Home - Andreil FF

Body Heat > 8 <

Their bodies touched barely, but the friction drove Neil insane, slowly but surely.

Andrew left sweet kisses all over Neil's body. From his lips down to his neck, to his collarbone, leaving a mark right beneath it.
Neil gasped as he sucked on the spot, the sensation tingling and burning.

The mattress gave in as Andrew pressed Neil down into the soft cushions with a hand flat against his abdomen, keeping him in place whilst showering the other with kisses, soft and hard.
The goalie's fingers touched his sides, gliding up and down in an almost rythmic matter. The bands around their arms hiding their scars soon landed on the floor, they were too uncomfortable for such games, the cloth would only rub against sensitive skin in an unpleasant matter.

Neil was a hot mess beneath the man.
He reached up, tugging at the goalie's black shirt.
Andrew grumbled something indicipherable and sat up again.
The blonde crawled his way down from Neil, who sat up in aftermath.

Once again the auburn haired had ruined it. He knew Andrew was not willing to strip in front of others. "Sorry, ignore me. "
A bad feeling plagued his mind as he thought of how Andrew might feel at this attempt.

Andrew kept his stare away from Neil, but to the striker's surprise he didn't leave, nor get up. He just stayed seated. "Stop apologizing, I hate that."

"I know, I know", Neil said apologetically. Knowing he had broken the heat, he was about to get up again, but Andrew's lot shoved him back down on his ass.

"Take it off", the goalie commanded so suddenly and unexpected, Neil froze.

"What?"

"You heard me just fine", Andrew claimed and pulled Neil down in front of him. The man took the hands of the striker and placed them to where they'd tugged on his shirt before.

Neil hesitated, watched Andrew's every motion from where he carefully pulled the cloth upward, revealing scars, probably not from any other person but himself.

It made him feel bad about it all over again. Andrew hadn't really shown his body off at any point in history. And maybe, he thought, it made it uncomfortable.

"Are you sure?"

"Ja", Andrew answered, switching to german for this word only, making Neil shiver.

So he did, grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over, revealing his bare skin, pale and scarred. He threw the shirt to the side, where it slapped against the wall and then slumped to the floor.

For the first time Neil saw Andrew's bare back and chest in this combination with want, heat and tension.
Neil reached out, but didn't touch the pink scratches that partly covered his abdomen, he kept his hand hovering over him like a invisible power was keeping him away.

"Can I touch you?", Neil asked.

Andrew didn't answer in words, more in actions, so as he did: He took Neil's wrists and pushed the palms flat against his own chest.

He was absolutely breathtaken by the view, not only because of the scars, but because of the trust the two had built, the appreciation of one another in showing how they feel, the beauty of simply the feeling, the moment; the sight, too.

Neil's thoughts escaped his mouth, "You're so perfectly imperfect. "
The auburn haired could ramble about being with him, and altogether Andrew. His Body, all his words, his acts.
Andrew, who at first was signed off as a sociopath, Andrew who hadn't wanted anything, anyone at all, the man who hadn't cared about nothing.
"You're so beautiful"

The thin line between the touchable and unreachable sides of their relationship slowly faded into nothingness.

-