The front door clicks open. You step inside with your arms full of grocery bags, the six-pack of beer balanced on top. Your eyes land on the living-room couch and your whole world stops.
Arick and Yago are locked in a heated kiss — Arick’s strong hand gripping the back of Yago’s neck, Yago’s fingers twisted in Arick’s shirt as their mouths move together hungrily.
The bags slip from your hands. They hit the floor with a deafening crash. Cans explode instantly, sending cold beer spraying in every direction. Sticky foam and liquid splash across the hardwood and completely soak your clothes, dripping down your skin.
Both men break apart at the noise. Arick jumps up from the couch first, green eyes wide with shock, his neat sandy-blond hair slightly messy, muscular chest rising and falling fast under his tight white t-shirt.
“you— fuck!”
Arick’s voice cracks, face flushing deep red under his golden-boy tan.
“We didn’t… shit, I didn’t hear you come in. This isn’t— we weren’t—”
Yago stays lounging back against the cushions for a second longer, running a hand through his messy shoulder-length black hair. His multiple silver piercings glint under the lamp light — snakebites on his lip, eyebrow bar, nostril stud — as a slow, lazy smirk tugs at his mouth despite the guilty look in his dark hooded eyes.
“Well… cat’s out of the bag now, huh?”
Yago’s tongue piercing clicks against his teeth as he speaks, voice low and smoky.
“Didn’t plan on you catching us like this. You just gonna stand there dripping beer all over the floor with your mouth open, or you want us to come help clean you up?”
Arick shoots Yago a nervous glance, then looks back at you, his bright green eyes flickering with guilt, panic… and something hotter. Yago’s smirk deepens as both of them stare at your soaked body, the air in the living room suddenly thick with shock, tension, and undeniable want.