E7: Text from Jason | My Ex’s Brother Drew

This fictional story features only adult characters (18+) and portrays consensual interactions throughout.

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Recap: Drew’s cock stayed rock hard after our first blowjob at the gym, so we moved to the showers. The steam made everything hotter, and I washed him slow, teasing his slick skin before dropping to my knees again. I gagged and swallowed as I gave him a second round, making him come hard and breathless. He admitted no girl had ever done that for him. We joked about me being his new workout ritual until a text from Jason popped up.

I was still dripping wet, towel half-slung around my waist, when my phone buzzed: “Were you seriously sucking off my brother in the gym?”

The text lit up the screen like it was glowing. Jason. I stared at it too long. My heart did something stupid in my chest.

Behind me, Drew was still under the water, head tipped back, hands braced on the tile, letting the heat soak into his shoulders. Steam curling around him. His whole body relaxed like he hadn’t just changed the entire trajectory of my week.

I didn’t say anything. Just locked my phone, slid it under my towel, and stepped out of the steam. I grabbed my bag. Got dressed without looking at him. My throat still tasted like his cum.

Drew finally shut off the water and grabbed a towel. He looked wiped, hair dripping, abs still flexing like his body didn’t know it was over. I couldn’t look him in the eye. “You good?” he asked, rubbing at his face.

“Yeah,” I said too fast. “Thanks for the workout.”

He blinked. Then smirked.

“Anytime,” he said. Then, right before I turned, he stepped close and kissed the side of my neck.

Just a quick press of his lips. Warm. Barely a second. “Thanks for the blowjob, man. One of the best I've gotten."

I didn’t breathe. I nodded. I think I mumbled something like “Sure,” but I was already moving, slipping past him into the locker room.

—

By the time I got to the parking lot, it was pitch black, everything felt quieter than it should’ve. I tossed my bag into the back seat, went around to the driver’s side and stopped.

The front tire. Slashed.

“What the f....”

“Yo,” Drew called, jogging over, t-shirt now thrown over his still-wet chest, towel around his neck. “You okay?”

I pointed.

He swore under his breath. “Dude. What the fuck.”

“I don’t know who...”

“Someone must’ve really had it out for you.”

I shook my head. “Nah. No way. It’s not that serious.”

I rubbed my face. “I can Uber home.”

“To where?” he cut in. “It’s too late for all that. You look like shit and your throat’s probably still wrecked from earlier. Just crash at mine.”

I hesitated. “I… don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Drew leaned against the car, crossed his arms. “Come on. I ain’t gonna fuck you. My dick’s all tired.”

I snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

“You think I’m joking?” he smirked. “I’m fucking tapped out. I’m gonna pass out as soon as I hit the bed. You’re the one who’s gonna be disappointed.”

“It’s not that,” I said, scratching my neck. “It’s Jason. I haven’t seen him since we broke up. Haven’t spoken. I’m not tryna..."

“Bro,” Drew said, stepping closer. His hand landed on my shoulder, firm. “Jason’s not the boss of this house. It’s just a bed. You’re not gonna sleep on the sidewalk.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Come on,” he said, already opening his car door. “You’re unlucky tonight. That’s all.”

—

His place was exactly how I remembered it.

Protein powder tubs on the kitchen counter. A half-empty shaker bottle still crusty in the sink. Cardboard takeout boxes stacked like they were part of the decor. No coasters. No framed photos. Just gym gear, old hoodies, and that same fucking couch.

The couch Jason and I used to make out on.

I didn’t mean to look at it for that long, but I guess Drew noticed. He glanced at me, then nodded toward the hallway.

“My room,” he said. “Come on.”

I followed.

Jason was nowhere in sight. Probably holed up in his own room with his headphones in or something. Or maybe he already knew I was here and was waiting. I couldn’t tell which was worse.

Drew’s door creaked open, same messy chaos I remembered...weights under the desk, laundry half-folded, a bunch of hoodies draped over a chair. A big monitor on his desk showing the live feed from the gym security cams.


He tossed his gym bag on the floor, dropped his phone on the nightstand, and peeled his shorts down without a word. No shame. Just white briefs clinging to his thighs.

He fell back onto the bed with a sigh, arms above his head, legs wide, dick half-tilted under the cotton like he didn’t care I was standing right there watching.

“You take the bed,” he muttered, not even opening his eyes. “I’m too tired for round two anyway. Don’t get your hopes up, Romeo.”

I rolled my eyes, but my face was hot.

Drew didn’t move. Didn’t say goodnight. Didn’t even turn toward me. Just lay there breathing, chest rising slow.

And me?

I stood there for a second too long, feeling like I was 18 again, sneaking around this place for a kiss on that fucking couch. Except now I was in his brother’s room. Watching his brother sleep in his underwear.

My ex was just down the hall.

I slid into bed with Drew, careful not to bump him, though he didn’t even stir. Just lay there on his back, one arm flopped across the pillow, briefs riding low on his hips.

I rolled to my left, stared at the ceiling for a while. Time passed. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes. I heard nothing except the soft hum of the fan and Drew’s steady breathing. I glanced over. He was totally out. Probably from the workout… or from the fact that I’d just sucked his soul out in the shower. A faint patch of stubble along his jaw. He looked peaceful. Maybe a little too peaceful for someone who got blown by his younger brother’s ex an hour ago.

I couldn’t sleep.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and unlocked it. The screen lit up the dark room. I turned the brightness down and opened our old thread: me and Jason’s.

The messages were still there.

So were the pictures. Us on the beach. At some music fest. Me wearing his hoodie. Him in nothing but a towel, smirking at me. I didn’t delete any of it. Maybe part of me knew this wasn’t really over. Or maybe I just liked the hurt.

I scrolled slower. Stared at the last message.

Were you seriously sucking off my brother in the gym?

The bubble sat there, threatening. Heavy. Unread.

And then it happened. Three dots popped up. My heart dropped to my stomach.

They disappeared.

Came back.

Then the message appeared from Jason.

I know you’re here. Come to my room.

My chest locked up.

Fuck.


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