Moments

Gratulerer Med Dag, Even (Happy Birthday, Even)

Isak's been watching the minutes tick down.

23:47

23:52

At 23:59, he rolls over to face Even. He can tell he isn't asleep, his breathing is too loud.

When Even sleeps, he's quiet, almost too quiet, and deathly still. It had scared the shit out of Isak the first night they spent together. He'd poked him just to get him to move, to show some sign of life.

Even is awake tonight, though, and Isak is glad. He's been anticipating this moment for months. Isak slides closer, curling one arm above Even's head, and slipping the other arm across his middle.

He presses a soft, lingering kiss on his boyfriend's jawline. "Happy birthday, baby."

Even releases a short, sharp breath. "Is it midnight?"

"Yeah." Isak kisses his cheek, sliding one leg over one of Even's until they're locked together like two pieces of a puzzle.

Even's skin is warm, soft in places, and rough in others. His t-shirt and sleep shorts wrap him like a gift, and Isak so badly wants to unwrap him. Unable to contain himself, Isak pushes the duvet back, uncovering them both.

Even's eyes find his in the near-dark. His expression is inscrutable, but his hands reach for him. Grab him and pull him on top.

Isak goes eagerly, slotting his legs between Even's until they're pressed together.

Hot, hungry hands slide Isak's t-shirt up and over his head. He lifts up long enough to wriggle free of the garment, and then he's reaching for Even's. It's gone in a flash, and then they're both pulling at waistbands, pushing aside fabric, panting into the night.

Even's touch is like a brand on his skin, and Isak hisses at first contact.

He needs.
He needs.
He needs.

And he wants.

"Fuck."

The word is a curse and a prayer. Isak loves that he can make Even do both, with his hands, and his mouth, and his body. He reaches toward his side-table, grabs what he needs, and then Isak lets his fingers roam over the body he's come to know better than his own.

"Please," Even begs, his voice shaking.

It's crazy that he can do this to him, make his cool, confident, godlike lover tremble and gasp. Isak is in awe of this boy, this man. He's twenty now.

Whoa, twenty.

And Isak is just a kid, really. New to this. New to, well, everything. So how is it that he gets to have this? With this guy?

"Baby..."

Isak moves, and they both groan. He'll never get used to this. Never grow tired of it. Of him. Not ever, he thinks, though he tries to stay away from thoughts of forever. He is so young. And Even is a man.

A man.
His man.

That thought sends a surge of possessive desire through him. Isak grabs Even's leg, positions him, puts him where he wants him. Where he knows he can do the most to drive Even out of his head with pleasure.

It works.

Even pants and writhes and it's bliss. It's heaven and bliss, and pride blooms in Isak's core, burning him from the inside.

"Jesus Christ, Issy. What are you doing to me?"

More. More and more, anything to get him to fall apart beneath him. Isak is on a mission, and Even's pleasure is his goal.