Heartfelt Rematch (BL)

S: Chapter 2

The party ends between four and five in the morning, when most people have gone home, or are forcing other friends to go home and take a rest. Jamie never showed, and I'm pretty sure Dante is bothered by this. I don't even think the boy replied to his texts at all.

When the music is cut off, I sit up and take Dante inside, checking around. Mark has crashed on the couch, and I think some people are still outside in the back, or in the front yard. I don't mind. They'll find their way home in the morning.

I spread a fleece over Mark and put a bottle of water beside him. Taking Dante by the hand I lead him upstairs, and he kills the lights behind him, firmly holding onto my fingers.

We strip down to our boxers. I watch him go at it, at his muscles rolling under his skin, at the soft hint of bones, some angles sharper than others; his shoulder blades, collar bones, hip bones.

I'm surprisingly awake — and I'm not sure if that surprisingly is meant to be sarcastic or not.

I hold the covers open for him. He checks my nightlight and switches off the big light before coming over and nesting down beside me.

I can't help myself. I swear. My fingers trail his abs without my consent, and I feel that same shiver coursing through him. My lips find his, and before I know it, I'm hovering over him. He moans reluctantly, grabbing my hair, my shoulder, and keeps me close. I chuckle between breaths, kiss between sweet words. My hands roam his torso, discovering his skin all over again, making their way down. I start trailing kisses down his neck, leaving a mark where the neck meets the shoulder, and down, down, down.

Until his hands squeezes my shoulder, and I have to look up. His eyes are storming. Not in fear or anything, but that same nervous look he had earlier today when I told him he'd stay over.

I brush his cheek. "Don't worry," I whisper.

"Scott..." He grits his teeth, not even sure what to say. He does want this, but something is holding him back. I wish he'd tell me what it is. At first he said it was just because he's never done this with another boy before, and I get that. But now — now it's something else. And he won't tell me.

"I know I'm pushy," I say. "But I won't go further than this, okay? I'm sorry for being so horny all the time. I won't force you. I promise." I quickly peck his lips, feeling him relax a little, and go back to leaving kisses down his stomach, until I reach his boxers.

He's already lost his restraint. It makes me giggle a little, but I blame that on the alcohol.

I take him in, enjoying his gasps as much as he enjoys this. I've done this before, and by now I know exactly what he likes. He hasn't returned the favor, but I don't mind. He's trying, and he's getting more used to it, more comfortable with taking initiative. I also just really like doing this for him — mostly because he looks adorably vulnerable like this.

He pushes me away, snatching a tissue from the nightstand right before he comes, cursing under his breath. I chuckle and lick my lips. He never comes in my mouth. Never. He refuses to get me all sticky, or whatever. I think it's kinda cute.

He gives me that indulgent glare and wipes off his hands, tossing the balled up napkin in the trash can before grabbing me and pulling me towards him. He hugs me tight, rubbing my back, and I'm confused. It isn't just a sweet hug. It's a comforting hug, a supportive hug, a hug saying don't worry, I'm here for you, and I have no idea why I'm getting one of those right now.

I pull away to look at him, but he just smiles down at my hand on his arm, slightly blushing. I don't want to ask. Not now. So I push him down and lie beside him, allowing him to wrap me in his arms.