“Hey, Baby. These two just got here… How far are you?” Vince’s low voice rumbles through the line. Adrian’s smile widens. “Perfect. He’s just a few minutes out,” he tells us, then speaks back into the phone. “Babe? Do you mind if…I play with them a little while I wait for you?”
Vince says something that makes Adrian laugh softly. “Got it. I’ll set the camera up so you can see everything.”
Adrian ends the call and grabs the small tripod from the shelf. He mounts his phone and adjusts the angle until the couch and open floor are framed.
“So,” Adrian says, glancing between us, “Vince said I can play. He’ll be watching live.” He taps the screen. “Just a stream. He’sin the car, not driving, so he won’t miss anything.” A quick, soft exhale of laughter. “You know how he gets. Hope that’s alright.”
I nod once.
Lance clears his throat, a little too quickly. “Sure. No problem. Record away.”
I catch the shift in Lance, perking up a little bit, his focus sharpening. The camera doesn’t throw him. If anything, it pulls him in.
Adrian reaches for the sound system by the TV unit, taps a few buttons on the receiver, then syncs his phone through the setup. The floor speakers come alive with ‘Do I Wanna Know?’ by Arctic Monkeys, bass low, riff slow, the room changing with it.
Lance finally pushes up from the couch and walks straight into the open space in front of me. He plants his feet in the middle of the room, squared up, legs shoulder-width apart. I’m just staring up at him.
I can’t believe he’s actually doing this, but this is fucking Lance. Once he decides he’s in, he’ll follow through on anything. No matter how stupid it is, or how fucking dangerous this one feels right now.
“Lance?” I raise an eyebrow.
He smirks down at me. “Relax, G. This is just for fun.”
Fun. I can do fun.
I lean back deeper into the couch, spread my thighs wider, and let a slow, dirty grin creep across my face.
“Sure,” I say. I hold his stare and drag my eyes down his body. I nod toward his crotch. “Show me what you’ve got. Grind it like you mean it.”
Lance’s smirk flickers for half a second, something raw flashing in his eyes before the cocky mask slams back into place. Behind him, Adrian lets out a low, surprised laugh.
“Goddamn, George,” Adrian says, grinning wide. “That was straight-up criminal.” He claps Lance on the shoulder. “You lucky bastard. Your audience just raised the stakes hard.”
Lance’s eyes darken as he stares down at me, the challenge now burning between us. “You sure you can handle it, Big Guy?”
I take a slow sip of my beer, never breaking eye contact, and lick my bottom lip.
“Try me.”
Adrian steps behind Lance. “First thing.” His hands slide onto Lance’s hips, fingers spread over the thin fabric of his shirt. “You’re braced like you’re expecting a hit. Drop your weight. Sink into it.”
“I’m doing it,” Lance mutters, voice already rougher.
“You’re standing like you’re about to throw a punch.” Adrian presses in closer, palms firm on Lance’s hip bones, guiding him down and back. “Let it sink. Looser. Yeah…like that.”
Lance tries again. His hips roll this time, slow and liquid, the motion traveling up his spine. The open collar of his button-down gapes slightly, fabric pulling across his chest. Adrian’s hands stay on him, one sliding to the small of his back, the other gripping his hip to control the rhythm.
“Stop thinking,” Adrian murmurs, lips close to Lance’s ear. “It should look like it costs you nothing…even when it takes everything.”
Lance exhales sharply. His next roll comes smoother, deeper, ass pushing back into Adrian’s body before rolling forward again in one filthy, controlled wave.
Fuck.
“Better,” Adrian says. “Now slower. You’re not selling speed. You’re selling attention. Make the person watching feel like he’s the only thing in the room.”
Adrian steps in front of Lance and demonstrates first. He drops into a slight squat, thighs flexing, then rises smoothly while dragging one hand down his own chest and over his stomach. Hiships do a sharp pop to the left, then right, before he adds a quick half-turn that leaves his ass facing Lance for a beat. Lance mirrors it right away, catching on fast. His shoulders drop, abs tightening under his shirt as he nails the pop on the second try.
I sit on the couch, beer forgotten in my hand, watching my best friend learn how to move like that. Every slow grind of his hips sends heat crawling down my spine.
