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’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.

That blush suits him and Steve gets distracted for a moment.

"I just thought we could make everything a bit slicker." Now it's his turn to blush darkly. "For now, at least?"

"Yeah," Neil says, easy as anything, and he smiles. With lube in hand, he leans back over, and he kisses Steve, brief, assuring. Even after he's pulled back from the kiss, he sort of lingers right there.

"I," he says after a second, "I'm gonna take my shorts off. So they don't get any more dirty than they area. But you don't have to."

He's gotten used to these quiet, closely guarded negotiations in the bedroom.

The idea of being completely naked right then sounds perfect, and Steve doesn't hesitate before he strips off his own shorts, dropping them at the side of the bed. He curls his fingeres around his cock, squeezing, as he looks up at Neil.

The fact that Steve does, without question or hesitation, makes Neil’s head spin a little bit. He’s used to clumsy fumbling and slowness and assurances in the dark, and Steve is far from that, even if he’s not quite on even ground. It draws him in. He falls to kissing him again, hungry, emboldened, laying out beside him as he pushes his shorts off himself and then joins Steve in touching, squeezing.

He wants to put his mouth on him again. The thought of it pushes a low, needy noise out of him.

Neil's fingers close over Steve's, stroking his cock, and Steve whimpers, turning to catch his mouth in a kiss.

"Any way I can get you back to exactly where you were before?"

Neil smiles against the kiss, nodding a little bit. He puts the lube on Steve's chest with a bit of a chuckle and then, with a flutter of nerves that has everything to do with them being skin to skin this time, he slides back onto his lap.

It's not so different as having the thin layers of cotton separating them. He rolls his hips back against Steve a little, leans down and kisses him again.

Looking up at Neil, Steve squirts some lube into his palm and then reaches around, slicking his own cock and, after a moment's hesitation, letting his fingers stray into the cleft of Neil's ass, getting everything good and slippery.

"You want to do yourself, or...?"

The touch, brushing knuckles and then slick, cool fingers, is all a little much in the moment. Neil shivers and bites his lip to keep from making a regrettable noise. He pushes back into it, feeling that slick slide of their bodies.

"Touch me," he breathes, a little quiet and desperate as he moves.

Steve moves his slick hand around, grazing Neil's hip and then cools his fingers around his cock, starting to stroke him in time with the slow rock of their hips.

It's almost too much. Neil tilts his head back as they move, breathes roughly. With the lube, it does feel easier, more desperate. He shakes and sighs and grabs at Steve's shoulder, thumb smudging briefly against the shape of Steve's collarbone.