Playing Boyfriends 💋 | Bonus Scene: Matteo’s Side (Patreon)

All characters depicted in this story are fictional and 18 years of age or older. Everything portrayed is safe, sane, and consensual.

This chapter is written from Matteo’s point of view.

The Lie That Became Real

I still remember the first time I kissed him. Not the real one, not yet. The movie night at my place, Jessica was sitting on the other couch with that look on her face, the one that said she was waiting for us to slip. Adrian was next to me on the sofa, close enough that our thighs touched. When Jessica walked out of the room for more wine, I turned to him and said, “You do not mind if we kiss in front of her, right?”

He said, “If it helps.”

I leaned in. It was supposed to be quick, just enough to sell the lie. But the second my lips touched his, something inside me shifted. His mouth was soft, warm, a little hesitant at first, then parting just enough for me to feel the heat of him. My hand found his jaw without thinking, fingers brushing the stubble there. I pulled back too soon, played it off like it was nothing. “See? Totally natural.”

Jessica laughed from the doorway, sarcastic, but I barely heard her. My heart was pounding. I sat back, pressed play on the movie, and pretended the room had not just tilted.

After that night, I could not stop thinking about it. The way Adrian’s lips felt. The quiet sound he made when I kissed him. I told myself it was the adrenaline, the performance, the wine. I was straight. I had always been straight. But the memory kept coming back, especially when we were alone. I started noticing things I had never noticed before. The way his shirt clung to his shoulders when he laughed. The curve of his neck when he tilted his head. The quiet way he looked at me sometimes, like he was seeing something I did not know how to name.

I wanted to kiss him again. Not for show. Just to see what it felt like without an audience. The thought alone made my dick hard, lying in bed at night, hand slipping under the waistband of my boxers, stroking slow while I pictured his mouth on mine. I came fast, guilty, telling myself it was just curiosity. Just a phase. Just because he was my best friend and we had gotten too close.

But it did not stop.

The beach day made it worse. Rubbing sunscreen on his back, feeling the muscles move under my hands, watching the way his skin flushed under the sun. I poured water over myself later, trying to cool off, but all I could think about was him watching me, eyes dark. That night, when we shared the bed at Antonio’s, I could not sleep. His body pressed against mine, warm and solid. I got hard again, pressed against his ass, and had to fight the urge to move. I told myself that my dick didn’t know it was a dude’s ass. That my body just reacted. It did not mean anything. But I was wrong.

The jerking off scene broke something in me. When he wrapped his hand around me, slow and sure, I almost came right then. The way he looked at me, the way he touched me, like he had wanted to for years. I came hard, spilling over his fingers, laughing afterward because I did not know what else to do. But afterward, when he went to the bathroom, I lay there staring at the ceiling, heart racing, thinking: I should have touched him back. I should have made him feel good too. I felt like an asshole for leaving him hanging.

The days after that were torture. I pulled away because I did not know how to face him. Every time I saw him in the office, I wanted to drag him into the break room and kiss him until we both forgot how to breathe. Instead I kept it short. Friendly texts. Quick smiles. Gym excuses. I was scared. Scared that if I admitted it out loud, everything would change. Scared that if I did not, I would lose him anyway.

Family weekend was the worst. Sitting at Mum’s table, everyone laughing, pasta everywhere, I kept wishing he was there. Not as the friend. As mine. Mum asked about him once, teasing, “Where is your boyfriend?” I laughed it off, said it was fake, but the word tasted wrong in my mouth. I wanted him there, next to me, stealing bites from my plate, making my mum smile. I wanted to hold his hand under the table. I wanted to kiss him goodnight in my old bedroom, door closed, no one watching.

I thought about him too much. Too often. Alone in my room, hand on myself, imagining his mouth, his hands, the way he would sound if I touched him the way he touched me. I came thinking of fucking him every time, then felt guilty after. I told myself it was just physical. Just curiosity. Just because he was safe, because I trusted him.

Then one night I did what every bicurious guy might do. I opened my laptop, heart pounding, and searched. Gay porn. First time stuff. Slow, gentle scenes. Guys kissing like they meant it. Hands exploring. Mouths on each other. I watched for a while, stroking myself, trying to picture what it would feel like to do it with Adrian. Trying to imagine how I would touch him. How I would make him moan. How I would take care of him the way he took care of me.

I wanted to please him. I wanted to get it right. I wanted to see his face when he came because of me.

The party was supposed to be another test. Another night of pretending. But when he walked in, white linen shirt open at the collar, black pants hugging his thighs, looking like he had stepped out of every fantasy I had been trying to ignore, something inside me cracked open.

I could not pretend anymore.

And when I pulled him into the bathroom, when the door locked behind us, when I finally said the words out loud, I knew there was no going back.

I was not straight. Not anymore. Maybe I never really was.

All I knew was that I wanted him. And I was done hiding it.

────────────────Playing Boyfriends 💋 | Season 1, Episode 13: Inside You (Finale)