shadows_have_offended | (no subject)

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Neil's had enough to drink that it all seems like a good idea, but not enough that he's impaired, that this could be taken as a terribly bad idea. He's had enough that the idea has had time to really seem like a great idea, by the time he pulls his phone out and nervously sends a text. A quiet invitation. Maybe he shouldn't be so bold to assume anything, but he doesn't think he's assuming a damn thing. And, after all, it's not like the text said anything as presumptuous as come over let's fuck--Neil isn't nearly so crass as all that. But it's a clear sort of invitation, in private together.

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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.

Steve lets himself be led. He's achingly aware of the hard line of his cock in his jeans, his eyes drifting to Neil's ass as he follows him into the bedroom. Once they're there,Steve takes a deep breath and then he steps in behind Neil, wrapping both arms around his waist so that he can pull him close and kiss the side of his neck.

He leans back into the hold, the warmth and weight of him, the feel of him so close, and he tilts his head to the side so he can feel more of those soft, inviting kisses. Gently, Neil runs his fingers over Steve's hands.

There's a cautious lie he wants to tell--this is it, they can just kiss, there doesn't have to be anything else--but he wants too much more. So, instead, he keeps quiet. He rolls his hips back against Steve a little, presses his ass against the shape his cock as they just stand there like idiots.

"Fuck," breathes Steve, quietly, his mouth pressed against Neil's neck. He's never been with a girl who squirms against him like this and, honestly, it's ridiculously hot. One of Steve's hands slides lower, his fingers skimming the front of Neil's jeans. Lightly. Almost tentative.

After so much confidence and surety, it's almost nice to feel the hesitation. Neil nods his head a little bit, though with the way he's tilted to accommodate Steve kissing his neck, it's more of a rock back against his shoulder. Yes, he wants the touch. Yes, it's alright. Yes, there's nothing to worry about.

"Don't be nervous," he murmurs, trying to sound more sure of the situation than he feels. He has the experience here, after all, which still seems strange.

It feels weird to be touching a cock that's not his own. Weird, but not bad. He cups Neil's cock through his jeans and squeezes gently, pulling him back into the cradle of his hips.

"You feel really good," he says. He's only just now realising how long it's been since he was this close to someone he wanted. Someone who wanted him.

Neil whines at the almost teasing way that Steve touches him, the way they fit against each other. There's a heat in his voice that sinks right through him, that for a moment Neil can only blush about. For having just tried to assure Steve to not be nervous, he feels a little nervous himself.

He turns his head a bit, smudges a kiss against Steve's cheek and nudges toward his mouth sloppily.

Steve takes his hand away but only so that he can tug at Neil, turn him in his arms so that they're facing each other again so he can take a kiss.

"IN bed or on it?" he asks, eyebrow raised. Right then, he's pretty sure that he'd be up for either.

It's a question with a lot of weight, all of a sudden, and it has Neil licking his upper lip in contemplative anticipation. His stomach flutters. He curls his fingers in Steve's shirt and he backsteps toward the edge of the bed. It's bigger than any bed he ever had growing up--at his parents or at Welton--and he knows it's better with someone else in it.

"Let's start out on it," he says as he sinks down to sit on the edge, "and see where we go from there."

One of Steve's knees hits the bed beside Neil's hip so that he can duck his head and kiss Neil again, leaning down into it. He's achingly aware of how hard he is, how uncomfortable his jeans are and, in this position, the relative distance from his cock to Neil's mouth.

He leans up into it, this sort of awkward kiss at the angle they're at. He knew, when he sat on the edge, exactly where he'd end up. The picture that made, and all the suggestion that lived in their position. Don't be nervous. He doesn't say it, because it's just for him this time, just a quiet mantra. He's not, not exactly.

As they kiss, he slides a hand across the bulge of Steve's cock, feeling the shape of him through his jeans.

Neil touches his cock and Steve feels dangerously close to exploding. He drags a breath in through his nose, kisses Neil a little bit deeper, a little bit hungrier before he pulls away.

"Fuck it," he breathes, laughing, as he pulls back enough to start undoing his belt with a snap of leather.

There's a moment, at the noise of snapped belt, where Neil almost jerks away. It's instinctive more than anything else, and it's blessedly fast in its passing. He looks at Steve, his smile and soft laughing face and it's easy to be back in this moment.

He helps tug his belt off. He can't stand the potential of that noise maybe happening again, so he tosses it aside, before putting busy fingers to work on Steve's fly.

This part is more familiar to Steve and he leans back and lets Neil work on his flies. Underneath, he's wearing dark boxers, his cock straining against soft fabric. He bites his lip, tousles his fingers into Neil's hair.

For a moment, Neil's breath stutters in his chest. He's got a little practice at all of this--some fumbling at Welton, more here in Darrow where it's a bit safer to be himself--but he's still largely a novice. He knows that Steve likes girls, but not if he's been with a lot. There's a moment, a worry, in his chest that maybe Steve has and he won't be as soft and nice as all that.

But Steve liked kissing. Neil's under no suspicion that Steve's thinking of something else right now, because he could definitely feel how turned on Neil is by all this. He touched him too.

He licks his lips and pushes his jeans and boxers down, leaning in to kiss the soft skin of Steve's hips, working down toward his cock as he wraps his fingers around him. A little noise leaves him against Steve's skin as he touches him.

It's a little bit dizzying, to be stripped like that, but Steve is suddenly impossibly aroused, his cock all but throbbing as Neil curls his fingers around him. He shuffles his feet a little bit wider apart to make sure that he's stable, his fingers brushing along Neil's jaw, into his hair.

Even with the edge of nerves between them, there's still a confidence in the way they move, how they touch, that drives it. They know what they want, and there isn't that thin layer of shame in it. Neil strokes Steve a few more times, and then takes the head of his cock in his mouth, wet and easy about it.

And then Neil's mouth is on him, his cock is in Neil's mouth, and it's been so long since someone gave him a blowjob that he almost passes out right there, even though he knew it was coming. He lets out a long, low breath and bites his lip, looking down at Neil.

Neil makes a soft noise as he sucks at him, managing a few swipes of his tongue before he looks up at Steve. He blushes a little to see him looking down, and then focuses his attention back on what he's doing.

Steve groans softly, at the noise, more than anything. At the wet, hot feeling of Neil's mouth on his cock. He smiles when he blushes, feels himself blush in answer.

"Feels really good."

It does. Neil's on the doing end of things, and it's still really good. He slides down a little bit more, takes more in his mouth, as he makes another soft, tender sound.

His free hand drifts to his own crotch, adjusting himself through his jeans.

"Do you want to take your jeans off?" says Steve, his voice giving in the middle as Neil's mouth slides down further over his cock. "We can...stop. If you want." Not for long, he hopes, but he kind of wants to see Neil in less clothes too.

Neil pulls back, gets his breath and his bearings for a second. He strokes Steve because he can't stop touching him, and his blush feels feverish now. For a second, he can't make words happen.

Then, in a heady rush, he says, "I absolutely want to take my jeans off, man. I just didn't know if we were...there?"

He laughs a little bit. They're there, or somewhere at least. He just had his mouth on Steve's cock. Where the hell else are they?

"I just thought it might be...ah...more comfortable," says Steve, and it's impossible to stop his hips rocking forward, his cock sliding through the circle of Neil's fingers. "But it's totally up to you."

It’s awfully sweet, the cautious concern of it. Neil lets himself feel a little bright and heady from it, let’s himself glow that it matters. He’s been a bit caught up in making sure this is good for Steve, after all. He knows it’s good for him.

Reluctantly, he takes his hand off Steve, and lays back for a moment so it’s easy to open his jeans and slither out of them. He’s taken to boxer briefs in place if the tight white briefs he tended toward back home, more comfortable and long-legged things that he liked as much for the models on the package as for the comfort of them.

For a second he stays sprawled in his shirt and underwear, looking up at Steve, longing.