Dylan (18+) [ON HOLD]

chapter twenty: L O V E

Gabby

. . .

"What?"

"I'm sorry, I'm drunk, it's the wine talking. Ignore me."

"No, you're not. There's hardly any alcohol in that wine, it's made for sipping."

Shit, there goes my alibi.

"Gabby. Why..."

"It was a stupid question, don't worry about it." I wish I could sink into this stupid fucking pit. Why did I say that? Why didn't I drive myself?! If I had done that, at the very least I could cut and run, but now, I'm stuck here and he's going to want to talk this out.

"Do you want to?"

"What?"

"Have sex. With me? I wouldn't... I... Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I just," I tuck my lip between my teeth and set my tablet to the side, finally turning to face him. He's sat up and staring intently at me. "Before that night... I hadn't... ever, yet. I don't want that to be my only memory of it, Dylan. It was wrong of me to ask you, I'm sorry, I—"

"Ask me again."

"Dyl, I can't—"

"Ask me again," he orders quietly, reaching a hand up to cup my face. "Ask me, or I'll have to ask you." 

He leans closer to me, eyes closing to half mast as his lips brush against mine.

"Um," I swallow once more, my throat suddenly dry. I lick my lips to wet them, and blush as my tongue brushes Dylan's lips. He stands on his knees, causing me to have to lean back to look up at him. "Dylan, would you... have sex with me?"

"Yes." Dylan seals the deal with a kiss, gentle but insistent, gently plying at my lips with his own until there's nothing but us.

My eyes fall shut involuntarily and my mind begins to roam. With this kiss, he's no longer my best friend or adoptive brother—which I don't even want to think about right now—he's more. But what? A lover, a fuckbuddy, a hookup? I don't think I could do casual with Dylan.

I want to pull back and ask but as his lips part against mine, gently prodding at my lips until they part, allowing our tongues to slide against one another, and my brain loses function.

Dylan slides the hand on my cheek lower to my neck, his other hand going to my waist and tugging me closer, bunching into the fabric of my shirt.

I'm completely breathless and I couldn't care less, kissing him back with the same amount of fervor and neediness.

My hands come around to sit on Dylan's waist, though they quickly migrate further up his back as I recall that he doesn't have on a shirt. I trail my fingers higher until they're tangled in Dylan's hair and he growls into my mouth before pulling away from me.

"Are you still sure about this? I wouldn't want you to—"

"Yes, please." I throw myself back at him, one hand roving over the muscles on his broad shoulders and the other firmly planted in his hair. 

Dylan pulls us backward until he's reclining on the edge of the pit and I'm straddling him. The position caues my tummy to turn a bit, memories of being called 'too big' swirling in my head. But, fuck it, he's the one who put us here.

I pull back a bit, resting my weight on my knees, and yank my shirt over my head, dragging my bra off with it.

"Holy shit, wait!" Dylan shrieks, his cheeks a bright pink, panting from exertion.