Just Friendasies | Josh Kiszka One Shot
Friendasy (noun):
A blend of friend and fantasy, referring to a daydream or imagined scenario involving a friend—often romantic, idealized, or emotionally intimate in nature—that hasn’t happened in real life but is played out in the mind. Friendasies can be harmless escapism or a sign of deeper feelings.
18+ MINORS DNI
Paring: Josh x f!reader
Word count: ~13,700
Songs: Picture You | Touch Myself | Happy Together
Warnings: 18+, sexually explicit content (p in v, oral, fingering, hand jobs, ect.), strong language, and emotionally intense scenes.
Disclaimer: I'm unfamiliar with anyone from GVF. These are entirely fictional, a creation from my imagination. Consider it a piece of prose crafting a narrative of imaginary events and characters—pure fiction.
A/N: Cue Shoop by Salt-N-Pepa… because here I go again. But this time I’ve got my sights set on a whole different Kiszka😈. Again, this all started with a little conversation between @edgingthedarkness and I. 🤭 Something different than normal, and I feel like it has more spicy scenes than my others shorter stories… so be warned. It’s not very “sweet” and to the point.
Enjoy! 🖤
Being with Josh was like living in your favorite movie—warm, cozy, and familiar, with Happy Together by The Turtles playing as the title track to your endless, golden-hour adventures. It was like the two of you would spin in circles, hands clasped, laughing breathlessly until you collapsed into piles of crisp autumn leaves. And when you resurfaced after a while, brushing foliage from your hair, there was always someone else lingering in the background. A new relationship.
Josh had a habit of cycling through relationships, mostly with men, though you knew he enjoyed women from time to time. He never felt the need to label his sexuality, and you never asked. Whenever he appeared with a new partner, you weren’t surprised—just as he never was when your own romantic interests changed like flavors of the week. That was just how things were between you. New partners were talked about briefly, and things went on as they usually did.
Something about your connection simply clicked. Maybe it was your shared interests, or maybe it was the fact that what one of you loved most, the other hated just as much. You were alike in nature, but never in detail.
More often than you cared to admit, you found yourself admiring Josh in a way a good friend probably shouldn’t. But anyone with eyes would be foolish to ignore his beauty—his sharp, sun-kissed features, the way his golden brown curls were framed perfectly in place, and most of all, the warmth his soul carried. Sometimes, on slow afternoons like this one, you’d let yourself indulge in a quiet, guilty daydream, wondering if Josh ever thought about you the way you thought about him.
He had gone for a swim, while you lay stretched out on a lounge chair, letting the sun warm your back. Your towel was pulled up over your chest, the fabric brushing against the curves of your cleavage as you loosened your bikini strings. You moved your hair to the side, exposing the faint tan lines on your shoulders, and let your gaze drift back to Josh. He floated lazily on his back, the water gliding over his tanned skin, his usually wild curls fanning weightlessly around him. You smiled to yourself, resting your head on your folded arm, letting your imagination wander. You thought about running your hands over his damp, sun-warmed skin, the way his lips might feel—wet and soft—trailing down your neck, over your collarbone, how effortless it would be to wrap your legs around his waist and let the water make you weightless.
A sudden splash of ice-cold water broke your thoughts. You shrieked, arching your back away from the shock before rolling off the chair entirely. Scrambling to your feet, you found Josh standing there, smirking, an empty plastic cup in his hand.
“Josh!” you shouted, realizing a second too late that his eyes weren’t meeting yours. Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your bare chest. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Your back was getting red,” he said, amused. “Thought you needed to cool off.” He twirled the empty cup in his fingers before nodding toward you with an exaggerated expression. “Didn’t know we were skinny dipping.”
“What?” Your brows furrowed as you glanced down, quickly looking at your bikini top. “No, I was just—” You bent to grab it, still holding your arm tightly around yourself. “I was evening out my tan lines.”
As you reached for the top, Josh’s hand caught your wrist. The touch was surprisingly gentle.
“No, don’t,” he said softly.
Your breath hitched. “What? Why?”
Josh didn’t answer right away. His thumbs hooked into the waistband of his small swim shorts, and before you could react, he shoved them down and kicked them aside.
“Oh my—” Your hand flew up to cover your eyes. “Josh!”
His laughter was light, teasing. “Come on, don’t be shy.” You could hear the soft crunch of grass as he stepped closer.
“Josh…” You hesitated.
“Skinny dipping sounds fun,” he coaxed, the childlike mischief in his voice impossible to ignore.
You swallowed, heart hammering as you peeked between your fingers. He stood there, completely unbothered, watching you expectantly.
“Come on,” he murmured, his fingertips brushing yours, gently pulling your hand away from your face. “Don’t you wanna have fun with me?”
“Yes, but—”
“But?” he interrupted, grinning as he nudged your arm down completely. Your eyes flickered downward—only for a split second—before you snapped them back up, your face burning with embarrassment. Josh just laughed.
“It’s fine,” he said easily. “Nothing you haven’t seen before. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“I haven’t seen you naked,” you pointed out. “And you haven’t seen me naked.”
“No, but we’ve both seen the opposite sex naked before. So what’s the difference if two friends see each other?”
You opened your mouth to argue, but, damn it, you didn’t really have a good rebuttal.
“Um…” was all you managed.
“Exactly,” he said, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Plus, your face is really red. I think you need another dip.”
Before you could react, he took your hand and led you to the pool’s edge. His playful smile softened as his fingers found the ties on your bikini bottoms. With a quiet exhale, you let your arms drop from your chest, slipping the last of your swimsuit off and tossing it onto the chair.
Josh’s smirk spread into a full, toothy grin. His arms wrapped around you in an instant, bare skin pressing against bare skin, before he took a step forward. And then, with a splash, it was just the two of you and the warm water. Tiny bubbles tickled your skin as you rose back to the surface, catching your breath.
You and Josh surfaced almost at the same time, gasping softly as the warm air kissed your damp skin. With a quick shake of his head, water flung from his curls in all directions, and then his eyes locked onto yours. That boyish grin spread wider as he took you in. Your hair, which had started to air-dry earlier, now clung wet and heavy around your shoulders. Droplets slid down your collarbone and back into the pool.
You watched as a bead of water clung to the end of Josh’s eyelashes, and others rolled slowly down the slope of his nose. For a moment, a wild thought fluttered through you about how it might feel to kiss it off the tip of his nose. But before you could entertain it further, he broke the silence.
“Nice tits,” he said, casually… too casually.
You blinked, stunned. But as if you’d been saving this idea for this exact kind of comment, you gathered water in your mouth and spat it right at him. The stream hitting him squarely in the forehead. He let out a half-yell, half-laugh and swam backward, splashing away from you.
“I’ll have you know,” he said primly, wiping the grin off your face with his words, “I pee in this pool.”
He gagged dramatically, and you followed suit, glancing down at the water around you as if searching for signs of the alleged offense. You made a theatrical attempt to escape the area, pushing off with a splash.
“I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” he called out between bouts of laughter, his voice echoing over the water.
You swam further to the deep end, settling on the swim-out bench, arms stretching along the edge, your back arching lazily as you turned to find him again. Josh appeared seconds later, surfacing right next to you. The movement of the water from his arrival gently rocked your body, nudging you closer to him.
“Feels good, huh?” he asked, his voice softer now.
“The water?” you replied, reaching out with your free hand and brushing the surface, watching the light ripple outward from your fingertips. “Yeah. It’s warmed up as the day’s gone on.” Your voice was far-off, distracted. You weren’t really paying attention to the conversation—more to the way the water shimmered like molten glass under the sun.
“No,” Josh said, inching a little closer. “Being so…” He waited until your eyes found his again. “Free.”
You rolled your eyes, not quite buying into the sudden poetic mood he was adopting.
“What is this? Are you about to ask me to join your nudist cult?” you joked, trying to pull things back into the realm of light-hearted.
Josh just laughed, that low, addictive sound of his, and pushed off the wall. He floated onto his back once more, arms spread wide like he was offering himself to the sky. He was completely exposed now and unapologetically.
And you couldn’t help but look.
He was… impressive. Beautiful, even. But you already knew that. The way his clothes clung to him on and off stage had always left little to the imagination. Every tailored suit, every vintage tee, hugged his frame like it had been made for no one else. And here he was now, bare and relaxed, floating under the open sky like he was born for this moment.
“Like what you see?”
His voice cut into your thoughts, teasing. You glanced up, caught red-handed. Josh was side-eyeing you, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.
Your cheeks burned. “Where is this even coming from?” you asked, flustered. “You’re being so… so…” You paused, struggling to find the word.
“Cocky?” he offered, a knowing chuckle leaving his lips as he tipped himself forward in the water. He swam toward you again, the space between you closing fast.
You scrambled back onto the swim-out ledge, water trailing down your body as you adjusted your posture. But Josh didn’t stop. He reached the edge and swam right between your legs, planting his hands on the ledge on either side of you, holding himself in place.
“What a choice of words,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes at him.
He grinned up at you from the water, his face mischievous and unbothered, like he hadn’t just sent your heartbeat into a tailspin.
And still, you didn’t move away.
You stayed exactly where you were, face tilted down toward his—so close you could count every droplet of water clinging to his skin. Your gaze lingered on the way they caught the fading light, trailing down the bridge of his nose, catching on his lashes, slipping off the edge of his jaw. And just like that, you remembered how you’d ended up here in the first place.
Josh had invited you over for what he called a “self-care day.” His words, not yours. Eyebrow shaping, a promise of dinner, drinks, and a relaxing evening in his pool. So far, his eyebrows looked phenomenal, you’d only had one drink, there’d been no dinner, and somehow you’d been coaxed into skinny dipping with him under the heat of the late afternoon sun. You weren’t sure this qualified as relaxing… but it was definitely something.
Your hand drifted up, thumb brushing lightly over the arch of his freshly groomed brow.
“I did a good job,” you murmured, your voice low and intimate.
Josh leaned into your touch with all the neediness of a man who hadn’t been touched in days, like a cat starved for affection. His eyes fluttered shut, and he took a long, slow breath, his chest rising between your knees.
“Yeah,” he said softly, “they look good.”
Your hand trailed downward, from his brow to his temple, fingers grazing the sensitive skin beneath his eyes. You felt him exhale as you traced the curve of his cheek and let your thumb sweep gently over the top of his upper lip, brushing over the softness of his mustache.
“Now just to get rid of this,” you teased, voice warm with mischief.
His eyes snapped open in mock horror.
“No way,” he said, lifting his hand to his Van Dyke-style beard. “People beg to take this magic carpet for a ride. I’d go as far as to say worship.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Wow. You’ve got a big head.”
“Thank you for noticing,” he said, suddenly hoisting himself up beside you with a grin. “That gets a lot of worship too.”
Before you could react, he splashed you—hard. Water smacked across your chest and face, and you gasped, letting out a shout of protest. But your laughter followed just seconds later.
“Josh!” you shrieked, splashing back, the two of you devolving into a full-on water war. He came at you on his knees, both hands throwing waves at your chest, your shoulders, your hair. You tried to stay low in the water, tried to keep yourself at least somewhat covered, but it was no use. Your hands flew up in surrender as you laughed uncontrollably, your body drenched and pressed against the cool tile behind you.
“Alright! Alright! You win!” you gasped, still laughing as you closed your eyes, hands raised to shield yourself from the last bit of water. “You win, damn it!”
Josh finally eased up, and you cracked your eyes open.
He was right there. Inches from your face. Close enough that you could feel the heat rolling off his skin, mixing with the chill from the water. Your breath caught in your throat as a breeze lifted across your back—reminding you, abruptly, that the top half of your body was still exposed.
Josh’s eyes didn’t wander—but they didn’t have to. His voice dropped to a near-whisper, low and rough like velvet and gravel.
“And what’s my prize for winning?”
Your eyes flicked from his to his mouth. That mouth. You didn’t hesitate.
Your arms slid around his neck and you pulled him in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was all heat and water and tension breaking like a wave. Just like you’d imagined earlier—his lips were soft, damp, cool from the pool but hot with want. The kiss deepened quickly, growing hungrier with every second as his hand found the curve of your back, fingers trailing up your spine until they landed at the nape of your neck.
He pulled you into him completely, his chest slick against yours, the hard muscle of his torso pinning you to the edge of the pool as his mouth worked yours open. You let him take, and then you gave right back. His body was so close, so present, and the pressure of it against yours made your head spin.
The air between you all but vanished, replaced with steam and want and the thud of your heart against your ribs.
Maybe this was long overdue.
The relationship between you and Josh had always walked a strange, delicate line—never fully platonic, never quite romantic. It was something in-between. Something different. You were everything but the sex. Best friends who shared secrets like lovers, who touched each other casually but intimately—his hand on your thigh when you talked, your head on his shoulder during movies, brushing his hair off his forehead like it meant nothing… even though it always did.
Normally, it never got to this point. Normally, you both had someone waiting for you at home. But tonight wasn’t normal.
Tonight, you found yourself sprawled across the warm stone deck of Josh’s pool, bare and breathless, with your fingers tangled in his soaking wet hair, gripping tight like you might lose yourself completely if you let go. His body was still half-submerged in the pool, kneeling between your parted thighs, water dripping from his chest and arms as he held you open and buried his face in you like a man who was malnourished. Not just starved.
The first flick of his tongue across your clit had made you gasp, but now? Now your thighs were trembling around his shoulders with every stroke his mouth moving with an urgency that bordered on reverent, devouring you like he’d been waiting for this moment.
You arched your back off the stone, the cool air touching your flushed skin, your nipples hardened and glistening with the same pool water that dripped from his lips. He groaned against you, the vibration making your hips buck and a sharp moan slip from your throat.
“Josh…” you whimpered, your voice nearly unrecognizable, ragged with want.
He didn’t stop. If anything, he doubled down and gripped your hips to hold you still, dragging his tongue slowly, then fast, switching between gentle licks and deep, desperate sucks like he already knew every trick to make you come undone. You were too far gone to care how loud you were being, too high on the sensation of him, of this, of finally.
You looked down through hazy eyes, your breath catching as you watched his shoulders flex, his jaw working with unrelenting rhythm, his curls dripping water across your belly. The sight alone almost sent you over the edge.
And then, like he could sense it, he moaned into you again—God, that sound—and slipped a finger inside you, slow but purposeful, curling just right as his tongue swirled over your clit again and again and again.
Your legs locked around his back as your orgasm surged through you, hot and heavy, your body trembling uncontrollably beneath him. You cried out, your grip on his hair tightening until he finally lifted his head, his mouth and chin glistening, his eyes dark and wild as he looked at you.
“Let’s go inside,” Josh said, his voice low and loaded with promise.
In an instant, you were untangling your limbs from his, breathless and soaked, while he climbed out of the pool in one fluid motion. Water splashed across the deck as he reached back for your hand, pulling you up and into a run. The two of you tore through his pristine backyard and into the house, leaving a trail of wet footprints and laughter behind you.
You knew exactly where he was headed, and you weren’t about to stop him.
The light at the end of the hallway spilled from his bedroom like a glowing invitation, casting a soft halo on the walls. Before you even reached the door, Josh spun around, catching you just before you collided into his chest. His hands gripped your waist tightly, lifting you with ease, your legs instinctively wrapping around him.
His mouth crashed against yours like he couldn’t wait another second—hot and angry, teeth grazing your lips, tongue sweeping in with practiced urgency. He kissed you like he was trying to impress you, like every kiss before this had been a warm-up for this very moment.
With one hand supporting your ass and the other anchoring you to him, Josh lowered the two of you to the floor of the bedroom, slowly sinking to his knees. Your back met the soft, plush carpet with a gentle thud, the fibers warm beneath your skin. You barely had a moment to breathe before his lips were on your neck, licking, sucking, nipping their way down your collarbone until he reached your breasts. He took his time there—kissing, teasing, lavishing attention with his tongue and teeth until your breath was shallow and your hips were lifting off the floor in search of more.
And then you felt him—hard, thick, pressing at your entrance. You let your legs fall open wider, giving him full access, your body trembling with anticipation.
Josh pushed into you slowly, deliberately, savoring every inch like it was something holy. Your back arched off the carpet as a choked moan escaped your lips.
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, the sound so guttural and raw it made your entire body throb.
He started to move, slow and deep at first—dragging it out, letting you feel every inch of him. The sound of slick, wet skin, the deep rhythm of his thrusts, your quiet whimpers and gasps—it was a sinful symphony, echoing through the room like a secret too loud to hide.
You reached up blindly, needing something to hold on to, and Josh’s hands found yours. He laced your fingers together above your head, pinning them down as his pace picked up—faster, harder, more precise. His body rocked into yours with perfect control, his face hovering close, his breath hot against your cheek.
You leaned up just enough to kiss him, mouths colliding in a wild, desperate tangle of teeth and tongue. You moaned into him as he bit down on your bottom lip, tugging it before letting it go, only to kiss you harder.
Everything was fire. His body, the carpet, your skin, your lungs—everything. And you couldn’t remember a time when anything had ever felt this good.
Josh’s forehead pressed against yours, his breath uneven, warm and ragged as he slowed his thrusts just enough to make you whimper. His eyes met yours—darker than you’d ever seen them, pupils blown wide, desire written all over his face. And then, in a voice so low it felt like it was meant only for your skin to hear, he started to speak.
“Fuck… I feel like I’m melting into you,” he whispered, lips brushing your jaw. “So fucking tight… like you were made for me.”
Your breath hitched, hips rolling up to meet him, needing more—needing everything. He chuckled softly at your reaction, his mouth trailing hot kisses down your neck before he spoke again.
“Is this what you’ve been thinking about? When you look at me like that?” he murmured against your skin. “You want me to fuck you like this—deep and slow until you lose your mind?”
You let out a shaky gasp, your fingers tightening in his, still pinned above your head. You hadn’t known he could sound like this—so filthy, so deliberate, every word laced with heat and hunger and a kind of intimacy that made your head spin.
“Say it,” he said, grinding against you, his mouth hovering by your ear. “Say you want me to ruin you.”
You nodded, breathless, barely able to form words. “I—I want you to ruin me.”
“Good girl,” he growled, and the praise sent a jolt straight through your core. “I want you trembling. I want you sore tomorrow. I want every time you sit down to be a reminder of this.”
His hips snapped forward, harder now, the rhythm dizzying. Each thrust drove the air from your lungs, every word from his mouth only making the pressure inside you coil tighter, hotter.
“You like hearing me talk like this?” he rasped, voice thick with desire. “You want me to keep going? Tell you how fucking perfect you are? How long I’ve wanted this?”
“Yes… God, yes,” you moaned, back arching off the floor, needing more and wanting everything. His words, his hands, his body pressing into you with devastating rhythm—it was all too much and not enough at the same time.
“You’re so wet for me,” he groaned, slipping one hand down between your bodies to stroke you just right, circling your clit with practiced fingers. “Dripping, honey. All for me.”
Your eyes fluttered closed as the world narrowed to just this—just him. The smell of chlorine on his skin, the soft carpet beneath you, the wet slap of your bodies, and the mounting pressure that had your toes curling and your stomach tightening into one long, desperate ache.
“Come for me,” he whispered into your mouth. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear how fucking good I make you feel.”
And with those words—low, dirty, worshipful—you shattered.
Your body trembled, thighs clenching around him as the orgasm ripped through you like a wave crashing over the edge. You cried out, legs shaking, mind blanking out with only the sensation of Josh. His hands, his lips, his voice pulling you through the high.
Even as you came down, he didn’t stop. His kisses turned softer, but his words stayed low, warm, reverent.
“That’s it… that’s my girl,” he whispered, still moving inside you, slower now. “Let me give you another. I’m not done. Not even close.”
And you believed him.
God help you—you wanted more.
Josh scooped you off the floor like you weighed nothing, though your legs were jelly and your body still trembled from the intensity. Your arms curled instinctively around his neck, cheek resting on his damp shoulder as he carried you in to his bathroom. Every few steps, he kissed your temple, soft and reverent—almost like he hadn’t just undone you in the most feral way.
Inside his bedroom, he set you down gently on your feet, though you wobbled, and steadied you with both hands on your waist. “Still with me?” he asked, lips brushing your hairline.
“Barely,” you breathed, half-laughing.
“Good,” he said with a grin, “because like I said… I’m not done with you yet.”
He helped you into the shower, the lights low, soft amber from the sconces catching the sheen on both of your bodies. Steam began to curl from the rainfall showerhead as Josh turned the knobs, testing the temperature, then pulled you beneath the stream.
The water hit your skin, warm and soothing, but your body was still alive with leftover sparks. Josh stood behind you, his hands moving over you with a mix of tenderness and hunger. He worked shampoo through your hair like it was a ritual, not missing a single strand, and you did the same for him, fingers tangled in his wet curls, slicking them back from his face.
But the slow reverence shifted again. His hands trailed down your body, slippery with soap, fingertips teasing places that had already been worked over and still begged for more.
He dropped to his knees.
One of your hands flew to the cool tile for balance, your legs already unsteady. The other curled into his soaked hair as he nuzzled his face between your thighs. Warm water ran over both of you, but the way his tongue moved was hotter than anything the shower could offer.
He didn’t rush. He licked and sucked, his lips closing around your clit, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise as he anchored himself to you. You let out a strangled cry, hips twitching forward into his face as the world collapsed into sensation. Your legs nearly gave out as you came again, gasping, thighs shaking so hard you had to beg him not to let you fall.
When you finally sagged into him, utterly spent, he stood slowly, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth—satisfied, dark, and still hungry. “That’s three,” he whispered, kissing you under the water. “But I think you’ve got one more.”
He dried you off with slow, deliberate strokes of a fluffy towel, his touch gentle as if you were something sacred and breakable. He guided you to the bed, its sheets smooth like clouds, and cool against your overheated skin. You sighed into them, ready to melt into sleep.
But Josh wasn’t done.
The sharp sting of his palm on your ass made you jolt, breath catching in your throat.
“Hands and knees,” he said, voice rough and commanding, and you obeyed before you even thought about it.
He moved behind you, one hand spreading you, the other gripping your hip tight as he slid back inside with a groan that rattled down your spine. You watched your reflection in the full-length mirror beside the bed. You watched how you arched for him, how your back bowed, how his body moved behind yours with precision and force. It was filthy and beautiful, a sight you couldn’t look away from.
“Look at you,” he gritted, leaning forward, chest against your back as he wrapped a hand around your front. “So fucking perfect like this… taking every inch like it’s what you were made for.”
And just when you thought you couldn’t possibly take more he brought his fingers to your clit again. He didn’t ask, didn’t give you time to prepare. He found the oversensitive bundle and worked slow, purposeful circles, drawing out a cry from deep in your chest.
Your body bucked, thighs trembling violently, that pressure building impossibly again. You buried your face in the sheets, watching the two of you in the mirror even as you moaned through another explosive release. Josh’s rhythm stuttered, his grip tightening as he thrust one last time, groaning as he spilled across your back.
You collapsed onto the mattress, fully spent, breathing hard, your body boneless and twitching.
Josh disappeared for only a moment and returned with a warm towel, cleaning you carefully, wiping away every trace of the mess he’d made. He crawled into bed beside you, pulling you against his chest, curling a leg between yours.
You were exhausted. Every inch of you throbbed, muscles trembling, skin still tingling from the shower and the bruising pleasure he’d given you.
But your mind? Racing.
What the hell just happened?
Josh’s hand traced absent circles on your back, lips brushing your hair.
“You okay?” he murmured.
You nodded. “Yeah. Just… wow.”
He chuckled low in his chest. “Same.”
And in the quiet hum of the room, heartbeats slowly syncing, you realized one thing for sure: The line that you never crossed before with Josh… That line? It didn’t exist anymore.
———
You felt… off. Awkward. Like your skin didn’t quite fit right.
Josh, on the other hand, was acting completely normal. Like he hadn’t just made you come harder, longer, and more times in one night than anyone else ever had. Like he hadn’t had you begging, shaking, wrung out and worshiped on every surface between the pool and his bed. Like he wasn’t the man who just made your entire body memorize his touch.
Instead, he was in the kitchen, humming as he flipped pancakes, hair a crazed mess, shirtless and golden in the morning light. He moved around like it was any other morning after you’d crashed at his place. He handed you a plate and your usual cup of coffee, just the way you liked it—casual, routine, devastatingly normal.
No teasing glances. No lingering touches. Not a single flirty comment.
Just Josh.
He asked if you had plans today. Asked if you wanted to hang out, maybe hit that antique store you both liked, or binge something on the couch. The kind of easy, everyday things he’d always suggested.
But your mind was reeling, still wrapped in the memory of how his mouth felt between your legs, how his voice sounded when he moaned your name. How he held your hand while he was inside you like it meant something. You couldn’t reconcile this sweet, effortless version of him now with the man who had looked like he wanted to devour you just hours ago.
So, you lied.
You faked a stretch and a yawn, said you had errands, laundry, something vague and responsible. You pulled yourself together quickly, trying not to look as scattered as you felt. Josh walked you to the door like always, gave you that same easy smile, and told you to text him later.
By the time you were back in your car, the silence settled thick in your chest. The world outside moved on like nothing happened. Sunlight filtering through your windshield, traffic humming, your phone buzzing with notifications you ignored.
But you couldn’t stop thinking about him.
About last night.
Every time your thoughts wandered back to the way he touched you, your thighs pressed together involuntarily. The ache between your legs reignited with a pulse so strong it made you squirm in the driver’s seat. You groaned in frustration, head tipping back against the rest as you tried to focus on literally anything else.
But nothing worked. Not errands. Not emails. Not even music.
Because everything reminded you of him. His voice. His hands. The way he looked at you in the mirror when you shattered around him.
You were undone. And somehow… he seemed just fine.
———
You moved through the start of your week like usual… work, home, a few errands, light cleaning when you had the energy. You tried to push Josh from your thoughts, burying him under mundane routines and the occasional swipe on dating apps. You even lined up a few hookups, hoping that if you couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done to you, maybe someone else could at least take the edge off.
They didn’t.
The release was fleeting, shallow. A distraction, not a cure. You felt the difference. No one kissed you like they meant it. No one whispered your name like a prayer. No one held you like Josh had, like your body was something holy.
Still, you kept dodging his texts. He asked a couple times if you wanted to grab dinner or hang out, and you always gave an excuse. You claimed you had a date or someone coming over. Whether he believed it or not, he didn’t argue.
But then, two weeks passed. And instead of texts, Josh started calling. Once in the morning. Again in the afternoon. A third time just as you were settling in for the night. At first, you ignored them. But when your phone rang for the fourth time in a single morning, you finally answered, your tone clipped with irritation.
“Josh, man, what is it this time?”
Your sharpness must’ve caught him off guard because there was a pause, just long enough to make your stomach twist.
“The guys are coming over tonight,” he said finally. “You wanna come by, or are you still avoiding me?”
You hesitated. That hit harder than you expected.
“I’m not avoiding you,” you said, trying to sound firm, like you weren’t lying through your teeth.
“You sure about that?” His tone shifted, a little more serious now. “When’s the last time we went more than three days without seeing each other?”
“We don’t see each other that much.”
“Yes, we do.”
“No, we don’t,” you argued, but it felt weak.
“Come on. We have dinner at least once a week, sometimes more. You haven’t been over since… the pool. And now you’re too busy with whoever to grab lunch or even text me back with more than a single word?”
You sighed, shoulders sinking as the guilt hit. He was right, and you both knew it.
Before you could respond, there was a soft knock at your office door. You looked up and held a finger in the air to signal “wait” before bringing the phone back to your ear.
“Okay, okay. Look I’ll come over tonight. But I really do have to go. I’m at work,” you said, softening your tone. “Some of us aren’t famous rockstars with an endless vacation fund.”
That earned a laugh from him that was warm and familiar.
“Hey, I work hard for my money.”
“I know you do,” you chuckled, smiling despite yourself. “I’ll see you later, Josh.”
“Good,” he said, voice lower now. “I’ll be waiting on you.”
You ended the call, heart thudding a little harder than before and not from guilt.
———
Before you knew it, you were pulling into Josh’s driveway, heart hammering with a mix of nerves and nostalgia. Old habits died hard because without even thinking you let yourself in like you always had as if nothing between you had changed. The sound of laughter guided you toward the kitchen, and you followed it like a beacon.
Everyone was there, drinks in hand, clustered in that familiar way around the island. Partners stood close, arms loosely draped or fingers laced. When you stepped into view, a chorus of cheerful welcomes greeted you, and you forced a smile, holding up the bottle of wine and cheese plate you’d brought.
“Hey, look who finally showed up!” Sam said, and one by one they came to hug you, warm and easy like always.
Josh was the last. You saved him for last.
He didn’t rush you. But you saw something flicker in his eyes as you worked your way through everyone else—a faint shadow of hurt. Still, when you finally reached him, he slipped his arms around you like it was second nature, pulling you in for a brief hug before pressing a soft kiss to your temple. It was quick… too quick… and then he was gone, stepping back like nothing had ever happened between you.
“Drink?” he asked, already turning toward the counter where open bottles and glasses waited.
“I’d love one,” you said, leaning your hip against the marble, watching him pour. Your eyes flicked briefly around the room—everyone paired up, familiar faces laughing with their dates, heads close, energy easy. Then you noticed something… off.
“You didn’t invite anyone tonight?” you asked, taking the glass from his hand as he passed it to you.
“I did,” he said, raising his own glass.
You quirked a brow, taking a sip. “I mean a date, Josh. Someone to keep you company when we all leave?”
He shrugged casually, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. “I invited you.”
Your breath caught, just a little. “Yes, but… I’m always here. That doesn’t count.”
Josh took another sip of wine, slow, deliberate. “You didn’t bring anyone to drive you home.”
“That’s true,” you admitted, voice edging toward defensive. “But I don’t always bring someone with me.”
“Right. Not when it’s just us. But when there’s a group?” He gave you a pointed look. “Nine times out of ten, you’ve got one of the guys from the list.”
You blinked. “I do not have a list,” you hissed, trying to keep your voice low as your cheeks burned.
Josh smirked, and something smug crept into his expression. “You do, too. Ryan. Noah. Dylan. That one guy—Axel? Jesus.” He laughed under his breath like the name tasted bad. “And those are just the ones with names. Between them, you always have some random hookup to fill the silence.”
The bitterness in his voice was sharp enough to cut.
You stared at him, jaw tight. “Okay. Maybe I’m off my game tonight, dude. Lay off.”
You tipped your wine glass back, taking a long drink, the burn of it not nearly enough to distract from the tension simmering between you. Josh chuckled into his own glass, and that damn smirk never left his face.
———
Dinner came in that familiar blur of laughter and clinking glasses. Everyone had migrated to Josh’s living room. Some piling onto couches and armchairs, others content to sit cross-legged on the floor with drinks in hand. You found your usual spot at the end of the couch, right next to Josh’s seat, balancing your plate on the coffee table as you wrapped your arms around your knees and leaned back into the couch.
Josh’s eyes followed you as you got comfortable. He didn’t say anything, but you could feel his gaze linger a moment too long before he reached for something from your plate without asking, like he always did. You didn’t mind. It was a quiet intimacy that had developed between the two of you over the years, one that still managed to catch you off guard when you least expected it.
You popped a bite into your mouth and hummed softly, surprised by how good it tasted. Without thinking, you held out your hand with another piece for him. He accepted it without hesitation, leaning in close to take the bite directly from your fingers.
When you looked up at him, he was already watching you, that maddening smirk playing on his lips.
“What?” you asked, slightly flushed, pulling your hand back and eating the rest yourself.
“I made those for you,” he said, not looking away. “Figured you’d like them.”
Your breath caught, just a little.
He picked something off his own plate, took a casual bite, and added with a wink, “Glad you do.”
You turned your attention back to the conversation unfolding around the room, but your thoughts were elsewhere. You licked your lips slowly, and somehow the salmon and cream cheese cucumber bite tasted even better, like it was still laced with Josh’s smirk. Your heart thudded in your chest, wondering if he really meant anything by it. Was it just a thoughtful snack… or something more?
You’re overthinking it, you told yourself. Josh was just being Josh. Friendly, flirty, a good host. Nothing new. Nothing different.
But then his hand settled on your shoulder—firm, grounding. His fingers squeezed gently before they drifted to the side of your neck, brushing warm against your skin. A chill chased down your spine despite the warmth in the room. Your face flushed instantly. You stood up, maybe a little too quickly.
“Excuse me,” you muttered, escaping down the hallway toward Josh’s bedroom and slipping into the bathroom. You needed a minute. Just to breathe.
The mirror wasn’t kind—flushed cheeks, wide eyes, lips parted like you’d just come up for air. You washed your hands slowly, giving yourself a few moments to calm the racing in your chest.
And then you saw it. Hanging casually over the edge of the tub.
Your bikini.
The one you wore the last time you were here. You frowned. It was still damp. You hadn’t touched it in over two weeks. Weird. Your stomach twisted, and a small pang of annoyance tugged at you. Did Josh let someone else use it? You rolled your eyes and made a mental note to tell him to toss it—or keep it. Whatever. You didn’t care.
At least, that’s what you told yourself.
You leaned back up just as the bathroom door creaked open, making you jump.
“Oh, hey—sorry! I didn’t realize anyone was in here,” Jake said quickly, pausing in the doorway.
You waved a hand. “It’s fine. I was just leaving.” You chuckled nervously and moved to pass him, but he stepped inside and gently closed the door behind him, catching you off guard.
“Hey,” he said softly. “While we’re alone…”
Your stomach dropped. You knew exactly where this was going—and you’d been hoping it was buried for good.
“Jake…” you began, trying to stop him. “I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have—”
But he laughed, easy and kind. “No, no. It’s fine. Really. I was flattered. But as you saw—” he motioned vaguely behind him “—I wasn’t lying about being in a relationship.”
You groaned, mortified all over again. “God. I’m so sorry I threw myself at you. I was going through it about a month ago—being drunk, seeing you at that bar—it was just a bad time. I should’ve asked. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
Jake smiled and gave your arm a reassuring rub. “Seriously. I get it. Everyone goes through something. It’s no big deal.”
He stepped a little closer, like he was about to share a secret. “Honestly, I always thought you and Josh had something going on.”
A startled laugh bubbled out of your throat before you could stop it. “What? Me and Josh?”
Jake looked slightly amused. “I mean… yeah. You two are always together.”
You shook your head, laughing again. “We’re just friends.”
“Right,” Jake said, dragging out the word with a knowing smile.
“I’m serious. Josh and I have been close for years. That’s it.”
But before Jake could reply, a familiar voice broke the moment.
“Hey,” Josh called as he poked his head in. “We moving the party in here or what?”
“Nope,” you said quickly, already brushing past both of them. “Jake just has to shit.”
Behind you, you heard Josh mutter something to Jake, something like not in my bathroom, and despite your best efforts, you cracked a smile.
The night slowed to a lazy hum once the food disappeared. Despite the chaos of touring and their wild road schedules, the guys tended to crash early when off-duty. Give them a good meal and a bottle of wine and they turned borderline elderly. You smiled as you watched Sam let out a wide yawn and Danny give a subtle nod to his girlfriend—his silent signal that it was time to go. Jake wasn’t far behind. Sam lingered a little longer, chatting quietly with Josh, but eventually even he offered a parting hug and a sleepy smile before slipping out into the night.
You took the cue and started cleaning up, collecting empty glasses and plates and disappearing into the kitchen. The sound of the front door clicking shut told you that it was now just you and Josh left.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him quietly appear in the kitchen doorway. He didn’t say anything. He just leaned against the frame, arms crossed, watching you rinse the sink after scrubbing it down. You closed the dishwasher with a flick of your wrist, then reached for a paper towel to dry your hands.
“You know,” you said casually, not looking at him just yet, “I guess I don’t really mind you letting some other girl use my swimsuit.”
Josh tilted his head, brow raised in curiosity.
“I mean, I did leave it here. But still. Kinda sucks. I liked that bikini.”
He straightened a little. “What are you talking about?”
“My bikini,” you said as you swept crumbs into your palm and tossed them in the trash. “It was hanging over the edge of the tub. Still wet. So I assumed maybe you had company. Let her borrow it.”
You gave a careless shrug and reached for the cleaner and a fresh rag, wiping down the counter like the conversation was nothing. “It’s cool. You can keep it. I don’t want it back.”
Josh chuckled under his breath. “You know what they say about assuming.”
That made you stop. You looked up slowly, your hand stilling against the countertop. The kitchen island stood between you like a challenge. You tossed the rag aside and leaned forward, fingers curling over the edge as your gaze raked over him.
There was something sharper about him tonight—his jaw freshly trimmed, his dark hair slightly tousled from the couch, the faintest glint of wine in his eyes. And his lips… God, his lips looked soft, plush, kissable. You caught the trace of his cologne lingering in the air—woody, warm, faintly spiced—and your thighs instinctively pressed together at the sudden ache low in your belly.
“Then do tell,” you said, voice low and sultry despite your attempt to sound nonchalant. “Why’s my swimsuit wet?”
Josh’s smile curled slow and knowing. “I’ll show you.”
With that, he turned on his heel and walked off down the hallway without another word.
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Yeah, right. You were convinced he was just deflecting—too stubborn to admit it had been someone else. But when he didn’t come back after a few minutes, curiosity won out.
The house was silent again. Too silent. You headed down the hall, the faint glow from his bedroom leading you first to his room, then to the bathroom just off it. The closer you got, the more the rich, steamy scent of body wash filled your senses. The bathroom door was cracked open, a soft light spilling out—and something else.
Your name.
It wasn’t said. It was moaned.
Your breath hitched. You stopped in your tracks, eyes wide. Slowly, quietly, you pushed the door open just enough to see.
Josh was in the tub, arms draped over the edge, surrounded by a mountain of bubbles and steam. His head was tipped back, eyes shut, mouth parted in something that looked like blissful surrender. His chest glistened with water, strong and flushed, and your eyes drifted downward.
You couldn’t see his hand, but the motion of the water—slow, rhythmic—told you everything you needed to know. Your gaze snapped back up to his face as he let out a low groan… your name again, reverent and drawn-out like a whispered prayer.
Then you saw it—your bikini bottoms. In his hand. He brought them to his face and inhaled, slow and deep, like he was trying to breathe you in through the very fibers of the fabric.
You gasped softly, unable to move. Your whole body went hot, every nerve ending alive. Something primal stirred inside you. He moaned again, murmuring your name like he didn’t even know he was saying it out loud.
The disbelief, the heat, the electricity in the air—it all hit you at once.
You could leave. Close the door, pretend you saw nothing, take the image to bed and burn with it later.
Or…
You didn’t think. You just moved.
Your fingers curled around the edge of the door, and you pushed it open all the way. The hinges creaked softly, but Josh didn’t stir. His eyes were still closed, face flushed with heat and pleasure, hand lost beneath the bubbles, working himself slow and steady like he had all the time in the world.
You stepped in, the humid air wrapping around you instantly, your pulse thudding in your ears. The sight of him like this—unguarded, desperate, moaning your name—it made your body hum with electricity. You weren’t sure if you were trembling from the nerves or the rush of desire thrumming under your skin.
Your voice came out soft. Breathless. “Josh…”
His eyes snapped open.
For a second, you thought maybe he’d be embarrassed. Maybe he’d recoil, cover himself, explain. But he didn’t. He didn’t move at all. He just looked at you—like he’d been caught in a dream and couldn’t believe it was real. Your bikini bottoms dangled from his hand, water dripping down his wrist, bubbles clinging to his forearm.
“I… I didn’t think you’d actually…” he trailed off, breath shallow.
You took a slow step forward, your eyes locked on his. “You were thinking about me?”
His jaw clenched. He nodded.
“How long?”
Josh swallowed hard. “Too long.” Then, quieter, “I try not to, but I can’t stop.”
You were standing beside the tub now, looking down at him, at the outline of his thighs under the water, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile. You reached out, fingers brushing the edge of the tub, eyes dipping down for just a second.
“You’ve been jerking off in here… to me?” You asked it like you weren’t already soaked between your legs.
Josh gave a sheepish grin, barely. “Not just in here.”
You bit your lip and slowly slipped your hand down to the hem of your shirt. His eyes followed. The moment you pulled it up over your head, his mouth parted slightly, admiring.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you either,” you whispered, unfastening your jeans and sliding them down your legs. “That night we swam… the way you touched me. The way you made me come—” you stepped out of the denim, now just in your underwear, “I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”
Josh reached toward you with one wet hand, offering it like he was asking permission instead of begging. You took it, letting him guide you into the tub, warm water rising up your skin, bubbles parting around you as you straddled his thighs.
Your fingers brushed along the edge of his jaw, slow and curious, your eyes searching his for something—permission, confession, anything. That’s when you saw it.
The top of your bikini floated just above the surface of the water, barely visible in the haze of suds.
“Are you…” You tried to ask, but the words slipped off your tongue unfinished.
Josh didn’t answer. Instead, he reached into the water and plucked up the tiny scrap of fabric, his eyes drifting shut again like he was relapsing into a fantasy. And then, with maddening calm, he wrapped the top around his hand and started stroking himself all over again.
“I like to imagine us out by the pool,” he murmured, voice deep, lazy with heat. “Me… naked. You on top of me. Grinding in this tiny thing that barely covers your nipples…” His breath hitched, chest rising and falling faster now. “How it would feel—wet, tight, clinging to your skin—pressing against my bare cock while you ride me so slow I can’t stand it.”
You swallowed hard, pulse fluttering between your thighs. Your body was warm from the bathwater, but inside… you were on fire.
Josh held up the bikini bottoms next, pressing them to his face. His eyes fluttered shut again. “It still smells like you,” he said, inhaling deep. “Like chlorine and that orange-coconut sunscreen you lather up with from the farmer’s market. Sweet and salty and… you.”
You felt your breath catch in your throat at the way his voice thickened on the last word. His hips jerked just slightly under the bubbles, sending a ripple through the water. You were soaked, but not just from the bath anymore.
“You didn’t want to say anything to me?” you asked, voice husky, letting your hands drift down into the water—first to his thighs, then slowly, deliberately, creeping toward where he was touching himself.
Josh’s eyes opened just enough to meet yours. “We’re just friends,” he said, but it sounded like a lie. A weak one.
You nodded slowly, your fingers finally reaching his hand. “Yeah,” you said as you gently took over for him. “We’re really… good friends.”
He let go immediately, sinking back against the tub wall, arms stretching over the edges, surrendering to you completely.
“And good friends…” you whispered, dragging your hand along his length beneath the bubbles, “share everything.”
You leaned in, lips grazing his chest, then lower, leaving warm, wet kisses across the curve of his sternum. His breath stuttered. Your tongue flicked out, slow and deliberate, licking a long line up the center of his chest like you were marking him.
“You could’ve told me about this,” you murmured, teasing the head of his cock with your thumb under the water, watching him twitch at the sensation.
His breath came shallow now, his fingers tightening on the tub’s edge. “No,” he exhaled. “We’re not friends like that.”
You tilted your head, leaning into his ear. “But we could be,” you whispered, dropping the bikini top onto the floor and wrapping your bare hand around him. You squeezed, slow and firm, and the sound that broke from him sent heat shooting straight to your core.
Josh groaned, hips twitching up into your fist. You nipped lightly at his neck, your lips following with the flat of your tongue, licking a trail up to the pulse hammering in his throat. “I’m not gonna stop unless you tell me to,” you said against his skin.
He didn’t answer.
But the way he grabbed your hips under the water and pulled you right onto his lap?
That said everything.
The water sloshed around you as he dragged you forward, settling you against him in one fluid, hungry motion. You could feel the hard length of him beneath the surface, pressed hot and insistent between your thighs. His grip on your hips tightened, like he was grounding himself—like he needed to feel all of you, right now.
“Fuck,” he groaned, head tilting back against the edge of the tub as his eyes swept over your face, your lips, your chest—slick and glistening from the heat. “This could mess everything up.”
“It won’t,” you whispered, grinding against him slowly, teasing him with just enough friction to keep his breath catching in his throat. You leaned in close, noses almost touching. “Is this what you imagined?” you asked, your voice barely above a breath.
He nodded once, jaw clenched. “Yeah,” he rasped. “Every fucking time.”
You reached between you and took him in your hand again, this time guiding him, letting him feel how soaked you already were even before you sank down on him. The stretch made your breath hitch, made your nails dig into his shoulders.
Josh’s hands flew to your waist as he filled you, groaning against your throat. “Jesus… you feel—” He cut himself off with a guttural sound, pulling you tighter against him. “You feel even better than I remember.”
You rocked your hips, slow and deliberate, letting him feel every inch, every squeeze of your walls around him. “Thought about this too?” you asked, lips grazing his jaw. “Thought about me… on top of you like this?”
“Like a fucking religion,” he growled, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that was all tongue and heat and desperation. His hands roamed your back, your ass, your thighs under the water, gripping, guiding, losing himself in the feeling of your body wrapped around his.
The water churned with each movement, slapping gently against porcelain as you began to move faster, riding him deeper. His head fell back again, eyes fluttering shut, and you leaned in, kissing the exposed column of his throat, tasting his sweat and the edge of his cologne.
You whispered his name, and his eyes snapped open, dark and heavy with need. “You’re driving me insane,” he muttered, pulling your hips harder against him, forcing you to take him all the way.
You moaned into his mouth, and that seemed to undo him—his hand snaked between your bodies, finding that perfect spot where you were already throbbing for more. The second he touched you there, you gasped, your rhythm faltering.
“Josh—”
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, stroking slow and firm in time with your movements. “Come for me, honey.”
The combination—the thick slide of him inside you, the way his fingers circled and pressed just right, the low rasp of his voice in your ear—pushed you right to the edge.
And when you fell over it, body shuddering in his arms, moaning his name like a prayer, he followed right behind you with a low groan, holding you against him as he spilled into you, as if he couldn’t bear to let go.
The bathroom was filled with steam and the sound of your shared breathing, both of you shaking slightly as you held each other in the aftermath.
———
The weekend blurred into a haze of tangled sheets, whispered moans, and the kind of intimacy that made your skin hum for hours after. You and Josh spent most of it exploring every edge and angle of what it really meant to be friends with benefits. There was nothing casual about the way his mouth claimed you, nothing simple about the way his hands seemed to memorize every part of your body like he’d been waiting years for this.
You’d never felt so thoroughly exhausted and yet so alive. Every time you thought you couldn’t possibly take more, Josh would find a new way to make you unravel—slowly, skillfully, without rushing a single second.
And now you understood. You understood why the people he dated stuck around longer than yours ever did. The guys you’d been with? They didn’t come close. They were eager, maybe even sweet, but none of them had Josh’s precision… his patience… the way he read your body like it was his favorite book.
The simple memory of him buried deep inside you, hips pressed to yours, voice thick and low in your ear—it was enough to make your thighs clench and your breath hitch. Even now. Even hours later.
But you reminded yourself this was only temporary. A fleeting arrangement. A relief for now until one—or both—of you found someone else to occupy your attention. It was a distraction. A secret indulgence.
By the time Monday rolled around, it was back to business as usual—or at least, you tried to make it feel that way. You’d had to rush home just to grab clean clothes and make yourself look halfway presentable for work. You and Josh had decided to indulge one last time before you left, and it had nearly made you late. Worth it? Absolutely.
Now, sitting at your desk, finally caught up on the emails you’d conveniently ignored all weekend, you allowed yourself a moment to breathe… and check the notifications you’d also neglected. A few new matches from the dating apps lit up your screen. With a small sigh and a shrug, you tapped into the conversations, replying to the ones who messaged first. Before you knew it, you’d lined up a date for tonight.
It felt a little fast, but you needed the distraction. Something to pull your thoughts away from Josh—the way he looked at you when he was inside you, how he knew exactly where to touch, what to say. You couldn’t afford to let him live rent-free in your mind.
This was just fun. Just a phase. And tonight, you were going to prove to yourself that you weren’t already in too deep.
———
Work couldn’t end fast enough. You spent most of the afternoon refreshing your inbox and checking the time, nerves buzzing just under your skin. After a quick glance at the clock and seeing how late it had gotten, you bolted out of the office and rushed home to throw yourself together. Your makeup was rushed, your hair still damp at the roots from the fastest shower you’ve ever taken, and the outfit you landed on was cute but not overly impressive. You were ten minutes late by the time you walked into the bar—the bar. The same one where you’d kissed Jake that night you’d rather forget.
You spotted your date quickly—button-up shirt, stiff posture, and a pair of boat shoes that made your libido whimper in protest. Still, you smiled and greeted him, sliding into the booth across from him and diving into small talk. He was nice, polite, asked about your job and told you about his dog. But halfway through your drink, you caught yourself zoning out, imagining what sex with him might be like… and immediately recoiling at the mental image of those boat shoes scraping your sheets.
You tried to bring yourself back, to stay present, but then the front door opened—and in walked Josh.
With Jake.
And Sam.
And Danny.
Your stomach dropped.
You immediately shrank into the corner of your booth, praying they wouldn’t see you. But luck wasn’t on your side. Josh’s gaze swept the room and landed directly on you. You saw his jaw twitch. Then, with a cocky smirk and a nod to the guys, he made a beeline for your table.
“Oh look at this,” he said, voice just loud enough to draw attention. “A new couple in the wild. Should we celebrate?” He waved down the bartender. “Two shots of tequila over here—for the lovebirds!”
You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.
“Josh,” you hissed under your breath, standing to intercept him.
He leaned closer, grinning, but his eyes didn’t match it. “What? I’m being friendly. That’s what friends do.”
Your date looked between the two of you, clearly unsettled. “Look, uh… I don’t want to be in the middle of some ex situation.”
“No, no, he’s not my ex,” you said quickly. “He’s just a friend.”
Josh laughed, but it was bitter. “Right. Just a friend. I guess that’s all I’ll ever be to you, huh?” His voice cracked just a little, but he recovered quickly, stepping back with his arms out like he was performing on stage. “There’s something about this bar, isn’t there? First you throw yourself at my brother right over there—” he pointed to a corner booth— “and now you’re out here with boat-shoes Brad.”
“Josh, stop—”
“No, no, don’t let me interrupt,” he said, backing away now, hands up. “Go ahead, enjoy your date. Maybe later you can come over and tell me all about it, since we share everything, right?”
And with that, he turned and walked away, Jake giving you an awkward shrug before following him. Sam and Danny exchanged glances and gave you tight, sympathetic nods before heading out too.
You turned back to your date with an apologetic wince, but he was already sliding out of the booth.
“Yeah… I think I’m gonna head out. This feels like a lot.”
You didn’t stop him.
You sank back into the booth, your pulse still thundering in your ears, Josh’s words echoing in your head like the final notes of a song that left too much unsaid. Just a friend. The phrase burned hotter the more it settled in. You reached for the two shots the bartender dropped off, courtesy of Josh, and downed them one after the other, the tequila leaving a sharp sting in your throat that still didn’t drown the ache in your chest.
You sat there, stewing in a cocktail of embarrassment, confusion, and simmering rage. Where the hell did Josh get the nerve? The audacity to pull a stunt like that? To waltz into the bar, into your date, and make a spectacle like you owed him something?
Was he jealous? He sure as hell acted like it.
But he had no right to be. You were just friends. Friends with benefits, sure—but nothing more. That’s how it started, how it was supposed to stay. He never said he wanted anything else. Never once hinted at feelings. Outside of the sex, there had been no promises, no expectations.
So who was he to show up and explode like you’d betrayed him?
You swirled what was left of your drink, staring into the melting ice like it might give you answers. But all you saw was your own reflection—flushed cheeks, irritated eyes, and the faint shimmer of heartbreak trying to pass itself off as anger.
You weren’t sure which burned more: the tequila or the fact that, despite everything… you kind of liked seeing Josh like this.
When that thought crossed your mind you knew it was time to leave. You slid out of the booth, tossed a few bills on the table out of courtesy, and grabbed your things. The night air hit your skin like a splash of cold water as you pushed through the bar’s doors, your heels clicking against the pavement as you made a beeline for your car.
Then you heard your name.
You didn’t want to stop. You didn’t even want to turn around. But curiosity got the better of you, and you glanced back to see Jake jogging up, waving you down with an apologetic look on his face.
With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you stopped and turned fully to face him. Arms crossed, chin high.
“What, Jake?” you asked, trying not to sound as exhausted and emotionally frayed as you felt.
“Hey, look,” he said, slowing to a stop in front of you, breath slightly winded. “I’m sorry. That—what happened in there? Josh shouldn’t have done that.”
You let out a sharp snort. “Ya think?”
You turned on your heel to go, but Jake gently caught your arm. His grip wasn’t forceful—just enough to make you pause.
“Wait, listen,” he said, softer now. His eyes searched yours, like he was weighing the importance of whatever he was about to say. “When you and I were here last… when we kissed…”
“Yeah?” you said slowly, uncertain where he was going with this.
“I thought you and Josh had a thing,” Jake confessed, releasing your arm and nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “And well… I told him about what happened.”
“Yeah I figured, Jake.” You groaned, dragging your hand down your face. “But why?”
“I know. I know. I wasn’t trying to start anything, I swear. It’s just the way he talks about you…”
Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean? What does he say?”
Jake hesitated, shifting from foot to foot, like he was debating whether to drop the next bomb.
“Jake,” you said, more firmly this time, “What does he say about me?”
He blew out a breath before meeting your eyes. “He says you’re beautiful. Smart. Way too talented to be stuck in the job you’re at. And… this is a direct quote, by the way—‘I can’t see me loving nobody but her for all my life.’”
The air left your lungs in a sharp inhale. Jake gave a small shrug.
“He’s completely smitten with you. That’s why it was such a shock when you kissed me.”
You blinked, confused, overwhelmed. “But I usually bring dates around when we hang out. Josh has always dated people too—he’s never said anything.”
“I know,” Jake said, toeing at a crack in the pavement. “But I thought maybe you two were the kind who break up and find your way back to each other. You know, the kind of love that’s messy but magnetic.”
“That’s not love. That’s dysfunction,” you muttered, half-laughing.
“I’m not judging,” Jake said with a shrug. “If it makes him happy…”
“Well, that’s the thing. None of that happened. Josh and I have never been a couple. We’ve only ever been friends.”
“Yeah…” Jake trailed off, then looked up at you with a thoughtful smile. “Maybe it’s time to change that.”
“Jake,” you groaned, shaking your head.
“I mean it. You’re practically together already. Why not just make it real?”
“Because I don’t want to lose him. If it doesn’t work out, I lose my best friend.”
Jake gave you a kind smile, one that somehow felt more mature than anything he’d said before. “You won’t lose him. You’ll just gain something even better. You’ll get a partner who already knows everything about you—and still chose you.”
That stopped you. Cold. It sobered you up more than anything else that night had.
“Okay, well…” you exhaled, frustrated. “Thanks for apologizing on your brother’s behalf, but I really need to go.”
You turned to leave again, and this time when Jake reached for your arm, you sidestepped it with practiced ease. You didn’t look back as you stormed across the lot and climbed into your car, slamming the door shut with a little more force than necessary.
Your mind was spinning—whirring with too many thoughts, tangled with too many emotions. What if Jake was telling the truth? What if Josh really had said those things? What if you’d been blind this entire time to something that had been growing quietly in the background? Or worse—what if Jake was just stirring the pot for his brother’s sake?
You didn’t remember making the decision to drive there, but your hands took over before your brain could catch up. And now you were sitting in a driveway that wasn’t yours, staring up at a house you’d been to a hundred times before—but tonight, everything about it felt uncertain.
Your finger tapped anxiously against the steering wheel as you stared at the front door. Should you go in? Should you wait for him to come back—if he even was coming back?
But something pulled you out. The knot in your stomach tightened, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you turned the car off and slammed the door behind you. The key Josh had given you years ago felt heavier than usual in your hand as you unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The house was quiet—eerily so.
You flicked on the light in the entryway and then the one in the living room, bathing the space in a soft glow. You stood there for a moment, arms crossed tightly over your chest like a shield, unsure what exactly you were waiting for.
Your eyes scanned the room, desperate for a distraction—and that’s when you started noticing all the little pieces of yourself scattered across Josh’s world.
Photos of the two of you tucked into mismatched frames—laughing at a beach, blurry from a concert, tipsy from that night you accidentally drank half a bottle of rosé together. A shadow box near the bookshelf caught your eye. Inside were the most unexpected things: a wrinkled napkin from the restaurant you made him drive two hours to try. A guitar pick from an opening band you swore was brilliant, even though they were barely in tune. A sticky note in your handwriting: Grabbing your coffee… don’t be late to the studio. xo.
Your throat tightened. A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, catching you off guard. You wiped it away quickly, annoyed at yourself for getting emotional in a place you used to feel so grounded in.
You loved Josh.
You always had, in some way.
But until now, you didn’t know it might be the real kind—the kind that makes your chest ache and your hands shake. The kind that sneaks up on you in everyday moments. The kind you daydream and fantasize about when you’re not paying attention.
You’d always assumed he only saw you as a friend. Nothing more. And maybe that was easier. Maybe it was safer.
But now… now it was harder to lie to yourself. Because if Jake was telling the truth, Josh had been quietly loving you all along.
You wandered into Josh’s bedroom like muscle memory had taken over. Without thinking, you flung yourself backwards onto his bed, limbs spread wide like you were waiting to be crucified—or maybe saved. Either felt welcome at this point.
Your shoes slipped off with a lazy kick, landing somewhere near the foot of the bed. You didn’t bother to fix your hair or change your clothes. You just lay there, staring up at the slow, hypnotic spin of the ceiling fan overhead. The blades hummed in a quiet rhythm, your thoughts finally starting to settle under the weight of the silence.
The tension in your chest began to ease. The tight knot in your stomach loosened.
And then—darkness.
Sleep took you before you even realized it had crept in.
But it didn’t last long.
The sound of shifting sheets, the gentle rustle of fabric, and the soft creak of the mattress stirred you. For a second, you weren’t sure where you were. Then the familiar scent of Josh’s cologne in the air grounded you—and the warmth of another body near yours made your pulse flutter awake.
“Oh—sorry,” Josh whispered in the dark, his voice low and careful, like he didn’t want to wake you but couldn’t help brushing against you. “Just trying to make a little room.” A soft chuckle followed, and you felt the mattress dip as he slid in beside you.
“Josh…” you murmured, voice thick with sleep, the haze of your dreams still clinging to the edges of your thoughts.
“Yes, honey?” he replied gently, almost like the word slipped out without him meaning to, but it lingered in the air between you—sweet and dangerous.
You could feel him shifting, the heat of his body now dangerously close to yours, and something in his tone—something soft and laced with something deeper—sent your heart fluttering. You sat up quickly, trying to steady yourself against the surge of emotion rising in your chest.
You flicked the bedside lamp to life, casting a warm glow across the room. Josh groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, throwing an arm over his face.
“Turn it off,” he mumbled, voice gravelly with sleep.
But you didn’t. Something in you had shifted—unspoken words building behind your ribs, desire tangled with frustration. You pulled the sheets back slowly, deliberately, revealing the shape of him sprawled beneath in nothing but his boxers. The slight rise of his chest, the shadow of his hipbones, the heat rolling off his skin—it made you ache.
“What are you—” he started, a sleepy chuckle escaping, but it caught in his throat when you climbed over him, straddling his hips. His eyes opened, wide now, dark with something that wasn’t quite surprise. You peeled your shirt over your head and tossed it aside, leaning down until your lips hovered just above his.
Josh didn’t wait—his mouth met yours, hungry, hot, and open. His hands found your waist, then your thighs, gripping like he couldn’t decide if he needed to ground you or pull you closer. You rolled your hips against him in slow circles, feeling the way his body responded, the way he hardened against you.
Then, you pulled back just enough to look at him, your breath shaky. “I don’t want to be friends,” you whispered.
His brows drew together. “What?”
“I want more,” you said, voice trembling despite the fire in your veins. “I want to be more than just your friend.”
A slow smile crept across his face—but there was something fierce in it, something raw. In one smooth motion, he flipped you beneath him, pressing his body flush to yours as he kissed you again, deeper this time, with intent.
“Say it again,” he murmured against your lips.
“I want more,” you breathed.
Josh groaned like he’d been waiting centuries to hear that. His hands moved to the button of your jeans, unfastening them with urgency. He tugged them down, dragging you with them slightly, baring you to the air and then to him.
“I’ve thought about this,” he confessed, voice low and rough. “You. In my bed. Wanting me like this. It’s been driving me crazy.”
“You have me,” you breathed, writhing beneath him, your voice a mix of desperation and surrender.
Josh’s eyes darkened. “The thought of you kissing Jake…” he muttered, lowering his mouth to your body. When his teeth grazed your skin, you gasped—a sound torn straight from your chest. “It was torture. Pure fucking torture.”
Your whole body tensed, aching with want. Every nerve ending was alive, and you were seconds away from begging when his fingers spread you open and dipped into your wetness—hot, slick, ready. He dragged it up to your clit, and the second his touch landed, you arched against him with a cry.
“Why him?” he growled, working you with smooth, confident strokes. “Why go after my brother when you could’ve had the real thing?”
“I—I don’t know,” you whimpered, hips lifting toward his hand, chasing every flick of his fingers.
“Oh, I think you do,” he said, dipping lower again, teasing the slick heat of you, then dragging it back up to circle your clit, slow and deliberate. You squirmed, gasping. “You thought about it. You sat there wondering what my fingers would feel like inside you. What my cock would do to you. What my cum would taste like.” His voice was a weapon—low, wicked, and cutting straight through your resolve. “You kept saying we were just friends… Josh is just a friend…”
Then suddenly, he pulled his hand away.
“No—Josh,” you gasped, your voice breaking as you tried to reach for him—but he moved fast.
In one fluid motion, he sat back against the headboard, lifted you into his lap, and pushed into you in one thick, claiming thrust. The breath was knocked from your lungs. Your eyes rolled back at the overwhelming stretch, at the delicious, all-consuming fullness.
The only thing grounding you was the bite of his fingers gripping your hips.
He started slow, rolling into you, making you feel every inch of him. Every word came low and rough against your ear. “Honey… I’m going to make sure you never confuse me for a friend again.”
Josh leaned back just enough to look at you, eyes burning. One hand slid up to palm your breast while the other wrapped firmly around your ass, lifting you and setting the pace. He started to pound into you, hard and fast, hand tangling in the nape of your neck to hold you close.
“Do your other friends fuck you like this?” he snarled, almost angry. “Do they make you come like I make you come?”
All you could do was moan and cling to him—your hands grasping his shoulders, then his hair, like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth.
He slowed, teasing again, grinding up into you as he squeezed your ass, lips brushing your jaw. “Answer me.”
It took everything you had to gather yourself. You cupped his face, holding him steady as you rolled your hips, matching his pace. “No,” you whispered, biting your lip as you looked into his eyes. “No one makes me feel like you do. No one ever has. No one ever will.”
At that, he growled your name and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you down harder, deeper—over and over. You were unraveling fast, trembling, your body overwhelmed with sensation. You kissed him like he was the only air left in the world, like he could fill every empty space inside you.
It was wild and messy and raw, and when you finally came together—both of you breaking apart with tangled curses and sweat.
———
You and Josh lay tangled in the sheets, skin still humming, limbs intertwined like you couldn’t get close enough. The morning sun crept in slowly through the blinds, casting golden lines across the bed. Neither of you spoke, not needing to. His fingers lazily traced patterns on your back, your head nestled on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
Time didn’t feel real. And for once, you didn’t want it to be.
You called out of work without a second thought, choosing instead to stay wrapped in this rare, quiet moment with him. Josh had smiled when you told him, pressing a kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed.
A little while later, he returned with breakfast—toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon piled high on a plate—and a mug of coffee just how you liked it. He set it on the nightstand and gave you that warm, sleepy grin that made your chest ache.
Just as he turned to leave the room, you stopped him.
“Josh?”
He turned, eyebrows raised in that boyish way that always made your heart skip.
You hesitated for a beat. “Was Jake telling the truth?”
Josh blinked, smirking slightly. “That depends. What did he tell you?”
You sat up a little, tucking the sheet under your arms. “That you couldn’t see yourself loving anybody but me.”
The smirk vanished. He stood there for a second, quiet, like the question had hit him square in the chest.
Then he crossed the room in two long strides and took your face gently in his hands. His eyes searched yours before he leaned in and kissed you—slow and deep, but so incredibly tender it made your throat tighten. It was the kind of kiss that carried the weight of something bigger than lust or impulse. It was soft sunshine and wind-blown laughter. It was the kiss of two people who knew each other’s souls long before their bodies ever touched.
It reminded you of the first time you met—when everything was light and possibility, when summer air felt sweeter because he was in it.
When he pulled away, he rested his forehead on yours, his thumb brushing your cheek.
“For all my life,” he whispered.
