Bad Boy, Good Boy (boyxboy)

12 - hello prince charming

A/N: Shorter, but hopefully still good. I definitely enjoyed writing it. 

I would very much like to synchronize the timelines of this and Ugly Boy, but I don't know when that'll happen, and it angers me a little, makes me nervous. Ugh. 

I would like to thank @Raspberry_Cupcake who decided to read Blue Howard and make my day(s) with it. 

And even though I've had great feedback with all my stories (and I realize they're all imperfect and full of mistakes and even plot holes), sometimes I get not so pleasant surprises, for example when a person who shall remain nameless added  Blue Howard (boyxboy) to "I don't like, hate or can't believe this crap exists" - really put things into perspective, gee thanks. 

So, I raise this (invisible) toast to everyone who's ever been considered bad at something. This one is for us, losers. We can't all be the Sun, you know. Some of us are the Moon, reflecting the shine of others. I still love you, though.

Happy reading x)

Chapter 12 – hello prince charming

We both press on the door handle at the same time and stumble in. Stumble so much that Nolan almost falls down and I almost crash down with him before I regain my balance and hold him up.

The towel falls down, Nolan holding his hands up in surrender. "What are you gonna do now?" he whispers close to my lips, and I know I can't look down. Not that I don't want to – I do. It's just that I can't, because I won't be able to see anything, and that would be a shame. We're standing too close to each other.

He wiggles his fingers, catching my attention.

I grab his backside, and he inhales sharply. I look into his eyes as I slide my hand down. Nolan bites his lip and shakes his head slightly.

I bring my mouth closer to his and brush my lips against his. "Devour you," I whispers, and Nolan loses it. He pulls me into a kiss, ravenous, and his fingers tug at my shirt, pulling this way and that as if trying to rip the fabric, and I can't almost hear the frustration this won't come off, this...ugh, it's not cooperating...what the fuck is this shirt anyway? I need it off.

Or maybe I'm just imagining it.

I smirk.

Our fingers touch as I try to help him, or more myself. I'm burning up in this suffocating fabric.

And then my shirt on the floor and Nolan's eyes are on it. "Finally, he mumbles, and then points his index finger at it. "And stay there."

I walk past him, my fingers trailing on his skin, and then I slap his ass. "I want attention!" And then I run toward the bedroom.

"You know I can't run that well naked!" he shouts after me, and I'm chuckling with my back against the wall, waiting for him to come and trap me in a cage of limbs and breath.

He finally reaches the bedroom, and of course he didn't run because there was no need to. He's smug like always. "Which brings me to this – why am I always the one who's naked first?"

And he's leaning against the door frame in all his glory, and boy is he glorious.

Someone fan me!

"My eyes are up here," he says, snapping his fingers.

The side of my mouth curves upward. "It was never my intention to look for your eyes down there."

He presses his lips together, a smile hidden now. Moment later he says, "You're making me uncomfortable."