Amster-damn Hot!
Copyright© 2026 by Sage Monroe
Chapter 8: The New Plan
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 8: The New Plan - Two Best Friends. One Wild Vacation. Zero limits.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Ma Consensual Romantic Gay BiSexual Fiction Humor Anal Sex Exhibitionism First Oral Sex Voyeurism AI Generated
The bathroom felt smaller than it had.
Not physically. Energetically.
Like the room itself was aware that something had happened between us and was now standing there with its arms crossed, waiting for one of us to say it out loud.
David and I stood side by side at the sink, toothbrushes in hand, mirror fogged just enough to blur the edges of our reflections. Two grown men pretending this was a completely normal morning and not the aftermath of a very confusing night.
Our shoulders almost touched.
Almost.
“So,” David said, mouth full of toothpaste foam, eyes very deliberately on his own reflection. “Sleep okay?”
“Like a guy who made extremely questionable decisions but also doesn’t regret them,” I said.
He snorted, then immediately tried to cover it with a cough.
We brushed in silence for a beat. The sound felt way too intimate. The scrape of bristles. The quiet shared rhythm. His elbow bumped mine and neither of us moved away right away.
I noticed everything.
The way his jaw flexed when he brushed too hard. The faint mark on his neck that definitely hadn’t been there yesterday. The way he kept angling his chin like he could hide it from me, which was hilarious because I already knew exactly how it got there.
He caught me looking.
I caught him catching me.
His eyes flicked up in the mirror, held mine for half a second too long, then darted away.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “This is weird.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But we’re gonna lean into humor.”
“Always.” He nudged my hip with his.
I laughed, a little too loudly. “Growth.”
But then there was that pause. That loaded, quiet space where neither of us said the obvious thing sitting between us like a live wire.
We rinsed. Spit. Avoided eye contact like professionals.
David wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gestured toward the shower. “You go first. It takes you ages.”
“Well, some of us actually use soap,” I retorted.
He grinned. That same grin he always used when he wanted to pretend nothing was a big deal.
I stepped past him and felt it again. That spark. Quiet but stubborn.
The water hit my shoulders and I closed my eyes, letting out a breath I’d been holding since I woke up.
Hot. Loud. Steady.
I braced my hands on the tile and let my forehead rest there, steam curling around me. My brain immediately betrayed me, replaying flashes of last night. The ease of it. The way I hadn’t felt awkward then at all. The way my body still remembered him without asking permission.
I groaned softly and turned the water colder, which helped for about three seconds.
I finished fast. No lingering. No thinking. Just get clean and get out.
Then I reached for my clothes.
Nothing.
Right. Because of course I’d forgotten them.
I stood there dripping for a second, towel in hand, debating my options. There were none. I wrapped the towel around my waist and opened the door.
David was sitting on his bed, scrolling on his phone, shirtless again like this was his natural state. He looked up automatically.
Then very obviously tried not to look.
“Oh,” he said. “You’re done.”
“Yeah,” I said, suddenly very aware of the fact that a towel was doing a lot of emotional labor right now. “Forgot my clothes.”
He nodded too fast. “Classic.”
I stepped into the room and the air shifted. I felt it in my chest. In my stomach. In the way his eyes flicked to me and away again like they were on a delay.
I bent to grab my underwear and immediately regretted having bones.
When I straightened up, he was staring at the wall like it had personally offended him.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“It’s fine,” he said quickly. “It’s just ... a towel. We’ve seen worse.”
“Unfortunately,” I said.
That got a laugh out of him. Real. Familiar. It eased something in me.
David grabbed his clothes and headed for the bathroom, brushing past me close enough that I felt the heat of him.
“I’ll be quick,” he said.
“No rush,” I replied, lying through my teeth.
I dressed fast. Too fast. Jeans, shirt, socks, like if I moved quickly enough I could outrun my thoughts. I sat on my bed to put my shoes on and stared at the wall while the sound of the shower started up again.
My brain did not appreciate that.
I focused on tying my laces. On breathing. On the fact that this was fine and temporary and we were grown adults who could absolutely ignore the weird pull in the room and go back to flirting with strangers like we’d planned.
This was Amsterdam. This was what we came for.
The shower shut off.
I sat up straighter. For no reason. None.
David came out fully dressed this time. Hair damp. Shirt clean. Back in familiar territory. He looked like himself again. The version of him I’d known for years. The one who joked and flirted and never overthought anything.
He grabbed his jacket and grinned, like flipping a switch.
“Alright,” he said. “We good?”
I nodded too fast. “Totally.”
“Cool,” he said, slinging his jacket on. “Because once we get laid tonight, this awkwardness is gonna disappear.”
I laughed. Because that was the script. “Obviously.”
“Like,” he went on, pacing a little, hyping himself up, “some hot European girls, a couple drinks, boom. Reset button.”
“Totally,” I said again, even as something in my chest tightened in a way I refused to name.
He shot me a look, playful. “You in?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m in.”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.