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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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.

It feels ridiculous to stand there with his jeans and underwear rucked up around his thighs, so Steve takes a deep breath and then he bends, stripping off his jeans. He leaves his underwear on for now, tugs it up enough that, when he sprawls on the bed with Neil, he doesn't lose them altogether.

And then, on the bed, Neil feels a little silly. He runs his fingers up and down Steve’s arm and tries to figure out if he should offer up some words here or if he should just duck his head down and get back to it.

“Did I throw it off?” He tries to laugh it off. There’s something different about starting to take their clothes off, after all. His first few times in Darrow were in the dark or with a healthy amount of booze involved, so to do this with enough light to see by, sober and thinking straight and clear, is nice but leaves him worried about if Steve will be okay. “I can go back to it.”

"Don't make it sound like a job, man," says Steve, laughing a little as he rolls in towards Neil. Almost tenatively, he reaches out and curls his fingers around the side of Neil's neck, tugging him in for a kiss, tangling their legs together to pull Neil closer.

“Definitely not,” Neil mumbles against Steve’s mouth, smiling, caught up in kissing him again rather than the thought of how to get it back on track. He focuses on this. On how it feels to tangle up and how nice it is to kiss, the surety that exists in being grabbed like that, and the heat between their bodies.

He slowly tilts against Steve until he can half climb on top of him, weight of his hips dragging against his, their positions reversed from the couch but just as suggestive.

Neil's weight on top of him, his underwear tangled around his thighs, his aching cock - it's all pretty spectacular. Steve groans into the kiss, squirming just a little underneath the other boy.

It’s easy to shift and adjust, to make those subtle movements until the way he’s pressed up against Steve is just right that he can rutt his ass right back against him, even on top of him. He feels a little shameless, a little sinful, but he can barely think past this very moment. He breathes a curse against the kiss, a little edge of laughter in his voice.

"Oh, fuck, that's perfect," says Steve, grinning and breathless, squirming his hips to press up against Steve. "Like that."

“Shit,” Neil whispers. He makes this soft, breathless noise and sort of half sits up. He wants to keep kissing but also—also, he wants to make a mess, wants to move his hips and get that filthy friction. He grinds, eyes half-closed blissfully. “Oh fuck, Steve...”

It's almost fucking. In this position, it's easy enough to imagine what it would be like if they were fucking, if Neil as actually riding him. His hands skim to Neil's hips and then he tugs at his undershirt. "Take this off."

Neil reacts to it like it’s more than a suggestion, arching back and stripping off his shirt immediately. He’s not sure if it’s tone or the way Steve touched him or what, but he can’t help wanting to follow through. There’s no discomfort in it. But he feels small and lean, with his shirt off. Even if he still has his crew team shoulders, he was never a very big rower, and Steve is more fit and broad than he is. He supposes that makes up for the bit of height he’s got over him.

He reaches back and cups Steve’s cock, holding him gently as he grinds his ass on him. God, but he’s thought about fucking a lot. He doesn’t think—but maybe—

It's so filthy, so hot, and Steve just grinds his hips up into it. He reaches out, squeezing the hard line of Neil's cock through his underwear before he hooks his fingers over the band and tugs it down and out of the way. He curls his fingers around Neil's cock, smudging his thumb over the slick head of his cock.

His hips stutter briefly at the touch, seeking, as he gasps. It seems stupid to ask what he thinks, how it is to touch someone else, possibly for the very first time, so he manages to stay silent for a moment.

Instead, licking his lips briefly, he murmurs, “Is it good? You feel... fucking amazing.”

"Yeah, it's good," says Steve, nodding, keeping up the stroking motion of his hand on Neil's cock. It feels wierd to be touching someone else's cock, but it's not bad. "Keep moving like that. Please?"

Neil leans down, briefly, and gives Steve a soft kiss. It’s almost chaste, a curious thing in the midst if what they’re doing. But when he leans back, he keeps up as he’s been so gently asked. He touches him still, moves his hips in a pantomime of fantasy, rocks forward to fuck through the ring of Steve’s fingers.

The kiss is good, but the rock of Neil's hips is better. If Steve closes his eyes, it's easy to imagine that they're actually fucking that he's actually inside Neil's body, pressing deeper with every thrust. Once he's thought about it, he can't stop thinking.

Neil's thinking about it pretty hard too, and how easy it would be, relatively speaking, to make that happen. He's got everything they'd need, because he's a sexually active boy, but there's something about muttering those words, about asking that question, that seems dangerous.

So he focuses on this instead, the slide of their bodies and the suggestion of it, the way that Steve's hand feels on him and the weight of his cock pressed against his ass. He tilts his head back and whines softly, swearing under his breath as he rides him like that.

His free hand skims up the length of Neil's bare thigh, up under the hem of his underwear, touching as much of his skin as he can as he strokes his cock, as he rocks his hips to grind up against the cleft of Neil's ass.

"Jesus," he breaths, half moan, half laugh. "Fuck."

"God," Neil sighs, this drawl of the word, as Steve touches at him like that. He squirms his hips, seeking more of the touch. It would be so easy to strip down entirely, to just let things happen. God, to let things happen.

He whimpers a little bit, bites his lip. His voice is soft and needy. "You feel good."

"Yeah," says Steve, nodding, sweaty and hectic and unbelievably turned on. His cock fits perfectly in the cleft of Neil's ass, and the friction is almost unbearable. He wishes everything was just a little bit more slick, a little messier. "Have you..." He blushes furiously. "Is there lube?"

Neil's own blush comes back, a manic thing across his whole face and down his neck, onto his chest. There's this little beat in his chest, this curious blossom that wants to ask if they're about to try doing more than just rubbing against each other, because God, that sounds spectacular. He can't make the words come. Steve doesn't seem able to articulate it either.

But Neil can say, "Yeah." He can breathlessly, meekly confess, "And condoms? If...we need those?"

He still thinks they're a bit silly. It's not like he can get pregnant or something. But he's got them because he's been told it's the smart thing to have, since he's sexually active. For now, though, he carefully gets off Steve's lap and leans over to get the lube, at least.