To Crush a Rose - Floyd & Riddle

Chapter 11

There was a noticeable shift in their strange household after they had kissed. He'd wake up each morning with the ghoul clinging to him—which wasn't all that new—but what was was that Riddle didn't mind it. At first, he'd tensed up, nerves getting the best of him. But Floyd would offer him a sleepy smile as soon as the redhead began to stir, pulling him back into the bed to place soft kisses on his cheeks. And with each day that passed, it was getting easier.

Today was only slightly different. The redhead was always the first to wake up, and as he shielded his eyes from the sun peaking through the curtains, he felt the familiar grasp of Floyd pulling him closer. Eyes widened at the sensation of something poking him through the taller boy's sweatpants. Riddle pulled the blankets up past his nose, trying to hide the warmth radiating from his cheeks as the other boy continued to doze off.

He'd never had sex. That was obvious enough. He'd had a basic understanding of it from the medical textbooks his mother used to have him study and basic deduction, but he'd never given it much thought past his hormone-rattled mind during puberty. After all, there was no way he was going to live long enough to have sex. But things were different now. Floyd was different. He was different. And it dawned on him for the first time since they had kissed that he actually had a boyfriend. Sort of, at least.

"Floyd?" The older of the two gave a tired grunt in response. Riddle took a deep breath, gathering what little courage he had before prying himself from the other's arms. He pushed the other onto his back, seating himself on the top of his thighs as Floyd rubbed his eye, trying to wake himself up.

"What's up, Goldfishie?" He managed to get out, his hands moving to rub gently at Riddle's thighs.

"Fairly certain you are." Floyd chuckled, giving one of the redhead's thighs a firm squeeze. He leaned his head back against the pillow, eyes searching the ceiling, though he didn't address his erection further. Riddle could feel the heat burning at his cheeks, his fists tightening on top of the other's bare chest as he mentally prepared himself for what he was about to ask. "Do...did you want to have sex...?"

When he finally managed to get the question out, Floyd looked at him once more. He offered a hint of a smile, though it was far from the normal one that usually lingered on his lips. "I think my stitches would still be too bad for that."

Riddle knew that was a lie. It'd been six days since Floyd had been stabbed, and to his surprise, he was getting his strength back far quicker than a normal human should. He was moving around more often than not, and while he still hadn't gone hunting since then, he knew that the danger of ripping his stitches open had passed. The smaller boy moved one of his hands to run along the admittedly poor stitches he'd done. "Looks alright to me."

The jikininki sighed, lips pressing into a fine line before he sat up, resting both hands on Riddle's hips. This position made the other's hard-on far more obvious, though the grim look on the other's face made him uneasy about what was about to transpire. He wrapped his arms around Floyd's shoulders, wondering if he'd misjudged something. The smaller boy leaned in and Floyd brushed their lips together ever so gently before intaking a sharp breath, closing his eyes tightly. "I really wanna, Goldfishie." The redhead leaned in, giving the other a soft, gentle kiss in an attempt to tell the other that he wanted to as well. Floyd's hands squeezed him gently, though he broke the kiss after a few seconds. "But," He paused, resting their foreheads together.

"But?"

He was quiet for a long while and Riddle didn't dare press the issue. He had an idea of what the issue was, but there was something about wanting to hear the other be vulnerable instead of filling in the blanks that kept him quiet. It was such a rare scene—vulnerability was often masked by lies or deflection—that every time Floyd was backed into a corner in which he needed it, he hung off of each word. The redhead brought a hand to run through the other's teal locks, trying to encourage it. "I'm worried it'll be too much."