Best Friend’s Secret - Part 6

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They shifted closer, knees brushing under the blankets, and let the quiet settle in around them. For the first time all week, they both felt content.

——————

Brad woke first, his face pressed into the back of Oliver’s shoulder. His hips had a mind of their own, grinding slowly forward into the warmth of Oliver’s ass. He didn’t even mean to at first, but he was hard, and Oliver’s body against him felt too good to resist.

Oliver stirred, mumbling something unintelligible. Brad froze, but then Oliver pushed back into him on purpose, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re poking me,” Oliver teased, voice still thick with sleep.

Brad chuckled softly against his neck. “Can’t help it. You’re right there.”

Oliver reached back, dragging Brad’s hand down from his chest to his stomach, and then lower. Brad’s cock twitched when Oliver slid his palm against it through the fabric of his boxers. The teasing lasted only seconds before Brad tugged his underwear down, freeing himself and lining up against Oliver’s body.

“Morning quickie?” Brad asked, his voice rough with need.

Oliver tilted his head back slightly, giving a half nod that was all the permission Brad needed. He eased inside, both of them groaning quietly as their bodies connected again. The slow push made Oliver clutch down, his back arching into Brad.

Brad wrapped his arm tight around Oliver’s torso and started moving, shallow thrusts at first, enjoying the heat and the way Oliver clenched around him. He pressed his mouth to Oliver’s shoulder, biting down gently as his rhythm picked up. Oliver’s breath caught and turned into a muffled moan.

The pace stayed steady, unhurried, their bodies perfectly in sync. Oliver reached down between his legs and started rubbing himself, gasping with every thrust Brad gave him.

“You feel so good,” Brad whispered, kissing along his neck. “I could wake up like this every day.”

The words made Oliver groan and push back harder, meeting every drive of Brad’s hips. The bed creaked beneath them, their breathing sharp and fast. Brad tightened his hold, thrusting harder now, chasing release. Oliver’s body trembled as his orgasm hit, moans filling the room while Brad kept fucking him through it.

Feeling Oliver pulse around him sent Brad over the edge seconds later. He buried himself deep, pressing his forehead against the back of Oliver’s neck as he erupted inside him.

They lay tangled together afterward, sweaty and catching their breath. Brad finally pulled out and flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Oliver rolled over, propping his chin on Brad’s chest.

“That’s one way to start a day,” he said, grinning.

Brad laughed, brushing his fingers through Oliver’s messy hair. “Best alarm clock I’ve ever had.”

He stretched, arm still draped across Oliver’s chest. “So what should we do today?” he asked, his voice casual but carrying that undertone of not wanting to waste their time together.

Oliver traced circles on Brad’s stomach with his fingertip. “Honestly? I need new clothes. Half my shirts are falling apart and I could use another pair of jeans.”

Brad smirked. “That sounds like an excuse to drag me around the mall.”

“You complaining?” Oliver asked, raising a brow.

“Not if you’re trying things on for me,” Brad shot back, giving him a playful squeeze before rolling out of bed.

Oliver grabbed his pillow and tossed it at him. “Get dressed then. Let’s go.”

The mall wasn’t crowded, just the usual trickle of Saturday shoppers, families drifting between stores, teenagers moving in packs. Brad and Oliver slipped into a men’s clothing store, the kind with racks of folded jeans stacked to the ceiling and rows of buttondowns hung in neat lines.

Brad grabbed a t-shirt and held it up against Oliver’s chest. “You’d look good in this.”

Oliver glanced down at it. “That’s basic as hell.”

“Yeah, but you’d still make it work.” Brad grinned and tossed it over Oliver’s arm. “Add it to the pile.”

They kept weaving through aisles, Brad handing him things half seriously, half just for fun. A ridiculous bright floral shirt, a fitted black polo, ripped jeans. Oliver rolled his eyes but carried everything anyway.

When they got to the dressing rooms, Oliver shoved the pile at Brad. “Hold these. If I hate them, you’re carrying them back.”

Brad leaned against the wall outside while Oliver ducked into a stall. The door clicked shut, and a second later Brad heard his muffled voice. “These jeans are too tight.”

“Let me see,” Brad said automatically, and without waiting, Oliver cracked the door and pulled him inside.

Brad shut it behind them, the space suddenly small. Oliver was in those tight jeans and nothing else, the denim hugging him in all the right places. Brad’s eyes traveled without permission, stopping at the way the fabric outlined his ass.

“Not bad,” Brad said, though his voice was lower than he meant.

Oliver smirked, noticing. “You think?” He turned halfway in the mirror, checking the fit.

Brad stepped closer, tugged at the waistband, fingers brushing Oliver’s hip. “Not bad at all.”

Oliver’s breath caught. The moment stretched, then Brad pushed him gently against the wall of the stall, lips finding his. Their kiss was hungry, impatient, built off the teasing all morning. Brad’s hands slid down, cupping Oliver through the denim.

Oliver gasped against his mouth. “Brad, the store…”

“Nobody’s paying attention,” Brad cut him off, kissing harder. His hand moved to the button of Oliver’s jeans, popping it open, tugging the zipper down. The fabric gave way, and Brad slipped his hand inside, finding him already wet.

Oliver’s head fell back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck…”

Brad stroked his clit slow at first, then faster, his own cock straining against his shorts. He pressed against Oliver’s thigh, grinding, their mouths crashing together again.

Oliver bit his lip, muffling a moan. Brad dropped to his knees, tugging the jeans down just enough. He leaned in and wrapped his lips around Oliver, tongue flicking the tip before sucking him down. Oliver’s hand shot to Brad’s hair, clutching tight, his hips jerking forward.

“Shit, Brad…” he whispered, barely holding it together.

Brad worked him with his mouth, pulling back to suck on his swollen clit like it was a cock, teasing, dragging his tongue in slow circles until Oliver’s legs shook. He added his fingers, curling them inside, and Oliver bit down on his knuckles to keep from crying out.

Brad looked up at him, smirking with his mouth full, and that was it. Oliver tensed, body trembling as he came, muffled moans spilling out. Brad swallowed his squirting juices, steadying him with a hand on his hip as he rode it out.

Oliver sagged against the wall, breathing hard, jeans half-off, Brad wiping his mouth before standing. Their lips met again, messy and heated.

“Those jeans are coming home with us,” Brad whispered against his ear.

Oliver laughed breathlessly, still catching his breath. “Yeah, I’ll take ‘em.”

They fixed themselves up, stepping out of the stall looking casual, though Brad’s grin gave them away. Oliver swatted at him on the way to the register.

They wandered out of the store with a bag swinging in Oliver’s hand, both of them pretending they weren’t still flushed from what had just gone down in the dressing room. The smell of fried food and pizza hit them before they even reached the food court.

“What are you feeling?” Brad asked, scanning the neon signs overhead.

“Sushi again? Or maybe Chinese.” Oliver shrugged.

Brad grinned. “Burger and fries for me. I’ll grab you whatever you want too.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to keep paying for me.”

“Yeah, I do,” Brad said, already heading for the counter.

When he came back balancing both trays, Oliver took his and muttered, “Thanks, babe.” He froze immediately, eyes wide. “Shit, I didn’t mean…”

Brad set his tray down, smirking. “Of course…babe.”

Oliver’s ears turned red. He ducked his head, poking at his food, but Brad just laughed and bumped his shoulder.

They sat close, eating and swapping bites off each other’s trays. Oliver stole one of Brad’s fries, dipping it in his milkshake before popping it into his mouth. Brad wrinkled his nose. “That’s nasty.”

“You’ve never tried it?” Oliver held one out to him.

Brad leaned in, took it from his fingers, chewed, then shrugged. “Alright, not bad.”

“Exactly,” Oliver said smugly, stealing another fry.

Between bites, Brad caught sight of a couple of guys across the food court staring at them, whispering. One even gave a little head shake, eyes flicking to where their knees brushed under the table. Normally, that would’ve made Brad instantly straighten up, drop his hand, lean back and play it cool. But this time, he didn’t move. He just went on eating, leaning in closer to Oliver when he laughed at something stupid.

Oliver followed his gaze for a second, then looked back at Brad, a question in his eyes. Brad just smiled. “Fries?” he offered, nudging his tray forward.

Oliver grinned and took one, like nothing else in the building mattered.

They lingered in the food court longer than either of them realized, laughing, finishing each other’s fries, and messing with each other about who had worse taste in music blasting from the mall speakers. By the time Oliver checked his phone, his eyebrows went up. “Shit, it’s already past nine.”

Brad leaned back, arms stretched across the back of his chair. “We should grab a drink before heading back. Make the night a little longer.”

Oliver looked at him, curious. “Where?”

Brad grinned. “That place you took me before. Velvet.”

Oliver blinked. “Really? I thought you didn’t like it much last time.”

Brad shook his head, more certain now. “I’m sure. Let’s go.”

Oliver searched his face for a moment, half expecting hesitation, but Brad didn’t give him any. Just that easy smile. “Alright then,” Oliver said, his voice soft with something between surprise and excitement.

They tossed their trays, walked out of the mall, and headed to the car. By the time they pulled up outside Velvet, the neon sign was buzzing, the crowd spilling out onto the sidewalk, and the bass was already shaking the walls.

Inside Velvet, the place was alive. Lights flickered through the haze of sweat and cologne, men’s bodies moving close on the dance floor, music thumping in Oliver’s chest. Brad followed him through the crowd, a hand on Oliver’s shoulder as if he didn’t want to lose him in the press of bodies.

They snagged a small table near the edge of the dance floor. Brad ordered their first round, sliding a cold beer across to Oliver and clinking bottles. “To not wasting the night,” he said.

Oliver laughed and took a drink. “You’re full of surprises lately.”

It wasn’t long before they were drawn into the music, Oliver tugging Brad out onto the floor. Brad pretended to resist, but he moved with him, closer than he had the last time they were here. Oliver couldn’t stop smiling. It felt good, better than it should, having Brad’s chest brushing his back, Brad’s hands steady at his sides as they moved together with the beat.

By the time the 4th song ended, both of them were sweaty and grinning. Brad leaned in to say something, but his words were drowned by the DJ cutting into a new track. He pointed toward the bar. Oliver nodded, staying put while Brad shouldered his way through the crowd.

That’s when it happened.

Oliver barely noticed the guy at first, tall and sharp jawed, sidling up too close. He leaned in with a smirk, saying something Oliver didn’t catch over the music. Oliver shook his head, tried to wave him off, but the guy only got closer, his hand brushing against Oliver’s arm like he owned space he didn’t.

Oliver’s pulse kicked up. He glanced toward the bar, searching for Brad, but Brad was still waiting to be served. The guy was talking again, louder this time, his smile slipping into something more forceful.

The guy leaned in until Oliver could smell his stale cologne, sharp and cloying.

“Come on,” he shouted over the music. “One dance.”

“I’m good,” Oliver said, trying to step aside. But the guy matched his movement, grinning wider, his hand now on Oliver’s hip.

Oliver’s chest tightened. He pushed the hand off, but it slid right back like the refusal hadn’t even happened. The guy was close enough now that Oliver could feel the heat of his breath against his ear.

“I said no,” Oliver snapped, his voice nearly swallowed by the thumping bass.

The guy laughed, low and taunting, fingers pressing firmer at Oliver’s waist. Oliver’s eyes darted across the room, he spotted Brad at the bar, beers in hand, scanning for him.

Brad’s gaze locked on Oliver. His smile vanished the second he saw the guy’s hand on him.

In an instant, Brad quickly shoved his way through the crowd, shoving shoulders aside until he reached them. He set the drinks down hard on the nearest table, then clamped a hand around the guy’s neck and yanked him back.

“Can’t you see he isn’t interested?” Brad’s voice cut sharp through the music.

The guy stumbled but didn’t back down. He squared his shoulders, glaring. “What the fuck, man? What are you, his boyfriend or something?”

Brad didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah,” he spat. Then his fist crashed forward, knuckles splitting across the guy’s jaw until the stranger fell flat on his back hard.

The crowd gasped, the DJ cut the track, voices rising in chaos. Oliver grabbed Brad’s wrist. “Come on.”

His pulse hammered as he dragged Brad through the crowd and out into the night air, both of them breathless and charged, adrenaline burning hot.

They burst out of the bar, Brad stumbling after Oliver into the cool night. The street was buzzing, people staring from the doorway at the chaos inside, but all Oliver could see was Brad…jaw tight, eyes blazing.

Oliver caught his arm, breathless. “That was hot as fuck.”

Brad’s lips curved into the faintest, dangerous smirk before he hauled Oliver in and kissed him hard, no restraint, no hesitation. Their teeth clashed, tongues tangling, both of them already horny and desperate.

“Let’s go,” Brad growled against his mouth.

They barely made it back to Oliver’s place. The door slammed, Brad shoved him against it, grinding their hips together, their clothes still on but their cocks straining against denim. Hands roamed everywhere…grabbing, clutching, pulling. Brad’s fingers tugged at Oliver’s shirt until it ripped up over his head, then shoved his jeans down in one impatient move.

Oliver’s breath came ragged, already moaning as Brad’s mouth trailed down his neck, biting hard enough to bruise. “Fuck, Brad…”

Brad didn’t answer. He spun Oliver toward the bed, shoved him face first down into the mattress, yanked his ass up. His own clothes came off fast, kicked across the floor. His cock slapped heavy against Oliver’s ass as he climbed over him.

“I’m taking your ass tonight” Brad panted, grinding between Oliver’s cheeks. He spit in his hand and stroked himself once before pressing against that tight ring.

Oliver gasped, fingers clawing at the sheets. “Do it.”

Brad pushed in slow at first, hissing at the stretch, Oliver shuddering beneath him. He slid deeper, inch by inch, until he was buried to the base. Oliver’s back stiffened, a raw moan tearing from his throat.

“Fuck…you’re so tight!” Brad groaned, starting to thrust hard and fast, hips slamming against Oliver’s ass. Each slap echoed in the room.

Oliver pushed back into it, needy, feral, meeting every drive with his own. Sweat slicked their bodies, the air hot with their sounds. Brad reached around, sliding his fingers down Oliver’s front, finding his clit and rubbing it hard as he fucked into him.

Oliver nearly screamed, his body jerking at the dual sensation. “Oh my god! Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.”

Brad’s pace went wild, rutting, his hand working Oliver faster, fingers slick. He leaned over, teeth sinking into Oliver’s shoulder as he pounded him. Oliver’s body trembled, thighs quaking, then his orgasm ripped through him, loud and messy, his ass clenching hard around Brad’s cock.

The squeeze dragged Brad over the edge. He drove in deep and came with a roar, hips jerking, cock pulsing inside Oliver’s ass while he rubbed him through the aftershocks.

They collapsed in a tangle, sweat drenched and panting, Brad still half-hard inside him, Oliver shaking beneath the weight of it all. Neither said a word at first, their breaths the only sound in the room.

Brad finally slipped out of him and rolled to the side, pulling Oliver close against his chest. Both of them were still catching their breath, sweat cooling on their skin, hearts hammering like they’d run miles. Brad’s hand traced lazy circles across Oliver’s stomach, then drifted down to squeeze his thigh.

Oliver tilted his head back and kissed him, slow this time, nothing frantic about it anymore. Just soft mouths meeting, the taste of salt and heat still between them. Brad brushed damp hair from his forehead, then kissed there too.

For a long moment, they lay tangled, touching wherever they could…fingers sliding along ribs, lips grazing shoulders, legs hooked together.

“So…” Oliver murmured, voice still rough. “You told that guy I was your boyfriend?”

Brad just smirked, pressed another kiss to his lips, and didn’t say a word.