It had been an ongoing thing ever since Bob had asked you out. At first you didn’t mind the jokes. Bob’s roommate, Joaquin, asking your boyfriend how he landed you.
The comments were constant. The last six months of your relationship with Bob accompanied by Joaquin’s teasing remarks.
“She’s way too hot for you, dude.”
”You’re living every man’s dream”
”Bet she’s the one wearing the pants, huh?”
At some point you had just ended up tuning it out. The snarky comments paling in comparison to the amount of times he’s called you mámi in that sultry voice.
Poor Bob just blushes every time and goes back to laughing it off. Lately his hands seem to find yours too quickly after, squeezing just a little tighter with a smile too stiff to be completely genuine. He’s too easy to read. His nervousness gives him away, and you all notice that little shift, too.
The thing is… you haven’t stopped thinking about it either. Especially when Bob shoots a playful “You keep staring and people are gonna think you’re serious” to his friend when you have another quiet night in together.
“What if I am?”
Joaquin counters with that smirk of his. Your stomach flips from where you’re nestled in at your usual spot by Bob’s side. You feel him laugh shakily against you, rubbing the back of his neck and clearing his throat.
“You’re out of your mind”
Bob’s words are defensive. His arms pulling you into him protectively, like you might be stolen away.
“Maybe,” comes the easy reply. Joaquín leans back in his armchair, eyes locked on you thoughtfully. “But tell me you’ve never thought about it.”
The air around you feels like it goes still. You and Bob freeze, his hand curling subconsciously against your knee. For a moment, he’s like a fish, mouth opening and closing as he racks his brain for a reply while a dangerous flush creeps up his neck and stains his cheeks crimson. That’s all the answer Joaquín needs.
“Holy shit,” he breathes out with a wicked grin. “You have.”
Bob snaps short and harsh. His eyes filled with fury and jealousy.
“Shut up”.
The worst part is that you feel yourself getting wet just listening to it, thighs clamping together shamefully as the image crosses your mind unbidden. Joaquín’s hands on your hips, his mouth on your jaw, his grunts low in your ear.
When you’re lying in bed later with Bob’s face buried in your neck, hips rocking into you like he’s too lost in thought to focus on his rhythm, you can’t stop thinking about that infuriatingly gorgeous smirk. When he cums, muffling his groan against your shoulder, you’re almost certain he’s picturing his best friend watching.
Yet, despite your little private trips to the Hub, you never expected anything to actually happen. It was just some little fantasy all of you have been secretly harbouring (well, maybe not secret on Joaquín’s part.) You certainly never expected Bob to be the mastermind behind it all when his best friend walks in on you straddling him one night in Bob's bedroom, palming him through his sweats.
“Woah,” Joaquín says, hands raising in surrender when you sit back with an alarmed protest about him not knocking. “Sorry. Bob texted me. Said he needed my help with something.”
Your eyes dart accusingly towards him.
“Um,” Bob says sheepishly, swallowing thickly as if he hasn’t secretly been preparing for this moment for the last hour. “Yeah. I did say that.”
Your gaze flicks to him in confusion. Silently asking him what he needed.
“Just do it”
Bob sighs in defeat.
“Do what?” Joaquin asks in confusion.
“Fuck her”
“What?”
Your voice syncs with Joaquin. Bob’s jaw clenches. He drags his hand over his face, muttering into his palm.
“You’ve been eye-fucking her for months, man. If it’s gonna drive you this crazy—”
He shrugs, like he hasn’t just suggested something totally wild and completely out of character for him.
“Just get it out of your system.”