Kill The Lights [boyxboy]

Kill The Lights {12}

                “It’s getting late. Can we just stay here tonight Jace?” Shane asked, looking outside. It was dark out, and nearing one in the morning.

                “No. Let’s go back to your house,” I said.

                “Nah, I’m good here,” Mitch said, sitting on the pool table.

                “I’ll go grab the extra blankets,” Shane said, winking at me and leaving the room.

                “I hate you,” I said, glaring at Mitch.

                “Jace, staying at your house isn’t a bad thing. You’re not better than your father if you keep abandoning your mom,” he said.

                My shoulders slumped and I winced. “I know,” I said quietly. “I just…I’m scared he’ll show up again. If he does, I don’t want to be here, Mitch. I know he hasn’t shown his face since last summer. But I just don’t want to know if he comes back.”

                “You really need to talk to someone about that. Your mom would listen,” he said, folding his hands behind his head and lying back on the pool table.

                “I’m not bringing him up to her,” I said flatly.

                “Then talk to me,” he said with a shrug, closing his eyes. “Me or Shane. We’ll listen. We’ve watched you go through shit with your dad for years. Every time he leaves you again, you hide at our house for weeks.”

                “Stop bringing it up, Mitch,” I said, my voice coming out sharper than I intended.

                “You’re just pissed because I kicked your ass at pool,” he said without opening his eyes.

                “Hey, I almost won,” I said, lying down on the table next to him. I could hear Shane’s voice drifting down. He must be talking to my mom.

                “Key word: Almost,” Mitch said.

                I examined him since his eyes were closed. His extremely well toned body taunted me. His shirt had pulled up, revealing part of his stomach and abs.

                I rolled over onto my side, propping my head up on my hand. I reached out and ran my fingers over the exposed part of his skin where his shirt was up.

                His body tensed and slowly relaxed under my touch. He didn’t move, and didn’t open his eyes.

                “What would you do if I let my hands slip?” I asked, lightly dipping a finger into his shorts.

                “I would tell my brother and your mother to get the hell out of the house while we bonded,” he said.

                I let my hand fall back to my side and rolled back over onto my back. I copied Mitch and folded my hands behind my head, staring up at the cracks on the ceiling.

                “Mitch, how’s your wound?” I asked.

                “It’s healing,” he said.

                I rolled over so that my body was curled against his. He slipped an arm around my waist, and I shuddered as his cool fingers slid under my shirt, sliding against the skin of my back.