Male Readers X CC

{1} mr inabber

mr inabber is 💘babey💘

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He's a boy, this much is obvious.

He's a boy, but he's the prettiest fucking boy you've ever seen. It's not so much what gender he is that terrifies you, but more who he is.

Fraser's famous – or popular, at least – and it scares you. There's so many people that he could have over you, and so many people that are probably better for him. But somehow he's content with you, just you, only you. That's how it will always be, he says, and the selfish part of you believes him because it's what you so desperately want. You want him.

It's only a few months into being together that you realise how much you want him.

The thoughts you think are dangerous and they poison your bloodstream, making you cough and sputter on your words as they infect you deep to your very core. The thoughts are dangerous, and you fear that any antidote you could have to the poison is useless. You're too far gone.

Fraser notices; of course he does, because he would have to be an absolute fucking idiot not to notice how your breath goes short when his hands grip tight onto your waist, how you stare a bit too much when his mouth is bruised pink, how you dig your fingertips into his thighs, arms, shoulders, anywhere, when he accidentally rocks his hips into yours. Fraser notices, and you think that's your first mistake.

Your second mistake is not doing anything about it, and now it's gotten you somewhere you didn't expect. But you're not complaining about where you've found yourself, because you'd never dare complain about having the prettiest boy you've ever seen in your lap and pushing his fingers beneath the waistband of your joggers.

"Fuck," Fraser hisses against your throat, infectious and intoxicating with the way it melts into your skin. "You don't–You don't understand how much I've wanted this."

"You've been in my lap plenty of times before," You breathe out, unable to make it past a soft whisper. "This suddenly something new?"

Fraser laughs sheepishly and pulls back from your neck, fingers just shy of pushing past the knuckle into your joggers. "You know what I mean," He flushes and darts his gaze between your mouth and your eyes. "I've wanted...to do lots of things with you, past just sitting in your fucking lap. I've wanted to do things to you."

"Like what?" You find yourself saying, unable to resist the temptation of seeing this boy's cheeks go redder and his fingers to tighten.

"Like..." Fraser starts and pauses, turning his head away. "I dunno. Just things."

You bring your hand up to his chin, smoothing your thumb over his freckle-painted cheekbone once he's facing you again. "Like what?" You repeat, still soft, but firmness underlining it. You want to hear what he has to say, no matter how much he blushes or tries to divert it.

"Like touching you," Fraser says in one breath, rushing to get the words out. He's embarrassed, like he doesn't want to say anything, but you can feel how he's growing hard against your thigh and the words continue to spill from his lips.

"Like–Like touching you here," He says, the hand not halfway down your joggers resting on your chest. "And here," He hesitates before moving it to your stomach, dipping it lower so it rests on your abdomen. "Here." He finally squeaks out, voice barely above a whisper as he brushes his fingers against your cock that's shamefully already hard.