Chapter Text
It started, like all love stories do - the real kind of love story, when you know it's true and genuine, not just a passing whimsy - with a good ol' fashioned wank session.
Sebastian Edwards - son of Jack Edwards and Robin Callas, 24, freelance programmer, web designer, computer tech, and general technology odd-job man in the small village of Pelican town – pushed the door open to his best friend’s bedroom. “Hey man, you wanna play some— shit, sorry dude.”
Sam was sprawled on the bed, pants around his knees, hand around his dick. Seb stood wide-eyed for a moment, frozen in place. Three eyes stared back at him: two of them familiar brilliant blue, shocked; the other being the small slit on the slick, engorged head of his best friend's erect penis.
He closed the door rather suddenly. "I'll, uh, come back later..." he called through the solid wood.
"Right." Came the strangled reply.
Seb hurried out of the house, grateful that nobody else was home to see how red his face was.
Not that he had anything to embarrassed about. He wasn’t the one pounding his meat at 1pm on a Friday.
Yoba, Sam had looked funny. Red faced and wide eyed, hair all messy, gripping his dick like he was afraid it would get away from him. Seb snorted briefly at the idea of a dick flying away mid jerk sesh. He’d have to sketch that at some point.
Really, Sebastian thought as he walked home, the strange thing was that neither of them had walked in on each other before this. Knocking had never been common between them.
It wasn't a bad looking dick, really. Not that Seb cared, but it was nice for Sam that it wasn't tiny. Although it was definitely weird that he was thinking about his best friend’s dick.
Could he make fun of Sam for this? Yeah. Definitely. He wouldn't tell Abigail about it, but there would be ten times more dick jokes than usual at pool night later today.
Why was he jerking it in the middle of the day, anyways? Didn't he have stuff to do? He'd have to make fun of Sam for that, too. Maybe next time Sam complained about him being busy. Something like “Some of us have work and don’t just sit around jerkin’ it all day.” Oh man, yeah, that was good. He could see the blush already. Dang, he was going to get so much good material out of this incident.
All in all, it wasn’t the end of the world that he’d come face-to-face with Sam’s dick. Sam was gonna be a lot more embarrassed about it then he was – if he wasn’t already, Seb would definitely make him embarrassed.
He pushed open the door to his house and nodded at his mother as he walked by, heading down to his basement bedroom.
Flopping down on his bed, he realized that he kind of felt like beating off as well.
Weird.
It was probably just because it had been a while.
Well, why not? Unlike Sam, he had a lock on his bedroom door.
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Sam had been in a lot of awkward situations in his life. He’d always had a special talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like that one time he'd seen the strange new farmer digging through his garbage can, up to her elbows, pulling out some broken CDs and a dead crab that Vincent had brought home from the beach. Or - and he tried not to think about this one - when he walked in on Mayor Lewis naked in the spa changeroom, examining his penis in a mirror. That had been extremely uncomfortable. He tried not to make eye contact with the Mayor now. At least Seb and Abby at had a good laugh about it.
But this had to take the cake. Early afternoon, home alone, close to getting off – and the object of his fantasies had walked in on him just casually jerking it on the bed. Nothing was quite like imagining someone naked and moaning above you and then seeing them fully clothed and gaping at your exposed dick.
He had imagined Seb walking in on him. Lots of times. It was one of his favourite fantasies, actually.
In the fantasies he didn't leave and shut the door, though. He would enter instead, eyes on Sam's cock, shutting the door behind him. Give him a dirty leer. Drawl, "You need a hand with that, pal?"
And Sam wouldn't reply because he didn't have to; Seb would take over. Seb who was so good at everything he tried to do. He’d press his body against Sam's, slide a slender hand under Sam's bigger, awkwarder hand on his dick. Drag a smooth finger up the bottom of it, pushing his own erection against Sam's thigh.
Then Seb would grip it and Sam knew how strong those hands were, and start to slowly pump, speeding up gradually, grinding against him, teeth grazing Sam's neck, and he'd whisper, voice low and grating, "You like that?" and Sam would just nod and moan—
And he was hard again. Dammit. He was supposed to be being ashamed right now, not getting horny at the thought of his best friend jerking him off.
Seb was just so hot. It’s not easy being horny for a dude that you hang around all the time, who has this effortlessly casual androgyny, who has slender, capable hands that do everything so well and would just fit so perfectly around your dick.
Sam figured he was probably gay. He wasn’t interested in any guy but Seb, but he definitely wasn’t interested in any girls. Really, he wasn’t so much homosexual as… Sebosexual? Sebassexual?
Super fuckin’ into his straight best friend, that’s what. And it was frustrating as hell.