I never really thought of Marcus as anything but my shy, sweet friend. You know the type—always offering to help carry groceries, never speaking up in group chats, and blushing furiously whenever anyone paid him a compliment. He wasn’t the kind of guy who stood out in a crowd, but he was the kind of guy you could count on when it mattered. And for the longest time, that’s all he was to me: safe, dependable Marcus.

Until last weekend.

It started pretty innocently. I’d just gotten a package I’d been waiting for—a gorgeous set of lingerie I splurged on after a late-night glass of wine. Purple lace, delicate suspenders, and a sheer bra that felt daring but elegant. It wasn’t the kind of thing I’d normally buy for myself, but I’d been trying to feel more confident recently. Treat yourself, right?

Anyway, the timing was bad because Marcus had come over to help me fix my leaky kitchen faucet. I didn’t want to be the girl who prioritizes trying on pretty underwear over having a functional sink, so I set the box aside and focused on helping him. Not that he really needed my help—Marcus is one of those guys who insists on doing everything himself, even if he’s practically sweating bullets from the effort. Watching him wrestle with the wrench and muttering little curses under his breath was weirdly endearing. I kept offering him water, or snacks, or at least a break, but he just shook his head with that same shy smile.

Once he finished, I gave him a big hug—probably bigger than he expected because his face turned bright red. “You’re my hero, Marcus,” I teased, and he practically tripped over his words trying to brush it off.

I should’ve left it at that, but I didn’t.

The truth is, I’ve always found his awkwardness kind of…cute. I liked how easy it was to fluster him, how his ears would turn pink if I so much as complimented his sweater. Maybe that makes me a little cruel, but I promise it’s not mean-spirited. It’s just fun to see someone so genuine react like that. And I guess that night, I decided to push it a little further.

After he packed up his tools, I walked him to the door, still teasing him about being the “handyman of my dreams.” He was smiling, but I could tell he was nervous. That’s when I remembered the package.

“You have to see what just came in the mail,” I blurted, half-joking but half-curious to see how he’d react. I ran back to grab it before he could protest and held it up with a grin. “It’s lingerie. I thought I deserved a treat.”

Marcus froze. Like, full deer-in-the-headlights frozen. He stammered something about needing to go, but I was already too amused to let him escape that easily.

“Oh, come on,” I said, waving the box. “You can at least tell me if it looks good on me, right?”

I didn’t think he’d say yes—I just wanted to see him blush again. But he surprised me. He didn’t agree, exactly, but he didn’t bolt either. He just stood there, looking so awkward and sweet that I couldn’t resist.

“Wait here,” I said before I could second-guess myself. “I’ll be right back.”

I left him standing in my living room while I rushed to my bedroom and tore open the package. The lingerie was prettier than I expected, soft and delicate and perfectly fitted. I debated for half a second whether this was a terrible idea but decided it was harmless. Marcus was too shy to do anything inappropriate, and honestly? I liked the idea of showing off a little. I’d never done anything like this before, but there was something thrilling about it.

When I came back out, his reaction was everything I'd hoped for: his jaw practically hit the floor. His eyes widened, darting up and down as if he didn’t know where to look. I followed his line out sight down to my body, and I could see why…

The sheer purple lace barely covered my skin. My large breasts spilled over the top of the bra, the delicate fabric doing nothing to hide the outline of my nipples, which were already hard. The suspenders framed my hips perfectly, drawing his eyes down to the matching thong that was so small it barely covered my pussy.

“W-what are you doing?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Just trying it on,” I said innocently, turning slightly to show off the back, allowing my ass to jiggle a little as I bounced on my heel. “Does it look good?”

Marcus didn’t answer right away. He was too busy staring. It was the most attention anyone had ever paid to me in my life, and I kinda loved it.

“I—uh—it’s nice,” he finally managed, his voice cracking a little.

“Nice?” I teased, stepping a little closer, swinging my hips a little as I moved. “That’s all you’ve got? Nice?”

His eyes darted to the floor, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Relax, Marcus. I’m just messing with you.”

But instead of relaxing, he got even more flustered. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, looking anywhere but at me. “I don’t mean to stare.” That’s when it hit me—he wasn’t just shy. He was trying so hard to be respectful, to not look or think about me in a way he thought was inappropriate. And for some reason, that made me want to push him even more. I stepped closer, so close that we could touch.

“You can look,” I whispered. “If you want to.”

For a moment, I thought he might bolt. His hands clenched at his sides, and he looked like he was about to explode. But then, slowly, hesitantly, he let his eyes meet mine. And then they drifted lower…