Grayson: An MM Friends To Lovers Romance

“What are you reading?” I asked, and Henry’s eyes narrowed as he clutched his book to his chest.

“I’ll tell you under one condition,” he said evenly.

I leaned on my arm, flipping my hair out of my eyes as I gazed up at him. From this angle, he looked positively ravishing. His dark hair was slightly messy, the amber lights casting a golden glow on his eyes and his natural tan skin. The light grey of his sweatpants contrasted with the softened edges of his hips deliciously. My heart raced, all the blood in my body pooling directly in my stiffening cock as the thought of being underneath this man ravaged me.

I wanted to see this man come undone, and I wanted to be his inevitable undoing as well.

I wanted to watch him writhe beneath me. I wanted to push him right up against the edge, to drive him as mad as he drove me.

And then I wanted to watch his face as he came, knowing the pleasure was all mine.

Mine.

“Anything,” I breathed, far too desperate for my own ears, but I didn’t care. I found the more time I spent in Henry’s presence, I didn’t care how I sounded, or what I looked like, or what I said.

“You have to promise you won’t judge me,” he said, raising his eyebrow.

“Of course, I won’t I—”

“Promise!” he said seriously.

I rolled my eyes, showcasing my crossed fingers in surrender. “Scout’s honor,” I said.

Henry sighed, closing his book, setting it over his lap as he pulled his legs up to his chest.

“It’s about this guy who buys a house and it’s haunted,” he said, gulping nervously.

“And…”

“And the ghost that haunts it is a really sexy gay ghost from, like, the 1900s.”

The urge to laugh was apparent, but I had promised him I wouldn’t. I pursed my lips. “That’s… interesting.” I said, keeping my expression stoic.

“I knew it, you think it’s stupid,” he said rolling his eyes. “I can see it in your eyes, you want to laugh.”

I slid a little closer, and Henry didn’t budge. I slowly, deliberately pulled the book from his lap, looking over the cover and the synopsis.

“I don’t think anything you do is stupid, Henry,” I murmured as I flipped through the pages, stopping on a random page to skim it.

Henry’s breathing increased, and I realized he was nervous.

A part of me liked to see Henry uncomfortable, liked to push his buttons in the way he pushed mine. So, naturally, I did just that.

I started to read a random page out loud, but soon came to the understanding I’d stumbled into a sex scene that was more than graphic.

“Oh my God, stop. Just stop…” Henry cried, covering his face with his hands.

I lowered my voice, making it dark and gruff, keeping an absolute straight face when I got the spicy bits, drawing out the groans and sounds if only to agitate Henry because I found it endearing how he blushed, how he tried to hide the obvious tent in his sweatpants—those things hide nothing—until I was certain I had him on the brink of madness.

“You are insufferable,” he groaned in defeat. “An absolute menace.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I think that’s enough bedtime stories for tonight, don’t you?” I breathed out as I tossed the book on my nightstand, before sliding back to my side of the bed.

Henry shifted from his position on top of the covers, to underneath, cursing under his breath. “And you say I’m the one who’s infuriating,” he murmured.

This time I did laugh.

Henry shut the light off, and settled on his side of the bed, our breathing the only sound in the air.