Benjamin & Christopher {Saving Elliot One-Shots}

Smoke at the Bottom of the Garden

Fuck, I'm late. Fuck fuck fuck. 

For all the dirty girls who wanted a slightly raunchier scene, this is for you.

He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and Finley sighed, leaning against the wall, watching as O’Connor blew the cigarette smoke out of his nostrils. He grimaced.

“I hate it when you smoke, to be frank.” He observed. O’Connor inhaled some more smoke from the cigarette, his mouth puckering around it as he turned his eyes, glinting like steel, to watch Finley frown.

He pulled the cigarette out again and smiled with one half of his mouth, blowing smoke out of the other half. “Really?” he mused, white tendrils curling to kiss his jaw and cheeks. He leant his one hand, free of the cigarette, beside Finley’s head, stubbing the cigarette out against the wall with the other hand.  “But you love me despite it.”

Finley narrowed his eyes. “How can you be so sure?”

O’Connor’s eyes dropped to his mouth as he let the cigarette fall to the floor, more smoke casually floating out of his nostrils.

“Your pupils are dilated.” He mused.

“It’s dark out.”

“Your mouth is trembling.” His eyes flickered down and he smiled more, dangerous.

“It’s cold too.”

“Your breathing is shallow.” He whispered.

“I ran here.” Finley’s heart was beating so fast, his stomach experiencing anti-gravity. He leant forward, his mouth against his jugular. Finley gasped and O’Connor smiled.

“Your heart is beating at a crescendo.” He could feel the moisture of his breath on his skin and his eyelids fluttered, close to closed.

“I’m filled with adrenaline from running here.” He growled, his reply unconvincing and shaky. O’Connor was shaking too, his mouth twitching against his, his breath heavy.

“Finley?” A dark skinned girl with glowing gold eyes ran down the hill to the brick wall they were leant against. Both Finley and O’Connor lifted their heads to observe her flailing arms as her white dress ballooned around her.

Finley pushed O’Connor away and stepped forward, straitening his shirt, re-doing his top button, and pushing his hair out of his face, no doubt flushed with arousal. “Jem?”

The girl came to a halt, breathing hard. “Where’d you go? You just disappeared off of the dance floor.” She said through gasps.

“I- O’Connor left for a smoke and I followed him, just to ask him how he was enjoying the party, you know? Just wanted to make sure he was having a good time.” The lie came surprisingly easy, probably because it held some truth. 

“Oh? Do you want to go up to the party and-” Finley leapt forward, pulling Jem into his side, wiping at an imaginary speck of dust on the corner of her mouth.

“Yeah, of course, let’s go.” his first girlfriend since and he was already cheating on her. In his head he was ravenously kissing O’Connor, a thirst in him starting that he knew needed to be quenched. He couldn’t understand this. He’d never really felt like this, never really been all that sexually interested in other boys. Maybe O’Connor was the exception. But-

He needed to find somewhere private to kiss Jem and pretend she was the one who incited this hunger in the first place. He dragged her up the hill without so much as a second glance at O’Connor who had in all that time, re-lit a cigarette and been smoking it with half lidded eyes, glazed and staring into the distance.

He managed to make it back into the house and Jem buggered off with an excuse that had to do with the toilet. When she returned, Finley wasted no time; he kissed her with a passion that rendered her immobile. He grabbed her neck, the curls, tight and course, scratching slightly against his hand. He opened his eyes suddenly to meet almost black green eyes staring back at him from across the room. He watched, over Jem’s shoulder, as she responded to him, finally, as O’Connor licked his lips.

He gasped and pulled away from Jem as O’Connor watched, tilting his chin at them with narrowed eyes. It was so dirty, so completely wrong to be so turned on by a boy he wasn’t even kissing. Jem’s mouth was on his neck, sloppy and hot, but all he could think about was O’Connor and his mouth and his eyes and his smell.

“B-Ben,” He moaned.