Best Friend’s Secret - Part 3

“You wanna hit the gym with me in the morning before class?”

Oliver gave a small smile. “Sure.”

“Bet,” Brad said, finally stretching out under the sheets. “Goodnight, bro.”

“Night,” Oliver replied, rolling onto his side.

The room fell quiet, both of them staring into the dark, carrying the weight of what just happened into their sleep.

——————

The next morning, Brad made sure to act like nothing had happened. He tugged on a hoodie and shoved his sneakers into his gym bag, talking like it was just another morning. “Chest day’s gonna kill me, man. You better be ready to spot me.”

He grinned too wide, his tone a little too loud, almost cocky. It was his way of covering. He hadn’t forgotten waking up in the same bed as Oliver, both of them in boxers, skin brushing when they shifted in their sleep. But if he treated it like it was normal, then it was normal.

Oliver didn’t call him on it. He just pulled on a faded t-shirt and slung his own bag over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. You’re the one who always racks too much weight and makes me do the work.”

“Please,” Brad scoffed, giving him a shoulder bump as they left the dorm. “You should thank me. I’m getting you jacked.”

At the gym, Brad leaned into the role, tossing out half-serious trash talk and flexing harder than usual after each set. He barked encouragement like a drill sergeant when Oliver hit the last rep on chest flys, clapping him on the back. It was almost douchey, the way he overcompensated, but it felt safer than the quiet.

After their lift, in the locker room, Brad kicked off his shoes and peeled off his shirt, letting it hang loose over his shoulder while he pulled out a clean one. He kept up the banter, smirking at his own reflection in the mirror. “Still got it. You think I could compete with half these guys?”

Oliver shook his head, tugging his shirt over his damp chest. “You’d get smoked.”

Brad smirked and then his eyes followed down when Oliver bent to grab his bag, muscles shifting under his skin. He told himself it was just sizing up his buddy, but his stomach didn’t buy it. He snapped his locker shut a little harder than needed and slung his bag over his shoulder.

By the weekend, they were at Oliver’s place, a few beers deep with some of their classmates. The living room buzzed with laughter, half the group crowded around someone’s phone, the other half sprawled on the floor with drinks. Brad sat close to Oliver, knees brushing when people shifted by.

The talk drifted toward hookups. Someone teased a guy about being “chronically single,” and the group cracked up. Brad, loosened by alcohol, threw his head back and said louder than he meant to, “At least he’s getting something. It’s been months for me. I’m going fucking crazy.”

Everyone laughed, some raising their cans in sympathy, but Brad felt Oliver’s eyes on him. He turned just enough to catch the look. It was quick, barely there, but Brad felt it stick like a hand pressed to his chest. He covered it with a grin and a shake of his head, playing it off.

The moment followed him after the group split. Now alone at Oliver’s, the mood had shifted. They lounged in the living room, tossing a pillow back and forth half-heartedly. When Brad lobbed one straight into Oliver’s face, Oliver hurled it back harder. Brad laughed and tackled him across the couch.

The wrestling started playful, but it stretched on, both of them testing strength, twisting, pinning. Brad straddled Oliver’s waist and Oliver shoved back, grinning through clenched teeth. And that was when Oliver noticed it. Brad’s hard length pressing against him.

Brad froze, realization flashing across his face. “Shit,” he muttered, scrambling off. He snatched his phone from the coffee table. “Uh…I gotta use the bathroom.” He ducked down the hall before Oliver could say anything.

Inside, he locked the door and leaned hard against the sink, chest heaving. His cock strained against his shorts, throbbing with every beat of his heart. He yanked them down to mid-thigh and wrapped his fist around it, stroking fast and rough like he could chase the problem away.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. He pictured the weight of Oliver under him on the couch, the look on his face when he realized what was pressing against him. That heat in his eyes…he hadn’t imagined that.

Brad’s strokes grew faster, precum slicking his grip as his hips jerked forward. He braced his free hand on the sink, grunting through clenched teeth, trying to stay quiet but unable to choke it all back.

“Shit…oh fuck,” he groaned, pumping harder until his body seized. Cum spilled hot across his knuckles and the sink edge, dripping messily. He stood there panting, staring at his own reflection with a mix of relief and dread.

He grabbed some toilet paper, wiped himself down, and flushed the evidence. A splash of water to the face, a shaky breath, then he forced himself to pull his shorts back up and walk out like nothing had happened.

Oliver was still on the couch, reclined back with his arms behind his head. His eyes flicked to Brad, then to the hallway he’d just come from. He didn’t say a word, just gave him a slow, knowing look.

Brad swallowed hard, pretending not to notice. “You hungry? We could order a pizza or something.”

Oliver smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching because he knew exactly what Brad had been doing in there.

They ordered pizza and settled back in, sitting across from each other on the floor with the box between them. The TV was on but neither of them were paying much attention.

Oliver wiped his hands on a napkin and said casually, “So, I’ve got a date tomorrow. This guy from my chem class asked me out.”

Brad froze for half a second with a slice halfway to his mouth. He forced a grin and took a huge bite, chewing like he didn’t care. “Nice. What’s he like?”

Oliver shrugged, sipping his beer. “He’s cute. Smart. Funny. We’ve been talking a little after lab.”

Brad nodded, but inside his chest felt tight. He didn’t get it. Why the hell did it bug him? It wasn’t like he wanted Oliver for himself. He was straight. Totally straight. He had no reason to feel weird about Ollie dating some guy.

“Cool, man. Good for you,” Brad said, trying to sound upbeat. He even clinked his beer can against Oliver’s.

Oliver smiled, almost studying him for a second too long before looking back at his slice.

Brad tore off a piece of crust with his teeth and kept his eyes glued to the TV, but he couldn’t shake the knot in his gut. He told himself it was just…protective. Yeah, that had to be it. He didn’t want Oliver getting messed around by some random guy.

At least that’s what he tried to believe.

By the time the pizza box was empty, Brad stretched and yawned like he’d just run a marathon. “Man, I’m wiped. Think I’m gonna crash back at my dorm.”

Oliver smirked. “You’re always tired.”

“College grind, bro,” Brad said with a half-grin, standing and brushing crumbs off his sweats.

At the door, Oliver pulled him in for their usual quick bro hug, but this time it held for a moment longer than either expected. When they pulled apart, Brad scratched the back of his neck and gave a quick, “Later, man,” before ducking out.

The next day they met for lunch in the dining hall. Brad plopped down across from Oliver with a tray of food stacked higher than it should’ve been. “So, what’s the plan for your big date?” he asked, stabbing his fork into some fries.

Oliver shrugged. “Probably dinner, then see where it goes. Honestly, there’s been a lot of sexual tension, so…I figure it’ll end at his place.”

Brad tried to laugh it off, but it caught in his throat. “So, like, you think you’ll hook up?”

Oliver nodded, then lowered his voice. “Yeah, probably. I’m just…nervous about one thing.”

Brad leaned in a little. “What?”

Oliver glanced around like he didn’t want anyone to overhear. “I’ve never been that good at sucking dick. It just doesn’t come natural to me, I guess. The guys I’ve gone down on didn’t seem super into it. Makes me self-conscious, you know?”

Brad sat back, chewing that over. His knee bounced under the table. After a long pause, he muttered, “I mean…you helped me learn how to eat pussy…”

Oliver’s eyes widened. “Bro, that’s not what I was implying.” He started to laugh nervously, waving his hand like he could erase the words.

Brad’s face was red but he didn’t back down. “No, I’m serious.”

Oliver stared at him for a second. “You’d actually…let me?”

Brad nodded. “Absolutely, bro. We can practice after we eat.”

They wrapped up lunch like nothing out of the ordinary had been said, but there was a tension buzzing under Brad’s skin the whole walk back to Oliver’s. Jokes were lighter, laughs a little too forced, both of them carefully dancing around the weight of the conversation.

When they finally got inside Oliver’s room, Brad leaned against the wall, arms crossed, smirk plastered on his face. Oliver busied himself dropping his bag, shuffling papers around his desk, avoiding eye contact.

The silence stretched.

Then Brad let out a sharp exhale and shook his head. “Fuck it.” He grabbed the hem of his shirt, peeled it off, and dropped it on the floor. His shorts followed. By the time he kicked his shoes away and stretched out on Oliver’s bed in nothing but briefs, Oliver was frozen in place, eyes wide.

“You serious right now?” Oliver asked, voice breaking slightly.

Brad rested his head on the pillow, hands behind his head like he didn’t have a care in the world, but his cock was already tenting his briefs. “Dead serious. You wanted to practice, right? I’ll teach you how to make it good. Just…follow my lead.”

Oliver swallowed hard and nodded, hesitating only a second before kneeling on the mattress beside him.

Brad tugged his briefs down, freeing his cock. It sprang up thick and already half hard, twitching at the cool air. “Alright,” he said, voice steady but his chest rising faster than normal. “Start slow. Just lick the tip.”

Oliver leaned in, nervous, tongue flicking across the head. Brad’s breath caught. “Yeah…good. Keep it wet.”

Oliver opened his mouth and slid down a few inches, but immediately scraped too much with his teeth. Brad winced, hand shooting to Oliver’s head to stop him. “Whoa…okay. Less teeth, bro. Way less teeth.”

Oliver pulled back, face flushed. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Brad said quickly, stroking himself once to ease the sting. “Curl your lips over your teeth, like you’re sucking on a straw. Try again.”

Oliver nodded, determination flickering in his eyes. This time when he slid down, his lips were soft and wet, his tongue pressed along the underside. Brad groaned low in his throat.

“There you go,” he muttered. “That’s it. Keep your hand at the base, twist it while you suck…yeah, like that.”

Oliver tried to match the rhythm Brad described, his hand working the shaft while his mouth bobbed steadily lower each time. He gagged once, eyes watering, but Brad guided him with a gentle grip in his hair. “Breathe through your nose. Relax your throat. Don’t fight it.”

It was clumsy at first, but Oliver was a quick learner. Every correction Brad gave, Oliver adjusted, and the improvement was obvious. His lips sealed tighter, suction pulling shivers out of Brad. His tongue started swirling around the head when he came up for air.

Brad let out a shaky laugh. “Holy shit, you’re actually getting good at this.” His hips jerked when Oliver sucked harder, slurping wet sounds filling the room. “Fuck, just like that. That’s perfect.”

Oliver sucked in his cheeks and pushed deeper until his nose brushed Brad’s trimmed pubes, throat working around him. Brad’s hand gripped tight in his hair, toes curling against the sheets. “Jesus, you’re…fuck, you’re so good.”

The sloppy inexperience from the start was gone, replaced by steady, hungry confidence. Oliver swallowed him down, twisting his hand, spit dripping onto Brad’s balls as he worked every inch.

Brad’s abs clenched, his voice breaking into a groan. “Gonna cum, man. Fuck…swallow it, don’t stop.”

Oliver bobbed harder, eyes watering as he held him deep. Brad’s whole body tensed, then his cock throbbed in Oliver’s mouth, spilling hot and heavy down his throat. Oliver swallowed fast, throat convulsing, taking every drop.

Brad collapsed back on the pillow, panting, while Oliver pulled off slowly, lips shiny, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

For a long moment, Brad just stared at the ceiling, chest heaving. Then he glanced over. Oliver was sitting back against the headboard, face flushed but with a small, proud smirk.

“So not bad?” he asked, voice hoarse.

Brad let out a short laugh, still breathless. “Not bad at all.”

Oliver gave him a knowing look that said everything without words.