasn’t fallen. I don’t want to think about what this means, so I don’t.

Wesley leans over to place his coffee mug on the tray and grips my waist to keep himself steady. My breath hitches.

“Okay, it’s something.” I tug on my fringe, stomach curling with nerves. “You don’t regret last night, do you?”

“Never. It was…” Wesley trails off, clearing his throat. “I liked it very much.”

I grin. “Me too. It was intense.”

“Yeah? I thought you said you’ve had encounters before.”

“I’ve jerked off with my ex, but it was never like that.”

Wesley’s grip on my waist tightens, and his frown returns to his face. “The same one you refuse to tell me about?”

I groan, flopping against his chest dramatically. He drapes an arm casually over my back. I like the way it fits, like it belongs there, and I smile against his bare skin. But the thought of my first boyfriend sobers me just as quickly.

“I’ve talked about him before.”

“You told me he didn’t like touching.”

“He liked the sexual parts well enough,” I say into his skin, sighing. “But hugging was a no-go, especially in public. He said he didn’t want people to think he was soft.”

Wesley snorts and I tilt my head up to stare quizzically at him. “He was a fool. Anybody with half a brain would be willing to hang the moon and stars for y— for those they love.”

I hum, wanting to push the conversation towards him. The curiosity from before has reignited.

Wesley settles a large hand on my head and scrapes fingernails against my scalp until I’m melting against him, curling into his warmth.

“Have you ever been in love?” I say.

“Once.”

“Were you dating them?”

The hand in my hair stops moving for a moment before the petting continues.

“No,” Wesley says. “I’ve never dated them.”

“Oh, so it’s like a crush?” That piques my interest. “What do they look like? Are they pretty?”

Wesley sighs. “They’re beautiful, with lovely blonde hair that catches the sunlight and soft brown eyes. I feel awed just to be in their presence.”

“They sound nice,” I say. It’s true, they do sound nice, but I hate the way Wesley’s voice changes, filled with something that makes my heart race. “You must really like them, huh?”

More than me, even. The thought coils in my stomach like a vine, but I push it away. Wesley deserves somebody he loves, somebody who will take care of him. He deserves love - whole and encompassing - because he’s the best person I know.

“I do like them, very much.” He pauses. “Do you have a crush?”

I shake my head. “No. There’s no point, nobody wants to date me anyway.”

“That’s not true,” Wesley says. “It can’t be.”

“How do you know? Besides, I don’t have time for crushes. It would distract me from hanging out with my friends. Like you.”

“That’s— well. Good for you, Ollie.”

The lovely, warm thing in his voice disappears, replaced by short, clipped tones.

“What’s wrong?” I say.

“Nothing. I believe it’s time for a shower,” he says, pulling away from me. “I feel disgusting.”

Something tightens in my chest as Wesley takes his hand away and uncurls the arm around my waist. I pull back, slipping off of his lap easily and staring up at him. He grabs the tray.

“I’ll wash these for you,” he says gruffly. “Thank you for the meal.”

He exits the room hurriedly, leaving me feeling off-kilter and wondering what just happened. His words echo in my head. I feel disgusting.

I don’t know what to think. I never expected to end up in bed with Wesley, but I’m not sure I want to stop. He’s been my best friend for years and I don’t want to ruin that. But maybe this doesn’t have to ruin anything.

Maybe we can keep sleeping together in the bed and go back to normal when college starts again. All I know is I don’t want to lose him.

What if he’s come to his senses and realized I’m a freak? What if he regrets sharing a bed with me? Sure, he’s the one who suggested getting off together, but only because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut and stop asking him sex questions like a damn game show host.

All I know is I want to do it again. But I’m unsure if he’ll let me.

Well done, Oliver, you’ve ruined everything. Like always.