Yes, this is entirely my fault.
And, of course, workplace romances never work, so this is a tragedy in the making. I should try to break them up. Maybe sleep with one of them over the other.
No, you won’t.
I’ve never been that guy. I’m never gonna be that guy, but still…what the fuck? Colt’s cries pick up, and…is that the dresser they’re fucking against? Are they not even on the bed?
The rhythm of Colt’s cries changes, and I know he's not going to be able to hold off this time, no matter how hard Joaquin tries. Joaquin's grunts are a little louder, and they’re hitting that pace where I know he's about to go too.
Oh my God,are they going to come simultaneously?More than morbid curiosity, my dick is very, very interested in the answer to that question. I squeeze myself, noting that the jean material is slightly damp under my fingers. Fuck, that feels good.
Their sounds begin to harmonize, and I unzip, pulling myself out just enough to let spit silently drip onto my cock. Dammit, I need more room to move. I push my jeans down past my hips, sorta liking the way the spit gets a little chilly on the sensitive skin.
Finally comfortable, my ass exposed to the air, I stroke myself, already at full hardness. Colt’s pained little squeak has me there so fast it makes my head spin.
“Yes, baby. Come for me,” Joaquin says, and I can feel his rumble through the walls. It’s like he's telling me that I can come too. So I do. Everything speeds up and slows down at the same time, my muscles contracting, almost painful as the orgasm races down my spine, exploding my world.
I take a minute to shake off the daze, and when I do, I realize that I’ve somehow ended up with cum all over my wall. I go to grab the tissues from my bedside table, but my jeans are around my knees. Losing my balance, I grab the table. That shakes the lamp and nearly topples the table, so I pivot into an awkward barrel roll onto my bed.
I manage to avoid an embarrassingly loud fall to the floor, but…this is not a proud moment for me. I’ve got cum all over my belly and hands and have also somehow managed to transfer it to the bedside table, the box of tissues, and, weirdly, my lamp.
God, I came buckets.
After sitting and pulling up my jeans, I take the tissues and wipe down the wall. I’m still listening carefully as they shuffle around and get into bed.
Wait…they’re going to sleep together?
Fuck.
I can't hear what they're saying, so I do the creepy thing and sneak over to Joaquin's door. I can't hear any better out here, but I know he doesn't lock his door.
I shouldn’t do this.
Unless…
Maybe I can play it off like I was trying to join in or something if they catch me.
I don't know.
I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, except that I’m already turning the doorknob. Quietly—so very quietly—I push the door open just a hair.
Oh.
Joaquin and Colt are on the bed, the moonlight shining through the window, highlighting their planes and shadows. They’re wrapped up in each other, and Joaquin is kissing Colt’s temple, whispering things into his ear. I can't hear him, but it sounds like comforting warm words and kisses and skin sliding over skin.
Shit.
This is much, much worse than I thought it would be. I step back into my room and sit down on the floor, leaning against the wall. I fucking hate—I mean really goddamn loathe—how I'm feeling right now. I'm so jealous I can barely see straight.
And it hurts. I’ve definitely been excluded, and I feel like shit about it.
Soon enough, Joaquin's snores filter through the wall. I can usually hear him snoring, and it's not bad. Hell, there’ve been a few times when I’ve waited for that sound to come through the wall so I could fall asleep to the gentle rhythm.
Cursing to myself, I pull myself up off the floor and take a quick shower. I crawl into bed, pulling the sheets up to my chin and one of my pillows over my head.
Despite the agitation, Joaquin’s gentle snores do what they always do. I grumble and have a bit of a sneer going on even as I drift off into sleep.
Fuck them.
