Unforgivable

One

It shouldn't have happened, never considered it could happen, but the truth is undeniable. My truth is standing in front of me in a hastily put on pair of blue boxers with fire in his amber eyes. It's a miracle I'm not singed yet as I watch him try to stop the flames from escaping. His control is impressive. I barely feel the heat and have no way of protecting myself if he loses it. My powers haven't surfaced, if I have any, which I find debatable. Shock, stress, surprise, or puberty are the usual triggers but I've made to the age of twenty without making a single spark of anything. At this moment, there's a full fledged fire user standing here ready to barbecue me and there's not a glimmer of magical reaction. I resign myself to my fate of lameness and soon-to-be friendlessness. The latter pains me more as I watch my best friend fight down his anger until he's able to get dressed without turning his clothes to ash and walks out of the room. My front door slams shut leaving me in heavy silence.

I don't blame him for being angry, for hating me. I hate myself. Last night was the best and worst night of my entire life and I'm not even sure how it happened. The evening started off as a typical Saturday out with the guys. We were drinking and partying at Club Jinx. I know I didn't have that much to drink because I was the one driving us home afterwards so I switched to water after a couple beers. We had a round of shots at midnight to celebrate Bleu's birthday, which was the only other alcohol I had before the craziness happened.

My best friend, Bleu, prowled up to me with a gleam in his eyes. A blast of heat washed over me, which I didn't find unusual considering Bleu's talent, and I couldn't take my eyes off of him. Was he always this sexy? I admired the contours of his lean muscles outlined in his fitted white tee, his smooth tan skin, and his tousled brown locks. An insane desire to run my fingers through his hair struck me so I did it as soon as he was close enough. I remember the low purr he made in his throat when I did that and a shiver crawls down my spine.

Shaking my head, I wonder what's come over me that he is still effecting me that way. Never had I felt that way about my friend before. We are buddies, platonic buddies... were platonic buddies. Fuck! I run a shaky hand through my black hair with a sigh of frustration. I WASN'T drunk. I know I wasn't and I'm almost positive he wasn't either so how the fuck did that happen?

Every second of last night plays through my head and I remember it with disturbing clarity. I remember being dragged out of the club by Bleu and being pushed up against my passenger side door as he buried his face in my neck. His musky scent mixed with a hint of chlorine surrounded me and made me crazed to kiss him. It was passionate and messy and I didn't care that we were standing in the middle of a dark parking lot or that this was my best friend, not my lover. All I could think about was my need to have him, to mark him, to make him mine. What the hell was I thinking?

I shake my head again to clear those thoughts but they dig in stubbornly, the feelings threatening to swallow me whole. A thousand images from last night torment me with the lingering feel of Bleu, the touch of his skin under my hands, the dark taste of his lips, the sound of his moans as I hit the sweet spot over and over again. My mouth goes dry and the jeans I dragged on earlier begin to feel constricting. I want him. I want him so bad and the pungent smell of sex and him in my room isn't helping.

"This isn't fucking happening!" Closing and locking my bedroom door, I strip down to nothing and stare down at my obvious arousal. A picture of him on his knees in front of me with his lush cherry lips spread open has me collapsing on my bed. I try to replace him with someone else, anyone else, the sexiest people I can think of but nothing budges his image away. My cock twitches and aches so much it hurts.  "Shit!"

As I'm about to take myself in hand to relieve my need, a pounding on my bedroom door startles me. It's probably one of my asshole roommates checking to see if I'm home so I ignore it, too intent on the strong scent of Bleu surrounding me in the bed. Sliding a hand over my engorged skin, an involuntary moan escapes my lips, "Oh, fuck, Bleu...."