S.M. ✦ Gin & Juice

IX.

*** warning: first time smut ***

The rough texture of the carpet in Shawn's bedroom curled between your toes. You stood across from him, the bed an ocean of sheets and pillows and ghosts of all the girls he must have slept with before. The nerves crawled everywhere—on your skin, your fingertips, in your belly—your legs quaked with them and caused your vision to cloud slightly. He cleared his throat and your eyes shot up to meet his.

"I'm not going to do anything that you don't want to do," he promised, making sure not to leave your eyes, "if we stand here all night and stare at each other, that will be just fine with me." You shifted your weight from side to side, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. You heard a sharp intake of breath from across the mattress and watched his breathing hitch shallow in his chest. Seeing the effect you had on him gave you a moment's courage, cracking open the safe that hid your body from the world.

Slowly, you fingered the hem of your sweater and raised it over your head, the cool air of the room raising goosebumps on your skin. His eyes raked across your smooth chest, still covered by a simple nude t-shirt bra, and down to your abdomen, savoring the sight of so much skin. The urge to cover yourself with your arms was strong, but at the same time you wanted him to see you—all of you. You wanted him to look and touch and taste everything you had and take what you would freely give him.

It was your turn to clear your throat, startling him back into the here and now. Taking the hint, you stared at him expectantly while he removed his own shirt. The last time you'd seen him shirtless, the weight of the moment had overtaken any enjoyment you might have had in the visual. Touching him for the first time, feeling that electricity, had rendered you temporarily blind and only able to see him through your fingertips. Now, separated, you could really see him. You could get lost in the expanse of pale skin across his torso, fingers itching to trace the hard grooves of muscle. His shoulders rose and fell with every labored breath, a deep red blush blooming on his chest under your scrutiny.

How could he possibly be nervous? He must have slept with dozens of girls. You wondered if he remembered all of them or if some of them, many of them, were submerged in the deep blackness he dove into every weekend. You knew those thoughts were toxic. That thought spiral could take you out of this moment that had brought him to you sober and nervous, like the boy that you'd encountered at the library. The boy in your dorm room pacing. The boy standing in his kitchen who didn't know what you liked so he ordered a little bit of everything off the menu. The boy standing in front of you panting, okay if you stopped, but desperately hoping you keep going.

You swore he stopped breathing when you popped the button on your jeans and wiggled them down your legs, sliding your socks off with them. Something about seeing you in your underwear must have struck a chord with him because suddenly he was tripping over his own feet to remove his pants, clawing at the zipper and peeling the skinny fit fabric from his legs, until the two of you were both undressed, only a few scraps of fabric separating the unknown from the known. His black boxer briefs seemed much more tailored for this moment compared to your baby pink boyshorts with ladybugs printed on them.

Moving toward the bed, you turned down the covers and crawled between the soft sheets that smelled like Shawn. You avoided his eyes as he continued to mimic your movements, lifting the comforter and sheets on his side and sliding between them, keeping enough distance between you to not be suggestive or forward, still treating you like a frightened animal. Finally, when he stilled, you looked up to find him waiting for you, his head propped up on his fist.

"Shawn, I..." you paused, unsure how to continue without killing the mood, if there was even a mood after the awkward buildup undressing, but you decided that coming out with it was the only way, "I'm a virgin." The nerves threatened your limbs again, fingers tingling, almost numb from the admission that felt like telling an embarrassing secret. He kept his eyes level with yours, seemingly unaffected, "is...is that supposed to scare me?"