Boys of West Denton ✓

chapter twenty-five

"Whaaat? I thought I'd be little spoon."

"Definitely not." He tiredly rubs the sides of his face. "I like the thought of your arms around me."

"Awwww."

"Shut the fuck up, Harris."

"What, it's adorable." We head to the basement stairs, awkwardly standing next to each other until I take his hand, and suddenly, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. There's a thrum of excitement rushing through my abdomen at the mere thought of sleeping together. Not sex, but literally sleeping.

Sebastian Krause is going to spend the night in my arms. Which sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me.

"You're so cute," I tell him while we're headed down the stairs. I'm holding onto the rail, leading the way for the both of us. "Just in case you didn't know."

His grip on my hand tightens. "Simp."

"Dipshit."

And just like that, we're standing in front of my bed. The towel from earlier is still there, and I really hope that my blush isn't visible. I still can't believe how good that had felt, his mouth on me like that. He had the hand-mouth-hand combination down pat. I could hardly believe it was his first time. It took me and Liam a while to play around and figure that out. When I'd asked him about it, he'd shrugged and said, "Internet." I'd nudged him and said, "Mad skills."

I pick the towel up and chuck it onto the floor, then walk over to turn off the overhead light, exchanging it for the soft yellow of my desk lamp. "Do you mind if I sleep shirtless?" I ask Seb.

"Nope. Which side of the bed do you want?"

"Uhhh, that one," I tell him, pointing to the side on our collective left. "If you don't mind."

His smile is soft and easy. "I don't mind."

"Cool, cool, cool." I rip off my sweatshirt in one deft maneuver. "If you want to sleep shirtless or whatever, I don't mind."

"What does 'whatever' mean here?" he asks, laughing. "What, is that just naked?"

Aha. Fuck. Naked. Naked. "I mean, it could." I shrug. Please, please let me appear nonchalant. "It's up to you."

Seb keeps his gaze on me the whole time. He bites his lip for just a second, something that must be intentional, which is absolutely evil because it definitely has the intended effect. With no preamble, he's taking off the shirt I lent him, and then his nimble fingers are untying the drawstring of the basketball shorts, and he's shimmying them down to the floor, where they land in a heap around his socks.

It leaves him in just his boxers, plain and black. And, fuck, he's hard. He's not the only one.

"Let's get into bed," he whispers, craning his neck down to kiss me.

I don't say anything; I just meet his gaze with my own, an unspoken understanding passing between us. And then our lips meet, and I'm filled with a buzzing warmth I haven't felt in a long, long time.

This is different from the other times we've fooled around. I think we both know that. I'm more nervous for sure, but I'm not scared.

We get under the covers, hiding beneath the fluffy blanket on my bed right as the storm hits. Rain pounds against the tin sides of my window well, and the fuzzy warm light of my desk lamp is just enough to light up about three-fourths of his body beneath me. I'm between his legs again, feeling my hard length press up against his stomach. His hands slide down my bare back, his touch torturously light. I want him to pull me tight against him, so tight that it feels like our bodies are one, and that each of our breaths will mingle.

I'm pressing kisses to the sensitive skin just beneath his collarbone. Soft at first, but gradually, they harden, until I'm sucking hard enough to leave a hickey—something he'll be able to hide with a shirt, yet something we'll both know is there.

Seb's hands glide up and down my back. He's breathing hard, and I know this teasing is torturous for him. But the more impatient he is, the more I find myself wanting to play around.

My lips trace their way down his chest to his stomach, just to above his boxers. Fuck, he's so hard. I press a quick kiss against the tent in his boxers, and he gasps, his hands knotting themselves in my hair.

"Harris," he groans, but I'm already moving back up to kiss him.

"Shh," I tell him.

"Wait, wait," he says, and I can feel the hesitation in his voice. I stop, right as we're face to face.

"What is it?"

His forehead scrunches up, leaving these cute little lines. I want to kiss each one, but I refrain. "Do you have lube? And protection?"

"Yeah, don't worry," I assure him. My mom was always adamant about using protection, even with guys (especially Liam), so it's pretty ingrained. I don't need the herpes talk again. "We've got plenty of condoms and plenty of lube, okay?"

He nods. "Okay."

"Okay." I press a kiss to his forehead, and he sucks in a breath, his hands on my hips. "You're sure about this?"

"Yes. Are you?"

I kiss him again, this time on his temple. "Yes."

"Okay," he says, then exhales. "I'm ready."

"We'll go slow," I promise him. "I won't rush this."

He nods, and this time, I kiss him on the lips, just so he can kiss me back.