Down-Hearted Syndrome

Chapter Eleven

 Sprawled on his stomach, Oliver pressed his nose into my bed sheets. He mumbled something, and looked up at me. "What did you say?" I ask lazily, running my hands through my receding hair.

"I said, what... What's up?" Ollie's voice cracks. He's obviously lying.

"Well..." I begin, sighing deeply, "The cutest boy I know just kissed me..." My voice trails off. Ollie puts a hand over his mouth, a blush spreading across his face. "Cutest, huh? What's his name?"

I lay on my back, slowly pulling my arms behind my neck. "Oliver..." Ollie rolls next to me, his head where my torso is and my head where his torso is. "Tell him he's lucky. I'm kind of jealous."

Smirking, I roll my neck and plant a kiss on his side. He sits up, cupping my face in his hand. Pulling toward me, he stops.

"God, I fucking love you." He mumbles, immediately pulling in for a kiss. Our lips mold together, sending shivers down my back. I feel him bite my lower lip, begging for an entrance. I allow him to roam the insides of my mouth with his tongue, grunting at the pressure of his body being applied to my chest. I pull away, catching my breath. He begins to pull of his tee, and my schizophrenic self practically screeches.

This is just like the dream...

I notice a small detail what wasn't in my dream, though.

Small scars like the bottom of his pecks, the skin red from rubbing. He also has faint lines along his shoulders, where a chest binder once sat. I never noticed this before, but his hips are very defined and his shoulders aren't as broad as a lot of the other guy's.

Careful not to touch his scar too much, I leave a trail of kisses down his stomach, ending at the hem of his shorts. He moans my name, clutching the bed sheets. I can see the tension through his jeans, he's really excited.