What Twisted Webs We Weave

Kisses On The Necks Of Best Friends

(Patrick's POV)

My phone was resting on the arm of the couch. I kept glancing at it every two minutes. Waiting for it to light up with a notification from Pete. A text. A call. FaceTime. Email. Anything. But nothing came.

So I continued typing away on my laptop with Brendon at my side doing the same. It was either work or go into a depressive state of overthinking. And of course the latter was off the table. I'd been doing so well for the last few days. I couldn't let one little fight send me two steps back.

Pete was probably just busy with Tyler. I knew he wasn't with Ryan any more. Because Ryan told Brendon he'd gone back to work after lunch. I felt way more comfortable picturing him with Tyler than I did with Ryan. I knew Pete wouldn't fuck up like that again, but sometimes flashbacks of the past made me nervous.

I knew I wasn't a saint either. That's why I would never persecute him for his old infidelities. I had no room to accuse. I wasn't immune to my own errors. I'd hurt Pete. For months I played between him and my wife. Slipping Brendon in a time or two just for the good measures of being an extra shitty person.

But now that was done. I'd grown in our months apart. Thinking the love of your life is dead could really do that to a person. God gave me a second chance with Pete and I wasn't going to waste it being a -for lack of a better word- whore.

So we had a fight. No, not a fight. More of a disagreement. He ditched me for lunch and instead went with a man who was probably still in love with him. A man he slept with an uncountable amount of times. A man who's sole purpose in life seemed to be destroying any relationship I had with Pete. Cool. No big deal. They were friends. Friends had lunch all the time. Brendon and I had lunch. It was no big deal!

It was the exact same thing. Two best friend. Former lovers. Sharing the completely platonic experiencing of eating a meal together. And if Brendon and I could do it then Pete and Ryan should be able to do it. I was such a hypocrite sometimes and never even noticed it. I didn't even think about Brendon in that way anymore. So who was I to say that Pete felt the same way about Ryan?

We shouldn't be expected to give up years of friendship because we fucked them. I snuck a glance at Brendon. He was too invested in his work to notice me looking. I tried to picture my life without him and frowned.

I needed him in my life. And it had nothing to do with sex. Even though as my gaze shifted to his lower half, I couldn't help but notice how his hips were made for sex. I'd never seen a guy with those kind of hips and that kind of ass. And his thighs were so toned. Not from exercise like Pete's. I think his were just naturally thick.

I snapped my gaze, and thoughts, away from Brendon's body. Focusing instead on his face again. On that jawline. On those lips. Bad idea. Super bad idea. Even his face seemed like it was made for sex. Bedroom eyes. Plump, soft lips. Lips that I could recall doing amazing things and-

WHAT THE FUCK WAS MY PROBLEM?

Why the hell was I looking at Brendon like this? Why the hell was I thinking these things? When's the last time I jerked off? Was it Sunday? No, because Pete was there Sunday and I fell asleep when he left. It could have been Friday. No it couldn't. And as I continued to rack my brain, I realized it was over two weeks ago. That's why I was looking at Brendon like that. My body must be frustrated. And the frustration had only doubled since Pete returned. I never didn't want to fuck that man's brains about. And having him so close again, kissing him, holding him, touching him and not being able to sleep with him must be driving my brain into sexual overdrive.

"Why the hell are you looking at me like that?" Brendon asked.

I snapped out of my embarrassing thoughts and realized I was still staring at my best friend like I wanted to devour him.