Maybe he was gay or bi...

Or maybe he'd just been horny, and I was there, ready to go.

I sighed and began to wash off.

I couldn't get a soft spot for the guy just because he'd given me an orgasm. I was being crazy.

It didn't change anything.

That repeated in my head like a mantra for the rest of the day. Especially when Peter came home late, looking tired and somehow sexy at the same time. Like he was ready to jump into bed and that would lead to—no. Bad brain.

He was, unfortunately, attractive for a jerk. I'd always thought so. He was broad-shouldered with a nice face and short curly ash blond hair. He had lovely full lips, and grey eyes that were more soulful than they should be. Not to mention those thick thighs and that muscular ass. I often had to remind myself not to look when he walked by. But it was normal to look at an attractive guy even if you didn't want to fuck them.

He walked in while I was in the kitchen getting a bag of popcorn out of the microwave and paused when he saw me. We both did. For a moment, our gazes caught and held each other and then he passed me, went to his room, and left me to myself for the rest of the night.

I wasn’t used to it. Normally, even when he was in his room, I could hear him watching stuff on the computer or talking on the phone. I tried to pay attention to my show, but my gaze kept flying back to his bedroom door.

Was that it? Were we going to be even better now than we were before? Ignoring each other completely would be fine by me. It was what I had initially wanted.

So why didn’t it didn't feel like a good thing?

I felt weirdly guilty when I went to bed later. Laying there, in the same spot where we'd fooled around last night, listening to the silence again, I felt like I'd been... mean.

I didn't like that. I’d done nothing wrong.

Up until now, I hadn't cared what I said to Peter. I'd never felt bad...

I couldn't get a soft spot for the guy just because he'd given me an orgasm, I reminded myself. It didn't change anything.

It didn't change anything!

I shut my eyes, repeating the mantra until a sound reached me. It was a gentle creak at first, but I quickly knew what it was. I could hear him breathing, that same heavy sound from last night.

Fuck. He was jerking off.

Was he thinking about me? About what we had done?

I lay there, not moving a muscle, just listening.

"Yes," he whispered.

I bit my lip, cock hardening at the sound of his voice. He was being loud on purpose. He had to be... oh shit, I'd been in here loads of times, jerking off and thinking he couldn't hear me.

"Jonas."

My eyes widened at the sound of my name and without thinking, I was gripping my cock. I started to stroke it, listening desperately for more, still trying to be quiet until I couldn't anymore. My panting and quiet moans filled the air, and I was letting him hear me.

He groaned softly.

Peter was making me lose my mind. Seriously, what the fuck was I doing?

One of the hottest things ever, that's what.

I pumped harder, committed now, getting off on the idea of us both getting off to the idea of what each other was doing.

He came before me; his heavy grunt was followed by silence and then a long moan, the frantic shifting of his bed moving quickly while he stroked himself to completion.

I listened desperately, a soft moan escaping me as come spilled all over my fist and my cock flexed, balls emptying.