Chapter 5: In His Arms

David looked up at me, his hair messy, lips parted. He didn’t say anything — just stared like he was searching my face for a reason to stop.

He didn’t find one.

Instead, he crawled back up over me, pressing our bodies together, chest to chest, hard to hard. I could feel every inch of him — sweat-slick skin, flexing muscles, the insane heat radiating off both of us.

David smiled — that cocky, half-drunk smirk he usually gave after winning beer pong. But now it meant something else.

Something way more dangerous.

And he kissed me again.

Harder this time. More desperate. Like he knew this was our point of no return and didn’t care. Our hips ground together, and I moaned into his mouth, needing the friction like I needed air.

My hands grabbed at his back, sliding down to his waist, fingers digging into his skin.

Everything about him was familiar — his laugh, his smell, the way his body moved — but now it was foreign, too. Like I was touching someone I knew too well and not at all at the same time.

He pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead resting on mine.

“This is crazy,” he muttered.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Then kissed me again, slower now — deeper, almost ... tender. Like under all the horny chaos, there was something real he couldn’t joke about.

And I felt it, too.

The pull. The gravity. The us.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t just sex.

It was two dudes crossing a line they’d spent a lifetime pretending didn’t exist — and realizing it was never really a line to begin with.

David’s mouth was everywhere. My neck. My jaw. My chest. His stubble scratched and burned in the best way, and every kiss felt like a line we couldn’t uncross.

He was on top of me — heavy, hot, his muscles flexing with every shift. His body pressed mine into the mattress, and I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to breathe too loud and break whatever spell had turned my best friend into this wild, hungry thing.