Hot Starry Nights

5:3 ~ Howard

  I wake up to Nat stumbling out of our room and into the hall, only to hear the bathroom door slam shut and him heaving only moments later. I drag myself out of bed and open the door to see him flush the toilet and wipe his lips. He seems a bit pale.

  "I didn't mean to wake you." His voice is hoarse, and a bit gravelly. Is this the first time he's gotten up?

  "You're fine. Are you feeling okay? What time is it? Is this the first time you've thrown up?"

  "I'm alright. My throat's a bit sore, and I think it's like, four in the morning." He covers his mouth and leans back over the toilet. I move his hands and hold them with mine over his stomach, applying a small amount of pressure. I read somewhere that it's supposed to be soothing. He heaves, puking into the toilet once more before a few tears fall from his eyes.

  "Feel better now?"

  "Yeah, I think that's the last of it." He brushes his teeth and rinses with mouthwash, before rinsing all together, and washes his hands after flushing the toilet. We go back to bed and fall asleep, with me holding his hand as he lays facing me.

○○○○○○○○○○○

  "Holy shit, my head is pounding." My eyes slit open to see Nat rubbing his forehead and he sits up, going to the closet for clothes.

  "Probably because you threw up, you don't normally drink that much." My eyes close when I realize he isn't wearing pants, and is nearly naked.

  "Nat, when did you take off your pants?"

  "When I threw up last, but after you fell asleep."

  "Give me a warning next time."

  "Warning." I hear the bedroom door shut and him walk away. Please let him actually be wearing something right now.

  I stand up to change out of my pajamas and he walks in, wearing one of my bigger shirts that go down to a bit above mid-thigh on him. And no. Fucking. Pants.

  "Nat!"

  "I'm going, I'm going." He grabs a white tank top and light blue shorts that complement his eyes, both are a little too big on him, but a little too small for me, so they work fine. Maybe I should actually head to his Dad's house soon. He could wear some of his own clothes for once. I don't mind it, but he might, and probably does.

  He walks out of the closet fully clothed, and I go in to grab some for myself, choosing something random and walking out to find Nat looking through my phone. He taps on something and blushes. I tackle him on the bed and reach for my phone, and in an attempt to keep it from me, he shoves it under the pillow his head is on. I crawl over him and sit on his torso, keeping my eyes on his the entire time.

  "I know what you're doing-" I lean down, running my hands down his chest and smirking when I hear his breath hitch.

  "It's not gonna work-" I slide my hands up his arms and flick my eyes down to his lips, before my hands find themselves at his wrists. I can't feel him breathing anymore, and his eyes are stuck on mine. I tighten my hands on his wrists and he breathes again. I look down at his lips and lick my own, and I swear I heard him whimper. He bites on his lower lip and his finger twitches. I lean down further and our lips meet. He pushes his tongue in my mouth, and I pull away, phone in hand. He hadn't even noticed when I let go of him.

  "Not gonna work, huh?" I back off of him and scroll. He was looking at my pictures. I play the video of him kissing me and the blush on my cheeks deepens. 

  My phone is pulled from my hand, and as soon as I look up, I feel Nat's mouth on mine. I pull him into my lap to deepen the kiss, and he slides his tongue into my mouth. He wraps his arms around my neck as he lets a small moan escape his lips, and I pull away, peppering his jaw in small kisses. My hands slide under his shirt, settling on his waist, as my mouth trails down his neck. I nibble at the skin on his collarbone and he whines, grabbing fistfulls of my shirt. I rub his sides with my hands, nipping at the skin on his neck as I make my way back to his lips. I can feel his hands on my shoulders.

  He pushes me down and his hips are on mine. My hands slide up and down, rubbing under his shirt. He leans down and kisses me, my jaw, my neck. When he tugs on the collar of my shirt to kiss my collarbone, I flip us over.

  His eyes are glazed over, and the best way to describe the look in his eyes would be unfocused, yet focused at the same time. His eyes are boring into mine, and he's panting. His face is a scarlet red, and I'm sure mine isn't much different. His mouth settles into a smirk, still open, silently begging me to ask the question.

  "How far are you willing to go?"