6
Cole
I stir to something soft but firm pressing over my face. Not enough to suffocate, just enough to muffle sound… a pillow. My brain clicks: someone’s holding it there on purpose to keep me quiet.
The next thing I register is the slow, wet stretch… hot, tight pressure sinking down onto my cock. A groan rips out of me before I can stop it, raw and involuntary, muffled into the fabric.
I throw the pillow off… Remy’s on me, like, fully on me.
He’s straddling my hips, thighs clamped around me, ass already halfway down my length.
He’s taking me in slow, deliberate inches, eyes locked on mine the whole time.
No hesitation, no apology. Just that steady, burning gaze like he’s daring me to stop him.
I swallow hard and look down. He’s rock hard, cock flushed and leaking against my abs. His strong thighs flex and tremble around me, muscles standing out in sharp relief. His arms brace on either side of my head, biceps tensed, veins popping as he holds himself up so he can take me deeper.
But what absolutely wrecks me is his face. Eyes half-lidded, heavy with want. Lips parted on a soft, broken groan that spills out quiet but constant. No regret or shame… open, vulnerable need, like he’s finally letting himself have exactly what he’s been starving for.
I close my eyes for a second, groan low. “Fuck.”
Now I get it. Last time it was him inside me…
now I’m inside him, and holy shit, it feels incredible.
Hot velvet grip, slick drag on every inch, the way he flutters around me when he bottoms out.
It feels so good, so fucking good it hurts.
My hips lift on instinct, seeking, and pleasure coils tight in my gut.
Remy moans, head tipping back. “Oh god… do that again.”
I grab his hips without thinking, fingers digging into muscle, and thrust up hard and rough. Again, and again. He lifts one hand and bites down on his knuckles, trying to stifle the sounds, head falling back as his back arches.
“Fuck, Remy…” I growl, voice breathless. “You little shit. You really came in here and took my dick like you own it?”
He moans into his hand, muffled, desperate, and nods frantically.
I moan too, hips snapping up. “God, your ass is so fucking tight… holy shit.”
He can’t speak, can’t even form words, just whimpers around his knuckles. I get this sudden, overwhelming urge to pull him down and kiss him. Really kiss him… mouths crashing, tongues, messy and deep. It feels too far, too intimate, like crossing a line we haven’t named yet.
Oh, fuck this… we’re already so far past lines.
I reach up, grab the back of his neck, and yank him down.
He gasps against my mouth. I crash our lips together, tongue sweeping in instantly, tasting him.
He nibbles my bottom lip, a sharp little bite, and I groan, rolling us in one quick move so I’m on top.
I hook one of his legs higher over my back, changing the angle, deeper.
His back arches off the mattress, eyes rolling back in his head at the new pressure.
The sight… Remy completely undone, mouth open on silent cries…
snaps something in me. I drop my forehead to his bare chest, fucking into him like there’s no tomorrow.
Skin slapping, bed creaking, his nails raking down my back.
“Cole… oh god, yes! Cole, fuck me!”
“Shhh,” I rasp against his skin. “You’ve gotta be quiet.”
He whimpers, nods fast, biting his lip bloody.
I slam in again, he scratches harder. I grunt, laughing in disbelief. I can’t believe I’m here again… fucking my best friend.
I lean down, lips at his ear. “Is this what you wanted?”
He nods frantically.
I whisper, voice rough. “This what you’ve been after all afternoon? Wanted to be split open by your best friend’s dick?”
He moans, a broken, needy sound, and nods again.
I slow just enough to feel every drag, every flutter. Look at his face, sweat-slick, fucked, and beautiful. I swallow hard and ask cautiously, not sure what answer I want, “But that’s not all you wanted… is it?”
He shakes his head slowly, eyes locked on mine, vulnerable and honest.
I groan. “Fuck… Remy…”
I slam into him, punishing, angry at how much I want this too. How wrong it is. How right it feels.
He scratches down my back again, whisper-shouts: “Cole! Oh my god… stop, I’m gonna… oh shit, it feels so good!”
I laugh dark, pleased, and wrap my hand around his cock, stroking fast and rough. “Come for me. Come all over yourself.”
His eyes roll back completely. I slap my hand over his mouth just in time, muffling the broken cry as he comes hard, spilling hot over my fist and his stomach.
Remy shaking, clenching around me, completely lost, unravels me.
I tip over the edge too. Twitching deep inside him, moaning low against his neck, biting my lip to keep quiet.
I keep grinding slowly, riding out the aftershocks because I have no idea what the fuck happens next.
Remy laughs, a soft, relieved, shaky sound. I don’t pull out. Just stay buried, forehead pressed to his, both of us breathing hard in the dark.
Remy says softly, “I need to tell you something.”
I stay buried in his neck, face pressed to the warm skin there, breathing him in. I’m not ready to move, not ready to look into his eyes yet, for whatever comes next.
“What?” I mutter against him.
His fingers slide into my hair, gentle, almost hesitant. “Me and Hannah had sex.”
My whole body locks up. My heart slams against my ribs so hard I swear he can feel it. I lift up slowly, pulling out of him with a low groan I can’t swallow. The drag is wet and hot, but I ignore it, tug my boxers back up, frowning hard.
“You had sex with her…” I say, voice tight. “And then came in here… and had sex with me?”
I’m frustrated, pissed, even though I have zero right to be. She’s his girlfriend… he’s not mine. But the thought of him inside her… makes my stomach twist in a way I don’t want to examine.
Remy pushes up onto his elbows, frowning like he’s confused. “I’m not finished.”
I exhale sharp through my nose and gesture for him to carry on.
He pulls the covers over himself, suddenly shy, and lets out a bitter little laugh. “I had to fake an orgasm…”
I swallow hard and stare.
He tips his head back, groans frustrated, embarrassed. “I fucking went soft inside her, man.”
A grin tugs at my mouth before I can stop it. I can’t help it. He was rock-hard for me… throbbing, leaking, and desperate. The contrast is too much.
Remy looks back at me, suspicious. “Why are you grinning like that?”
I shrug. Crawl back over him, caging him with my arms. “Because…” I drag my tongue in a slow, deliberate line up his stomach, right where he came earlier, tasting him. “You certainly didn’t fake it for me.”
He shivers hard, groaning low at the sight.
I wink. “Not as sweet as salted caramel ice cream.”
Remy laughs, breathless, relieved, and flops back down onto the mattress.
I stand up, stretching. “Well… I’m off to play the game for a bit since you rudely woke me up.”
“Oh…” He sits up, looking suddenly unsure. “Okay, cool… uh… I’ll just…”
He fumbles for his boxers, discarded on the floor, and pulls them on, struggling a little. I raise my brows, feeling smug as hell watching him try to pull himself together.
I head out to the living room, throw myself onto the couch, wrap a blanket around my shoulders, and flick the TV on. Load up our favourite couch co-op game, we’ve sunk hundreds of hours into.
Remy appears. “Night.”
I pop the p on purpose. “Yep.”
I know damn well he’s not going to sleep.
The theme tune starts playing, loud and familiar, and Remy’s head snaps up from the hall. “You’re playing that without me?”
“Obviously not, idiot.” I wave one of the controllers at him. “Come here.”
He breaks into a small smile and walks over. Sitting a respectable meter away on the other end of the sectional.
I laugh, shaking my head. “So, what, you used me and now you won’t even sit with me?”
Remy looks at me warily. “Do you want me to?”
I nod. He blushes, actually blushes, and scoots closer.
I don’t hesitate. I open the blanket, wrap it around his shoulders too, pulling him in until our sides are pressed together.
Then I lean over and plant a soft kiss on his temple.
He looks down at his controller, biting his lip like he’s suddenly shy.
Which is hilarious considering what he just did to me.
We spend hours like this… controllers in hand, blanket draped over both our shoulders, the living room lit only by the TV glow and the occasional flicker from the game loading screens.
This game is perfect for nights like this: endless open world, PvP zones that can turn into chaos in seconds, NPCs that either help or try to murder you, and random real players who either team up or betray you without warning.
Tonight feels like those old nights, but better, easier. Like the air between us finally settled after everything exploded.
We’re both a stupid level now, so the early quests are laughable.
We roam together, looting abandoned bunkers, clearing out scorched hordes, and occasionally jumping into public events just to flex on new players.
Remy’s character, a heavily modded power-armour tank, charges ahead like always, drawing aggro while I snipe from ridges with my silenced rifle.
Same dynamic we’ve had for years: he takes the hits; I clean up the kills.
We don’t even have to communicate half the time; I know when he’s about to stim, he knows when I’m low on ammo.
“Yo, incoming yao guai,” I mutter, spotting the bear-like mutant charging from the trees.
“Got it.” Remy’s already sprinting forward, power armour clanking, swinging his super sledge. “Cover me, princess.”
I snort. “Call me princess again and I’m dumping all your junk in a vendor bot.”
He laughs, real and easy, the sound I’ve missed for days. “You’d miss me too much.”
We drop the yao guai in seconds. High-five over the controllers like idiots.
A little while later we stumble into a nuke zone, someone else launched it earlier, and decide to farm legendary enemies. That’s when the funny shit starts.
We’re looting a glowing one when a random level 50-something female character runs up… pink power armour, heart emotes spamming… and drops a stack of weapons at my feet. Then she starts typing in proximity chat:
“OMG your build is insane, can I add you? I need a carry for scorched earth lol”
Remy’s character freezes mid-loot animation.
I laugh under my breath. “She’s thirsty.”
Remy doesn’t say anything, but his controller grip tightens. His character turns slightly, like he’s staring at her screen avatar. Then he “accidentally” shoulder-checks her character into a nearby wall. She emotes a question mark.
I’m dying trying not to laugh out loud. “Dude, chill.”
He grunts. “She’s stealing my loot.”
“She dropped loot for me, dumbass.”
His character punches the air once, petulant. I can feel the jealousy radiating off him even though he’s not saying a word about it.
I lean over, still grinning, and kiss him quick on the mouth. Not deep, not heated, just casual, like it’s the most natural thing for us. “You’re ridiculous.”
He freezes for half a second, then melts, cheeks pink. “Shut up.”
I laugh against his lips before pulling back. “Jealous of a pixel girl?”
“She called your build insane,” he mutters, sulky.
I roll my eyes, but my chest feels warm. This… him getting stupidly possessive over a random online player, me kissing it away like it’s nothing… is best-friend shit layered over whatever this new thing is; it works.
We keep playing, more events and more trash talk.
More shared snacks… crumbs everywhere, empty chip bags on the coffee table, gummy wrappers stuck to the blanket.
The room looks like a war zone, but neither of us cares.
We’re laughing too hard at a glitch where Remy’s power armour clips into a wall and he gets stuck ragdolling for thirty seconds while I have to defend him from mole rats.
Eventually the energy crashes. We’re both yawning between kills, eyes heavy. The game keeps running, our characters idling in a safe spot, we don’t log out.
Remy’s head slowly drops onto my shoulder. I don’t move him. I just shift the blanket higher, tucking it around both of us, and let my arm drape over his back. His breathing evens out first… slow, deep, and content.
I keep half-playing one-handed for a while, but my eyes are burning. I set the controller down, lean my head against his, and close my eyes. We pass out like that… sat up, tangled under the same blanket, controllers still warm in our laps, the game humming quietly in the background.
Best friends… more than that now. But still, fundamentally, the same two idiots who’ve always fit together better than anyone else ever could.