Hail Mary

Liam

I have no idea what I'm doing. Kissing another guy? Really? And a guy I'm starting to consider my best friend, to boot? But I can't stop it. The moment he puts his hand on my face, I'm done for. I had to get out of that bar because I couldn't stand the thought of Niall going home with some random guy. The feeling that's been bothering me isn't just annoyance at him possibly ditching me. It's jealousy. All night, I watched them. I watched that asshole Tommy flirting and groping and fucking him with his eyes. I watched Niall respond to it. Watched the way he licked his lips and leaned in closer. And that's what I ended up focusing on. His lips. I wondered what they would feel like. What they would taste like. I had to know. All of these fucking emotions are so pent up inside of me that I just have to get them out somehow. I should've waited until Saturday and just worked my ass off during the game like I always do when I need to forget, but it's already too late for that. The second my lips press to Niall's I know it's not just going to be a quick peck. This isn't some kind of test between bros to see if I'm actually interested. I'm definitely interested. His lips are softer than I expected, and while he's stiff at first, it doesn't take him long to respond. His mouth melds to mine, and the light scratch of his stubble is a strange new sensation that just seems to heighten the little shocks of pleasure that explode at the end of my nerves. I don't know how a first kiss between Niall and I should go. It's not like I planned this. But I know what I need, and it isn't soft or gentle. My lips crash roughly to his. I take his face in my hands, feeling the short, coarse hair beneath my fingers, and use my body to push him backwards. I don't even know where we are, but when he stops, letting out a puff of breath as his back hits a wall, I take full advantage. I kiss him in a way I've never kissed anybody before. His mouth opens to me on a moan, and it's the sexiest sound I've ever heard. It's also an invitation. I take it immediately, thrusting my tongue into his mouth and meeting his eagerly. His own hands move down to my chest, and he grips my shirt in his fingers, pulling me even closer. I kiss him until I can't breathe anymore, and after a gulp of air I go right back to kissing him, pressing my body to his the same way we were pressed together in the park. Only this time, it's deliberate, and the throb in my jeans doesn't surprise me at all. My body's on fire, and everything in me craves this closeness. I want to somehow be nearer to him, but practically every inch of me is melded to him, his hard body against mine. And the more we kiss, his tongue meeting mine time and time again, my lips crashing against his teeth, the more I can feel him get harder still. I can feel the bulge against my thigh, and, running on instinct, I adjust myself against him so that he can feel me, too. He lets out another moan that I swallow greedily, and I work my hands down to the sides of his neck, his shoulders, then eventually to his hips, pulling him closer against me. The honk of a horn followed closely by a few whistles and slurred, feminine cheers of encouragement rushes over me like a bucket of ice water. I pull myself away from Niall , and he just stands there—or rather, leans there—his back against the wall, eyes half lidded, lips a little swollen, face flushed. There's a part of me that just wants to go right back to what we were doing. Desire courses through my body, so hot and so strong that I don't feel fully in control of myself. Slowly—way too slowly—the world around us starts to come back, and I realize we're standing on a street corner, giving everybody a show. "Jesus," Horan breathes, his chest heaving. I can't seem to catch my own breath, and it doesn't help when panic begins to set in. I just kissed another guy. And because I can't seem to do anything half-assed, I didn't just kiss him with the mild curiosity of an experimental college student. I kissed the fuck out of him, like I wanted to devour him right here in public. A part of me still wants that. I rake a hand through my hair, letting out a heavy breath. I have no idea what to say. What are you supposed to say when you suddenly realize you aren't straight? Because there's no denying it now. I liked it. Not just my body, though there's no denying that, either. My bulge is huge right now, and my cock is straining painfully against my jeans. But I enjoyed it on some deeper level, too. Something about it just clicked. Like it's been a long time coming. It's overwhelming, and even though Horan is staring at me, waiting for an answer he rightfully deserves, I can't give him one. "Sorry. I don't..." I haven't stuttered or tripped over my words since I was in grade school. But now my tongue feels heavy in my mouth, and I can't manage to form the words in my brain. "I... Have to go." My feet don't want to move. It's like I'm waiting for Horan to say something, do something, but he looks just as surprised as I am, if not more so. "... Okay. Yeah. I'll... Catch the bus." I squint my eyes shut as realization hits me. I'm his ride. I can't cock-block him, kiss him, and ditch him all in one night. I have to at least try to not fuck one thing up. "No. Sorry, I... I wasn't thinking. I'll drive you back to your dorm." I finally start walking, as if my brain has finally decided it's okay with this decision. I can't look back at Horan, and it takes a while, but I eventually hear the sounds of his sneakers hitting the pavement as he follows. The ride back is more awkward than I could have ever imagined. Neither of us say a word to each other, and I can't even stand to listen to the radio. Instead, I focus on the sound of the wheels moving smoothly over the asphalt, the light squeal of the brakes, and the rhythmic click of the turn signal. Anything to keep from thinking about the fact that I probably just destroyed our friendship.