Inbetweener (Completed)

Part 4

"What she said," Fin says, his hand on my belt, "about me being your..." He laughs in embarrassment and I reach a hand to cup his jaw, finding bravery I didn't know existed.

"She has no idea. The way she made it sound, ignore that. She isn't a good person."

"But you want to- something. With me?"

I hadn't been expecting this side of Fin. Shy and uncertain. It still fits though, like there are all these sides to him, each one distinct but amazing.

"I do," I say, hushed, like his shyness is passing on to me, except it's my own and was there from the start.

He smiles though, brief and starlight-blinding.

I'm not expecting him to stretch up though, one hand still on my buckle, the other sliding into the tiny curls at the very nape of my neck, cool lips pressing to mine. When he sits back onto his haunches and meets my eyes, there's a semi-calmness: a determined stare still undercut by worry, and I'm reminded of his unknown history.

"You don't need to do this, Fin."

It's not like I'm certain what his motivation is, and I doubt it's anything like what mine could be if I allowed myself to hope.

But he doesn't stand up and walk out. He leans into my hand instead, closing his eyes, relaxing against me.

"I want to."

"Oh... Open your eyes," I tell him, barely pitched above a whisper.

He does, but he also nudges forward. "Let me." It doesn't sound like an insistence, more a plea.

I lean back, though I keep my hand resting against his jaw, as a reassurance for us both. He keeps watching me as he dexterously flips my belt and jeans open. The extended eye contact's borderline awkward, but the soft crinkles at the corner of his eyes help, even more when he tips forward enough to lick up the side of my cock, released from my boxers and already hard.

He makes a humming sound which has me reflexively twitch up.

"Eager," he says with a chuckle, and I rush an apology.

He stops then, sitting back on his haunches before pressing a hand firmly against my thigh. Grounding me again, like he does when he holds my wrist, and I wonder if he knows the effect.

"I like it," he insists. "Please don't-"

"What?"

"Don't devalue necessary apologies. And don't, don't think you owe someone an apology for existing."

He sees a lot. Minutes watching Lauren and me: he's seen too much.

As if he's determined that I forget any discomfort, he licks another line up my cock before taking the head into his mouth, working his hand to gently roll the skin in a way that makes me see stars behind closed lids. He sucks the tip, already sensitive and wet, and I gasp, eyes flicking open to catch his, wide and deep blue, cheekbones sharp.

He pulls off with a little slurp that has my thighs stretching wider as he takes the opportunity to tuck himself even closer to me, coming in harder and faster. His mouth feels made for me, like it's hardwired to know every spot of sensitivity, hit every point of pleasure, building so naturally I almost don't see it coming, floating in his wide and encouraging eyes. I mumble, tapping his arm resting against my thigh to tell him I'm close and I feel the movement of his mouth as he grins at me, before pushing down, going deeper until I feel the spongy resistance at his throat, and that's what sends me over.