Page 61 of Just Bromantically Invested

I slide his pants down to his knees, then reach for his boxer briefs. His dick is straining hard against the front of the material, a large spot of precum visible even on the black fabric, and excitement pumps into my veins as I slide them down his legs.

Penn’s hand dives into my hair, sending pleasant shivers down my spine. I keep holding his gaze as I lean down and wrap my lips around his cock.

I can’t stop the moan that builds. Penn’s taste spreads across my tongue, salty and heady, nothing I could have created in my fantasies. I’m not in a rush, content to just suck on the tip, running my tongue over the slit and flicking it over the underside of his head. I want more, but I’ve already had more than I ever could have imagined with him, and I’m so scared he’s going to back off or put a stop to things, but Penn’s hand is still gripping my hair, and I’m still tasting the only cock I’ve ever wanted.

His hand tightens, gripping my hair almost painfully as he feeds me more of his length. Each pass over my tongue, each nudge to the back of my throat, I love the feel and heat and weight of him. And when I look up and it’s Penn looking back, it’s an out-of-body experience.

He pulls from my mouth. “This is so fucking weird.”

“Why?”

“Because … because it’s you.”

I give him time to work through that thought. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No. Fuck no.” He swallows, looking like he’s got something he needs to say. “I never thought … this, us, was a possibility, but now that I’m with you, it feels like the only possibility.” His hands roam from my hair and over my shoulders. “I need this.”

“Yeah,” I croak. “Me too.”

He straddles my lap, and I pull him to me. All this heated skin pressed to mine feels like the greatest gift I’ve ever had. Penn’s a solid anchor in my lap, cock flush against me, and I seek his lips, desperate for another kiss.

He gives it to me.

Fills that ache for him in ways I couldn’t have imagined. I take his hips in my hands, coaxing him to thrust against me, still slick from my blow job and the rapidly building precum. I could get used to this, showing Penn how much I want him, how my life isn’t complete without him.

Sure, we’ve been friends forever, but now that these lines have been blurred, I’m scared there’s no going back for me. With any luck, Penn will feel the same.

I burrow my hand between our bodies and wrap it around our cocks. There’s nothing like the feel of a dick against mine, jerking them both together, building us both toward orgasms, but it has a whole other level when it’s Penn.

His mouth breaks from mine. “Why does that feel so good?”

“Because dicks are a massive turn-on?”

He groans, head dropping back, and my gaze sweeps over his body. I remember our baseball days, when he was tanked, but I love this lean look just as much. Feeling bold, I slip my free hand from his hip to his ass and rest my forefinger at the top of his crease.

Penn’s eyes snap to mine.

Slowly, I stroke my finger down a little and back up again. He watches me, and I swear I detect a hint of curiosity, so I do it again, dipping further down this time. Then further again. Penn’s pupils have almost taken over the brown in his eyes, and this time, I slide down far enough to brush his hole.

His inhale is sudden, and his cock jumps in my grip.

“This okay?” I ask.

“I haven’t told you to stop yet, have I?”

My balls tighten at how lust-drunk he sounds. I jerk us off faster, with more purpose, as I gently circle Penn’s hole. He’s leaking over my fist, lips parted and panting, struggling to hold himself up as he leans forward and presses his face to my hair. His whole body is rigid, grip on my back turning painful as I play with his hole, and his fingernails cut into my skin.

The pain brings everything up a notch. Penn thrusts into my fist, and I do my best to join him. He’s grunting out his need, and my brain has taken on that soft, fluffy feeling it gets right before I come. I’m overstimulated, skin feeling so sensitive and raw as our sweaty bodies work together to get to the edge.

Penn’s first. He bites down on my ear as he unloads over my fist and abs, and feeling him throb against me sets me off. My thighs shudder through my release, both needing more and needing it to end and neither of those things being enough.

When things ebb, settle, Penn’s in my arms. His lips brush along my jaw in a way that makes me feel wanted.

“Are you going to run out on me this time?” he asks, sounding unsure.

I hate that I did that to him in the first place. It’s his fault for not telling me the truth, but knowing that it was his first time with a man—presumably—as his best friend, I could have been there for him better.

“You’re going to have to pry me off you.”

---