Dylan has always one to never be able to hide his emotions. Luckily, he didn't have to, since Scarlett was always at his side.
Until Dallas comes along. That boy takes his heart and keeps it hidden away, unable for Dylan to ever find back. And just...
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Kissing Dylan at school was definitely one of my best ideas.
It's almost as if it's a remedy for his anxiety and shyness. He's gotten a little bolder, daring to ask for more. So he does, every time I pull away to breathe or to give him the chance to say stop.
"No," he whispers, a light whimper to the edge of his voice. "Come back."
Chuckling, I pepper him with kisses again. He's putty in my hands, easy to reposition. See, whenever I move my thigh in between his, he gasps, his mouth giving me easy access. When I place my hands on his hips, he makes a sound not unlike a little moan, and he gets even needier.
The bell's gone a long time ago, yet neither of us really cares. Or maybe I don't care and Dylan is just really lost.
"Dallas," he whispers. I realize I've been staring at him for the last few moments, and my boyfriend is not pleased with it. But how can I not?
He's beautiful. Gorgeous, actually. His cheek bones are responsible for the way his face is so damn pretty. Together with his mesmerizing blue eyes–which are, to my greatest dismay, closed–and his, now swollen, plump lips, I don't think I'll ever get enough of staring at his face.
The rest of his body feels fragile under my rough hands, wherever I touch him. He's so responsive, it doesn't matter what I do to him. He'll gladly follow me into any touch.
"Oh, love, you're so fucking perfect. You have no idea."
Those captivating eyes open just the slightest bit. His eyelashes are long, his eyelids half closed, making it hard for me to see the part of him that tells me most.
Even if his cheeks were already flushed red because of our kisses, he manages to blush under my attention. He silently watches me, his eyes glossed over in thought.
The sight of him makes me smile. I wish I could take a picture of him standing here right now, clearly affected by me. I wish I could forever see this sight of Dylan. The sight of him, and not of a suppressed version of him. I don't want the version he thinks he has to be around everyone just to get approval; I want the real him. I want Dylan with his flaws and his perfections. Everything.
"I don't know what to say," he whispers nervously. He does that thing with his fingers, that thing he always does when he's a little anxious. Doesn't he know he doesn't need to be anxious around me?
Lovingly and still very much in a trance, I smile and brush his cheek. He immediately leans into the feel of my hand, closing his eyes again. "You don't have to say anything, love. We can enjoy the moment."
A faint nod of him, and I'm immediately swept back into his beauty again. I don't understand how he doesn't see his own perfection. He thinks he has to hide it because people will hate him for it. He doesn't. I'll gladly become his protector if it allows me and everybody else to see just how handsome he is.
