Grayson: An MM Friends To Lovers Romance

“Good night, Grayson,” I said, before turning away and running to the safety of my bathroom like a god damned coward.

Only when I was alone, in the sanctity of my bathroom, did I let out a sigh of relief.

I turned on the water for the shower and adjusted the temperature to my liking.

Steam coated my bathroom rather quickly as I disrobed, stepping into the small space and letting the hot water soothe me, washing away the weirdness that had transpired moments ago.

Grayson tried to kiss me.

Because he’s drunk, Henry. Not because he’s into you.

Bracing myself against the tile, I closed my eyes as I fantasized someone like Grayson could ever be into me.

That he could be into me. Images flooded my brain about what he would taste like, the texture of his lips, the salt of his sweat on my tongue.

His swollen cock in my mouth.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t go there, Henry.

But it was too late, my cock had already voiced its opinion on the matter, and there was only truly one way to get the thoughts to leave. I groaned in guilt as I wrapped my hand around my shaft, the friction a most satisfying sensation. I leaned into my hold, slowly rocking my hips forward, building a rhythm. My palm was wet and warm, and the slide of my cock against it elicited a deep groan out of me.

I wondered about those perfect, pouty lips of his, and what it would feel like to press my mouth to his, what his mouth would feel like along my skin, biting and sucking my flesh at all my sweet spots. Beneath my ear, on my neck.

And most certainly, I wondered what his lips would feel like wrapped around my cock, his tongue licking me clean of the precum that was currently coating my hand and shaft.

I thought about that dark look he’d given me as I knelt before him, my hands around his ankles.

I fantasized about him commanding me to take care of him.

I came without warning, grunting in guilt and relief, leaning my head against the tile, watching the ropes of my release circle the drain, round and round.

My breathing started to even out as I tugged the last remainders of my release out of my softening cock, and I knew I needed to put Grayson Sanderson as far out of my mind as possible.

Because this… this wasn’t some romance novel.

This was life, and the truth was that aside from Giselle’s wedding, I’d probably never see Grayson again.

Right?

I finished cleaning myself, turned off the water, and climbed out. Wrapping a fluffy towel around my waist, I used another to quickly dry my hair. I grabbed a clean pair of sleep pants and slipped them up my legs, pulling a t-shirt on over my head.

Finally dressed, I slipped out of my bathroom to check on Grayson before heading to bed myself, noting that he was passed out, snoring away. I noticed however, the blanket I’d given him had fallen to the ground and he was now sleeping on his side.

I sauntered over quietly, doing my best as to not make a peep and wake him. Slowly, I knelt to pick the blanket up, carefully laying it over him. I gently tucked it in the back, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty of his slumber, like a freaking weirdo.

He looked so peaceful, so content. It was envious.

“Good night, Grayson,” I whispered, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me.

And when I said good night to him, I promised myself that it would end there.

The fantasy, the hope.

Come morning, everything would go back to normal, the way it was supposed to be.

I slipped into my bedroom, beneath my sheets, and let my own wave of exhaustion take me under.

And I dreamed of wild, amber eyes, and pouty lips, and wedding bells in a forest full of pine.