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Love Bites

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Third’s reputation as a savage is legendary in the com-arts department. Khai has seen him harshly turn down girls with nary a thought to their feelings or the humiliation of being rejected in front of a room full of peers. He has seen him return love letters to their senders full of grammatical and stylistic corrections and throw gifts in the trash in the presence of the poor infatuated girl who had probably spent hours hand-making them. Up until now he had never questioned why? Being always busy with his own never-ending trail of girls to be pursued. Yet, right now, standing in front of his bathroom mirror, fingers tracing over the red purple blotches decorating his neck, the question will not leave his brain. He watches a flush run down his skin darkening the motley of red and purple marks as his mind once again remembers the feel of Third’s perfectly plump lips on him. With the wide range of experience under his belt it would be incredibly idiotic of him to deny how much it had affected him.

Just thinking about it has his heart racing.

The look on Third’s face when he pulled away seems to be burned into the back of his eyelids, all he has to do is close his eyes to see it again, the hazy darkness of his gaze, the lightly parted lips which seemed to beg Khai to bite them, and the back of his usually neat hair standing at odd angles where Khai’s hand had run through it. He cannot stop wondering about the taste of that mouth, how it would feel against his, replaying the feel of Third’s hands traveling up his thighs to his waist pulling him closer against his body. The memory takes new form as his imagination runs away from him, providing him with scenarios that make his blood run hot, of him wrapping his legs around Third’s lean hips, grinding his own heavy hardness against the other’s body.

He opens his eyes once more, his gaze immediately seeking out the reflection of the love bites on his skin. The sight of them making heat pool inside him in a way that he is all too familiar with but that, at the same time, feels brand new.

“Fuck.” He groans out as he becomes aware of the throbbing hardness in his shorts.

In all his relationships, no matter how short-lived, he has always been aware of the role he has to play, it is his job to woo others. He is always the one taking the lead, pushing things further, and, in general, he enjoys it, he likes giving pleasure, he likes making others lose control and give into their baser instincts. Even so, just the thought of Third taking that control from him has him panting and his cock harder than it has ever been before.

Third’s assertive personality is one of the things that he has always loved about his best friend, the no nonsense way in which he treats everyone around him is always a source of great amusement for Khai. Particularly, because whenever it is directed at him, he can easily tell that it stems from exasperated fondness and not from actual disdain. Still, the contrast between Third’s sweet-looking face, his slight frame, unassuming appearance, and the way in which he had absolutely dominated the situation that afternoon, is doing things to Khai that he cannot easily dismiss as purely platonic.

Before he is fully aware of it, he finds his hand slipping underneath the waistband of his shorts, wrapping around his length. His eyes fall shut at the rush of pleasure that trembles through him as his mind provides a mental image of Third’s long tanned fingers circling him instead of his own, the visual prompting him to set a rougher rhythm than the one he usually uses on himself. He returns to the memory of Third’s touch, coloring it with his own fanciful additions of that perfectly pouty mouth pressed against his own demanding things from him that no one ever has. The image of Third pressing one of those long fingers against his lips in a command for silence fills his mind as pleasure thrums through his whole body pushing his knees out from under him so he ends up slumped against the sink, finally sliding to the floor, hand sticky and body spent.

He is fucked, so very very fucked.

When he can finally stand without his legs shaking, he slips off his soiled shorts and steps into the shower, the warm water soothing oversensitive skin and taking the remaining evidence of his release with it. However, the guilt of having just wanked to the thought of his best friend remains. To distract himself from it he turns his mind once again to the question of Third’s continued disinterest in a romantic relationship. It is not like Third is lacking in willing candidates, he is sure that if it were not for his reputation as a hard-ass the line of girls wanting to date him would be twice as long as it currently is. He is also wicked smart, talented and, judging from how Khai cannot seem to stop thinking about his lips, he would bet good money that he is a brilliant kisser as well.

Maybe he is just not into girls, Khai muses while he dries off and slips on a fresh pair of shorts. He is pretty sure that if Third had anything against dating or making out with guys he would have certainly said so that afternoon.

Had he ever seen Third express any sort of interest in other men?  

He freezes, the towel he is using to dry his wet hair slipping from his fingers as he recalls Third being chummy with that bastard P’Un. He thinks back to the last time he saw them together a few days ago, to how irked he had felt at watching Third laugh softly at something P’Un had said, but Third had quickly said goodbye to the guy when Khai called him over and he had thought nothing more of it.

What if Third really is interested in P’Un?

The thought of Third doing what they did that afternoon with P’Un causes his chest to constrict and an unfamiliar knot to settle in his throat. He shakes his head and picks up the fallen towel vigorously rubbing his hair with it, trying to wipe that thought from his mind along with the water dripping down his neck.

Would he have a problem with Third being into men?

Judging by how hard he came just a short while ago just from imagining himself making out with Third he definitely wouldn’t.

Not as long as the man in question is himself.

Yet, acknowledging that makes him feel selfish. Third is his best friend, always supporting him and willing to set everything aside just to make Khai feel better. He is the most important person in Khai’s life, and he deserves nothing but the best. He certainly deserves so much better than anything Khai can give him. He is not stupid enough to be unaware of all the ways he manages to let Third down. Even so, Third sticks by him, supports him and makes him believe that he is not as shitty of a person as he knows himself to be.

Keeping Third in his life is paramount.  So, for the first time in his life he has to do his best to keep it in his pants and make sure that all his thoughts about his best friend are as platonic as they have ever been. With that resolution made he curls in on himself as he settles into bed, his thumb lazily tracing the tender flesh of his neck and an ache in his chest that he refuses to identify.