"I fucking hate you."
"You shouldn't really say things like that when my dick is up your ass, Norris."
Two hot-headed athletes with overflowing rage and unwinding sex drive is very much never a good combo.
Bryce and Ian never see eye to eye on thing...
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"Demisexual."
With his laptop on one thigh and Bryce's head on the other, Ian managed to move his mouth to answer without getting distracted from the paper he was writing. "That means you can only be attracted to someone once you've already formed like a close bond with them or something," he explained, making Bryce look up at him curiously.
"Like sex kind of attraction?" Bryce asked, the bright light from his phone bouncing off the silver rim of his glasses.
Ian was surprised when he saw them for the first time, too when Bryce arrived at his front door this morning. He didn't know the blond wore glasses or even imagined he'd look good in them, but he did and he is. Ian was convinced that the guy can wear whatever he wants, be it in the trend or not, and he'd still look like this even more fuckable piece of ass.
He chuckled as he removed his fingers from the keyboard to touch Bryce's hair. "Sort of, but not necessarily."
"Oh." Bryce's expression turned quizzical for a split second before he shrugged, scrolling to the next one. "Then I'm absolutely not that."
The brunet laughed, agreeing. "Yeah sorry, absolutely not."
A short breath of air escaped Bryce's mouth as he read through the other definitions, resembling frustration on a very hard Math homework. Although he made it clear that he wanted to do this, Bryce didn't look like he was getting anywhere near his goal. Ian knew first-hand how difficult discovering yourself can get so he decided to give his paper due two days from now a rain check, sighing as he turned his laptop off before gently removing Bryce's phone from his grip.
"You know you don't have to figure this out right now, right?" he told Bryce. "Or that you actually need to. You don't have to label yourself or anything if you don't want to, Bryce."
"I don't?"
"You don't," Ian repeated, smiling when Bryce sat up to rest his head on the headboard. "It takes years for some people, but there are ones who choose not to waste their time trying to fit themselves into boxes. That could be you."
"And you're okay with that?" Bryce glanced to his side as he asked.
Ian smiled, prying the sheets off his legs before straddling the blond, kissing his temple. "Everyone should be okay with that."
Bryce smiled, hands flying to Ian's face as he deepened the kiss, their hips grinding with every shift of movement. Ian paused when Bryce's glasses scraped his nose, eliciting a whispered "sorry" from the blond. "It's fine," he whispered back.
"You know, I bet this'll look better in black frame," the brunet boy said, tracing the length of the glasses' temple with his forefinger. Bryce caught his wrist as he tangled their fingers together, the corner of his lips turned upwards in the gentlest way possible.
"Yeah?" he then muttered, his other hand hidden beneath Ian's shirt where his thumb fiddled the spot just right above the garter of the boy's boxers. "Let's see."
