shadows_have_offended | (no subject)

It's bolder than his normal, skirting, skittish flirting, and Neil feels himself blushing about it, but he laughs about it and sips his beer. Casually, he scoots a little closer across the space the separates them.

"I think," he says toward the beers, "if you were really worried you wouldn't have come over."

A little shiver goes through Steve's chest, down into his belly, and he clears his throat before he nods.

"Yeah," he says. "You're probably right."

It's not a dismissive, or an upset, sort of noise that Steve makes. Neil looks at him and sips beer a moment, and then scoots just a little bit closer yet. Not quite close enough that they're touching, but almost.

The nerves get the better of him for a moment. He tucks his legs up toward his chest, glancing between Steve and the television a little bit, trying to be casual. "...I've never really done something like this, honestly."

He's aware of the way that Neil's edging closer and closer to him and he sways in slightly, just enough that their shoulders touch.

"Me either. I mean, with girls. But never...never with another guy." Because it does feel like they're edging towards something.

Neil smiles a little bit, soft, because he sort of realizes that it maybe sounds like he hasn't fooled around with guys, and that's not right. At the same time, it seems sort of important that they're both sort of fumbling in that nervousness. That Neil's nervous because he hasn't had a lot of people over to his place, and especially not for something like this, and that Steve's nervous because he's never done this with a guy at all.

He smiles a little bit and glances at Steve through his eyelashes. It doesn't hurt to just cut the cord, to just say the words and try, at this point. "Wanna make out a little?"

The last time they made out, they'd both been pretty drunk, and they'd been dancing, and it had been a bit different. Now, Steve has barely a few sips of beer in him, but he can still feel the electricity, the desire, dancing under his skin. He nods.

"Fuck yeah," he says, grinning.

There’s enthusiasm and Neil feels this wave of relief that Steve doesn’t need a couple more drinks to be interested. He takes one more steeling sip of his beer. He’s had a couple, just around the apartment while he was keying himself up about all this, but he just feels warm and loose and pleased. Wanted.

He waits for Steve to put his drink down before he leans in to kiss him. Slow at first, but jot quite shy. Investigating without being anxious. It’s different than kissing drunk.

It isn't the first time the've kissed, and Neil is the only person that Steve's kissed since Hawkins. He keeps it slow, keeps it soft at first. He leans back in the sofa, and he lets Neil go as fast or as slow as he wants. But he definitely doesn't pull away.

It’s nice to just go slow and easy for a moment, to just feel the kiss. Neil leans into it a little, adjusts how he’s sitting so he’s a little more comfortable and not quite so folded up. He knows how he can get, how quickly he can get worked up, but for now, it’s just exploration, just the lazy sort of kissing that comes from interest and comfort and feeling wanted.

It takes him a few minutes before he slides a hand up Steve’s arm, from wrist to shoulder, feeling the shape of him. He deepens the kiss a little then, as he rubs his thumb against the neck of Steve’s shirt but doesn’t quite let himself bury his fingers into his hair yet.

It feels nice when Neil touches him, Steve finds, the almost cautious hand sliding up his arm. He leans into tit, pushing it a little bit harder, a little bit deeper, his own fingers coming up to brush along the side of Neil's jaw. The touch is light, almost fluttering - encouraging.

Every little edge and tilt and the slow burning build feels really nice. The way they touch, slow and investigating. Neil lifts his hand and buries his fingers gently in Steve's hair. A gentle touch still, but more definite, more firm than just a brief, exploring touch.

Neil's fingers feel good in Steve's hair and he makes a soft sound, smudged against Neil's lips. His own fingers move with more purpose, sliding against the side of Neil's neck to pull him in closer.

The noise was a heady thing, sank heat through Neil, right through his belly and down his spine, because he could feel it just as much as he could hear it. The quiet noise of the television was a washing white noise now, enough to mute steady breathing and keep back the silence that might have seemed uncomfortable otherwise. Neil’s been in too many overly quiet places; he likes manufactured noise too much these days, and natural ones too, like this, the soft breath sounds of another boy and the steady, messy noise of kissing getting out of hand.

He shifts a little again, but this time back. It seems easy, with the way they’re clinging at each other’s necks and shoulders, to pull Steve along with him as he tilts back on the couch. Somehow, lying down seems the better choice than climbing on top of Steve. Maybe because it puts Steve in a position of control—easier to push back and away if he gets overwhelmed—or maybe because he just wants to feel his weight against him.

Steve finds himself quite content to be pulled down onto the sofa and, honestly, this position feels a lot more familiar to him. He sprawls out on the sofa, mindful, for a moment, of his sneakers, his body pressed against the length of Neil's, against his side, as they kiss. He keeps his hand where it is, cradling the side of Neil's neck, holding him to the kiss a little.

They’re near enough in height that it’s not clumsy to fit together, but Neil’s still just a little bit taller. That’s less important, stretched out underneath Steve. He wiggles a little, moves until they fit together neatly—or maybe just because it’s a point of friction and he wants to see how much he can work this other boy up, wants to see where the boundaries are. Kissing another boy is one thing, after all. Neil’s distinctly aware that he’s the more practiced party here, when it comes to what two boys do with each other beyond kissing, because Steve’s admitted to that.

He's almost entirely on top of Neil now, pressed together at chest and hips. He can still feel that electricity, which makes him remember what he said to Dustin. The way that Neil wiggles underneath him draws Steve's attention to his own rapidly hardening cock. He pushes the kiss deeper, tilting his head to nudge at Neil's mouth, wanting to kiss him deeper.

It was Neil's turn to let out a quiet noise, a wanting sort of sigh as he opened his mouth and sought more, as he grabbed at Steve a little harder. It's easy, when he can feel Steve like that, to let himself feel wild and carried away. It's easy to arch up against him while they kiss, to let the heat of it all sink low in his belly and get him harder by the second.

He can feel Neil starting to get hard, feel himself answering, and his cheeks flush dark, but it just makes him hungrier. He kisses harder, squirming a little to press his hips down more firmly, with a little bit more purpose.

"God," Neil breathes against Steve's mouth as his hips start to move, as they go from just being pressed together to starting to slowly grind. He clung to him, both hands in his hair now, tugging slightly now.

Steve realises that he's grinding against Neil in a way that he wouldn't ever have ground against a girl, especially if they were making out like this, just on the couch. He lifts his head, blushing a little, the way that Neil's fingers pull in his hair sending a twisting shock straight through him. He glances down the line of their bodies, to where they're pressed together.

"Is this...Is it okay?" He thinks it is, but, right then, he needs to hear the answer, too.

At first, all Neil can do is nod. His hips haven't stopped moving, this slow, subtle roll that seeks the pressure and friction of Steve above him. It doesn't seem worth asking. Of course it is, because neither of them has pulled or way or said otherwise, so it must be.

He looks at Steve, makes himself open his eyes and look at him. "Yeah," he whispers. "You?"

"Yeah, it's okay," says Steve, squirming a little more, his knee slotting between Neil's, nudging his thighs apart, pressing their cocks more snuggly together through two pairs of jeans. Steve's breath catches in a gasp. "More than okay."

Neil's head tilts back as Steve shifts like that, exposing his throat for a moment and leaving him gasping a bit. It's a lot of layers, but it's still good friction, and he sort of laughs for feeling so easy and desperate for it.

It's been a long spring and summer. Maybe he's been thinking about this more than he ought to have been, since they kissed at the club. He'll let himself feel guilty about that later.

"You know, uh." Neil cuts himself off, because he wants to kiss Steve again, wants to drag him in by the back of the neck and really kiss him, for a second. Unabashed and wanting. When he pulls back, he's a little nervous and breathless. "Uh, the bed's...a little bigger?"

Moving into Neil's bedroom feels like a big step but it's one that Steve finds that he wants, in that moment. He nods and then he bends his head, grazing his lips against the side of Neil's neck. "Yeah," he say, finally. "Bed. That...sounds like a really good idea, actually."

They linger yet, not quite ready to move, because it does seem a hurtle, a stumbling block. Neil's put it into the air, and Steve's said it's alright, but there's no rush. Maybe they should have had a little more to drink, or maybe they should have gone out somewhere and stumbled back and seen how things went, but they didn't do either of those things.

Feeling stone cold sober and ridiculously turned on, moving to the bedroom doesn't have to mean more than what they're doing on the couch, with the added benefit of being able to move more easily.

He pushes Steve gently back, nudging him up so they can make the migration.