aesthetic. (dan howell)

thirty

      He played with the hem of my shirt as I pulled him up from his laying down position, slamming our lips together. We broke apart, and I pulled my shirt above my neck, then remember the dreadful part of wearing this sweater. I could feel the awkward tension growing as I tried to slip my head out of the collar.

      "Dan?" I heard him chuckle a bit.

      "I'm stuck." His hands tickled my sides, my back arcing as he gently trailed his fingers from my hips, all the way up to my shoulders. With a swift motion, he pealed the sweater off my boy and tossed it onto the pile of clothes next to the bed, and leaving my hair a mess and the t shirt that was underneath. I cupped his cheeks and gently pushed our lips together once again, his hands pulling at my back, begging for aggressiveness.

      My kisses got hungrier, and so did his. I attempted to fall back into the bed, leaving my straddling him, but was instead met with a loud thud and a gasp. I pulled away, and noticed his head had hit the headboard, his face smiling painfully. I smiled back, laughing pitifully. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his head to my chest. He wrapped his arms around my back and laid limo in my arms, still laughing at himself.

      "Are you okay?" I giggled, cradling his head. I combed my fingers through his hair, waiting for him to pull away.

      He did so, looking up at me with his cinnamon brown eyes. I pulled myself off of him, sitting next to him as he positioned himself in the laying down position he was in before. I smirked at him and sat on his lap, my knees reaching past his elbows. I ripped my t shirt off of my body, throwing it into the floor. I leaned down, my hands finding their way around his head. Just before connecting our lips, he spoke.

      "Are you sure?" He whispered.

      "You act like you don't already know the answer."

(AN: I secretly wish this chapter was number 69 just for the hell of it)