Nothing but Skin

Part 3

Note: This chapter contains IMPLIED sex. Nothing graphic. A character "loses his belt." 

It was already dark when got back to Quito's apartment, and neither of them bothered to turn on the lights. They were barely through the door, and Quito's hands were all over Nick, in his hair and on his back -- Nick struggled to get out of his coat, gasping one word against Quito's hair -- "Bed."

Quito didn't wait. He helped Nick unzip his coat and shoved it to the floor, almost ripping his top sweater in the process. Nick hissed though his teeth as Quito pushed him against the wall, one leg between Nick's thighs, and pressed his open mouth to Nick's neck.

Nick tilted his head back, eyes closed, and tugged Quito's scarf off with some difficulty. Head free, Quito tilted his head and sucked hard on the sensitive skin beneath Nick's ear. Nick moaned, pressing his hands against the wall to steady himself.

"No marks," he whispered -- gasped -- and then for the second time, "Bed."

Quito hummed against his neck, pulling away. He yanked on Nick's layers of shirts and Nick pushed him off, steering him through the apartment. "Bastard," hissed Nick, and Quito whined out something unintelligible.

They stumbled through the short, dark hallway and tumbled though the door. Nick pushed Quito backwards on to the bed, stripped off his shirt, and lowered himself to Quito's lips. He pinned Quito's shoulders down as he kissed him, taking control -- Quito responded hungrily, moaning into Nick's mouth --

-- and soon Nick's shirts were gone, and then Quito's belt, and then Nick was on his back on the bed, moaning "Quito" instead of "bastard" or "Kitsumi" as Quito kissed him heatedly, slim little ballet body suspended over him --

And then Nick was gasping, and Quito was panting some broken combination of "Nick" and "please" and "yes, yes." And -- and -- oh -- and Quito lowered himself down, gasping, to lie on top of Nick. Sweaty and hot. Sticky. Both of them.

Nick held onto his back, eyes still closed, trying to catch his breath. Quito's fluffy hair was tickling his ear. He breathed out long and slow, savoring the feeling of Quito's lithe form pressed flush against his own, less desirable body. And there it was. The problem.

His body.

Because he could never be sure how Quito looked at his body at night. (If he looked at all.) When they were just hanging out, they were "bros." In the studio they were partners, but Nick played the distinctive role of Quito's female partner. (Even though he wasn't, not really.) But at night... he wasn't sure.

He sighed.

He knew who he was, but he wasn't sure who he was to Quito. Because right now, he wasn't Nick the college boy, and he wasn't Nick the dancer, either. Because right now, he was vulnerable, completely naked, soul stripped bare for Quito to see.

Nothing but skin in between them.