This is my first full length story, so I hope you enjoy it! Please email me ([email protected]) any feedback. Enjoy!
All characters are entirely fictional besides Byron, whom has given me his express permission to include later in the book. Please follow him on Instagram (@byronrosekelly)!
The Apartment: The Kiss Test
Golden light spilled from a single bedside lamp, painting shadows across Jase's bedroom. Harry sprawled on the edge of the unmade bed, his massive frame dominating the space with effortless authority. His legs spread wide, arms braced behind him, he looked like he'd just stepped off a fitness magazine cover—all raw power and barely restrained vitality. The mattress dipped dramatically beneath his weight, the springs protesting audibly as he shifted position. His body radiated heat, warming the sheets that still carried Jase's scent. Every movement accentuated the thick slabs of muscle beneath his tight shirt, the fabric straining across his chest like it might surrender at any moment, the seams visibly stretched to their absolute limits.
Jase stood before him, rolling a beer bottle between his palms, the glass cool against his feverish skin. His eyes traced Harry's body with undisguised appreciation before finally meeting his gaze. Something primal and electric hung in the air between them, a tension so thick it made breathing difficult. Jase's tongue darted out to wet his lips, an unconscious gesture that drew Harry's attention instantly.
"I need to ask you something, but don't laugh." The words tumbled out before Jase could reconsider their implications.
Harry's lips quirked into that familiar smirk, the one that always made Jase's stomach perform an unexpected flip. "When have I ever laughed at you?"
Jase shot him a pointed look, his expression communicating volumes. They both knew Harry laughed at him constantly—it was their established dynamic, this constant back-and-forth that had defined their relationship for years.
"Alright, so there was this guy at The Velvet Stag," Jase continued, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the floorboard creaking beneath him like a subtle soundtrack to his discomfort. "We, uh, we made out for a bit, and afterward, he told me I was..." He exhaled sharply, the sound cutting through the room's stillness. "A shit kisser."
Harry's eyebrows shot up so fast they nearly disappeared into his hairline. His eyes widened with disbelief that bordered on amusement, his entire expression transforming with sudden animation.
"Mate. There's no way that happened," Harry scoffed, his deep voice resonating in the small room, filling the space with its rich timbre.
Jase groaned, dragging a hand over his face in apparent embarrassment. His fingers pressed hard against his skin, leaving momentary white marks as he tried to hide his expression. "It did. And now I'm paranoid about it." His gaze finally locked with Harry's, his voice dropping to something intimate, almost vulnerable. "I need you to tell me the truth."
A twist of heat spiraled through Harry's core, settling low in his abdomen with unexpected weight. The look in Jase's eyes was anything but innocent, carried suggestions that transcended their usual banter.
"Wait—you want me to kiss you?" The question emerged with genuine surprise, though something in Harry's tone suggested anticipation rather than rejection.
Jase's eyes flickered away, focusing on something invisible on the far wall. The moment stretched between them, taut with possibility and unspoken intention. "Just for a minute. Tell me if I'm bad at it."
Harry hesitated, but they both recognized it as performance rather than genuine reluctance. His pulse quickened beneath his skin, betraying his casual exterior with its racing rhythm. The proposition ignited something in him, a curiosity that had lurked beneath the surface of their friendship for longer than he cared to admit.
Still, Harry wasn't about to make this easy, wasn't about to surrender his customary control of any situation without extracting maximum enjoyment.
"I don't know, mate," Harry said, scratching his chin with deliberate nonchalance, fighting the smirk that threatened to break through his façade of casual consideration. "I feel like if we're gonna do this properly, you need the right mood. Can't be kissing a guy in jeans and a t-shirt, doesn't set the scene."
Jase's lips spread into a slow, predatory grin that sent a visible jolt down Harry's spine, his massive shoulders tensing slightly in response. "What would set the scene then, Haz?"
Harry huffed out a laugh, satisfaction evident in his expression. Hook, line, and sinker.
"I dunno, maybe something tight? Something to help you feel it?" The suggestion carried undeniable implication, pushing their interaction into territory they had circled for years without directly acknowledging.
Jase sauntered across the room with unhurried confidence, each step deliberate and measured as if he were approaching something both precious and dangerous. The floorboards whispered beneath his bare feet as he tugged open the dresser drawer—the one that had somehow become Harry's over time, because at this point, Harry practically lived there, his presence woven into the fabric of Jase's daily existence. Jase's fingers danced over neon fabrics before pulling out a pair of skin-tight orange Lycra shorts that would leave nothing to the imagination on anyone, let alone someone of Harry's extraordinary proportions.
"These." The word hung in the air like a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down between them.
Harry chuckled, the sound low in his throat, almost a growl. "Jesus. You've been waiting to get me in those, haven't you?"
Jase didn't answer, but his grin said everything that words couldn't.
Harry rose to his feet in one fluid motion, his body uncoiling with predatory grace despite its substantial mass. He peeled off his clothes with deliberate slowness, each movement a calculated performance—because he knew exactly what he was doing and exactly who was watching. The shirt came off first, dragged upward to reveal inch after inch of tanned skin stretched taut over rippling muscle. A light sheen of sweat made his torso glisten in the low light, highlighting every cut and valley of his abdomen, every striation across his extraordinary chest.
His jeans followed, thumbs hooking into the waistband, sliding them down powerful legs that flexed with each subtle shift. The sound of the zipper seemed obscenely loud in the quiet room, the metallic teeth parting reluctantly. He stood there for a moment, nearly naked, deliberately allowing Jase's gaze to consume him. Then he reached for the Lycra shorts, dragging them up over his massive quads with agonizing slowness, the fabric fighting a losing battle against his development. The material strained against him, protesting, yielding, finally surrendering to hug every thick, sculpted inch of his lower body like a desperate lover. The orange fabric clung to him indecently, outlining everything, hiding nothing, transforming suggestion into undeniable certainty.
When he finished, he stretched deliberately, arms reaching skyward, back arching slightly. His abs contracted, forming a deep valley down his center that drew the eye lower. His body was a masterpiece of hard lines and soft shadows, of barely contained power and raw vitality that filled the room like a tangible force.
Jase's Adam's apple bobbed visibly as he swallowed. His pupils dilated, black eclipsing blue with unmistakable reaction.
Yeah. He was in deep.
"Alright," Harry said, dropping onto the couch with casual grace that contradicted his massive size, the furniture creaking ominously beneath his sudden weight. "Come on then, let's test this kiss."
Jase lowered himself beside Harry, their thighs brushing with deliberate contact—closer than necessary, yet somehow not close enough. His hand came to rest on Harry's thigh, fingers pressing lightly into the taut Lycra, feeling the extraordinary density of muscle beneath, heat bleeding through the thin fabric.
Then, he leaned in.
The moment their lips connected, the world shattered around them.
Harry had expected something quick, something playful—a joke to laugh about later over pints. This wasn't that. This was fire and need and years of unspoken desire compressed into a single point of contact.
Jase took control instantly, one hand cupping Harry's jaw, fingers pressing into the skin with possessive intent, angling his face to deepen the connection. The kiss transformed from tentative to ravenous in seconds. His lips were soft but demanding, insistent, his tongue teasing along the seam of Harry's mouth until it opened for him. His breath came hot and sweet from the beer, mingling with Harry's own in a primal exchange that sent heat pooling low in Harry's abdomen.
A deep, guttural noise escaped from Harry's throat, vibrating against Jase's hungry mouth. His hands moved of their own accord, one gripping Jase's hip, fingers digging into the flesh there. He hadn't expected this—hadn't expected the skillful way Jase's tongue slid against his, the intensity that made his skin burn, the way Jase seemed to know exactly how to move against him, how to elicit responses Harry didn't know his body could make.
Jase's hands were everywhere at once—one pressing against Harry's thick, smooth pec, feeling the thundering heartbeat beneath, the other trailing up his neck, fingers threading through short hair. He tilted Harry's head, taking the kiss deeper, tasting, exploring, mapping every ridge and contour as if committing him to memory.
And then, Jase broke the script entirely.
He shifted, trailing his lips away from Harry's mouth—not stopping, not pulling back. His mouth blazed a path along Harry's jaw, then his cheek, then—
A sharp inhale cut through the silence.
Harry felt Jase's mouth scorch a path down his neck, finding that sensitive spot where pulse hammered against skin.
Hot. Impossibly soft. Lips pressing, sucking lightly. Teeth grazing, then biting down with just enough pressure to make Harry's hips jerk involuntarily. A deep, primal inhale as if Jase was breathing him in, consuming his scent, memorizing the essence of him.
A violent shiver of pleasure coursed through Harry's entire body, goosebumps erupting across his flushed skin. His head fell back against the couch, exposing more of his throat in silent invitation.
Jase moved lower still, his mouth skimming over the hard swell of Harry's pecs. His tongue traced a deliberate circle around one nipple, then flicked across it, drawing a choked sound from deep in Harry's chest. Every touch left a trail of fire and ice across his sensitized skin. Harry's hands found Jase's hair, fingers threading through the strands, unsure whether to pull him away or press him closer.
Harry's breath caught in his chest. His hands clenched at his sides, caught between conflicting impulses.
No. Nope. This wasn't part of the deal. This was something else entirely.
Jase must have realized it too, because suddenly, he jerked back, blinking rapidly like a man surfacing from deep water.
"Shit," he muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Got a bit carried away."
Harry's chest heaved as he stared at Jase, heat still buzzing through his veins like electricity. His lips felt swollen, sensitized, still tingling from the contact.
"Yeah," Harry murmured, voice rougher than before. "Guess that's a good sign though."
Jase laughed, but the sound was breathless, unsteady, betraying his affected nonchalance.
Harry smirked, stretching out on the couch with deliberate slowness. He shifted his massive thighs apart, the Lycra shorts completely incapable of concealing his considerable state of arousal. The thin fabric strained impressively against what was clearly a substantial endowment, the outline pressing insistently against the bright orange material, creating a sight that made Jase momentarily lose his train of thought.
He gestured downward with a casual flick of his wrist, but there was nothing casual about the heat in his eyes or the flush spreading across his chest.
"I mean," he chuckled, the sound dark and heavy with promise, "if you're getting this reaction out of a straight guy, you must be a pretty good kisser." His voice had dropped an octave, rough with need, challenging Jase to acknowledge the impressive evidence before him.
Jase's eyes flicked lower, lingering for just a heartbeat too long before he cleared his throat and looked away.
"Yeah," he said, standing abruptly, the couch springs protesting at the sudden movement. He headed toward the kitchen, steps slightly uneven. "Well. Guess I'll take that as a win."
Harry watched him go, the muscles in Jase's back tense beneath his thin t-shirt. They both knew what had just happened—what Jase wanted, what Harry was beginning to realize he might want too.
And for the first time, Harry understood with perfect clarity that if Jase pushed further, he wasn't sure he'd stop him.
The thought should have terrified him. Instead, it sent another wave of heat coursing through his body.
