“I mean, wouldn’t you? Just to see what it’s like?”Sarah’s voice was a low, curious hum in the dark. On the screen, the two friends were finally giving in, clothes flying, the movie’s score swelling to a predictable crescendo.David shifted on his end of the couch, the leather groaning under his weight. He could feel the heat of her, just a foot away, a magnetic pull he’d been fighting for weeks. “See what what’s like? Ruining a decade of friendship for one night?”She turned her head, her dark-lined eyes glinting in the flickering TV light. “It doesn’t have to ruin it. That’s the whole point of the movie. It’s only a big deal if you make it a big deal. If nobody catches feelings.”He forced a laugh, rough and unconvincing. “Yeah, okay. Because that’s how it works. Two people just… disconnect the emotion, fuck like rabbits, and go back to splitting a pizza the next day like nothing happened. Totally realistic.”“You’re such a cynic.” She drew her legs up onto the cushion, tucking her feet underneath her. The movement made her tiny, black yoga shorts strain across the taut curve of her thighs. David’s gaze snagged there for a heartbeat too long, tracing the powerful lines of her quadriceps, the smooth, pale skin that seemed to glow in the dim room. He’d seen her in these shorts a dozen times since she’d moved into his guest room three weeks ago. It hadn’t gotten any easier.He was hyper-aware of every single thing about her. The faint scent of her coconut shampoo. The way she absently chewed on her lower lip, smudging her dark lipstick. The tempting swell of her breasts under her thin, worn-out band t-shirt. Jesus, don’t look at her tits. He dragged his eyes back to the screen.“I’m not a cynic, I’m a realist,” he countered, trying to sound casual. “You add sex to a friendship and it’s like adding a chemical reactant. It changes the composition. Permanently.”“Maybe it makes it stronger,” she mused, her tone light, almost teasing. She reached for her glass of wine on the coffee table, the movement causing her shirt to ride up and expose a sliver of her toned stomach and the edge of a tattoo on her hip he’d never seen before. His mouth went dry. “Or maybe it’s just… fun. A release. You used to be all about that, Mr. Player. What happened to you?”“I grew up,” he said, his voice tighter than he intended.The truth was, he’d been quietly, desperately in love with her since their sophomore year of college. He’d dated other people, sure, but it was all just noise. A distraction from the constant, humming frequency of Sarah that had always been there in the background of his life. And now, having her here, in his space, was a special kind of torture. She’d pad around the kitchen in the morning wearing nothing but an oversized sleep shirt that did little to hide the jiggle of her ass or the bounce of her tits as she moved. She’d ask him to zip up a tight, little black dress for her, her back bare and vulnerable under his trembling fingers. She’d flop down on this very couch, her thighs sprawling, and talk about her terrible dates, completely oblivious to the effect she was having on him.He was losing his goddamn mind.The movie credits began to roll, casting the room in a soft, blue light.“So, you’re telling me,” she began, swirling the last of the wine in her glass, “that if the opportunity presented itself with a friend—a hot friend, obviously—you’d just say no? On principle?”“Yes,” he said, the word feeling like a lie on his tongue. “Because I value the friendship more.”“Hmm.” She placed her glass down with a quiet click. “I don’t know. I think I’d do it.”The air in the room suddenly felt thick, charged. David’s heart gave a hard, heavy thump against his ribs. “With who?” he asked, and he hated the way his voice cracked on the second word.She looked at him then, a slow, smoky smile playing on her lips. It wasn’t her usual sarcastic grin. This was different. Softer. More dangerous. Her eyes traveled over his face, down to the tattoos peeking out from the sleeves of his shirt, then back up. She let the silence stretch, pulling it taut between them.With who, Sarah?She unfolded herself from the couch in one fluid motion, her thighs flexing as she stood. She stretched her arms over her head, a gesture that was both innocent and utterly erotic, lifting her shirt and highlighting the gentle curve of her waist and the full, perfect shape of her breasts.“I’d do it with you,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.Time stopped. The hum of the refrigerator, the distant sound of traffic outside—it all faded into a dull buzz. David could only stare, his brain short-circuiting, trying to process the five words that had just dismantled his entire reality.She gave him another one of those small, infuriatingly knowing smiles, then turned and walked toward the hallway. “Night, David.”He watched her go, his eyes glued to the hypnotic sway of her hips, the way her perfect, round ass moved under the soft fabric of her shorts. She paused at the mouth of the hallway, her hand on the wall, and glanced back over her shoulder. Her dark hair fell across one eye.“Think about it,” she said softly.Then she was gone, her bedroom door clicking shut behind her.David sat frozen on the couch, the credits still rolling on the silent screen. The phantom imprint of her was everywhere—the dent in the cushion where she’d been, the faint scent of her wine on the air, the devastating echo of her words.I’d do it with you.A jolt of pure, undiluted heat shot straight to his groin. He was painfully hard, his cock straining against the confines of his jeans. He let out a shaky breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His mind was a riot of images: her lips, her thighs wrapping around him, the weight of her tits in his hands.Was she toying with him? Was this just another one of her games, another way to get inside his head because she knew she could? Or did she mean it?He stood up, his legs unsteady, and paced to the center of the room. He ran a hand through his bleached hair, tugging at the roots. He should go to his room. He should take a cold shower. He should do anything but stand here, drowning in the sudden, suffocating want she had unleashed.But his feet carried him toward her door instead. It was closed, a thin bar of yellow light visible at the bottom. He stopped in front of it, his hand hovering an inch from the wood. He could hear the faint rustle of movement inside.His heart was pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He could knock. He could push the door open and…He lowered his hand, fist clenching at his side. No. Don’t be an idiot. She’s messing with you.But what if she wasn’t?The door opened suddenly, making him jump back a step.Sarah stood there, but the lights were off behind her, casting her face in shadow. She’d taken off her shirt. She was standing in nothing but her tiny black shorts and a simple black bra that did incredible, devastating things to the full swell of her breasts. The tattoos on her collarbone seemed to dance in the dim light.She didn’t look surprised to see him there. A slow, victorious smile spread across her face.“Couldn’t stop thinking about it, could you?” she murmured.

Sarah and David are watching a movie on the couch, and Sarah suggests they should have sex to see what it's like, and David is resistant.  Sarah gets up and says she would do it with David, and then goes to her room. David follows her, and Sarah is standing in her doorway in just her bra and shorts.

_“I mean, wouldn’t you? Just to see what it’s like?”_

Sarah’s voice was a low, curious hum in the dark. On the screen, the two friends were finally giving in, clothes flying, the movie’s score swelling to a predictable crescendo.

David shifted on his end of the couch, the leather groaning under his weight. He could feel the heat of her, just a foot away, a magnetic pull he’d been fighting for weeks. “See what what’s like? Ruining a decade of friendship for one night?”

She turned her head, her dark-lined eyes glinting in the flickering TV light. “It doesn’t have to ruin it. That’s the whole point of the movie. It’s only a big deal if you _make_ it a big deal. If nobody catches feelings.”

He forced a laugh, rough and unconvincing. “Yeah, okay. Because that’s how it works. Two people just… disconnect the emotion, fuck like rabbits, and go back to splitting a pizza the next day like nothing happened. Totally realistic.”

“You’re such a cynic.” She drew her legs up onto the cushion, tucking her feet underneath her. The movement made her tiny, black yoga shorts strain across the taut curve of her _thighs_. David’s gaze snagged there for a heartbeat too long, tracing the powerful lines of her quadriceps, the smooth, pale skin that seemed to glow in the dim room. He’d seen her in these shorts a dozen times since she’d moved into his guest room three weeks ago. It hadn’t gotten any easier.

He was hyper-aware of every single thing about her. The faint scent of her coconut shampoo. The way she absently chewed on her lower lip, smudging her dark lipstick. The tempting swell of her breasts under her thin, worn-out band t-shirt. _Jesus, don’t look at her tits._ He dragged his eyes back to the screen.

“I’m not a cynic, I’m a realist,” he countered, trying to sound casual. “You add sex to a friendship and it’s like adding a chemical reactant. It changes the composition. Permanently.”

“Maybe it makes it stronger,” she mused, her tone light, almost teasing. She reached for her glass of wine on the coffee table, the movement causing her shirt to ride up and expose a sliver of her toned stomach and the edge of a tattoo on her hip he’d never seen before. His mouth went dry. “Or maybe it’s just… fun. A release. You used to be all about that, Mr. Player. What happened to you?”

“I grew up,” he said, his voice tighter than he intended.

The truth was, he’d been quietly, desperately in love with her since their sophomore year of college. He’d dated other people, sure, but it was all just noise. A distraction from the constant, humming frequency of _Sarah_ that had always been there in the background of his life. And now, having her here, in his space, was a special kind of torture. She’d pad around the kitchen in the morning wearing nothing but an oversized sleep shirt that did little to hide the jiggle of her ass or the bounce of her _tits_ as she moved. She’d ask him to zip up a tight, little black dress for her, her back bare and vulnerable under his trembling fingers. She’d flop down on this very couch, her _thighs_ sprawling, and talk about her terrible dates, completely oblivious to the effect she was having on him.

He was losing his goddamn mind.

The movie credits began to roll, casting the room in a soft, blue light.

“So, you’re telling me,” she began, swirling the last of the wine in her glass, “that if the opportunity presented itself with a friend—a _hot_ friend, obviously—you’d just say no? On principle?”

“Yes,” he said, the word feeling like a lie on his tongue. “Because I value the friendship more.”

“Hmm.” She placed her glass down with a quiet click. “I don’t know. I think I’d do it.”

The air in the room suddenly felt thick, charged. David’s heart gave a hard, heavy thump against his ribs. “With who?” he asked, and he hated the way his voice cracked on the second word.

She looked at him then, a slow, smoky smile playing on her lips. It wasn’t her usual sarcastic grin. This was different. Softer. More dangerous. Her eyes traveled over his face, down to the tattoos peeking out from the sleeves of his shirt, then back up. She let the silence stretch, pulling it taut between them.

_With who, Sarah?_

She unfolded herself from the couch in one fluid motion, her _thighs_ flexing as she stood. She stretched her arms over her head, a gesture that was both innocent and utterly erotic, lifting her shirt and highlighting the gentle curve of her waist and the full, perfect shape of her breasts.

“I’d do it with you,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

Time stopped. The hum of the refrigerator, the distant sound of traffic outside—it all faded into a dull buzz. David could only stare, his brain short-circuiting, trying to process the five words that had just dismantled his entire reality.

She gave him another one of those small, infuriatingly knowing smiles, then turned and walked toward the hallway. “Night, David.”

He watched her go, his eyes glued to the hypnotic sway of her hips, the way her perfect, round ass moved under the soft fabric of her shorts. She paused at the mouth of the hallway, her hand on the wall, and glanced back over her shoulder. Her dark hair fell across one eye.

“Think about it,” she said softly.

Then she was gone, her bedroom door clicking shut behind her.

David sat frozen on the couch, the credits still rolling on the silent screen. The phantom imprint of her was everywhere—the dent in the cushion where she’d been, the faint scent of her wine on the air, the devastating echo of her words.

_*I’d do it with you.*_

A jolt of pure, undiluted heat shot straight to his groin. He was painfully hard, his cock straining against the confines of his jeans. He let out a shaky breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His mind was a riot of images: her lips, her _thighs_ wrapping around him, the weight of her _tits_ in his hands.

Was she toying with him? Was this just another one of her games, another way to get inside his head because she knew she could? Or did she mean it?

He stood up, his legs unsteady, and paced to the center of the room. He ran a hand through his bleached hair, tugging at the roots. He should go to his room. He should take a cold shower. He should do anything but stand here, drowning in the sudden, suffocating want she had unleashed.

But his feet carried him toward her door instead. It was closed, a thin bar of yellow light visible at the bottom. He stopped in front of it, his hand hovering an inch from the wood. He could hear the faint rustle of movement inside.

His heart was pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He could knock. He could push the door open and…

He lowered his hand, fist clenching at his side. _No. Don’t be an idiot. She’s messing with you._

But what if she wasn’t?

The door opened suddenly, making him jump back a step.

Sarah stood there, but the lights were off behind her, casting her face in shadow. She’d taken off her shirt. She was standing in nothing but her tiny black shorts and a simple black bra that did incredible, devastating things to the full swell of her breasts. The tattoos on her collarbone seemed to dance in the dim light.

She didn’t look surprised to see him there. A slow, victorious smile spread across her face.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about it, could you?” she murmured.

Best friends David and Sarah navigate the complexities of their relationship when Sarah moves in with David and their platonic dynamic begins to shift.

David, who has long harbored secret feelings for Sarah, struggles to maintain his composure as Sarah, oblivious to his affections, teases him with her casual behavior and revealing outfits.

The two discuss the idea of friends sleeping together and the potential consequences, leading to a slow burn of sexual tension as David grapples with his feelings and Sarah's unexpected proposition.

I wanna ruin our friendship, we should be lovers instead

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