There’s something to be said about a man who can talk around a mouthful of cock; what that something is, I didn't get the chance to discover. Though I was vaguely aware of Ashley's attempt to detach my oral orifice from his flagging phallus, as soon as Cade entered our den of sin, I went into shutdown mode. Frozen to the spot, I couldn’t look up, couldn’t look down—couldn't even attempt to cover my nudity, because if I'd moved one iota, I would've had to vacate the numbing yet comforting state of denial cocooning me from judgy reality.

Placing both hands on my shoulders, Ashley hissed, “Get off me.” 

I didn’t budge; Cade was staring at me with such intensity, my eye sockets ached in sympathy.

“What the fuck?” he repeated.

The sound of his voice reanimated me. I might have accidentally wounded Ashley’s deflating dick when I wrenched free. Pop!

Lash shrieked like the banshee he was.

My vocal cords unfroze. “Why did you give him the key to our room?”

With an unintelligible gibber, Ashley smacked me on the forearm; then grabbed his boxers from the floor and adorned them in less time than it takes to zip a fly. Had I been more lucid, I would’ve voiced my awe at his speediness.

Cade’s expression held the slowly dawning recognition that his eyes did not deceive him: he’d just witnessed his two best friends playing a perverted game of doctor.

“Edan!" Ashley snapped. “At least make yourself decent.”

I grabbed the ugly blue-and-white pinstriped sheet off the bed and bunched it in my lap.

My fuck buddy stage-whispered, “That’s better.”

I gave him the scariest glare I could muster, but he merely rolled his eyes and moved in Cade’s direction (who flinched when Lash smiled at him).

“Sorry, dude,” Ashley apologized. “I didn’t expect you to come over. I thought you were banging that groupie Lisa tonight.”

I had to bite my tongue. Not only was Lisa a total skank, but she was also the kind of girl Cade would only fuck if he were drunk or desperately horny.

Backing up, Cade covered his eyes with his hands. “I can't unsee it.”

Ashley pleaded, “Wait—”

“Let him go," I interrupted. "This isn’t his room. What the heck is he even doing here?” I drew the sheet closer to conceal my nakedness.

Something inside Cade must have snapped, because he came charging across the room like a raging bull and I almost screamed. Ignoring Ashley’s protests, Cade grabbed me by the hair, forcing me to look up at him.

I can’t say his dub-con brute force wasn’t a teensy bit arousing.

“I’m not supposed to be here?! What about you, Edan? Why are you sucking off my best friend?" Breathing hard, he added, "FYI I was headed over to Lisa’s place to get laid and I needed a condom, so forgive me for stopping by to borrow one.”

I made no attempt to remove Cade’s hand from my hair despite the pain in my scalp. Judging by the wild look in his eyes, he might punch me if I dared to twitch. I had no desire to fuel his rage—especially when he was still half drunk.

“You know, you can’t actually borrow a condom, Cade,” Ashley mused. “I don’t want it back when you’re done.”

Cade didn’t even smirk, but I laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of our situation. What a fucking mess.

“Is this your goal?” Cade growled, pulling my hair again. “To fuck everyone in the band by the end of the tour?”

“FYI,” I sarcastically shot back, self-preservation abandoned, “Ashley is the only band member I’m currently fucking.”

With a growl, Cade released me. I couldn’t help sighing in relief (and NGL, disappointment).

“Edan, you’re a pig.”

That stung.

Surprisingly, Ashley looked hurt too, although the comment wasn’t directed at him.

“Cade, it’s just sex. What’s the big deal?” he said. “You fuck girls all the time and no one cares. What’s wrong with Edan and I getting it on? I understand you didn’t necessarily want to catch us in the act, but we’re all adults here, right? No big trauma.”

“You're right. It’s not a big deal. It’s nothing,” Cade mumbled, stumbling to the door.

Sighing, I heaved myself off the mattress and waddled after him, sheet pooling around my legs like a pinstriped prairie skirt.

“Cade, you can’t just—”

“Are we friends?”

Does actively lusting after you render our friendship null and void? I pondered. Or does the friendship remain active so long as I don't reveal the extent of my crush?

“Yes,” I managed to affirm, simultaneously answering his question and mine.

“Then fucking act like it.”

I have to say, the way he slammed the door behind him was impressively melodramatic.

“What the hell does that even mean?” I shouted.

No answer.

Ashley sidled up and wrapped his arms around my waist. “You guys will be okay.”

“I don’t think so.” I shook my head. “He’s pretty shaken up.”

“Cade’s a big boy. He can handle this.”

“How come he didn’t blow up at you?”

I was genuinely intrigued. After all, Ashley and Cade were awfully chummy (not to mention, I'd spied a few suspicious mutual ass-grabs over the course of their BFF-ship).

“You’re dumb.” Lash led me back to his bed by the hand like we were children crossing the street.

“As accurate as your opinion may be, I still don’t get why he didn’t ream you a new one.”

A confused frown marred his lioness-like features. “Cade’s not gay.”

Exasperated, I plopped on the mattress. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, you said ‘ream,’ so I naturally assumed—”

“Lash! Get your mind out of the gutter. This is important.”

“But I’m still kinda horny,” he whined, clutching me tightly.

“All in good time.” Wriggling out of his embrace, I commanded, "Now speak.”

“Look...”

I awaited the rest of his response with “Oh Jesus!” eyes, expecting the worst.

“Cade knows I like guys,” Ashley said. “This isn't the first time he’s been exposed to gay sex. Furthermore”—he shushed my attempt to speak—“he knows I think you're hot, though he doesn't know we've been hooking up for years. Naturally he wouldn’t get mad at me for acting out an ancient fantasy.”

I inwardly cringed at “ancient” as his choice of adjective, but kept my mouth shut.

“He's pissed at you because he doesn't want to see me hurt,” Ashley hypothesized.

“I wouldn't hurt you.” I scoffed. “I'm a considerate top.”

Snorting, Ashley pulled me close. "We can still fuck, okay? Maybe we should be more careful about when and where we do it.”

He sounded logical, calm and collected: Ashley's nonchalance impressed me. Beneath the surface, however, his blasé attitude rang false. I didn’t care to figure out why, because I was too preoccupied with self-pity (loser, party of one), so I let it slide. In hindsight, that was a terrible idea.

I bit my lip. “Maybe we should cool it for a while, at least until Cade’s not—”

“Stop worrying about him. He sure as hell isn't worrying about you, so be a good boy and finish what you started.” Ashley gestured to his crotch.

Hm. He did make a convincing point. Despite my misgivings, I managed to continue where I'd left off, dutifully bringing Ashley to a jumbo orgasm. Amid his triumphant hollering, I got the ick. Cade had likely arrived at Lisa-bot’s (a mean nickname, but she was so expressionless, she had to be an android) place by now; the thought of them together made me want to vomit, then watch them fuck, then vomit again.

After he came, Ashley sent me on a mission to score snacks from the vending machine. On my way out, I noticed a piece of paper from the hotel's complimentary notepad taped to our door.

It read as follows (in all caps, a clear indicator of passion): FUCK YOU.

Yes, Cade, I thought, Say the word and I'll be your switch.

In a weird way, I was relieved. If he cared enough to send me hate mail, that meant I might have a ghost of a chance to “realize an ancient fantasy,” as Ashley had so artlessly stated. Challenge accepted.

After Lash passed out, I made another deposit in the wee-hours spank-bank before the cock started to crow. Hair-pulling: rawr. So my thing.