Childhood Best Friend (bxb)

Owen Had To Borrow A Pen In The Middle Of The Night.

"Josiah."

Hm?

"Josiah."

Where am I?

"Josiah, sorry, I need your help."

Owen? What are you doing here?

"Josiah, hey."

The whispers continue and I open my eyes and see Owens face, lighted by the moonlight. It's still dark.

"Owen?"

"I need a pen. Fast!"

I use some time waking up, not really responding.

"Josiah! Now!" Owen seems to be in a hurry for some reason.

I can't bother to get anything, I'm so comfy and warm where I'm laying and don't want to move.

"There's a pen on my nightstand on the opposite side," I say, half asleep, eyes closed.

Then I open my eyes in surprise of Owen crawling up in my bed, going over me to reach the pen. I can't help but notice that's he's just in his boxers.

"What's the hurry?" I ask.

"I just need to write a number down before my phone dies. Three per cent left."

I find it a bit strange that he's doing that now, in the middle of the night, but I let it go, I'm too tired to think about it. He's sitting on my side with his phone and the pen from my nightstand, writing a number on his hand. I'm about to close my eyes again and go to sleep but then I feel him crawling over me again.

But this time, he stops. Wait, he actually stopped?

His body is over me, just inches away from the blanket I'm under. I'm utterly confused of what is happening. His curious brown eyes stares down at me. He's still. Just staring. He's like that for a few long seconds, looking like he's having an inner conversation. Like he's considering something risky and I'm so afraid he'll do what I think he's thinking about doing. I'm so afraid I just wish I bothered to give him the pen so this didn't have to happen. I don't want him there. I don't want Owen this close. It feels so wrong.

Then I feel his touch. I feel his hand on my cheek and I feel how burning hot I am with his cold hand on me.

I close my eyes. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to tell him to stop. I can't speak. I can't get a single word out. I'm tongue-tied. I think Owen is too.

I can't believe he's doing this, even though I don't quite understand what exactly he's doing. Touching my cheek. But why? What is he telling me by doing that?

He moves my blanket away. I'm completely still as he studies my body even though I have sweatpants and a tank top on. He's nervous. I'm shocked. None of us dare saying a word.

He touch my chest and slide his hand down my stomach. Then he slowly sits down with his legs on both my sides. He gently brings his other hand to my chest and starts slowly caressing my upper body, treating it as if sacred.

I feel bad. Really bad. This isn't good I keep telling myself, yet I don't seem to do anything about it. It's like I'm paralyzed. I can't move, I can't talk, I can't seem to do anything. Except to feel and watch what's happening to me.

He studies me, my body for some moments while slowly sliding his hand down my body. I feel so warm and almost sweaty, I'm just glad it's dark so he won't see my flushed face.

Owen bends down now, gently yet hesitantly pressing his lips on my cheek. He moves back and look at me again, stare at me, and I think he's waiting for a response. I'm just staring blankly back at him.

When he doesn't get anything from me, he bends down and kiss me again --this time on my lips. It was soft and weak.

Then he kiss me again.

And again.

And now harder.

Longer.

Eyes closed.

I think I like it a little.

More wetness.

Tongue.

I kiss him back.

I move my hand to his neck.

Skin sucking.

He helps me take off my tank top.

He kiss down my throat.

Down my chest.

Up to my lips again.

I grab his hair.

Moans slipping through.

Teeth clashing.

Every little movement, filled with lust.