"Shit...that might have been one too far," Chris laughed, slamming his empty shot glass on the table. He shook his head and winced, oblivious as ever to his friend's eager staring. The grinning, sandy-haired man across the table thought Chris looked adorable as he furrowed his brow and wagged his burning tongue, though Ben would never say that out loud.
"Nice of Gary to pick up a round before he left, at least," Ben said, his handsome features twisted in a similar expression. "But what the fuck was that? I thought he was getting tequila?"
"With Gary? Who knows. Dude loves drinking the grossest shit he can find. Whatever does the job, though." Chris took a deep breath, his muscled arms flexing as he ran his hands through his thick, wavy hair and leaned back in the booth. "Kinda surprised he split so early...this whole boys night out for my birthday was his idea."
"His loss," Ben shrugged. He wasn't at all disappointed to have Chris entirely to himself. He'd had a crush on the charming young man since the day they'd met. At the time, Chris was a college freshman on the university's swim team while Ben had been working as an assistant coach. The slightly older man had graduated a few years earlier but was still trying to figure out his career, and as a lifelong swimmer and former member of the team himself, he'd stayed on to help coach the next wave in the meantime. Ben was still in the closet about his sexuality, and he tried not to think about his teammates and swimmers like that if he could help it, but one look at Chris' lean, toned body and stuffed speedo had been all it took. With his chocolate hair, lantern jaw, and charming smile, the handsome younger man was irresistible. He had an equally magnetic personality, leaving Ben to suffer in silence as he watched Chris blossom. The young stud was completely oblivious to the older man's longing as they became friends outside of the team, and he constantly regaled the frustrated Ben with his tales of random hookups all over campus. Still having his athletic, swimmer's build, and a handsome, boy-next-door face of his own, Chris would question why Ben wasn't doing the same, but the older man would always brush it off by making excuses that he didn't have time or that he hadn't met the right person.
What Ben wanted to say was that the right person just happened to be the one asking him the question. Unfortunately, that also just happened to be someone who'd always been off limits. Chris was straight, and, until recently, a member of the team Ben had coached, two lines that the older man couldn't cross. Even if he was willing to throw caution to the wind, Ben was far too worried about how people viewed him to ever take such a leap. He struggled enough trying to accept his own status as a gay man, and the thought of dealing with outside ridicule on top of that was too much. At the end of the day, Ben wanted to be liked. He knew his good looks and athletic body gave him a certain amount of privilege and he wasn't ready to give that up, even if it meant hiding a big part of who he was. Instead, he contented himself with Chris' friendship, enjoying the younger man's outgoing presence however he could.
Now, things weren't quite as easy to compartmentalize. The whole reason they were out drinking in the first place was to celebrate Chris' twenty-first birthday, as well as his departure from the team. After three grueling years, the chocolate-haired hunk had finally grown tired of the constant rigors that went along with university athletics. He still loved swimming and being in the water; it just wasn't his whole world anymore. He wanted to be able to stay out late and sleep in without worrying about getting up for practice, and to have some free time to actually enjoy his last year of college.
Ben leaving had been the final straw for Chris. At twenty eight, the fit blonde had finally found a job in the corporate world, meaning he had to give up his position as assistant coach. He'd held on longer than he should specifically because of his feelings for Chris, but Ben was pleasantly surprised, and increasingly frustrated, to find their relationship grow without the swimmer/coach dynamic getting in the way. Where before they'd just been friends, now they were practically inseparable. Ben worried that people were starting to catch on to his true feelings regarding the younger man, but Chris himself was blissfully unaware, and that was all that really mattered. He didn't know how his friend would respond if he knew, and he wasn't willing to take the risk.
Ben leaned in and tapped their empty shot glasses. "So what do you want to do, birthday boy? Stay here or go get another drink somewhere else?"
Chris rubbed his face and shook his head like he'd just climbed out of a pool. "Fuck, man. I don't know if I can keep this up. I don't have a tolerance like you old timers," he sighed, falling forward on his elbows.
"Fuck you," Ben laughed, reaching across the table to shove Chris' shoulder. "You've been able to drink me under the table since you were 19. I still remember how many times you showed up for morning practice with a hangover."
"God, don't remind me," Chris groaned. "That was torture."
"Hey man, you're the one who...did it...to yourself..." Ben trailed off as he looked at his friend's face, now inches from his own. He wanted nothing more than to close the gap and press his lips against Chris', but something about the other man's face was off. There was a layer of stubble on his friend's sharp cheeks that he was sure hadn't been there just moments before. He sat back, blinking and rubbing his eyes, but when he opened them again not only was the scrubby hair still there, it was joined by matching hair on Chris' forearms. The dense patches spread up towards the other man's solid biceps, threatening to disappear beneath the straining sleeves of his thin t-shirt. Ben had studied Chris' speedo-clad body enough times over the years to know that the other man should have been naturally smooth, and even if he hadn't, he'd been staring at the brunette stud's tapering torso all night and was certain his study arms should have been hair-free.
"Uh-oh, someone's drunk!" Chris laughed, seemingly unaware of the freshly-sprouting hair. "Fuck it, man...since it's just the two of us, why don't we go back to my place? I'm not really feeling a crowd anymore." He shifted uncomfortably and tugged on the v-neck of his shirt, giving Ben a quick glimpse of the silky hairs that were spreading across the top of his pecs. "Is it hot in here? I'm roasting."
"Me...me too. Yeah, let's get out of here," Ben stammered, his heart pounding. Despite his confusion, the only thing he could focus on was how handsome Chris looked with his stubble. It had never even occurred to him to imagine what the smooth jock would look like with a layer of hair, and the thought made his stomach flutter. Ben watched his friend slide out of the booth, his eyes going wide when the other man stood. Like his face and arms, Chris' toned calves were covered in the same dark, curly hair, but more alarming was the way his clothes clung to him. The younger man's fitted shorts were now stretched tight around a prominent rear, and his thin t-shirt was like a second skin, accentuating every inch of a sculpted torso that was noticeably larger.
