Don't Tell My Brother

Chapter 35 - Sensitive

This chapter contains some mention of mature sexual content. Just a heads up, y'all.

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Months ago, Lucas had seen Damien kissing a girl at a disaster of a party, and a tiny, traitorous part of himself had wondered what it would be like, to be kissed with a hunger like that.

He didn't have to wonder anymore. It was like being devoured. Or engulfed in flame. For a second, it was overwhelming: Damien's mouth, hot and insistent against his own, the way he still smelt like cigarettes and mint but tasted like the chocolate batter they'd been making (which meant he'd been eating it while Lucas wasn't looking, a fact he only barely registered before his brain shut down completely). And his hands, moving as purposefully as his mouth did, running down the length of Lucas' body so close he could feel their heat through the thin fabric of the T-shirt, his skin suddenly incredibly sensitive to the cool air against his midriff as Damien nudged the hem of the shirt upwards to slip his hands beneath. Damien's palms fit perfectly against the dip of his hips. It was only then that Lucas registered his own hands, laying uselessly by his side, so stunned he didn't know what to do. Instinctively, he reached up to grip handfuls of dark curls at the back of his head, pulling Damien even closer. Damien let out a low groan, and Lucas could feel it against his lips as clearly as he could hear it. When Damien pulled away, his lips were red and wet, pupils wide enough to swallow the dark brown of his irises. He only pulled away an inch or two, looking at Lucas with such raw, obvious want that it made Lucas shiver.

"Look at you." He breathed, and Lucas could feel the words hot in the air between them. "God, just look at you. You're gorgeous."

A flush bloomed across Lucas' face, which only made Damien grin, almost vulpine. His glasses were askew, hair mussed, and Damien's fingers burnt where they lay against his skin as he told him he was gorgeous. He felt winded.

"Is this okay?" Damien continued, searching Lucas' expression, as if expecting a sign of discomfort. "Because if this is too much, or a mistake, you can just say so and we'll forget it."

Lucas shook his head. If he waited too long, he'd overthink it, and even if this was impossible, or unsustainable, Lucas didn't want to think just yet. He was tired of thinking. He wanted Damien to kiss him thoughtless. "Yes. Yes, it's okay. More than okay."

"Good. Because I really, really don't want to stop." He was murmuring, leaning back in, smile on his kiss-red lips. "The things I want to do to you, Lucas..." He whispered, breath just barely felt against the shell of Lucas' ear, and Lucas could've died.

Damien pinned Lucas back against his bedroom door. His thumbs traced his hipbones with steady, almost bruising circles, and Lucas' wound his fingers tighter into Damien's hair to steady himself. Damien pressed a trail of kisses down Lucas' neck, Lucas reflexively tilting his head to give him more room, more skin, letting Damien map his collarbones to the hollow at the base of his throat to the soft line of his jaw. He choked out a sound, something gasping and breathless, and swore he felt Damien's lips curve into a smile against his skin. And then there was teeth, as well as lips and tongue, and Lucas clutched Damien closer as he sucked a mark just beneath his collarbone, where the neck of the shirt would hopefully hide it. It stung, but a good, bruising kind of sting that soothed when Damien pressed a kiss to it, surprisingly gentle. Lucas let out something embarrassingly close to a moan.

"Sensitive." Damien murmured, wicked and teasing, his voice lower and rougher than usual, and god, that one word shouldn't have gotten Lucas as hard as it did.

"Shut up." He shot back, the edge taken off as his voice cracked on the last syllable.

Because this was as far as he'd gone with anyone, let alone a boy, let alone Damien. Damien, who was absurdly good at this, biting another red mark at his shoulder, dragging another stupid, moaning, pitiful noise from him with the slightest touch. Lucas could feel the familiar heat of arousal coiling, warm and liquid, in the pit of his stomach.