Static Crush {M/M} ✔

Chapter #44

For the first ten seconds, Hale thinks perhaps Rayner didn't hear him. He appears frozen in time, staring at Hale, still gripping the clothes in both hands. His lips move, but it takes a moment for sound to follow.

"P-pardon?"

"I want you," Hale repeats, slower this time, "to kiss me."

The pause afterward is much shorter. Then Rayner's moving, dropping the clothes, nearly tripping over them in his haste. He's pressing Hale back up against the door, cool hands sliding against hot skin, fingers tangling in his hair, and he's kissing Hale. Feverish, desperate, with none of the hesitation that marked their first kiss. Hale's nervousness evaporates.

He abandons all his predictive algorithms, all his behavioural templates, all the charts and graphs and observations upon which he'd normally base his every decision, and surrenders to the unchecked want. He gathers Rayner as close as clothing will allow. He lets his hands wander and explore every plane of Rayner's back, his hips, the curve of his neck. He kisses back. The taste of Rayner on his tongue is a rapture unto itself that he can't put to words.

Rayner's hands explore him too. At first only his neck, his face, anywhere he can grip Hale and pull him deeper into the kiss, anywhere there's exposed skin. But there isn't a lot of exposed skin, at least not in Hale's case. Evidently frustrated with this, Rayner yanks at Hale's shirt until he can slide his fingers under the hem and over Hale's belly.

The moan rises in his throat before he can prevent it. It feels like Hale's body is on fire. Like Rayner's hands are brands, scorching every place they touch. Like it should hurt, but instead it feels impossibly good.

It all stops too abruptly when Rayner pulls away. A protest is on the tip of Hale's tongue, but Rayner manages to speak first.

"Shirt. Off."

He's breathless and pink-cheeked. Hale can't resist and doesn't want to. It takes five seconds too many to wrestle his shirt over his head before Rayner is back in his arms again.

It's an entirely different thing to kiss with that barrier of clothing removed, pressed chest to chest. Rayner's skin, cool from the shower, heats to Hale's touch. Hale doesn't just receive data transmissions of Rayner's roaring heartbeat either; he can practically feel Rayner's pulse jumping under his skin. It's as though Rayner's sensitivity only compounds his own.

Between urgent kisses, Rayner gasps, garbled against Hale's mouth, "Sofa?" and starts guiding him by his belt loops. When the backs of Hale's knees hit said sofa, he falls back onto it. To his annoyance, Rayner leaves the towel on when he straddles Hale, one knee on either side of his hips. It's a little awkward, the towel restricting his movement, and Hale tries to be pointed in the way he slides a hand down Rayner's spine and under the edge of it.

That makes Rayner break the kiss, laughing a little against Hale's mouth. "You want it off?"

"Obviously," Hale says in a huffy tone he almost doesn't recognize as his own voice.

Giving him an arch look, Rayner rises up on his knees and reaches for the spot where the towel is tucked in around his waist. He has the audacity to only mime removing it the rest of the way, giving his hips a teasing wiggle. Hale's face must be the picture of impatience, because Rayner bursts out laughing.

"What's funny?" Hale demands, though he's starting to smile himself.

"You. Being so impatient," Rayner snorts. "Do you know how long I've waited to hear you say those words?"

"As long as I've waited to be able to say them," Hale answers quickly.

"And you can't wait a few seconds for the towel to come off."