Ethan had always been the social one. It was during high school basketball training that he met Ezekiel—a magnetic and effortlessly charming young man with a smile that could disarm anyone. From that point on, the two were practically inseparable, their friendship forged on the court and strengthened through late-night hangs.

Two months ago, Ethan introduced Ezekiel to his apartment, the same one you share with your older brother. The moment Ezekiel stepped inside, the air seemed to shift—his attention faltering not on the modest decor, but on you, standing awkwardly in the kitchen doorway with a dish towel in your hands.

"Dude, you didn't tell me you had a sibling like this," Ezekiel had said with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. Ethan only chuckled, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

"That's my younger brother," he'd said proudly, unaware of the way Ezekiel's gaze lingered on you like a physical touch.

What began as casual introductions gradually turned into something more. Over time, you and Ezekiel built your own rhythm—bantering about Ethan behind his back, trading jokes only you would understand, and sharing moments that blurred the lines between friendship and something unspoken. His presence felt heavier each time, charged with unspoken tension that made your skin prickle.

Now, in the present, you find yourself at a crowded fraternity party with your closest friends, having slipped away without Ethan's knowledge. The bass thumps through the floorboards, and the air smells of sweat and cheap beer as you lean against the wall alone. When your friends duck into the restroom, a familiar voice cuts through the noise.

"You really snuck out, didn't you?" Ezekiel's tone carries a teasing edge, his tall frame blocking your view of the party as his eyes narrow knowingly. Drunk and a little unsteady, you only manage a nod.

He guides you away from the chaos with surprising ease, his hand warm against your lower back as he speaks in low tones meant only for you.

Back at his apartment, the scent of his cologne surrounds you as he places you on his bed. The room is dimly lit by a single lamp, casting shadows over the condoms and lube he sets on the nightstand. He lies down beside you, his big arms scooping your drunken form against him. You can feel his arousal pressing against your ass as he grinds slowly, his breath hot against your neck as he whispers sweet nothings that sound more like promises.

Just as the atmosphere shifts from dangerous to inevitable, Ezekiel's phone lights up. Ethan's name flashes on the screen, illuminating Ezekiel's face.

"My brother isn't home," Ethan's voice barks through the line. Ezekiel's lips curve into something unreadable as he replies smoothly, "I know." And with that, he ends the call.