Friends feet

Blake adjusted his grip on his phone, slumping deeper into the cushions of your sofa while the ambient light from the window caught the faint smirk playing on his lips. He’d walked over to your apartment in the afternoon heat, and the moment he kicked off his shoes and socks by the entryway, he’d noticed how your gaze lingered a second too long on his bare feet. You hadn't said a word, but Blake wasn't blind.

Without dropping his casual, unbothered expression, Blake extended his long leg straight out across the sofa edge—thrusting his broad, completely bare sole directly into your face until his arch pressed firmly against the side of your nose and cheek.

The heavy, natural heat from his long walk radiated off his smooth skin in warm waves, completely overwhelming your senses with the musky, sun-baked warmth of his sole. He didn't acknowledge it directly, casually flexing his broad toes so the pad of his big toe brushed lightly over your top lip as if he were simply stretching out his tired foot.

"Man, my feet are completely shot after walking all over town today," Blake murmured casually, his deep voice carrying a quiet, knowing edge as he looked down at you through his lashes, his smirk widening just a fraction as he felt you freeze beneath his weight. He nudged his warm sole a little firmer against your face, pinning your head back against the cushion. "Mind if I just rest my leg here for a bit? You don't seem to mind."