Page 25 of Tempting the Teammate
Andrei had never been open about girls, dating, and sex. All I knew was that Andrei had stuff to do outside that I wasn’tinvited to. Clearly, he didn’t want me to meet the girls he hooked up with.
I had invited him to some of the more casual dates of mine. In high school, when I’d dated Summer Jennings for those two months leading to a disastrous prom dance, I’d invited Andrei out with us from time to time. It had felt like a logical thing. I had wanted my best friend and the girl I really liked to get along. But Andrei had always been busy.
And I knew better. I knew Andrei’s schedule. I knew what he did in his spare time. I knew that his “busy” meant he would spend the night developing photos he’d recently taken on his vintage film camera. If he’d wanted to be invited again, he would have come up with a better excuse.
Eventually, I’d stopped trying to get him to meet my girls. I’d mainly stopped because he never wanted to, but I had also come to realize that my relationships didn’t last long enough to justify the effort.
For his part, Andrei had never invited me to meet his dates. If he were secretly married to some sorority chick, I hadn’t gotten the wedding invite.
And that was fine. It was totally fine. I just needed to keep telling myself this, and it might eventually become the truth.
I hopped out of my bed and stretched, my mind circling back to the core question. Was he grossed out by the fiction about us swirling online? Sure, he had been born here, he’d grown up here, but maybe it didn’t sit well with him that people wrote stories about him being gay.
Me? I didn’t care. I’d never been curious like that—at least, not until I’d read a particularly explicit passage that described whatIfelt whenAndreientered me. Show me a guy who wouldn’t freak out a little reading that, I dare you.
I pulled my hoodie over my head and tossed it over the back of my chair, then peeled the sweatpants off my legs next.
I really needed to stop letting this get under my skin. If I wanted to go around saying it didn’t bother me, then I had to act like it. And if it bothered Andrei, then I needed to know why. Was it because he secretly subscribed to some primitive ideas, or was he particularly grossed out because it wasus? And if that was the case, why? We’d been friends long before anyone looked at us twice.
I strolled into the bathroom and pulled down my boxer briefs, stepped out of them, and lifted them with my right foot, grabbing them with my left hand. I glanced at the mirror and figured I needed a haircut. I’d needed one a month ago. My hair had always been shaggy and wild, but I was getting startled by my own reflection these days.
I turned the water on, twisting it all the way to hot so the bathroom could steam up.
I lifted the top of the laundry basket and tossed my underwear inside. The boxer briefs landed on top of Andrei’s. Black with the print of red lips. I’d bought him those as a joke. He’d gone the shade of Red Delicious and rolled his eyes.
I swear I didn’t pick them up. I had no idea why they were hanging from my left hand the next time I blinked. I tried to work some spit into my mouth, but it was dry as ash, parched like the desert ground.
My other hand was on the doorknob, turning the lock, as Andrei’s underwear hung before my face.
It had to be some kind of space-time-warping episode because I couldn’t remember making the move, and I couldn’t come up with a reason why I would bring the red-kissed boxers closer to my face, yet there they were.
The first scent that tickled my nostrils was the softener. Lavender. We used the same one, but I could only ever smell it on Andrei. That was why I started using it.
There had to be more. Beneath the lavender. Deep in the soft, gentle fabric.
I buried my nose in the folds of Andrei’s boxer briefs in search of it. Cautious not to lose the scent of it, I inhaled it all. Yes, far too much lavender, but it was there, under the surface, the very thing that made my heart thunder. Musky and nearly impossible to detect, the scent of sweat and sex and something excitingly new that I could only describe as Andrei himself filled my lungs and my soul. I drew on it like it was the fountain of youth, sucking in the most I could, my lips kissing the soft inside of the fabric.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
Red alarms blared inside my head, but I squeezed my eyes shut and parted my lips, not quite tasting him but feeling the movement of the fabric against the tip of my tongue.
When I next opened my eyes, Andrei’s boxers were in the basket again, lying on top of mine. I bent down quickly, panic piercing my heart like icicles. I tucked his boxers under mine and hoped to God Andrei hadn’t memorized the exact creases and folds he’d left in the basket because I sure as hell couldn’t recall anything.
I stepped into the shower with my heart still pounding against my rib cage and my cock harder than it had ever been. It ached with every throb that sent it swaying, its sweet pain spreading down into my toes, curling them. My teeth itched, and I bit my lip hard as the hot water splashed against my flesh.
I could have sworn I felt every drop land on me. It was like being on an incredibly potent drug that bent reality around you. Every sound was a thousand times clearer, every sight a painting, and every touch a symphony of sensations. It was pure ecstasy.
When I leaned back against the heated tiles, my right hand dragged down my torso, feeling every muscle constrict under mytouch. It felt good to wrap my fingers around my pulsing cock, pleasure fountaining through me. Guilt was like a saw, hacking away at these wonderful things from underneath, grinding and cutting and hurting the very thing that caused it.
But pleasure was inescapable. Impossible to ignore. It made my fist tighten around the head of my cock, sliding, rubbing, sinning as thoughts of Andrei’s scent lingering inside of me consumed my mind. Was it cum? Maybe precum? Could it be so sweet and tender and potent?
Ah, but it was forbidden. That was what made me lose my mind. It was the furthest I’d gone for a high, the most I’d risked to get a little hard. It was only the fact that I shouldn’t do this that made it so hot.
My head thumped against the tiles, teeth gritted and lips pulled back in pain and pleasure, hisses escaping me through my jaws.
I just had to look away. If I looked away now, I would be fine. Saved. Rescued. I wouldn’t be guilty of jerking off to the thought of my best friend. I wouldn’t use him like this, knowing he wouldn’t want it, knowing it would embarrass him to even imagine it. I just had to direct my thoughts to any of the countless girls I’d hooked up with over the years.
Any.
