5. Ridley
FIVE
RIDLEY
Sitting on the couch, scrolling through channels again, I have to wonder when I stopped even trying to sleep in my room in the hopes that Wren would come down.
It’s been three nights since we hung out last—not that I’m obsessed or anything—and I’m craving a fourth but refuse to be a creep and knock on his door.
Especially if he’s found a way to sleep. That would be a dick move.
I click the TV off, ready to go back upstairs, but stop when Wren appears at the foot of the staircase.
“Hey,” he says. “I was wondering if you were down here.”
“Yeah. Can’t sleep?”
“Same shit. You?”
“Yeah.”
He glances past me. “Were you going back upstairs?”
“Uh, I…” I shrug. “I was restless. Not really sure.”
Wren nods. “Want to watch a movie?”
Yes! “Yeah, sure.”
We walk back to the living room together, and as pumped as I am that he’s down here, there’s something different about him too. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it.
After settling on the couch, I flick the TV on again then turn to Wren. “Whatcha in the mood for? Zombies or…?”
“Actually, I heard about this movie that’s supposed to be really good. It’s about a married couple who take in the husband’s college friend after he falls on hard times. Bad shit starts happening. It’s supposed to be really intense.”
“Like a thriller?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m in. Let’s do it.”
“Cool.” Wren draws his knees up to his chest, somehow making himself look small.
I search for the movie and we settle in to watch it. At first, it seems like some kind of feel-good story, but the tone quickly shifts when the friend begins acting weird around the wife.
“Oh shit. Is he gonna fuck up their marriage?”
“Don’t know,” Wren says.
About an hour into the movie, shit gets real. The dinner between the three of them shifts to a seduction scene. The friend is clearly focused on the husband in this story, and the wife is apparently captivated.
“The husband’s nervous,” Wren says. “There’s a backstory, don’t you think?”
“I do. Something happened before. I can’t tell yet if it’s good or bad.”
“Same.”
When the scene turns erotic, the three people on screen getting hot and heavy, I shift in my seat. Awkward. But we’re adults. We can handle a little visual sex.
That is until the friend grabs the husband and kisses him. Wren’s breath audibly catches, and I refuse to even glance at him. The wife in the show is sitting on the couch, her hands between her legs as she watches her husband get worked over by another man.
“They’ve done that before,” Wren notes. “The husband is too comfortable for it to be his first time.”
“Yep.”
The scene is more erotic than I would have anticipated as both men get naked. There’s full nudity, groping, kissing, and then the friend sinks to his knees.
My cock twitches violently in my sweatpants, and I put my hands in my lap to hide my reaction.
I finally brave a glance at Wren, who’s watching with his lips parted.
He’s not hiding his reaction at all, and to my absolute shock, he turns to me, holds my gaze, and very slowly, methodically slides his hands inside his shorts.
“It’s been a long time,” he whispers. “Even solo.” He shivers. “Too much information?”
I shake my head. “No. You can tell me anything you want. We’re friends, right?”
“We are.”
There’s obscene moaning coming from the screen, and if anyone walked by, they might think we’re watching straight-up porn.
“Same. I haven’t… in a long time.”
Wren swallows hard. “It would be okay if…” His eyes go back to the TV, and as his cheeks turn red, I follow his gaze.
The two men are on the couch next to the wife, one riding the other. As the audience, we can only see the husband’s ass and her half-dressed state as she gets off to watching the scene unfold.
“Think they’re frotting?” Wren asks.
“Yeah.”
“Fuck, that’s nice. It’s one of my favorite things.”
My brow creases as I give in and rub myself through my sweatpants. “Me too.”
“We’re friends,” Wren repeats. “Friends who could… if we wanted to.”
“Could what, Wren? Be clear.”
His eyes move to my hand, then he blows out a breath and tugs his shorts down, revealing his cock.
I gasp at the sight and my mouth literally waters.
He’s pale everywhere, his skin covered in freckles, even his dick.
It’s on the shorter side, but thick, and the tuft of red hair above it tempts me to bury my face in it.
“Fuck, Wren.”
“This okay?”
I nod, whispering, “Hell yeah.”
“Can I see you too?”
“You want to?”
“I really do.”
Lifting my hips, I shimmy my sweats down to my knees, stroking my engorged cock. Wren moans softly in response.
“I knew it.”
“Knew what?”
“You’re so hot, Rid. I knew your dick would be amazing too.”
“You think I’m hot?”
He chuckles. “I have eyes.”
I stroke myself a few times, tugging on my balls, then squeezing the base of my cock to slow things down. I don’t know how we got here or what he wants.
“What are we doing, Wren?”
“We’re, um, we’re hooking up. If you want to, I mean. If you need an outlet the way I do…” He pauses, inhaling sharply as he runs his hand over the head of his cock. “I could blow you.”
A stream of precum pools at the tip of my cock from the mere idea of Wren’s mouth on me, and I find myself laughing like an idiot.
His brow creases. “No?”
“Yes, Wren. You can do whatever you want to me. I’m laughing because I can’t believe it.”
He scoots closer to me, so close I can feel his breath on my face. “I have a few conditions first.”
I’d agree to jump off a fucking cliff right now. “Name ’em.”
“You won’t be weird tomorrow?”
“Promise.”
“We don’t tell the guys so it’s not awkward at work.”
“Deal.”
“And…” He flicks his tongue out, just barely catching my lips. “I want you to blow me too.”
“Fuck,” I whisper, nodding. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”
His face relaxes as he licks his dry lips. “I want to do you first.”
“Nah, Chef. We do this together.”
After kicking my sweats off completely, I gently push him back, then straddle his waist, facing his dick. I think I’m clear as Wren’s hands slide up to my ass and squeeze. I scoot back, about to put Wren’s dick in my mouth, and all I can do now is hope I don’t blow the second it happens.
Instead of diving right in, I take a moment to inhale his scent. He smells like bodywash, fresh and clean like laundry, but there’s something underneath it that’s so damn nice. Comforting. Sexy.
Wren rubs his hands up and down my ass and thighs, and I can’t keep the plank position any longer, so I lower myself down and drag my tongue along the length of his shaft. He rewards me with a moan then swallows me whole. I freeze, willing myself not to blow right this second.
Shifting my weight so I don’t crush him, I press my thigh into the couch beside him, then get to work, sucking this gorgeous man’s gorgeous cock and counting my lucky stars that somehow he deemed me worthy.
I won’t question my luck. I never do.