His Eyes Made Me Do It

Jack was going commando.

There was absolutely nothing stopping Matt from reaching his lover's girthy cock and stroking it eagerly, trying desperately to get it to spill out his reward for making such a delicious discovery.

Nothing; except for one small intrusive thought:

What if he was sitting on the other side of the table?

What if, instead of his boyfriend, he was stroking his boyfriend's best friend while Jack innocently scrolled through his phone? How big was Mason? Would Matt's fingers be able to close around his dick the way they did with Jack's? What if they got caught? What would Jack say?

Matt was staring directly at the massive jock's eyes now, daring him to look back at him, to recognize what his presence was doing to the twink. The entire world seemed to vanish for a moment. Only Mason existed, as well as his dick, inside Matt's hand. And then, it worked.

Mason looked up. Their eyes met. A wildfire ignited, fueled by a hidden desire that had lasted seven years.

Or so Matt thought.

"Well!" Mason slammed his phone on the table, startling Matt and his partner. "I think it's about damn time I get going!"

"Yeah, I mean you have that- that game tomorrow!" Jack rushed to agree, stuttering as he tried to regain his composure.

Mason was a professional Tennis player. Matt had been to a few of his games. They were a lot more entertaining than he had initially given them credit for. Who would've thought that seeing two hunks swinging rackets and groaning loudly from the effort for hours on end could be so amusing?

"It's just a friendly match. I wouldn't have drunk otherwise. You guys coming?" Mason shrugged nonchalantly.

"Absolutely!" Jack replied before Matt had a chance to get a word in. Not that he would've responded anything else anyway.

"I'm gonna get all this inside," Matt mumbled as he rushed to stack the plates and glasses they had used. Now that the moment had passed, he was starting to feel a bit of post-teasing-clarity embarrassment.

"Let me help you out. I could use a glass of water to clear the fuzz before I head home," Mason offered. Matt couldn't think of any excuse to refuse him.

Together they picked everything up while Jack sat there awkwardly, trying to hide the crime scene between his legs.

4

For the second time that night, Matt's heart started beating furiously inside his chest as soon as he heard the kitchen door shut behind him. He nervously dropped everything he was carrying into the sink and opened the faucet. He saw Mason do the same with the stuff he was carrying and then reach for a clean glass on the cupboard directly above Matt's head.

As he did that, the professional Tennis player innocently laid a hand on Matt's waist, sending the twink down a spiral of adrenaline and electric anxiety. Every last drop of air immediately abandoned Matt's lungs as if they were full of poison. He felt about to pass out any moment.

"What game are you playing, little twink?" Matt felt the other's warm breath on the back of his neck before he even heard the words.

He couldn't muster any answer other than a soft whimper, even if he wanted to.

As Mason took the glass and filled it with the water pouring out of the faucet, his hand didn't leave that burning spot. Not even for a second.

The risk of having Jack barge through the door any second was like torture. A beautifully delicious one. With this one gesture, Mason was putting not only his life-long friendship with Jack on the line; but also Matt's own eight-year relationship. All of it could crumble in seconds.

The knowledge of that possibility alone should've been enough to make them stop, but it had the opposite effect on Matt. Morbid curiosity drove him to wonder how much further they could push the boundaries of this situation, what else they could do before getting caught, and how much would they be able to explain away if Jack did catch them.

How did it get to this? Matt had spent so much time carefully finding an appropriate night when he knew Jack couldn't find an excuse to slip away. He had planned every last detail. Even the fact that he would push Jack to make the drinks because he knew Jack liked to use liquor, and liquor always put him in a good mood.

Inviting Mason was also part of the plan. Matt wanted to make Jack jealous. There was no better way to do that than with the person Jack still believed, after eight years, that Matt had a crush on.

So how did things get out of control so badly?

"Can you at least fucking try to hide it?"

"Oh shit! Jackie!"

Matt turned around quickly. The impulse to throw up was stopped only by the lump in his throat. He hadn't realized when Mason had let go of him. The feeling of his hand still lingered on Matt's skin.

"Don't say a fucking word, Mason!" Jack's face was a furious red.

It was almost impossible to tell if his boyfriend was shaking or if the tears in Matt's eyes were the ones giving the illusion of it.

"J-Jack..." He managed to say before his partner's elegant features turned to look at him.

"I trusted you," Jack launched that accusation like a dart, straight for Matt's heart.

The wonderfully sexy fantasy Matt had been living in up until that moment had now turned into a very real nightmare. Unfortunately for him, there was no satisfaction in this.

Jack was an introvert before all else. Not a man of big words or loud arguments. He simply stormed his way up the stairs; to the room he had shared with Matt for the past eight years.

5

"Jackie, you're blowing this way out of proportion! I just happened to graze him while I was reaching for the cupboard, that's all," Mason had sprung into action as soon as he saw Jack coming down the stairs with a suitcase.

Jack's hand moved faster than his friend could react. The glass he was still holding in his hand flew through the air, smashing against the closest wall and covering Mason in tepid water.

"Stop fucking lying to me," Jack replied with gritted teeth.

Matt wanted to say a million things to his partner. A mix of emotions and thoughts swirled inside of him.

"All of this could've been avoided if you hadn't abandoned me in the first place!"

"It's all my fault! Please don't go! Things got out of hand, but it won't happen again!"

"You're overreacting! It was barely a touch!"

None of it made it out. Matt couldn't speak, couldn't move, as he watched his lover walk out the door and slam it behind him without even a second look back.

6

A heavy silence had squeezed all the air out of the room. Only Matt and Mason's regrets were left to linger between them after they heard Jack's car take off half an hour ago.

"I should go," Mason said with a dry voice, startling Matt.

"Wait," Matt stopped him. "You should take a dry shirt. You could catch a cold."

None of them mentioned the fact that colds were in short supply in the middle of the summer. Instead, they headed upstairs to the room that was now a complete mess of scattered clothes that Jack had dropped in his rush.

"Take that off," Matt commanded in a weak voice as he dug through what was left of his partner's closet.

Mason complied, taking his leather jacket off and then his grey shirt, leaving them carefully on top of the bed.

"Here," Matt turned around to hand over a white t-shirt with a picture of Baby Yoda that one of his friends had gifted Jack as a joke a while ago.

It felt so wrong that, despite everything that had happened that night, Matt still found his breath caught in his throat at the sight of Mason's bare torso.

Surprisingly, the jock had a slimmer waist than Jack himself. More of an inverse triangle build. The V-lines that Jack had struggled for years to achieve seemed to draw effortlessly on Mason's body as if they were a perfectly drawn track, guiding Matt's eyes to where they wanted to go. A feeling accentuated even more by the thin trail of black hair that traveled from his small navel, down into his jeans.

Perfectly symmetrical abs like those were the result of a lucky lottery ticket in the genetics pool, much more pleasing to look at than Matt's own boyfriend's ever were. All of it was crowned by a massive pair of pecs, no doubt the result of years of swinging a racket. If the situation had been slightly different, Matt would've asked to bite them... and then done it anyway. They were joined at the shoulders by a pair of huge arms that were also likely the result of perfecting the art of his sport.

"You've been teasing me all night," Mason said. Matt realized he still hadn't taken the t-shirt he was offering.

"I just looked at you," He defended himself. "You were the one touching me."

"You think I don't know what you were doing under the table while you stared at me?"

"If you knew, why didn't you respond?"

"I did. I touched you, remember?"

He was right. Matt was at a loss for words.

"Do you want to leave Jack?"

The blatant question took Matt by surprise. He thought about it for a minute or two before he chose a carefully crafted response:

"No, of course not! I just wanted to make him jealous, so we could go back to being a normal couple..." Matt confessed.

Despite not really wanting to discuss this right now or say anything else, suddenly it was as if he couldn't stop his mouth from moving anymore.

"...He's been stressed out about his work, and I've had stuff in my mind too, but I never stopped wanting to be intimate with him. Even when he was having trouble performing. I think he was just getting in his head because I didn't cum a few times. But one day he just stopped touching me, and then he stopped kissing me or telling me he loved me. I've been panicking ever since, and I thought if I could bring you here and make him jealous, I could perhaps ignite something in him so that he would go back to being the same."

As he spoke, Matt felt a lump build up in his throat, and by the time he was done, he was sobbing into the shirt he had just offered to his partner's best friend.

Mason waited to make sure everything had come out before he gave his response:

"So why were you looking at me that way all night, even when he wasn't there?"

"I don't know!" Matt replied, annoyed. "Why were you looking at me that way all night?"

"Because I haven't stopped wanting you since that night at the rave when we met." He responded without hesitation. His tone was unwavering. It carried the certainty of someone who had been waiting to say such a thing for years.

Another dart of uncertainty shot at Matt's chest. He didn't know how many more he could take that night.

"You haven't been the most subtle about it." He finally replied.

"To be blunt, I've liked your body since the first time we danced together. I've cummed more times than I can count to the thought of your lips. I've always entertained the idea of being your rebound sex if you ever broke up with Jack because I don't think it would be right to date you after that. But I couldn't tell you any of those things because you were- you are with him."

"Why did you tell me tonight?" Matt had stopped crying. He fixed his gaze on Mason's beautifully sculpted torso, feeling incapable of meeting the other's eyes.

"Tonight was different..." Mason sighed. "...because you flirted with me. And I wasn't strong enough to stop myself."

The truth of that statement hung heavily in the air; as if waiting to be picked up. Finally, Mason took a step forward. His chest was almost touching Matt's face.

The effects of the alcohol had washed away a while ago, but the familiar scent of the jock's cologne seemed to have the same effect on Matt. He felt drunk. Drunk with a desire he shouldn't have.

Finally, a name for that fluttery feeling at the pit of his stomach:

Desire.

"I don't know why I did that," he admitted with a whisper.

Mason's big hand descended to grab Matt's chin and lift his gaze so they could meet. One more time that night, they looked into each other's eyes and fell into a hypnotic trance.

"You've been frustrated, dissatisfied, craving someone's touch for months," Mason stated the facts as plainly as if he was talking about the hot summer weather. "Stop me if I'm wrong."

Matt simply stood silent. A certain warmth spread through his face at hearing his secrets spilled out in the open like that. There was no running away or hiding anymore, as Mason still held his chin, and his brown eyes were linked magnetically to Matt's green ones.

"Give me your consent for this one night. In the morning, we'll pretend it never happened. You can call Jack and convince him that it was just a touch. It didn't mean anything. I will get my wish of having you for myself, and I swear to you, Mattie, I won't ever flirt or insinuate myself to you in any way ever again."

The decision was already made a long time ago. Way before this night ever happened. It was made on a dance floor on a different summer night. And then it was made again and again over the years.

Deep, very deep inside Matt's mind, in a place where he didn't dare ever visit, he had always known:

I would've chosen Mason if he had come first.

8

Consent was given in a nod so tenuous that Matt was about to repeat it. But before he could do that, he saw Mason rapidly approaching; there was no time to react. Their lips touched for the very first time in an explosion of adrenaline and raw excitement.

It was the middle of the night, probably around three am. They were alone in a dimly lit room, in a small house in the suburbs of a rural town. There was no one around to know or care about what was happening, but Matt felt like the entire world had just stopped and now held its breath looking at them.

Eight years without kissing anyone other than his boyfriend made Matt feel like a complete amateur. He didn't know what to do with himself. Luckily, Mason was in control.

The grip on the twink's face hadn't budged, holding him in place while the jock fell into a slow and sensual rhythm. As soon as he felt Matt following along, Mason pressed slightly harder against the other's face to make sure their mouths were completely locked to each other.

Then he opened that lock just enough so his warm tongue could firmly invade Matt's timid mouth.

In many ways, the sensation closely resembled the act of being penetrated by someone. Matt had to relax his lips to allow his new lover the freedom he needed to fill him with pleasure. It was wet, warm, and it smelled like cherries due to the drinks they had had earlier that night.

The guilt that still lingered in Matt's chest was fighting a losing battle. Every swirl of Mason's tongue, every time it touched Matt's and invited it to dance together and exchange each other's tastes, that same guilt turned into an overwhelming pleasure that was becoming harder to ignore.

Once they found themselves entirely tied to one another, Mason suddenly let go of Matt's delicate face, wrapping his massive Tennis-player arms around the small of the twink's back. Matt responded in kind, throwing his arms around the player's neck. The action drew a satisfied grunt from deep inside Mason's chest.

"Mason..." Matt called once their lips finally parted to look for breath. "Mason..."

The jock looked into Matt's eyes to look for any warning signs. Instead, all he found was a burning desire, which made him smile with satisfaction and continue his attentions.

By leaving small kisses up the twink's jaw, all the way to his ear, Mason made sure his prey wouldn't escape. Matt's legs were turning putty.

"What do you want?" The older guy asked with a gruff voice, loaded with intent.

"Mason," the name tasted as sweet on Matt's tongue as the cherry flavor that still lingered on his lips. "I want... you... I want... that..."

"Say it," Mason commanded while his arms pulled Matt against his massive body, possessively.

Something big pressed against the twink's slim stomach. It was difficult to tell what it was with such a size. Matt was hesitant to come to the obvious conclusion.

Moving his mouth next to Mason's ear this time, he said:

"I want your dick in my mouth," A rush of warmth flashed through his face. Matt's heart skipped a bit, feeling like a kid who had just whispered a bad word to a friend. Jack had never enjoyed using vulgar words in bed, so Matt wasn't sure how to do it or, at least, how to make it sexy.

Mason chuckled. His hand landed heavily on the twink's shoulder, gently pushing down. Matt complied eagerly. From this angle, the tennis player looked twice as big as before. The light bounced off every dip and curve formed by the alluring muscles hugging his torso.

"Whenever you're ready," Mason's voice boomed from above. His hand had moved from shoulder to the top of Matt's head, where he gently ruffled the younger guy's hair.

Matt nodded and lowered his eyes, taking the time to enjoy every inch of that sculpted body and its skin seemingly made of gold. Each of his hands rested at the sides of Mason's narrow waist, exactly where the sharp V started, and they traced it slowly.

The lines ended up abruptly where they met the white elastic band of what looked to be otherwise black boxer briefs. Matt made quick work of the buttons holding Mason's jeans wrapped around his prize, getting more and more impatient but still wanting to enjoy every moment of it.

"God, you're killing me, Mattie. Get on with it," Mason implored.

Matt missed the heavy sound the pants made as they dropped to the floor, distracted as he was with the new sight in front of his eyes.

Under the thin fabric of the restricting boxer briefs hid an absolute monster. Easily eight inches long, it was warm to Matt's hands as he explored its shape with fascination. As thick as his forearm, it was leaking sweet precum already, wetting the fabric. Matt licked and sucked eagerly, trying to get a preliminary taste before the big reveal.

The calloused hand still on his head closed around a fist of his hair and pulled back slowly, getting Matt's attention.

"Stop. Teasing. Start. Sucking." The hand let go, but Matt still hesitated, so Mason asked: "What's wrong?"

"I've just never seen one this big," the twink admitted embarrassingly. "I don't think I can take all that in my mouth."

"You don't have to swallow it whole," Mason replied with a gentle but firm tone, as his patience was apparently starting to drain. "Did Jack make you swallow his whole?"

"He didn't make me," Matt corrected and continued under his breath: "It was easy with his."

"I guess it's about time you learn what a real cock is, then," There was a hint of pride there.

Without another word, Matt pulled on the elastic band. Lower and lower until the monster sprang out to life. It was throbbing in anticipation, the head glistening with precum.

The realization of what he was about to do hit him like a truck at that moment. There was no going back from this. A kiss was on a much less shitty level than a full-on blowjob. By doing this he was sealing his betrayal of Jack. His eight-year-long relationship could end if this ever came out.

Matt wanted to feel bad almost as much as he wanted that piece of throbbing meat in his mouth, but the more he thought about it, the more the air escaped from his lungs, and a delicious feeling stretched at the pit of his stomach, like a full-body erection. If this is what betrayal felt like, he didn't ever want to stop doing it.

Wrapping his two hands around the thick shaft, he placed his lips around the pink head and kissed it. His tongue, shy at first, eventually found the courage to slide under it, over it, and in front of it, tasting the salty liquid that was only making Matt thirstier.