And this is part 2.
I couldn’t help but smile at the remark.
– It was a bit strong, right? Yeah, you don’t need to tell me. But hey, there’s more juice, so…,
– Nah, it’s great, I’d say it’s perfect. The perfect start to a vacation in a strange house by the sea kind of Cosmo.
– That’s so true. And I’m sure the bowl agrees.
– It must. Just look at it—standing there, oozing joy all over the counter.
– Yes, a truly quaint little happy bowl. I wish every bowl could be as happy as that one.
– Oh, that would be the dream. Happy bowls all over. But maybe it’s too much to hope for? That kind of happiness would probably end civilization as we know it. People would grind bowls into powder and snort it, desperate to capture the joy. And then what? Total chaos.
– Oooh, yes! And it would be so tragic. I can see it now: the hunt for bowls overtaking everything. Parents abandoning their kids to chase after cauldrons, people raiding cutlery stores for leftover ramekins—all for a taste of happy porcelain.
– Happy porcelain, Mats echoed, taking another sip and shivering slightly. Probably best kept a secret, he caught my eye with that mischievous smile. Our secret.
I took a few steps back, placing my glass on the counter and watching him. Mats had been acting strangely all day. Even this morning, when we first arrived at the house and raced to get ready for the beach, I noticed something different.
He waited until the girls had left the room before changing, wandering around in his briefs in front of me, and then standing by the living room window. He dropped them there, fully aware I could see him.
And I did. Watch him, that is.
He pulled the white cotton fabric slowly down his thighs and calves, revealing his ass. The dark hair on his thighs shifted as he moved, creating a stark contrast with the smooth, pale skin of his glutes. The size of his thighs was impossible to ignore, and his body fat? Probably in the negatives.
– That can’t be healthy, I thought, slightly baffled, as I silently watched his impromptu striptease.
He walked over to his suitcase, which was sitting open on the coffee table, and bent over—legs slightly apart—searching for his swim briefs. The position didn’t give me a full view of anything dangling on the other side, but it did offer a very detailed look at his ass: the interplay of his gluteus medius and minimus, working hard to stabilize his body during this “vigorous” search.
– Found them! he announced, lifting one foot onto the table as he pulled the swim briefs up. When he was done, he turned toward me, adjusting his dick in the snug fabric, and casually asked if I was ready to join him at the beach.
I was already dressed, so I shrugged, grabbed my towel and water bottle, and headed out to catch up with the girls.
On the beach, Mats knelt in front of me, knees spread wide, applying a laughably inadequate amount of sunscreen to his nose, chest, and shoulders. His girlfriend sighed in disbelief, muttering something under her breath before returning to her book.
I, however, had other priorities—namely, taking mental notes of how the sunlight played across his body. The shadows emphasized the marvelous contours of his abs, which rippled like gentle waves. His nipples hardening as he spread the lotion on them, and the fine hair on his thighs glimmered in the backlight of the dunes. Then there was that happy trail leading from his navel to the waistband of his briefs.
The briefs themselves were paper-thin, leaving little to the imagination: the contour of his dick was clearly visible, the head pressing softly against the fabric, pointing straight down between his balls, which filled the bulge perfectly.
And then he flopped down, making a half-hearted attempt to read, resting the book on his face and leaving me to guard that bulge with my life—if necessary.
And then, here we were in the kitchen. I leaned against the counter, the edge pressing lightly into my back, the chilled glass cool in my hand. Mats stood right before me, as sexy and frustratingly handsome as ever.
He turned to set his glass on the counter behind him, then leaned back, mirroring my posture. He scratched his left pec lazily before letting his hand play with the hair on his chest.
– You like my new swim briefs? he asked.
– Yeah, they’re nice, I replied. They look good on you.
He started fiddling with the waistband, glancing out the window as if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing.
– I thought I’d go with yellow this time, he said.
– Why? Not exactly your usual choice.
– I know. Thought I’d push my boundaries a little. And besides, you’ve always told me to ditch the trunks and go for something tighter.
– Well, I’m glad you listened. They look much better on you. I never understood the obsession with trunks—just unnecessary fabric weighing you down. Go lean, I say. Especially if you’ve got the body for it.
He traced the outline of his dick with his fingers, still looking out the window. The bulge seemed bigger now—or maybe just more defined.
– Yeah, you’re always the one saying I’ve got the body for it.
– Well, you do, so…
– And you’ve always told me to wear as little as possible, right?
– If you’ve got it, flaunt it. Madonna said so.
– Well, she would know, he laughed, finally meeting my eyes.
– She would, I said with a grin. And she’s right.
– Like Mary Poppins – perfect in every way.
– You or Madonna?
– You answer that.
– Well… I scratched my chest and took a sip of my cosmo. Madonna is very close to perfection. You’re not.
– WHAT? he said in a mock-shocked voice. Me? Not perfect?? And you’re supposed to be my friend. My best friend.
– Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Madonna has taken her clothes off. You haven’t. Easy as that.
He stared at me in disbelief, smiling.
– So that’s the sign of perfection? Getting naked for you?
– Well, it’s ONE important sign, I said and smiled. You can’t argue with that. At least in this case. And you started the comparison, not me. I’m just guiding you toward your better self.
– My better self…
– Yeah, a slightly more daring self, I’d say.
He leaned back against the counter, and he had to know how the soft light from the windows highlighted every single hot part of his body. His smile lingered as he watched me.
– And here I was, he said, still smiling, thinking you’d be happy with me. Doing as you’ve always told me – walking around almost naked in front of you for days on end.
– Well, that is nice – I agree. But ‘almost’… doesn’t that say it all?
Without breaking eye contact, I saw him slip his thumb into the waistband of his briefs. Slowly, he pulled it down just enough to reveal a bit more of the hair trailing downward. He took another sip of his drink and continued.
– You’ve also always told me I look great. That I’m hot.
– Yes. And I’m right – you are.
– No one else says that. Just you.
– Well, they’re stupid then. And I’m not. Doesn’t your girlfriend tell you that?
– Nope. Never. It’s mostly about her looks, not mine.
– Yeah, I shrugged. I know all about that.
– Does yours tell you you’re hot?
– Me? Never. I laughed loudly. NEVER. That would be the day.
– That’s so strange.
– Why?
– Because you are.
– Am what?
– Hot. Super hot. The hottest guy I’ve met.
Stressed and caught off guard, I started laughing and looked at him with a mix of surprise and disbelief.
– Really? Well, thank you… I guess.
– You don’t believe me?
– Of course not. Why should I?
– Because I tell you.
– Duuh, right… I shook my head. Naaah, thanks, Mats, but…
– But what?
– You’re right. I don’t believe you.
– Why?
– Because… I turned my head, looking around the room, trying to find the words. Because… why are you telling me this now? If you meant it, you’ve literally had years to tell me… and you haven’t, so… But thanks, those are kind words.
Mats shook his head, a hint of frustration creeping in.
– I have told you. Many times. I agree – not as often as you’ve told me – and by the way, I’ve loved every single time you’ve said it. Just to make that clear. You’ve been a constant boost to my self-esteem like no one else… But I’m sure I’ve told you.
– Mats, sweetest Mats, I’m not trying to argue here. And I’m pretty sure I would have noticed if you had told me.
– Would you? I mean, if there’s anyone in the entire world who is worse at receiving compliments, it’s you. You look like you’re about to throw up whenever someone is nice to you.
– Yeah, I know. That’s not my strongest point – agreed. But you do know this about me, and also…
– What?
– Well…
– What?
– Well… you also know that coming from you makes it extra important. You know that.
He took another sip, his expression thoughtful as he looked at me. His thumb was still pulling at the waistband of his briefs, the bulge still larger than usual.
– Yeah, I do. And to be honest, I think I might have played that down a bit over the years.
– Have you?
– Well, yeah – you must understand… having your best friend, who also happens to be a guy that everyone loves. I mean EVERYONE. Every single person you meet falls in love with you. The charm you sprinkle around like there’s no tomorrow captivates anyone who gets close to you.
He paused, his eyes locked at mine.
– And even more, you smile like you actually mean it. Every. Single. Time. I mean, you really smile. It’s like you bring the sun with you, and let it shine through you, so that we mere mortals get a glimpse of how great the world can be. How great it might actually be. And it’s like you make us believe that.
I fell into complete silence. Now I knew I had to have more booze.
– And, as if that wasn’t enough, you’re the most beautiful man there is. Your eyes are the bluest kind of grey I’ve ever seen.
– Mélangé, says the passport, I interrupted, but he kept going.
– The most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. And you’re the brightest person I have ever met – you just don’t know it. You refuse to know it. You take on every new task like you’ll conquer it, and you do. You always do. No matter what life throws at you, you just get to it and handle it. Still smiling, still caring, still more focused on everyone else’s well-being… yes, mine included, than your own.
– Oh fuck, I said, running a hand through my hair. This is unexpected.
– You tell me that I’m sexy but don’t know it – or that I know it but am too lame to do anything about it. I know, you’ve said that too. You order me to wear tighter swim briefs to show off my body. You tell me I have the most beautiful eyes, that I’m the brightest and funniest man you’ve ever met.
He paused, his gaze steady on mine.
– You’ve waited for hours for me when I surf – probably just to get a glimpse of me changing out of my wetsuit, but still. You make me feel hot. Like I’m on top of the world. Like I’m worth it. You make me cool among my friends because having you as my best friend makes me cool in their eyes.
He shifted slightly, leaning on the counter, his voice quieter now.
– And you’ve spent endless hours at the gym. I’ve even joked you should change your address to that place – and now, you’re getting the results you’ve been working so hard for. You are fucking hot, man. But you won’t see it. You just won’t.
I turned away, blinking fast, looking out at the sea through the tall windows. I couldn’t let the tears – the ones building up so intensely they almost felt alive – show. Deep breaths, I told myself. Deep breaths.
He stayed quiet for a moment, but I could feel his eyes on me, the weight of his words still hanging between us. Finally, he said, softly,
– You never see it, do you?
– See what? I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.
– How amazing you are. How much we care about you. How much I care about you.
I bit my lip and stayed silent.
– And how hot I think you are… Even now, when you’re trying so hard not to cry.
I turned my head just enough to glance at him, his words sinking in and pulling at something deep inside me.
– You’re an asshole, I muttered, quickly swiping at my eyes with my sleeve.
– Maybe, he said, but I’m your asshole.
– Are you? Mine? All mine?
– Well… of course. And I heard the smile in his voice as he added, My girlfriend has never been too interested in that part. But I know you are.
– Oh, fuck, you are an asshole, I said, laughing despite myself.
– Yup. But you still don’t see it, do you?
– What?
– Me, he said, his tone shifting, more serious now. Me, here, in front of you. Wearing the smallest pair of briefs I’ve ever, ever worn just because you want me to. Pulling the waistband down in a way I’ve never done for anyone else. Ever. Just because I know that for you, that’s really, really hot.
That stopped me cold. My head was a battlefield. One side was screaming, He’s joking, messing with you, stay cool! The other side whispered, But what if he’s serious? What if he wants something—something real—from you right now?
– And also, he continued, as I hope you’ve noticed for a while now… my dick is hard.
To be continued…
