Strange // Ryllon

thirteen

"How do you feel?" I ask Dallon. He blinks a few times, but looks at me.

"Kinda sick, but... good, I think," he says. I giggle a bit and move closer.

"You're cute when you're drunk," I tell him, leaning my head on his shoulder and playing with his fingers. "And when you aren't. You're always really hot and cute at the same time."

Dallon laughs a bit and I kiss his neck. "You're... cute. You're really, really cute."

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says. I pull away and straddle his lap. We were sober not to long ago, but 6 shots later and we are blackout drunk. I love this feeling, the feeling of having absolutely no fear or worry. It's better when high, but I'll take what I can get.

I look into his eyes, those goddamn blue eyes. I've never really paid attention to the color blue until I met Dallon. Now that color, that beautiful fucking blue, that's all I ever pay attention to and it's the prettiest color I have ever seen.

I look down at his lips, his pretty pink lips. He kissed me that one time and I haven't stopped thinking about it. He is everything to me, and him kissing me is even better. The thought of us being together is all I can think about. I can never concentrate. I haven't since meeting him, actually. He occupies my thoughts and I can't kick him out, but I'm starting to realize that I don't mind.

"Kiss me," I say, then look back into his eyes. "Please."

He leans forward and we both close our eyes before our lips connect. It's soft, but then we pull away, foreheads pressed together, and we stare into each other's eyes. We go back in, but this time it's more passionate.

His hands roam up my thighs and down to my ass and I feel like I'm going insane just based on where his hands are on me. He mumbles against my lips, "Is this okay?" I try to hum in agreement but it comes out more as a needy moan.

"Yes, please don't stop," I manage to mumble in between heated kisses. He manages to wrap one arm around my hips and the other across my back and pull me closer. I grind against him and we groan, lips and mouths blocking it.

His fingers slip beneath my shirt but waits for me to say it's okay to continue. Him and his fucking consent, God, I didn't think I could love him more than I already do.

"Go ahead," I say, so he slides his hand up my torso until I lift my arms, and then the shirt is off and I'm bringing my arms back down, hands landing on his shoulders. "Your turn," I say.

Dallon doesn't hesitate to pull off his sweater, revealing a button up underneath. We work together to unbutton, but then he's making me stop. He picks me up swiftly, slowly and carefully carrying me upstairs to what I'm assuming is gonna be one of our bedrooms, and our lips don't break contact. He lays me down on the bed and continues to unbutton his shirt as I take off his belt.

He pulls away, both of us panting to catch a breath, and he laughs a bit.

"Can... can I take the lead, and if you get uncomfortable, could you tell me?"

"Please," I say, which isn't really an answer, but he understands.

It takes him not even a second to switch from his careful and constant reassuring consent self, to knowing he is in control and knowing that's how I want it to be. His eyes go dark and he looks at me up and down in a way that nearly makes me moan on the spot. It almost terrifies me, but I think I'm more turned on way more than I am scared.

"You're so fucking skinny," he says in a lower tone than he had before. I gasp very slightly as he squeezes my hips, pushing my jeans down a bit to look at my hip bones. I don't think I've ever heard him curse.

The alcohol begins to kick in some more and I have to check with myself that I want him. I do, I really do, so I relax and let everything else take control.