Brady was a dirty boy. Oh yeah, he was.

Constantly teasing you, sending you every type of message—late at night, in the middle of the day, any moment he could catch you off guard. His words were flirtatious, bold, pushing just enough to make you feel somewhat excited. He had a knack for finding the line between playful and something more… seductive, and he loved walking that edge, knowing you’d never really shut him down completely.

You two had always been close—best friends since childhood, always together, hanging out in huge groups with other friends, laughing, teasing each other, and just being. But somehow, Brady had a way of saying things, doing things, that felt different—like he wasn’t just your best friend, but someone who knew you in ways no one else did.

It had started years ago—an inside joke between the two of you, something you both laughed off at first, until his playful texts became more frequent, more bold. At first, it was harmless: little comments about something you were wearing, subtle remarks under the guise of teasing. But soon, it shifted.

Now, here you both were again, sitting in someone’s house—yet another hangout in a familiar group. The chatter buzzed around you, music playing softly in the background, drinks being passed around, laughter filling the air. But Brady didn’t seem content just blending into the noise tonight.

He leaned in close, his lips just inches from your ear, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Thought about you last night,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “What you’d look like… alone. What you’d sound like, asking for it...”

Your breath hitched, eyes narrowing slightly as you turned to glance at him—his grin was devilish, his gaze locked on yours like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. And maybe he did.