✔️The Greaser and the Skirtchaser [18+]

44. Their Bedroom (M)

It was February, and Vance was brushing his knuckles against Blake's as they stepped off zietta's porch. They were going back together. You'd think that Blake would've gotten used to this by now.

Their hands twined, and Vance stuffed them into his pocket. He didn't even look around to see if anyone was out, the madman.

It didn't really matter. No one was out on a cold winter night so late. They were walking so close that their silhouettes blended together, so no one could tell if they were holding hands anyway. It was good because Blake wasn't really able to think when Vance would sometimes stroke a thumb over his skin. It was bad.

But maybe it was good if Vance was smiling the whole way back. He was talking about this chocolate cake that he wanted Blake to try when they got home.

They came back to the house, and it felt so odd that someone was here with him. Living with him. Making him a whole cake because he mentioned he liked chocolate. Holding his hand in his jacket pocket. It was crazy.

Blake was struggling in the dark for a bit, but he eventually got the key in. Before he could open the door, Vance put a hand on the back of his neck. He nudged Blake's jaw around, so he could kiss him.

Vance hadn't even been waiting until they got into the house lately, and neither had Blake. The first kiss was sweet and soft, and Vance only pulled back for a second to look at him even in the pitch darkness before going back in, all slow with this purposefulness. Blake didn't know how to describe it. Like Vance was trying to tell him everything with one kiss.

"Vance," Blake murmured once Vance pulled off. His head was a mess.

He only pulled back enough to just look at him with so much warmth in his eyes, and his thumbs were rubbing at his face. "Yeah?"

It was so unfair that Vance somehow got Blake to agree to letting him stay here. Blake couldn't control himself if Vance was all over him at all hours of the day like this. Blake opened the door, yanked them through, and pulled Vance back into another kiss. His brain was just shot now.

Vance's arms pulled him flush like he couldn't stand having an inch between them. Eventually, there was something hard poking into Blake's thigh. Last month, it would've had him breaking away and into a cold sweat, but he only needed to refuse once for Vance to back off. Vance had asked, once, why. Because he was extraordinarily weak, Blake had told him, "Not yet."

There wasn't supposed to be a yet. There wasn't even supposed to be kissing or chocolate cake or a shared bed in the first place. Blake was a moron.

He could only ever be a moron because that was the only thing that would explain why Blake was pushing his thigh against Vance's erection. Vance rutted against him eagerly, seeking the friction, kissing desperately. Blake couldn't not give him what he wanted.

"Blake." His voice was just dripping with eagerness, and Blake couldn't help but keep indulging his poor choices if it meant that Vance would moan, "Please."

Vance had gotten infinitely sexier ever since they started fooling around again, yet Blake was still... frigid down there. In private, he'd tried so many times to get his dick to react to the walking wet dream that was all over him because Blake could tell that Vance was waiting for it.

"Please, can we do it? I want it so bad," Vance whispered into his ear.

Blake groaned, "Fuck, Vance."

"Please, I'm so hard," he whined, grinding against Blake's leg some more.

All that got was a twitch. What?