A/N: Lol sorry for the short lameness dudes. I thought this would be longer but decided it didn't really need to be drawn out any further, so yeah, this is pretty much just like my dumb supply closet story. Also, I've decided I really like Carlos and he's super easy to write. It just feels natural. (:
Um, kill me before I can write anything else.
"No, James, it is awkward," I pled, sliding my hands down my face in exasperation. "Can't we get food already?"
"No. I need to look good for my date, and I always look good to me, so I need a third party for…an opinion, you know?"
"She doesn't care what your underwear look l-"
"Shh! She does!"
I rolled my eyes, James turning around slowly and giving me a view from all angles. I was so hungry. I could eat, like eight pizzas. Eight large pizzas. And chow mein. And rice. And hotdogs. A whole truck full of hotdogs. And pizzas, and chow mein. I began to contemplate how the three would taste together, picturing a hotdog topped with pizza sauce, cheese, and noodles. It could be potentially great, or horrible, I couldn't say.
"How do you think a pizza chow mein hotdog would taste?"
"The fuck? Carlos, I have no idea, I have never ever thought about that." He stood in front of me, looking slightly tired except James never looked tired so maybe not that much.
"Well I need a third party's opinion because I asked myself and I didn't know," I mimicked him in the high pitched voice I usually reserve for Kendall's mom, teachers, or Logan, on occasion. "But really," I pressed, my voice dropping back to its usual tone. "I guess there's only one way to find out."
"I'll tell you what. Tell me whether the blue or the yellow looks best, and I'll tell you whether I think a corndog chow mein pizza or whatever would taste good."
"Pizza chow mein hotdog," I corrected him, looking him over. He wore a plain black t-shirt and bright blue briefs, trying to get my thoughts on what underwear he should wear for a date. Because James was utterly ridiculous like that. "I forgot what the yellow ones look like," I confessed before lying to him and making up something random. Besides, I kind of had a guilty urge to see him pantsless and overexposed again.
I only felt bad because it seemed like he was assuming I wouldn't judge him because I was the stupid girl-crazy best friend, but in reality I was totally checking him out. I couldn't be sure if he'd hate that, be neutral, or be flattered, but I wasn't about to find out. He slid the underwear down his legs, tossing them aside and bending over to retrieve the nearly-identical yellow pair.
I sighed, watching him, glad he couldn't see my open staring. I didn't know of anyone who could deny that James had an amazing body, and face, and hair, and everything, that was just how it was. 'James is beautiful' is not an opinion, but a fact. I fought back the images playing over in my head, the want to just go over and do him, hard, deciding that wearing sweatpants with nothing underneath to James' little underwear-viewing party wasn't the greatest idea I'd ever had.
I mean, it certainly wasn't among the worst, but that wasn't saying much. I was the king of bad ideas. I bit my lip hard as James turned to face me, pulling my legs up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, putting even more pressure on my dick. I tried to think about dead kittens and old women but James standing in front of me just holding the underwear and not putting them on, instead choosing to inspect them while standing there chilling out in all his half-naked glory was getting the best of me.
He finally shrugged and slipped on the briefs, letting me examine him.
"I think I like the blue ones better…they look better with your skin, the yellow is too duuude I'm hungry. Drive me to food. Come on."
"Just stand over there really quick and tell me how they look from there." He pointed to a spot near his closet, looking impatient.
"I can't," I said immediately, holding my knees closer.
"Why," he sighed, giving me a tired look.
"My legs," I explained. "They're…well, I've just gone completely numb from the waist down, it's really funny; I was feeling fine just a mo-"
"Carlos," he hissed, looking not-so-pleased with me. "I promise! We'll get food in just a second, but not until you get up and go over there. Just humour me. You're going to have to get up to get food anyway…come on."
I quickly weighed my two options- utter humiliation and utter starvation- standing up once I did and walking over to James' closet pretending like there wasn't a problem. He stared at me, open-mouthed, licking his lips nervously and giving me a strange look. I stood there and looked innocent, hoping my face would convince him my pants were just in a really, really awkward position and I didn't have a raging boner.
"Um, Carlos?"
"Um, James?" I said back in the same tone. He smirked slightly, eyes trained on my waistline. "I still think the blue ones look better. I mean, yellow is great and all but I prefer the blue ones."
"Yeah, yellow must be great."
"What's that supposed to mean? Why are you smirking? You tell me I don't make sense."
"You don't," he told me plainly.
"Way to be blunt," I replied, setting a hand on his desk chair and leaning on it.
"Can I be blunt again?"
"Shoot."
"You're super hard." I pursed my lips, watching him and sizing up the situation again. He had a complete poker face, giving nothing on how he felt about that sentiment. Well, he didn't look freaked out, at least, but he didn't look too impressed either. Usually, it was easy to tell exactly what James was thinking, but…apparently, not all the time. I decided my best option was to completely avoid all possible outcomes.
"Yeah," I agreed. "Hard to catch!" I took this opportunity to run for the door of the bedroom, James calmly grabbing the back of my shirt and holding me firmly in place. I struggled against him for a moment, reaching wildly out and straining against my t-shirt. When I gave up, James took my shoulders and turned me around so I was facing him, giving me a serious face that I didn't like at all.
"Dunno if I'm hungry anymore," I admitted, scared out of my appetite.
"Carlos," he said quietly, in a tone that terrified me even more. "Am I seriously turning you on?"
"Yep, pretty much," I confessed, deciding I couldn't lie my way out of something that was obviously there. "You're kind of not wearing very much, dude."
His smirk grew, and I backed away a bit, but he tightened his grip on my shoulder, making it clear that I wasn't going anywhere. He let me go for a moment, watching me as if making sure I wouldn't try to run away again, taking off the black shirt and showing me a bit of what else he had to offer. I looked down guiltily, admiring his lack of clothing with a small smile.
"So I'm kind of nervous for my date and I'm hoping you could help me…relieve some tension? If you want to."
"Uh, yeah I do," I told him, hesitantly reaching out to place a hand on his chest. I could feel his heart pounding wildly underneath my palm, skin hot and smooth. I was surprised at how…normal I felt touching James like that. Like it was no big deal and we were arm wrestling or having lunch or something. I supposed it hadn't quite set in yet.
"C'mon," he said softly, pulling me in and going in for a kiss but hesitating just before our lips made contact. I took a shaking breath inward, pressing forward and sealing our mouths together. Seeking some kind of stability before my legs gave out from how amazing I was feeling already, I twisted my fingers into James' hair and set my other hand on his hip. He took a step forward so that his thigh touched lightly against my erection, making me sigh into our kiss.
He pulled away from me, looking between my face and the tent in my sweatpants before reaching down and curving his hand around my dick experimentally. I gasped, shifting my hips forward at the teasing contact of his fingers. "Fuck," I whispered, reaching down to push down my sweatpants and step out of them quickly. I felt painfully hard, moreso than before at least, at having my sweats gone, being in front of James with everything just out there.
I felt more naked than I had ever felt before, even with my shirt still on, James staring at my cock like it was the fucking Mona Lisa or something. I took his hand, guiding it to my dick and letting him take over from there. I sighed at the feeling of his warm hand, watching as he jacked me off with deliberate slowness, kissing underneath my chin for a moment before sinking to his knees and looking up at me for reassurance.
I returned my fingers to his hair, nodding down at him and swallowing hard as he pushed up my shirt with one hand and adjusted the other around my cock. He bit his lip, clearing his throat before going down on me. I watched his lips, fascinated, the hot wetness of his hollowed out mouth feeling like heaven. Once he started actually moving, applying pressure, though, all I could do was moan and look up at the ceiling like, fuck, best moment of my life.
"James," I whined, helpless to the amazing feeling washing through my body. He responded with a couple unintelligible sounds, but I didn't particularly care what he wanted to say because it was pretty hard to talk with a mouth full of dick, and he was for sure going to keep the mouth full of dick if I could help it. He let go of my shirt, slipping his hand down to palm himself through his underwear. I was almost paralysed with the thrill attacking all five senses: the taste of James' mouth still on my lips, the sound of him sucking me off, the feel, oh god, the unmistakable smell of sex in the room, and now the sight before me. Well, more below me, but still.
That was kind of it for me. I grasped James' arm, pulling him up to my level and kissing him forcefully, his hips crashing into mine without any persuading. I felt as if I'd been struck by lightning, blinding electric shock pouring into every bit of my body. James slid his leg forward past mine, lips fervent against my own. I closed my eyes, brushing my hands around his waist and down the back of his briefs, dragging them down slightly along the way. I grabbed at his ass, trying to pull his hips impossibly closer, harder on mine.
I could only take the rough pressure of his covered dick on my own before I was coming hard, clinging to him with my teeth around his lower lip, holding on for dear life. "Fuck, James, Jesus," I breathed out, all in one exhalation, meeting his eyes and seeing the raw desperation in his face. I took the waistband of the bright blue boxer-briefs and tugged them down, drawing back when he reached down and pushed my hands away. He leaned forward, connecting our lips again with a warm hand on my neck as the other went to finish himself off. I felt his cock twitch against my hip as he grasped it, my entire being still embarrassingly sensitive from my release.
James suddenly pulled his lips back from mine, letting a shaky moan from them as I felt him come across my abdomen. He leaned against me, slumping slightly. I couldn't tell what was his heart and what was mine, but I could hear the loud thump-thump of a slowing heart rate.
He looked over at his nightstand, his calm expression becoming suddenly stressed. "Shit, that was not part of my schedule. I still have to get ready." He reached up to touch his hair, becoming more and more worried. "Oh god, I look horrible! I can't go out like this!"
"Then spend the night in," I suggested reasonably, "with me."
He gave me a long look, picking up his cell phone and dialing. "Oh hey, Vanessa," he rasped, whispering hoarsely. "Yeah, I think I caught a cold from Carlos. I know, I would, it isn't that bad, but I don't want to get you sick or anything. I'm really sorry. Alright, later."
"Blame it on me, why don't you," I said accusingly, poking his shoulder.
"It is your fault, you know." He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer to me and resting his hands on my hips. "Round two, yeah?"
"Definitely."