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The problem is, Edvin thinks, that they have been doing this more and more lately. Hanging out as friends. More than they have in years. They have been hanging out like they used to do back in the day when they were both single and things weren’t so complicated between them.
Omar used to show up to Edvin’s parent’s house with a pizza and they would talk and talk and laugh for hours and pretend like they both didn't have a crush on each other that didn't seem to go away no matter what.
Now, Omar is showing up to his apartment with thai food and a sad look in his eyes and Edvin can't do anything else than let him in and hold him in his arms. “Hey.” Edvin says against his hair.
Omar’s hands wrap around him once the door is closed behind him. "Hey.”
Edvin kisses the top of his head, “what happened?” he whispers, swaying Omar a little. “Did they not like the song?”
Omar shakes his head, rubbing into Edvin’s chest as close as he can get. “They hate it.”
Edvin swallows, nods. “I’m sorry.”
Omar doesn't say anything, his arms fall from Edvin’s back and he takes a step backwards, “It just means I have to write a better song.” He says, putting his free hand inside his hoodie sleeve like he’s embarrassed of failing, ashamed.
Edvin doesn't know what to say, he just wants to bring him in for a hug again and never let him go as if he could somehow fix everything like that. But instead he just reaches forward to grab the bag from Omar’s hands.
“Go sit down,” He says, pointing with his head down the hallway and towards the sofa.
Omar gives him a small nod and walks inside fully, kicking off his shoes by the door like he’s done a hundred times now.
Edvin busies himself grabbing two plates and two forks from the kitchen, carrying them over to the coffee table so he has something to do with his hands. When he looks up, Omar’s sitting with his legs crossed under him, his chin is resting in his palm, his long dark curls are a little messy like he’s been running his fingers through them all day. He looks soft and small and so pretty that Edvin has to swallow hard before he can do anything else.
“How are you?” Omar says.
Edvin shrugs, sliding down onto the cushion right beside him so their thighs press together warm and solid, familiar. “Fine. I’ve been in meetings with my agent all morning.” He hands Omar his plate, letting their fingers touch again on purpose.
Omar’s fingers hover over the plastic bag, like he’s not quite ready to open it yet. “Anything interesting at least?”
“Nah,” Edvin says, keeping his tone light even though his chest feels tight when he leans in a little closer, his shoulder bumping Omar’s.
Omar finally rips the bag open, presenting Edvin with pad thai and spring rolls, opening the containers and letting the oily aromatic scent fill the room.
Omar puts two forkfulls of pad thai on his plate before he turns to Edvin. “Do you have any alcohol?”
Edvin laughs, surprised. “It’s a tuesday.”
But Omar just looks at him and he’s deadly serious, and Edvin feels compelled to just give him whatever he asks for.
“I think I’ve got some red wine,” he says, already pushing up off the couch.
And that’s the other problem, Edvin thinks as he crosses to the cupboard and pulls out the bottle of red his parents gifted him for a special occasion (which probably meant for when you propose to your girlfriend), that he’s not thinking about proposing. He’s not thinking about his girlfriend at all.
He’s not thinking about what he should be doing or how this… situation with Omar is all getting way too comfortable and way too close. All he’s thinking about is how he can make Omar feel better, how he can get him to smile and laugh, even if it’s just for tonight, even if it means he’s opening a bottle of wine that was never meant for this.
The entire bottle of wine later and Omar is stretched out next to him on the couch, his legs are Edvin’s lap, his head plopped on Edvin’s favorite decorative pillow. The wine has painted his cheeks dark pink and loosened his shoulders.
Edvin feels that hazy edge that only wine can give you too, blurry and soft, pulling him closer and closer to Omar’s body. He’s been ignoring how his hand made its way under Omar’s sweatpants and is holding his warm shin now, ignoring the way Omar keeps looking at him with shiny eyes.
They’ve been blurring lines for weeks now. It started with long hugs and forehead kisses, talking on the office sofa once for so long that Omar fell asleep on Edvin’s shoulder. Hands that drifted a little too low when they hugged. But it’s never… it’s never been being wine drunk with hands under Omar’s pants.
“Come here,” Edvin says before he can think better of it, his feels voice thick and sticky in his throat. He hooks an arm around Omar’s waist and tugs him over before he can process what he's doing. Omar goes easily and doesn’t resist, he just lets out a surprised little oomph and sits on Edvin’s lap.
The weight of Omar on top of him is warm and solid, his thighs are bracketing Edvin’s hips, and the second they touch each other, he can feel in his gut. The buzz, the warmth of Omar’s body, the way Omar smells like their perfume, their brand. His dick twitches hard under his sweatpants, filling out way too fast.
Shit.
He tries to play it cool, keeps his eyes on the screen like the movie suddenly got interesting, his one hand is still on Omar’s waist where he grabbed him, Omar’s head is on his shoulder and he's breathing steadily like he’s asleep.
Edvin’s pretending it’s not happening. He’s pretending Omar can’t feel the obvious ridge of his cock pressing up against his ass through four layers of fabric. It’s just the wine. Red wine makes him horny all the time. It’s just that, and the heat of someone else’s body on top of his.
But Omar shifts slowly, and Edvin’s breath catches in his throat. His hips roll in a small, teasing circle, grinding down just enough to drag friction right along Edvin’s cock.
Edvin sees stars.
It’s on purpose, it has to be on purpose even though Omar is not even looking at him, his eyes are still closed, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and his breathing is shallower when he exhales.
Edvin’s stomach flips, his hands tightening on Omar’s waist without meaning to. “Om-” he starts, his voice cracking when Omar does it again, a lazy little grind that makes Edvin’s cock throb against his ass.
Omar lifts his head, and his forehead presses against Edvin’s, his eyes are dark and hungry in a way that mirrors how Edvin's chest is feeling.
Edvin’s brain is spinning. He can’t do this. They can't do this. He might be a shitty boyfriend but he’s not a cheater. He plants both hands on Omar’s hips and shoves him off and back onto the couch, his heart hammering so loud he can hear it over the movie.
“We can’t,” he says, sitting up straighter, trying to adjust himself without being too obvious. “This– fuck, Omar, we can’t. I’ve got… she’s… and you’re dealing with all of the… we’re both just drunk, okay? We can’t.”
Omar props himself on one elbow, his hair is messy, his lips are shiny and parted, he looks way too calm for someone who just got shoved off a hard dick.
He looks down at the very obvious tent in Edvin’s sweatpants, then back up to Edvin’s eyes. “Okay,” he says, pursing his lips. “That’s fine. I’ll just pretend you aren't hard right now.”
Edvin stares at him for half a second, his flushed cheeks from the wine, the way his eyes are daring Edvin to keep lying, to keep pretending if he can.
Turns out he can’t. He exhales, drags a hand down his face, and says, “Okay– fuck it.”
He reaches out, grabs Omar by the front of his shirt, and yanks him right back into his lap.
Edvin’s mouth crashes into Omar’s the second he’s back in his lap. He’s done with the hesitation. Done with tiptoeing around it. It’s not soft or sweet or anything like the lines they’ve been threading. This is their first real kiss since that one time in new york city when they were too excited and too careless to stop.
Omar makes this broken little sound into his mouth and Edvin licks right in, his tongue sliding against Omar’s like he’s starving for it. The taste of red wine is intoxicating. Their teeth click once, messy and desperate, and Edvin doesn’t even care, he just tilts his head and goes harder, sucking on Omar’s tongue, biting his bottom lip, swallowing every shaky breath Omar gives him.
His hands are greedy and cold under Omar’s shirt, his palms sliding up his warm brown skin, and he can feel Omar’s cock filling out fast against his stomach, thick and obvious through his clothes.
Edvin pulls back just enough to breathe, his forehead pressed to Omar’s again, panting against his lips. He smiles a little when he looks down at Omar's erectuon, “We’re even now,” he says.
Omar’s eyes are glassy, his lips swollen and shiny. “Bed?” he asks, quiet and careful, his hips still twitching like he can’t help it. “Can we-”
Edvin doesn’t let him finish. He grabs under his thighs and stands up quickly, hoisting him like he weighs nothing. Omar’s legs lock around his waist, his arms around his neck, and the little gasp he lets out goes straight to Edvin’s already aching cock.
They don’t even make it two steps before Edvin spins them and presses Omar’s back against the nearest wall, hard. He ducks his head and bites down on the side of Omar’s neck, right over the softest spot of skin there, sucking a mark into the skin, grinding his cock up onto Omar’s spread legs.
“Fuck– you–” Omar’s voice cracks into a laugh, he’s shaking his head. “Ah, come on–”
Edvin smiles against his throat, grinds forward one more time for good measure and then peels them off the wall and carries Omar on his arms down the short hallway like it’s nothing.
The bedroom door is open and he kicks it wider so he can toss Omar onto the bed easily like he weights nothing. Omar bounces once, his long curls are pointing everywhere, his hoodie is rucked up and he’s looking up at Edvin with dark, hungry eyes.
Edvin stands at the foot of the bed, his chest is heaving, his heart is beating so hard it might break his ribcage open. He drags a hand through his own hair. “Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "What do you want?”
Omar props himself up on his elbows, and lets his gaze drag slow and obvious down Edvin’s body, over the tent in his sweatpants, and then back up to the flushed skin of his chest where the collar of his shirt is stretched.
“I want to see you,” Omar says, biting his bottom lip, spreading his legs open.
Edvin’s mouth goes dry. Fuck. He’s more than happy to comply. He hooks his thumbs in the hem of his shirt and peels it off quickly like it's only on the way. His sweatpants follow right after, they’re kicked to the floor along with his boxers until he’s standing there completely naked, his cock hard and curving up against his stomach, flushed pink at the tip.
Omar’s eyes go wide and hungry, drinking him in like he’s been dying for it. He reaches for him immediately, his hand already stretching towards Edvin’s cock, but Edvin catches his wrist gently, his thumb brushing over the pulse point.
“Wait,” he says. “I want to see you too. Please. You’re… fuck, Omar, you’re perfect. All I can think about, all the fucking time, is your body. The way you move on stage, the way you dance– I need to see you too.”
The tips of Omar’s ears are red, but he nods, biting his lip as he sits up and starts tugging at his own clothes. His hands are shaking a little so the shirt gets stuck on his head.
Edvin laughs at him softly for one second before he's climbing onto the bed to help. He peels the shirt the rest of the way off, then drags Omar’s joggers and boxers down his thighs in one go, his hands lingering on every inch of skin he uncovers.
Edvin can’t keep his hands to himself once Omar's body is on display. He grabs Omar's waist, his hips, the soft meat of his ass, pulling him closer and closer so he can bite his collarbone, his chest, his stomach, their cocks rubbing together. “God, look at you,” he whispers, not lifting his mouth from Omar’s skin more than he has to. “You’re so fucking pretty. Every part of you– You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”
Omar’s breathing is shallow and ragged, his cock is hard and leaking against Edvin's. He squirms under Edvin’s hands, whining. “Edvin… I want to touch your dick. I need to touch your dick, please–”
Edvin smiles and nods, flopping back against the pillows, spreading his legs wide so Omar can settle between them. His cock twitches under the attention, heavy against his belly. “Do what you need to do, baby.”
Omar’s eyes flicker dark. “Call me baby again,” he says, his voice shaky as he crawls forward and wraps his hand around Edvin’s cock without another second of hesitation. He gives one slow, experimental stroke, his thumb swiping over the slick head, and Edvin groans, his hips twitching up into the touch.
“Fuck– baby,” He breathes out, reaching down to thread his fingers through Omar’s curls. “Just like that. You’re doing so good. So fucking good for me.”
Omar doesn’t waste another second. He lowers his head, his lips parting, and takes Edvin’s cock into his mouth in one wet slide. The sudden heat punches the air out of Edvin’s lungs. Omar’s tongue is swirling around the head, and then it presses flat along the underside as he sinks deeper, his cheeks hollowing, his eyes fluttering shut like he’s been dreaming about this exact moment too.
“Omar,” Edvin chokes out, his fingers tightening in Omar’s hair. “I don’t know how long I can last if you do that.”
Omar pulls off, his lips are shiny and swollen, a string of spit still connecting them for half a second and Edvin’s head is spinning. He looks up through his lashes, biting his bottom lip like the tease he is. “You’re young,” he says, his voice fucked up already. “You can go again, can’t you?”
Edvin grumbles, laughing, his head dropping back against the pillow. “Fine. Fine, okay– fuck, just… yeah." He sighs, "Okay.”
Omar bites the inside of his cheek to hold back a smile, victorious, and dives back down. He takes Edvin all the way to the back of his throat in one smooth slide, swallowing around him like it’s nothing. Edvin’s hips jerk up on instinct at the feel of Omar’s tight throat around his cock and Omar just moans around him, encouraging it.
Edvin is seeing white, his mouth running before his brain can catch up. “Baby, fuck, your mouth– you’re so good at this, so fucking good–” He gasps out when Omar takes him in even deeper.
Omar works him over like he’s trying to kill him. The wet sounds, the little hums vibrating around his cock, the way Omar’s hips are grinding against the sheets because he’s that turned on from sucking his dick. It's too much.
When Edvin comes it hits him like a truck, his hips stuttering, sliding deeper inside Omar’s mouth. A moan tears out of his chest as he spills hot and thick down Omar’s tight throat.
He watches as Omar doesn’t pull away, watches as he swallows every drop, his throat opening and closing around him, his dark eyes locked on Edvin’s the whole time like he wants to remember exactly what he looks like when he comes.
Edvin is still panting when he reaches down and grabs Omar by the shoulders, pulling up and up until he can press his lips around Omar’s mouth, swollen and glossy.
“Good boy,” Edvin whispers, his head spinning, the wine making the edges of his vision blurry. He cups Omar’s jaw, his thumb brushing over his swollen bottom lip. “I’m going to fuck you now. Is that what you want?”
Omar nods, his eyes locked on Edvin’s like he’s trying to memorize every second before everything breaks apart. “Yeah,” he whispers, his voice cracking just a little. “I really want to.”
Edvin’s girlfriend’s face flashes in his mind for half a second, the way she’s been clinging to him out of habit, the way she doesn't even want to kiss him anymore. He looks at Omar, spread out under him and thinks about the way this one night is going to shatter every careful boundary they have made over the years.
They both know this is going to ruin their friendship forever. It’s never going to be the same. And still neither of them stops.
Edvin’s hands are shaking as he reaches for the lube on his bedside drawer. He slicks up two fingers and presses the first one in slowly and God, his hands are big against Omar’s thigh when he grabs him, and Omar is tight, so fucking tight.
He hisses, his back arching off the bed. “It hurts,” he says, but he doesn’t pull away. His fingers dig into Edvin’s shoulders when he tries to pull away. “Don’t go.”
“You’re doing so good,” Edvin says, his voice is sticky and struggling to come out. He curls his finger gently, working him open with patience he doesn’t know if he’s really capable. “You’re perfect, Omar. Fuck… I’ve wanted this for so long. You have no idea.”
Omar lets out a wet moan, his hips twitching as Edvin adds a second finger and starts scissoring them carefully. The guilt is there, sharp and ugly in Edvin’s chest.
This is wrong, this is so fucking wrong, she’s probably waiting for him to call her and nothing between them will ever be the same. But the want is louder. The need. It drowns everything else out. It's been years. He has wanted Omar for way too long. And now he finally has him. And he can’t stop.
“I’m ready,” Omar says, pulling Edvin out of his trance, his voice is high and desperate. Edvin realises it has been equally as long for Omar too, they have both been wanting each other for too long. Omar groans, “Edvin, I’m ready– please, just-"
Edvin scrambles for the condom like a man possessed, tearing the packet open with his teeth and rolling it on his cock with shaky hands. He lines up, presses the head of his cock against Omar’s hole, takes a deep breath in before he pushes in.
This is it. He has time to pull away and stop if he wanted to. He does. He could just– but he looks at Omar’s face, his shiny eyes and swollen lips and shakes his head as he pushes in slowly.
Omar’s body welcomes him in like it had been waiting for it, his walls tight and squeezing, pulling him deeper.
“Fuck– you’re so big,” Omar gasps , his eyes rolling back in his head, his mouth falling open on a loud moan that echoes off the walls and inside Edvn’s pounding head. “Fuck, hold on.” He says, but his legs wrap tighter around Edvin’s waist, heels digging into his back as Edvin bottoms out and stays there for a second, breathing hard against Omar’s neck.
“Okay?” Edvin says, kissing the warm, sweaty skin of Omar’s neck, his tongue running along his collarbone.
Omar nods, his hands squeezing Edvin’s biceps like he’s going to fall otherwise. “Yeah.”
He swallows, rolling his hips and pushing deep inside of Omar, his cock twitching. He’s glad he already came when Omar squeezes around him, making him groan.
“Oh- fuck.” He gasps, fucking Omar slow and deep, trying to find the one spot that knows it's there, wanting to make Omar feel everything. “You feel so good.”
Omar smiles a little bit, brushes hair off Edvin’s forehead. “I love you.” He says.
Edvin squeezes his eyes shut. He loves him too. He wants to say it back. He can’t, he pushes deeper inside inside, making Omar seize up and arch his back.
Edvin does it again, and again, every thrust punches another broken sound out of Omar’s mouth, and Edvin can’t look away. This is it. They’ve crossed the line. There’s no coming back.
Omar’s nails are scratching Edvin’s back when he speaks, “Can I ride you?”
Edvin stills instantly, buried to the hilt inside of Omar, his chest heaving. “Yeah,” His voice is wrecked, thick with wine and want. “Take whatever you want, baby.”
He pulls out slowly, both of them hissing at the loss, and then he scrambles to flop down with his back against the pillows. Omar climbs over him on shaky thighs, straddling his hips, and Edvin’s hands automatically go to that small waist he’s so obsessed with.
He has wanted this for so long. Fuck, he has dreamed about this exact situation a million times before.
Omar lines himself up, one hand braced on Edvin’s chest, and sinks down in one smooth, greedy drop.
The sight punches the air out of Edvin’s lungs. It’s perfect, it’s better than he thought it would be. Fuck. That’s the other, other problem, he thinks as he watches as Omar’s head tips back, lips parted on a long moan.
It gets worse, it gets much, much worse when Omar starts moving, his hips rolling those the same hypnotic way he does on stage.
It’s filthy and beautiful at the same time. Edvin can’t stop staring at where they’re joined, at the way his own cock disappears inside Omar, slick and shining when it slides back out.
He’s not sure he can blame the wine anymore, his head is spinning and his heart is beating hard in his chest and he has no excuse other than admitting he wants it. He needs it.
“Fuck– holy shit.” He gasps, every time Omar grinds down, Edvin sees flashes of him on stage, making everyone scream. Except now it’s just for Edvin. Only for Edvin.
He feels possessive for half a second before guilt slams through his chest like a fist. His girlfriend. The texts he’s been ignoring. The way she’s been holding on because it’s easier than letting go. This is wrong. This is so fucking wrong and they both know it. Tomorrow everything changes. They can never go back to forehead kisses and “just friends.”
But Omar feels so good, so tight and hot and perfect, and Edvin has wanted this for years, wanted it so bad it kept him up at night sometimes. The guilt and the shame are there, sharp and ugly, but the pleasure is louder in his ears. In his heart. In his cock. He doesn’t care. He can’t care right now.
“Fuck, look at you,” Edvin groans, thumbs digging into the meat of Omar’s ass, encouraging. “You’re perfect. This is– fuck.”
Omar smiles, “This is, what?” He says, his eyes glassy when Edvin looks at them.
“Better than my dreams.” Edvin says, throwing his head back when Omar speeds up, gasping.
His cock is bouncing hard and leaking against Edvin’s stomach with every thrust of his hips. He rides faster, chasing the pleasure, one hand braced on Edvin’s chest and the other wrapped around his own dick, stroking in time. The angle is perfect, Edvin can feel every squeeze and every twitch happening inside him, can see every tiny expression flicker across Omar’s face.
“I'm close,” Omar gasps, slamming hard onto Edvin’s lap, his bounces faltering.
“Give it to me,” Edvin says, lifting his hips and making Omar groan as his thighs shake, his eyes rolling back.
Omar comes with a broken cry, thick white stripes painting Edvin’s chest, his head falls back, his curls sticking to his damp forehead.
It’s so fucking beautiful Edvin almost wants to cry. The way Omar’s whole body lights up, the way his mouth falls open like he’s singing, the way every inch of his body is shaking with it. Edvin’s chest tightens so hard he has to bite his lip to keep the stupid, overwhelming feeling inside. Fuck, he loves Omar so much.
Edvin’s hands slide up Omar’s thighs, gripping tight as he pushes him forward, folding him in half so his legs end up over Edvin’s shoulders, ankles locked behind his neck, and he’s so deep inside they both groan with it.
Edvin doesn’t wait, he just dives back in, his cock sliding deep and sharp against Omar’s prostate, then again, and again, his hips snapping hard and relentlessly like he can’t stop even if he wanted to.
Omar gasps, his nails digging in Edvin’s back, leaving red lines that sting so good. “Edvin–” He manages, his voice deep and fucked up. “It’s too much, it’s too much–” he sobs, but his hips are rolling, pushing up to meet every thrust, his body shaking like he can’t stop chasing it. “Don’t stop.”
Edvin fucks him harder, sweat dripping down his temples and onto Omar’s collarbone. He feels almost feral with it, the guilt and the lust and all the years of wanting are all crashing together in his chest. He knows this is the point of no return. He knows his girlfriend is probably sitting at home wondering where the hell he is. He knows tomorrow they’ll both have to look at each other and pretend this didn’t just destroy everything.
But right now all he can feel is Omar clenching around him, moaning loud and broken and overstimulated, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he asks Edvin to fuck him harder.
Edvin pulls out at the last second with a strangled groan, yanks the condom off, and comes all over Omar’s chest and abs, thick stripes of come painting that perfect brown skin he’s been obsessed with for years. Omar’s back arches, a silent cry caught in his throat, and he comes again, his cock twitching against his own stomach, adding to the mess they’ve made.
Edvin is shaking when he collapses on top of Omar, their skin sticky and fusing them together like they’re one. They don't move for a second, the only thing Edvin can hear is Omar’s heartbeat.
Then Omar gently pushes Edvin’s shoulder. He doesn’t say a single word. Just slips out from under him, his legs are shaking when he gets up and pads naked toward the bathroom. A moment later the shower turns on.
Edvin lies there for a long minute, staring at the ceiling, the come on his chest cooling. He should probably get uo too, join Omar in the shower. Go for another round.
He can’t. He’s rooted in place like his legs wont cooperate. He finally reaches down to the floor, fishes his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants, and lights up the screen.
Four missed calls from his girlfriend. All in the last forty minutes. He closes his eyes, lets the phone drop onto his sticky chest, and listens to the shower running down the hall.
The doorbell buzzes.