"Between friends, unspoken feelings can feel like a fragile thread pulled taut; one denies its existence while the other hides behind its delicate weave, both yearning for the courage to unravel what lies beneath."
Ian and Julian, long-time best fri...
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~Lips meshed and tongues caressed as hands explored our semi-naked bodies. "I love a boy in briefs," I whispered, feeling my hard cock stretching my thin, red underwear.~
I could feel it. Everything had shifted, and now it was impossible to stop. Impossible to stop kissing Ian, impossible to stop making out with him whenever I found a moment alone with him. I remembered every single time.
~It was beautiful and big, beyond what I had dreamed, and my mouth actually watered as if I was looking at a lollipop. The comparison made me smile.~
Everything really has shifted in a way that it's become impossible to resist, and there was no stopping the tidal wave of desire that had crashed over me. Every moment I spent in Ian's company was an agonizing battle against the relentless pull of the magnetic connection that unfolded before us. The mere sight of Ian's face, the sound of his voice, the fleeting brush of our hands—all seemed to conspire to send my heart racing, my skin tingling with electricity that made me suffer.
I couldn't stop thinking about his touch, the way his lips felt against mine.
When we returned from the local mart, we helped Bella with packaging the items as planned. I found myself unable to tear my gaze from Ian. It was agonizing, to say the least. I felt like smashing it all. This hard work was such a bother. The anticipation was too much. My thoughts crackled like the sound of wood burning in a fire. It felt foreboding. I wanted to know all that went on inside his head. More importantly, I wanted us to resume our playful moments. I wanted Ian and me alone.
My eyes flickered with unease and an almost childlike curiosity as they followed Ian's every movement all afternoon. I'm not even joking—I was basically a watchman at this point, so fixated on his every gesture that it felt like I had a job to do.
I couldn't help it. The way the afternoon light danced across Ian's features was annoyingly magnificent. He was so pretty today, and for no apparent reason, which made it even more infuriating. It reminded me of the warmth radiating from his body just moments ago when we were in the back seat of his car. I had to use every ounce of self-control to keep myself from reaching out and pulling him close. All I had now were the memories, and oh, how they taunted me.
After an exhausting afternoon of packaging what felt like a hundred tiny boxes, I was beyond tired. All I wanted was Ian and I alone, away from the distractions and the tedious tasks. The desire was almost overwhelming, a constant thrum in my veins, urging me to find a way to be with him, and only him. I'd devoured snacks like it was my job—cake, juice, you name it—all thanks to the packaging marathon. It was a good distraction from Ian, at least until everything was finally done.
I exhaustively made my way to Ian's room so I could take my shower and lie down—the thought was nice. I wanted it. I wasted no time tearing everything off and rushing to the bathroom. I was acutely aware of his scent—the citrusy notes of his body wash, the subtle hints of his hair products.
