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If he had to guess, John would say it’s probably because he never really spent much time around women and girls when he was growing up. It was always just him and his Dad and a house full of Dad-and-boy stuff, and girl stuff always seemed sort of foreign and exotic and mysterious.

The first inkling he had was when they got a Victoria’s Secret leaflet in with the rest of the junk mail. It was mostly just curiosity that made him sneak it up to his room, along with a vague impression that guys were supposed to be interested in pictures of girls standing around in their underwear. He wasn’t sure why exactly, but when he opened it and started to look through the pictures, all thoughts of “supposed to” went out of his head.

The girls themselves only got a cursory glance, but the panties were another matter. There were so many different shapes and colours and patterns! He’d never realized women’s underwear had so much variety. All those different textures, lace and satin and frills and little ribbons... he imagined running his fingertips over them and feeling the shift from rough to smooth and back again, the way the material would be warm if someone was wearing it, pleasantly cool if not, the way the panties would feel crumpled in his fist.

He was breathing fast through his open mouth by that point, staring hazily at that single page, and his pants felt way too tight all of a sudden. He reached down to palm himself almost absently, and was disappointed to find rough denim instead of something flimsy and silky and soft.

By the time he got his cock out, his hands were shaking, and he lasted barely thirty seconds. Afterwards he folded up the leaflet and tucked it into the back of one of his desk drawers, feeling somewhere between ashamed and exhilarated. He didn’t know how normal it was, what he’d just done, but it had felt so good he could hardly bring himself to care.

He never dared to tell anyone or really do anything about it! Occasionally he might pilfer a clothing catalogue and turn straight to the lingerie section, or go out of his way to walk past the display windows when the mannequins were showing off the underwear selection, but anything else just felt too risky. If he actually went inside and maybe even tried to buy something – the thought makes him want to hide his face in a pillow – the ladies who work there would take one look at him and know exactly why, and then he’d get arrested for being a pervert and spend the rest of his life in jail.

Okay, probably not, but it feels that way! If anyone found out about this he would probably actually die of embarrassment, so it’s easier just to keep it to himself.

It doesn’t go away, though. He’s been sharing a house with his friends for less than a week (it is so awesome that they all go to the same college, it is like the most awesome thing in the world and he’s so excited), and he already knows that Jade wears boxers, and Rose wears plain white briefs with nothing more ornamental than a little purple bow on the front. Not like he’s been deliberately looking, but when everyone hangs their laundry to dry on an airer in the living room, it’s kind of hard not to notice.

Part of him is disappointed – quite a few of his guilty fantasies over the years have involved Rose in panties as pretty and fancy as the dresses she wears – but mostly he’s relieved, because it would be distracting and kind of weird to think about his friends like that. He doesn’t want to be creepy or anything.

Then he and Dave are setting up the TV and games consoles in the living room, and Dave is on his hands and knees untangling wires and arranging plugs, and John notices a line of bright red showing above the waistband of his jeans.

He blinks. He’s not imagining it. It’s definitely something scarlet, and he thinks there might be just a hint of lace where the strip of cloth disappears under Dave’s pants.

He’s vaguely aware that his mouth has fallen open, and his eyes are fixed on that band of red, and his mind is running through the implications, and suddenly his pants are feeling just a little bit too tight.

“Oh, fuck these fucking wires,” Dave mutters. “Can you give me a hand here, bro? I can’t figure out where this one ends.”

“Uh,” John says. He backs up a step. “I just remembered, I, uh. I have to... yeah.”

He’s gone before Dave can sit up and say, “What the hell?”

In his room, he slides to a sitting position with his back against the door, and presses his hands to his burning cheeks. “Oh god oh god oh god.” The situation in his pants is becoming more than uncomfortable, but no way is he going to jerk off thinking about his best friend, that is all kinds of wrong!

Then he remembers the way the material looked, scarlet against Dave’s pale skin, and he can’t stop himself trying to picture what the whole thing might look like, based on what little he could see of it, and then he pretty much has to adjust, because the constriction is getting painful, and once he’s got his hand down there it’s so easy to curl his fingers around his dick and stroke up and down – just once! Then once turns into twice and twice turns into his hand tightening and making the little twisting movement that sends thrills racing down his spine, and when he closes his eyes all he can see is satiny red, and all he can think about it what it would have felt like to run his fingertip along that line of scarlet where it was riding up on Dave’s lower back.

His orgasm almost surprises him when it comes, and he curls his toes and draws his knees up to his chest, shaking. Now he’ll have to change his clothes and Dave is totally going to notice, and John is not even going to be able to look him in the eye for a week, but worst of all, he’s pretty sure this is a fantasy he won’t be able to help revisiting.

*

Okay, so spanking it while thinking about Dave in panties was bad enough. But this is crossing a line. John doesn’t even really want to think too hard about what he’s doing, because he’ll end up feeling like a complete tool. And he’ll be right.

The house is empty. The others are all at class or out meeting friends, which is something they actually do now! And John is using the time to sneak into Dave’s room and go through his drawers.

Everything about this is wrong, but ever since he saw the those red panties peeking out from the top of Dave’s jeans, it’s been like an obsession. He can’t stop wondering what they’re like, and whether Dave wears them all the time.

It doesn’t help that in spite of his persistent and long-standing interest, John has never actually had a pair of panties in his hand to touch; he’s been making do with pictures and his imagination, and after a certain point that just doesn’t cut it. Not when he knows that Dave has at least one pair right here in the house and actually wears them and...

Yeah, there’s really no justification for this, but he’s doing it anyway.

He’s careful not to disturb anything, because although he’s not tidy by any definition of the word, Dave is extremely protective of his stuff, and likely to notice if anything gets moved. He goes for the drawers first, but Dave’s housekeeping is, um, unpredictable, and the top drawer is apparently reserved for art supplies. The second is full of preserved dead things that won’t fit on the shelf. The third is for CDs without cases, which, why does Dave even need CDs when he has an entire case of vinyl LPs and about four dedicated external hard-drives for his digital music collection?

Okay, getting off-mission here, and really, John shouldn’t be criticizing Dave’s organization skills when he’s the one snooping.

He opens the bottom drawer, expecting to find more weird shit, but it seems to be what he’s looking for! Socks, boxers, boring boring bluh bluh, though there are some things that are actually quite nice for men’s underwear. John is starting to think that what he’s interested in must be hidden elsewhere – if it even really exists and he really saw it instead of just imagining it – when an edge of something sky-blue catches his eye.

Oh, yeah. That’s definitely what he thinks it is. Biting his lip, John reaches into the drawer. He’s not going to take them out or anything, but he can’t resist touching. The material feels cool as water under his hands, with just a little roughness along the scalloped edge. Just touching the panties makes a shiver of excitement run down his arms.

Perhaps most importantly, these are not the ones Dave was wearing the other day. Dave has more than one pair. This might actually be a thing, not a one-off or a dare or some kind of hazing ritual.

On the one hand, this means he really has invaded Dave’s privacy and is basically the world’s biggest asshole. On the other hand, it means... well, John isn’t exactly sure, but there’s something springy and buoyant in the pit of his stomach, incongruous with his semi-hard cock.

Under the blue pair there are some that are dark pinkish-red, like cherry cordial. The scarlet ones are beneath those. John crouches there a while, just looking at the panties and brushing his fingers over them; they’re so pretty and bright and delicate, like bird feathers or candy-wrappers or something. He wants to hold them up to his face and stroke them against his cheek, and then he reminds himself that Dave actually wears these, and his cock twitches. He’s never thought about Dave like that before – well, only a few times – but there’s no denying that’s pretty much the hottest thing he’s ever imagined.

The sound of the front door banging open downstairs makes him jump. He pulls his hand out of the drawer as if there’s a snake in there, pushes the drawer closed as quietly as possible and tiptoes back into his room just as Jade is coming up the stairs, grumbling about the rain.

“John!” she calls. “Do you have a spare towel I can borrow? I’m completely soaked and mine are still in the machine!”

“Uh, no, but I think Dave has some, you should check his room!”

Now if anything’s out of place, Dave will just think it was Jade. John isn’t sure whether to be proud or ashamed of how sneaky he’s being. He really doesn’t like hiding things from his friends, even when they’re the kinds of things his friends wouldn’t want to know about anyway.

He lies face-down on the bed, listening to Jade moving around in Dave’s room next door. He knows he could ask her for advice, or Rose, because intellectually he knows he can talk to them about anything and they’ll still see him the same way, but even thinking about broaching the topic makes him wrap his arms around his head as if he’s bracing for an impact.

After a few moments contemplation, he pulls out Cosbytop the thirteenth and logs into Pesterchum.

-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] --

EB: jade! are you busy?
GG: oh hi john!!!!
GG: no, im not busy
GG: but why are you pestering me from two rooms away?
EB: because i don't want anyone listening!
GG: theres no one else here!
EB: durrr, there could be secret microphones or something.
GG: ...
EB: anyway who cares about that!
EB: i need some advice.
GG: what is it?
EB: well.
EB: ok.
EB: ok i'm just going to
EB: alright, say you kind of accidentally found out something that somebody was keeping secret.
EB: and it sort of changed the way you think about them.
GG: oh noooo :(
GG: its not anything illegal is it???
EB: no no nothing like that!
EB: it's not even something bad, really.
EB: just a little embarrassing, i guess?
GG: hmm
GG: when you say it changed the way you thought about them, do you mean in a bad way?
EB: i didn't say it was me!
GG: :|
GG: john
GG: come on
EB: heheheh, ok.
EB: well, i don't know!
EB: it didn't make me like them less, if that's what you mean.
EB: but i guess whether it's bad or not would depend on how they felt about me.
GG: :o
GG: john, do you have a crush on somebody?????????????????
EB: what!
GG: omg you doooooo :D
GG: who is it? tell me!!!!
EB: hell no!
EB: what are you, 12?
EB: you are supposed to be giving me advice here! not nagging me for gossip!
GG: siiiiign
GG: ok then :p
GG: so what youre saying is, you accidentally discovered somebodys secret and whatever it was made you start to think about them in a romantic kinda way?
EB: yes, pretty much.
GG: hmmm
GG: well, did you ever have those sorts of feelings for them before?
EB: um
EB: maybe a little bit.
EB: but i tried not to, because we are friends!
EB: only now i have found out this thing and i can't stop thinking about it.
EB: and i feel pretty bad, because it's not something i should have ever known about in the first place.
GG: i see...
GG: that is tricky!
GG: to be honest i think this thing about the secret is sort of a red herring?
GG: it sounds as if you have liked them for a while and just didnt want to admit it because of other stuff complicating matters
GG: so maybe you should just act the same as you would around anybody you liked
GG: and then later on if it goes well and you want to come clean, you can!!
GG: and if it doesnt go well then it wont matter anyway
GG: see what i mean?
GG: im not very good at giving advice :( but thats what i would do
EB: no, that is good!
EB: i will try that.
EB: thanks, jade!
GG: no problem <3
GG: and one more thing
EB: what?
GG: is it dave?
EB: .......

-- ectoBiologist [EB] blocked gardenGnostic [GG] --

John guesses it’s kind of pointless to block someone who you’re sharing a house with, but it’s more about the gesture than anything. He really should have figured that Jade would guess who he was talking about! How many friends does he even have? Stupid stupid dumb.

His phone buzzes from the cabinet next to his bed. It’s a text from Jade.

rude!!!!!!! >:O
anyway, i was GOING to say that if it is dave i think you should go for it
because of reasons ;)
good luck!

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean!” he yells. He’s pretty sure he can hear her giggling in her room, because obviously this is just sooooooo hilarious! So much for sisterly compassion.

*

Before John goes to hang out in the living room with the others that night, he sets himself some ground rules.

Rule #1: Do not let Jade or Rose catch you checking out Dave’s ass.

Rule #2: Every rule is the same as Rule #1.

That established, he feels fairly sure he can handle this. When he gets downstairs, though, it turns out all his rules were for nothing; Jade and Rose aren’t even there. It’s just Dave playing COD and making enough noise for three people, even though he’s not even wearing the mic. After a second, John spots the headset on the floor, presumably thrown aside in disgust.

“Oh, good,” Dave says when John drops down next to him on the couch. “I’ve got a paper to work on for tomorrow, but there’s this one douchebag playing right now who just requires his ass to be kicked, and I’ve been picking up the slack all by myself for like four goddamn hours.”

“Four hours?” John says dubiously, but takes the wireless controller nevertheless.

“Well, more like half an hour, but the point stands. I’m down here holding the line like a hero in the name of people who aren’t complete tools, and you just couldn’t give a fuck. You’re basically a deserter.”

“Okay, enough, I’m playing already, jeez. I’m pretty sure I never signed up to be in some kind of weird Live douchebag-assassin squad in the first place!”

“You got drafted. I drafted you. I’m your recruiting sergeant and your commanding officer and I’m ordering you to blast that beshitted motherfucker into bloody little pixel-chunks on the fucking double, is that understood?”

“Oh, man. I think I am being unfairly targeted here. Can I complain to my congressman?”

“You could, but I’m also your congressman. Actually, just assume I run your life and you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, whatever, Dave!” John settles into the game for a while, pleased when Dave stays on the couch and spreads out his work on the coffee table instead of going up to his room. Then, unprompted, his memory shows him the blue panties in Dave’s drawer, the ones he got to actually touch. His imagination fills in the image of Dave wearing them. Suddenly it becomes necessary to sit forward on the couch, his arms concealing his lap.

“But seriously, though,” Dave says, paging through a textbook about as thick as an unabridged Sassacre’s, “you’ve been hiding up in your room for like three days, dude, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” John says, too fast. His voice squeaks a little on the second syllable.

Dave turns and regards him for a moment, his face as unreadable as ever. “Uh-huh. Well, I figured you were just homesick or some maudlin shit, but now I’m trying to decide if you’ve killed someone. Should I be checking the papers for hit-and-runs or what?”

“Ha ha,” John says. He is failing in his assignment to blow the douchebag into pixel-chunks. He imagines, totally without meaning to, sliding his finger under the lacy waistband he glimpsed on the crimson panties. They’d be warmed to the temperature of Dave’s body, and maybe his skin would retain the faint red imprint of the lace, like cobwebs, like braille, and John would be able to feel it when he skimmed his fingertips –

He bites down hard on his lower lip and squirms a little on the couch. He can’t be thinking about this now. Dave is still watching him and Dave and Rose pick up on everything.

“Also,” Dave says dispassionately, “you just died.”

John jerks his attention back to the screen, just in time to see the corpse party countdown. “Oh, fuck! Sorry!”

Dave shakes his head. “Man, I don’t know if I can let you play on my account after this.” He gets up and turns off the console before John can respawn. He bends over. In those jeans. As he bends they ride low and John tenses, holding his breath, trying to see...

And then Dave turns around, and John realizes he forgot the most important rule of all, Rule #0: Do not, under any circumstances, let Dave catch you checking out Dave’s ass.

Nice going, Easily Outfoxed By Simple Utensils Buckaroo.

Dave doesn’t say anything, of course, but he has to have noticed; John knows his portfolio of facial expressions has not yet expanded to include the “subtle” category and, as previously noted, Dave and Rose pick up on fucking everything.

“Screw work,” Dave says abruptly. “Snack time. You coming?”

“Uh, sure.” John waits until Dave’s back is turned before he stands up and follows to the kitchen, trying very very hard to think unsexy thoughts. Fortunately Dave is focused on choosing between the various microwaveable delicacies in the freezer compartment – fortunately because it means his eyes are not aimed in a direction that might peripherally include John’s crotch, but also unfortunately, because Dave is squatting in front of the fridge and John gets a pretty good view of what is definitively not a pair of boxers.

Oh God oh God oh God.

He can deal with a lot! He can deal with Dave’s stupidly nice ass in tight jeans and how Dave’s hands are deft and expressive and beautiful even when he’s just finding a key on his chain or adjusting the strap on his camera; he can deal with Dave getting up in his space for no good reason and Dave’s barely-there smirk that has always kind of made John want to just, like, grab his face in both hands and sort of smush it and back him into a wall and – okay, he can deal with all of that, all right? But there’s passing homolust and then there are bulletproof kinks that he has been keeping secret for basically his entire life and he cannot deal with this going on right in front of him, he simply can’t.

The only thing he can think of to do is close his eyes and hope that it’ll go away. And by “it”, he means everything. The whole world. Especially Dave.

From outside his pathetic little bubble of repression and denial, he hears the sounds of Dave unwrapping something and putting it in the microwave, and he knows he must look severely weird standing here in the middle of the kitchen with his eyes squeezed shut, but it’s not until he feels the stir of air and realizes Dave must be right in front of him that he dares to open them.

“So,” Dave says. He’s barely two feet away. Behind the shades, John sees his eyes flick downward.

“So?” he says weakly.

“Is there a reason you’re carrying that Xbox controller around with you?”

“Huh?” John looks down as well and discovers Dave is right. His breath comes out in a flutter of nervous laughter. “Oh. Um, I don’t know!” He holds it out – he can see his hand shaking – but Dave doesn’t take it. He just stands there, like he’s waiting for something. If John is wrong about that, he’s about to do something really stupid.

It feels like he’s moving in slow motion as he closes the distance between them and puts his free hand tentatively on Dave’s waist. Dave’s expression doesn’t change; he watches John from behind his shades, right up until the moment John kisses him. There’s half a second when John is afraid he’s messed up and Dave just isn’t going to react at all, and then he feels Dave soften somehow, feels him exhale and start kissing back.

Everything in John’s head is a chorus of yes, yes, good, yes. He makes a low, wanting sound in his throat and hooks his fingers through Dave’s belt loop, pulling their hips together. His neglected erection jerks at the contact and he pushes back, rolling his hips against Dave and locking his fingers around the waistband of Dave’s jeans.

“Hold up.” Dave pushes him back for a second and John starts to protest, but Dave is only pulling the forgotten Xbox controller out of John’s hand and depositing it safely on the counter. “If I let you hold onto that thing you’re totally going to drop it and break it and you’ve really caused enough fucking trouble tonight, kay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” John runs his hands up over Dave’s stomach and chest, eager for more touching. “Whatever, just come here.”

Wait a second. Jesus.” He steps closer again and puts his hands up to John’s face, removing his glasses with surprising care, even taking the time to fold them before he puts them down. There’s only the faintest tinge of pink in his cheeks, but it’s the closest thing to a blush John has ever seen from him, so he’ll take it.

He reaches up to take Dave’s sunglasses too, and Dave bats his hand away. “Nope. They stay on.”

“Are you serious? Dave, you are such a fucking nerd – ”

But then Dave is kissing him again and John forgets what he was saying. He moves forward until Dave is pressed against the counter and pushes into him, torn between wanting to slide his shirt up and stroke the flat of his stomach, and wanting to slip his hands down instead and finally get to touch whatever Dave’s wearing under his jeans; he knows they’re black from the glimpse he got, but he wants to feel them. For the moment he settles for grinding against him, opening his mouth to swipe his tongue over Dave’s lower lip. He feels it when Dave’s breath hitches, and his stomach flips over.

He gets his hand on Dave's hip again and it’s like all his nerves are coalescing into one giant fizzing ball of want and can't and need; he draws circles and lines on the skin of Dave's back, under his shirt, so it can be almost an accident when his fingers dip down under the waistband of his jeans and he touches soft fabric – it feels so thin and delicate he thinks it must be sheer, like he’s seen in a few of the catalogues, and he can’t help the soft whimper that he makes when he imagines how he’d be able to see Dave’s skin through it.

He can feel the line of Dave’s cock pressing against him now, and Dave is returning every little jerk of John’s hips with an equally enthusiastic lift of his own, sifting one hand through John’s hair and kissing him so openly, that’s the only word John can think of for how it feels. He’s a good kisser, too, sucking and nibbling at John’s lips, inhabiting the perfect space between gentleness and hunger, and his mouth is so warm and right that John really has no idea why they’ve never done this before. They wasted whole years on bro-hugs when they could have been kissing instead!

It’s amazing, but it’s still not enough. His fingers keep stroking, slipping further past Dave’s waistband little by little, exploring the raised texture of lace and trying to interpret the pattern without letting Dave know what he’s doing, because he doesn’t want to have to stop. His dick pulses as he rocks mindlessly, desperately against Dave, and Dave’s arm around his waist is clasping him so tight it feels like he’s never going to let go. John couldn’t pull away if he wanted to, which he doesn’t, but he also doesn’t think he can last much longer like this, so he moves down instead, letting his legs sink out from under him and bringing his hands around to tug at the button of Dave’s jeans.

Dave goes tense at once. “John, no – wait – ”

“It’s okay,” John assures him, turning his head to kiss the hand Dave has put out to stop him. The damn button is stiff and if he doesn’t do this right now Dave’s going to make him stop before he even gets to see anything, and the thought seriously makes him want to cry.

“No it isn’t, wait a minute – oh, no – fuck – ”

With a particularly determined twist, John gets the button and the fly open both at once, and all the blood that isn’t currently turbo-charging his hard-on slams into his face in a wave of heat.

Oh, my God.

He might have said it aloud, he’s not sure. That Kinsey rating just keeps on sliding away from zero, because John is pretty sure he has never before and will never again see anything as hot as Dave’s cock pushing up the lacy fabric of a pair of skintight black panties. There’s a darker, shiny patch of precome just under the waistband, and the material is stretched so thin it’s gone from sheer to nearly transparent.

Up above him Dave is babbling something about irony and god knows what all else, trying to fasten his jeans up again, because Dave is apparently a fucking dumbass who doesn’t realize this is the best possible thing to happen to anyone, ever.

“Hell no,” John whispers. He leans in, ignoring Dave’s hands scrabbling at his head, and just presses his mouth to the front of the panties, pushing his tongue out against the head of Dave’s dick and sucking through the cloth. He feels the way Dave shudders and goes absolutely still, his hands resting lightly on John’s hair as if he doesn’t know where else to put them. John is very okay with that.

He strokes one hand over Dave’s thigh and belly, sort of soothing, while his tongue works Dave’s dick from base to tip, licking and kissing and caressing, soaking the filmy black mesh, teasing a little around the blond hairs on Dave’s stomach where his stiff cock is pulling the waistband of the panties outward. Dave makes an incoherent sound and his fingers spasm and clench in John’s hair.

John is squirming on the floor by now, pushing the heel of his hand down on his trapped erection while the fingers of his other hand brush over the patterned lace panels. The base material is milky-smooth as pearl and the lace gives it a slight rough edge that makes it interesting to the touch, and it’s warm and smells like Dave, which is so much better than the weird cool sterility of the fantasies John has. Or used to have. He thinks those fantasies have been pretty fucking supplanted at this point.

He pushes his hand down one last time and tips over the edge, dropping his forehead against Dave’s thigh for a moment while the shudders work through him, making little choked moans he didn’t know he was capable of. It’s not until he feels Dave stroking his hair that he remembers he was kind of in the middle of something.

He looks up, and forgets to be embarrassed that he’s just come in his pants, because Dave has completely and one hundred percent lost his cool. His face is bright red, his mouth is slightly open, and his hair looks as if he’s been running his hands through it, even though as far as John can remember his hands have both been accounted for the whole time. There’s only one thing wrong with this picture.

“Hey, Dave?”

Dave exhales shakily. “Yeah.”

“Shades. Off.”

For a moment Dave is motionless, irresolute, and John wonders if he’s going to have to dig out his friendleader voice from back in the day and make it an official requestorder; he’s trying to decide if that’s okay to do when you’re having sex with someone, but it turns out not to matter because after that brief hesitation Dave is yanking the shades off and dropping them on the counter. His hand falls back down again to trace the line of John’s cheekbone, soft, soft. John’s stomach does another of those flips and he smiles up at Dave.

“That’s better.” Now watch, he thinks, but doesn’t say, because that would kind of be overkill, and the way Dave’s staring at him now, he doesn’t think there’s going to be any looking away.

He pulls Dave’s jeans down to his knees and hooks both hands into the waistband of the panties, not drawing them down just yet but toying with the idea so Dave can feel it, while his mouth resumes its thorough exploration of Dave’s cock, tasting the clean, salty flavour of him through the web of fine black mesh. He traces the line of the head while his fingers inch downwards and stroke at Dave’s hipbones, and when Dave’s thighs start to shake he looks up, and their gazes lock. Dave bites his lip, closes his eyes and comes.

The force of it almost doubles him over and John’s attempt to catch him when his legs give way doesn’t go so well, and they end up in a tangle on the kitchen floor. Dave is shivering like some little animal caught outside in the cold, and it’s just so sweet and so unlike the person Dave tries to be that John just has to hug him. He can’t stop smiling, so he buries his face in Dave’s neck and lets the warmth fill him up from the inside.

He’s not exactly sure how long they sit there like that, right there in the kitchen, awkward and messy and with limbs everywhere, but it feels like it’s been little while when Dave finally draws in breath to speak.

“Dave,” John says, cutting him off, “if the next words out of your mouth are not ‘wow, John, that was fucking awesome, let’s do it again as soon as possible’, I am going to pee in your bed.”

Dave snorts laughter. “Actually, I was going to say that for a guy who gave every impression of enjoying my choice in underwear you sure went to a lot of trouble to ruin them. I liked that pair.”

“Dave,” John says again, warningly.

“Okay, okay. Wait, how did it go again? Something about how I should pity-fuck you because you’re a loser with a panty fetish and you’ve spent like your entire life hankering after my – ”

Dave. Right there, in your bed. I will do it.”

“Jesus dick, all right, yeah, I guess what you said is fine.”

“Good.” John grins again, nuzzling Dave’s neck where the skin is all velvety-smooth and he can feel Dave’s hair tickling his cheek.

“Oh my god, you’re such a fucking sap,” Dave grumbles, but his hand tightens possessively on John’s sleeve, just in case he might have been thinking about stopping. Which he wasn’t, by the way.

Time slips again. Whatever Dave put in the microwave must be cold by now. John starts wondering where Jade and Rose are and when they’re getting back.

“I guess we should go and get cleaned up,” he says reluctantly, grimacing at the slippery, sticky feeling in his pants when he moves.

“Shit, you think?”

John socks him in the arm.

As they’re getting up he thinks he should probably unblock Jade. Her advice was sound, after all! He suspects she also had something to do with the auspiciously empty house he and Dave have been taking advantage of this evening.

As they’re going upstairs, he wonders if it’s too soon to ask if he can keep the panties, since Dave said they were ruined anyway. His cock takes a marked interest in the idea. He also notes that they’re passing his bedroom, which just so happens to contain a bed.

They never make it to the bathroom.