The tension had been simmering for years. Tom watched Alex—all 6 feet of slim, brunette perfection with those ocean eyes—unpack his duffel bag. The breakup had left Alex vulnerable, and Tom’s offer of a couch was a thinly veiled trap.

“I’ve wanted to wreck that ass since sophomore year,” Tom confessed, his voice a low growl. Alex, still raw from his ex, smirked. The idea of making that bastard jealous by getting railed by his straight-passing best friend? Fuck yeah.

It started that first night. Alex was bent over the kitchen island, making a sandwich. Tom came up behind him, his hard cock pressing against Alex’s sweatpants-clad ass. “You’re gonna get used to this,” Tom breathed, one hand snaking around to palm Alex’s growing bulge. He didn’t ask. He just took, squeezing Alex’s dick through the soft fabric until Alex let out a sharp gasp.

Tom’s obsession was everywhere. He’d “accidentally” walk by when Alex was fresh out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips, and deliver a stinging slap to his bare, damp ass cheek. The sound—a sharp *crack*—echoed in the small apartment. Alex would jump, a flush spreading from his cheeks down his neck.

The underwear thing was next level. Tom would “do laundry,” but Alex caught him once, holding a pair of his briefs to his face, inhaling deeply. “Fuck, your musk drives me crazy,” Tom groaned, his free hand already working the thick outline of his own erection.

The fucking became