Beside me | ONESHOTs

Warning: bit of mature content

Aaron's pov

I hate when people belittle me. Especially after they find out about my one-night stands. It's not their life, so why do they care? I don't go around digging into their private lives either.

Though... maybe I could be a bit more considerate toward Jesse.

Yeah, right—he pissed me off, so why should I?

No one's allowed to stick their nose in my business.

Like Jesse.

I didn't dislike him at first. When I was a kid, I was shy, and Jesse was the only one my age I played with, since our moms were childhood friends. Jesse's always been old-fashioned, strict with himself about relationships. Wait six months before touching your partner, don't smoke, don't drink—that whole act.

I started to kind of hate him after high school. Maybe an inferiority complex? We went to an elite private school together, but I was always asked about Jesse. Girls just wanted to know about him, leaving no chance for my own romances, because everyone was into Jesse. That smart, mysterious, "sexy" guy. No one wanted the pretty, gentle boy. That's why I started sleeping around. To feel... needed.

Yeah, that's it. All because of Jesse—and he doesn't give a damn about me now. So why should I care about him, when he's the reason I'm like this? And I don't regret it. Treating my body like trash? So be it.

"Hey, Aaron—need me to grab anything from the supermarket?" Jesse's husky voice broke through my thoughts. I liked his voice, his look, his eyes—but he was such a conservative asshole.

"Condoms and lubricant, please?" I replied teasingly, just to get a rise out of him.

The horrified look on his face was priceless. "Could you say something not dirty, I beg you? Just for once."

"Would you blush if you had to buy condoms? Never done it before?" I laughed, hanging my head upside down from the bed. Even from this angle, his jawline was strong and sharp. It'd be so sexy if he used that mouth on me. Even more arousing knowing how pure he really is.

I could practically feel him rolling his eyes at my stupidity, but he just stood there, expressionless, clenching his jaw tighter. And damn, that was sexy, too. He was being cute again.

Not that I'm into guys like Jesse—he's obviously a top. I can't imagine this outdated jerk as a bottom, with his personality. But whoever ends up with him, they're going to be blessed. And their ass will be, too. I accidentally caught a glimpse of him in the showers back in high school gym class once. Let's just say "little friend" isn't the right term. More like a sword to pierce someone.

Just kidding. He's not that freakish, still fully human. Kind of a shame, though. That magnificent buddy has no use except peeing.

But what Jesse said in response left me shocked—and amused.

"I'd never buy condoms at a supermarket—they don't carry my size, you know? Only the 'universal' kind that won't fit me." Jesse leaned against the doorframe, making it clear he wasn't planning to come into my room. Unlike him, I actually had my own space. His "room" was separated from the kitchen by nothing more than a curtain. Both of our families were wealthy, but they'd refused to let us enjoy that privilege here, insisting we learn to "live on our own" first.

I burst into laughter. If anyone else had said that, it would have sounded smug and disgustingly arrogant—but coming from Jesse, Mr. Immaculate, it somehow didn't.

'How would you like it if someone fucked you roughly from behind, pulling your hair and calling you a loose little whore?'

My laughter trailed off, the memory of last week's conversation creeping into my mind. Immaculate? Pure? Jesse's filthy language echoed in my thoughts, and a weird heat coiled in my lower stomach. Images flooded my brain, scenes so vivid and sudden they left me breathless: me on all fours, my back arching as I tried to lift myself higher for Jesse to pound into me mercilessly. The wet, sinful sounds from my untouched hole mixing with my shameless moans—my lips forming an "O" as I begged, "Please, slower. Ah—I can't take it! I'll cum! Jesse!"

But in that vision, he didn't slow down. He grinned through clenched teeth and thrust even harder, his pace punishing as he grabbed the back of my neck and whispered in my ear, "You filthy bitch, you say you want to stop, but your body says otherwise. Is this enough? Or do you want me to shape your insides until they remember me? Tell me, what do you want?"

I shook my head sharply, trying to dispel the thoughts. What the hell was I thinking?

Jesse was still standing there, watching me with an unreadable expression. His posture was stiff, unsure, like he didn't know what to do. I had laughed one moment and then gone silent, visibly trembling as I processed the bizarre turn my imagination had taken.

"Aaron? You okay?" His voice was hesitant, and his eyebrows knit together in concern. Or was I imagining that, too?

I rubbed my eyes, trying to erase the heated images from my mind. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just get me some apples and milk, okay? Thanks." I brushed him off, desperate for him to leave.

He lingered for a moment, eyes narrowing as if to make sure I wasn't lying. Then, finally, he nodded and left.

I slumped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Well, Aaron, you've got a problem. And not just the one tightening in my pants. The real problem was that I was starting to feel physical attraction to a guy I'd known for years without ever imagining any intimacy with him.

No—that was a lie. I'd thought about it before, just never like this. Never to this extent.

I slipped my hand into my pants, conscience be damned. I was already filthy; indulging now wouldn't change anything.

As I satisfied myself with those vivid images of Jesse, realization washed over me. I didn't fully understand it then, but that was the day I finally admitted, after all these years since high school, that everything I did—every one-night stand—was because of him.

Because of that old-fashioned jerk I'd fallen in love with.

I came.

But I didn't feel any relief—not even a little. My chest tightened painfully, and my mind went blank. Only one thought crossed my brain, screaming in a painful crescendo and sending sharp, aching signals to my heart.

It was never about being jealous of Jesse. I never envied him. I was jealous because of him. Because he didn't see me, didn't talk to me the way I wanted him to. I couldn't be cheap like the others who sent him confession letters or tried to catch his attention with silly stunts. I was trying to fill a void, starving for his gaze, his attention, the warmth of his body.

So, I slept with others like a manwhore. But why had I never tried bottoming? It wasn't that I found it unacceptable.

It was because I wanted to stay a virgin for Jesse.

Holy shit.

Now, I was perfectly screwed.