A/N: And here is my last little (but not so little, it's like 14000 words) gift to you - it really is the end now :') I hope you enjoy it, and thank you, thank you, thank you for reading. Also, here's some wonderful Nico fan art by even more wonderful @rita26199 - he's beautiful!
Oh, and just a heads up - there's some sexy time at the end of the chapter *cackles in smut*
Part I
It was warm. Too warm, even. It was an unfamiliar feeling, my bed never being this warm, this comfortable. My body itched, wanting to move closer and closer to the source of warmth that seemed to be moving further and further away. Legs tangled with legs, arms sliding around a smooth torso, curling into curves that made it seem like my arms were made to fit there.
"Nico Beckett."
My name hung in the air, too loud in the silence and I grumbled. The voice needed to be quiet and just let me hold it. It needed to stop wriggling. On reflex, I tightened my hold on the person, my voice sleep-ridden and rough with fatigue.
"Be quiet, I'm sleeping," I said. A moment later, the warmth was gone. Groaning at the emptiness that surrounded me, I forced my heavy eyelids open, the afternoon glow blinding. I blinked a few times, vision clearing, and ran my hand over the dent in the sheets beside me, one that was created by the person lying there just seconds before.
I winced as my mind seemed to split, the taste of alcohol sour on my tongue and even more bitter in my head. Massaging my temples, I rolled over onto my back, the sheets rustling and smoothing out the person-shaped dent that was beside me.
Things were hazy in my head, but once the headache began to dull, I could remember things clearly. Blonde hair, brown at the roots with matching brown eyes, a smattering of freckles across flushed skin. The taste of alcohol on his mouth, salt on his skin. A drunken giggle, a pleasured moan.
Wesley.
"Well, fuck," I muttered, rubbing my eyes until white spots formed. Many thoughts fluttered in my head, rattling around with a loud clang. I slept with a guy last night. Okay. The idea sat in my head, clear and new, but not out of place. The idea wasn't shocking, but more like a feeling of understanding, since deep down I knew that my attraction didn't run only towards girls. Curiosity sated, I suppose.
The idea - of being attracted to boys - had been dancing around my brain for a while now, but I had never acted on it, never finding someone to act on it with. The girl that was grinding on my lap at the party was monotonous, and now I could barely even remember her face. I was going to go through the motions, but then he just... stumbled into my lap, all wonky smiles and unfiltered words.
I recalled the first thought that slid into my head when I caught him in my arms as he tripped, brown eyes staring up at me, reflecting my face in their gaze.
It'll be fine if it's him.
And it was fine. More than fine, in fact.
And that was terrifying.
Part II
"About time you dragged your butt out of bed, mister," Bell chastised, wiggling her finger at me as I entered the kitchen. Smiling at her feigned harshness, I planted a brief kiss to the crown her head, mumbling a croaky 'good morning'. My grandmother sighed at the state of my voice, thrusting a glass of water into my palm before gesturing to the counter behind her.
"Lunch, for you," she said, making me grin. "Don't smile at me like that. You shouldn't be proud about waking up in the afternoon!"
"Yeah, yeah," I said, plopping myself down to shovel some eggs into my mouth, stomach gurgling with hunger.
"Don't 'yeah, yeah' me, Nicolas," Bell scolded again, though her smile betrayed her tough tone, wrinkled hand moving to stroke my hair. Soon enough, a playful smile arranged itself on her face, blue eyes gleaming.
"So, you had company this morning," Bell said, making me swallow hastily, suppressing a cough with a mouthful of water. "Oh, you almost choked. That's rare."
"Grandma," I said, rolling my eyes as Bell chuckled, leaning across the counter.
"You never have guests over, let alone someone who, well, slept over," Bell said, voice amused. "Who was he? A friend?"
I snorted at my grandmother's words, turning them over in my head as I chewed absent-mindedly.
Calling the boy a friend was a far stretch, the fact that we slept together doing nothing to actual foster any sort of relationship with him. We had barely talked, most of it blurred by drink anyway, and I barely knew anything about him. All I knew was his name, and that he was known for being one of the smartest - if not the smartest - in his year. When I had seen him in the halls before, he always had a serious expression on his face, brow always crinkled and books tucked against his chest. The only time I saw him break that expression was that day last year, and when he was writhing beneath me last night. And that was all I knew about him, the boy who ran out of my room so fast I barely had time to open my eyes.
So, right now, he was nothing more than...
"An acquaintance," I said vaguely, Bell raising an eyebrow. "He's just someone I met at a party, and he was kind of gone and didn't tell me where he lived, so I took him back here."
"Is that right?" Bell said, clearly unimpressed by my answer.
"Mhmm."
"Well, from what I saw of his back when he ran out, he seemed like a nice boy," Bell said, eyes searching mine for something. I wasn't sure if she found something, because she just smiled, patting my back before speaking again.
"Oh, I think your 'acquaintance' dropped one of his socks, by the way. You should return it to him," she said, pointing to a sock that had fallen on the floor by the kitchen arch way. Colourful dinosaurs lined the material, and I couldn't help but laugh at the print. For someone who usually seemed so rigid, the loud print was adorable and surprising.
He was surprising.
Part III
I didn't think it would be like this.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
There must be something wrong with me.
My head throbbed as I tried to shake out the thoughts that invaded my senses. I had been with countless people before - all of them girls, to be fair - something that I was neither proud nor ashamed of. Isaac always gloated about his 'body count', something that made me roll my eyes every time he mentioned it, eyes challenging as if he was trying to one-up me in that department. I didn't care; he could sleep with whoever he wanted to sleep with, and the same went for me. I didn't sleep with people to bump up my numbers, but I didn't sleep with people because I loved them.
Maybe not even because I liked them.
It has always just been about sex, about feeling good, about making them feel good. Sex has always been good, but it has never been like this.
It wasn't that he was always in my head. Sure, he popped into it more often than not, but he wasn't a constant buzz at the back of my mind, like a mosquito that was dead set on sucking the life out of you. What was unsettling was when he was popping into my head.
Since that night, I had been approached by people, as I have always been. Pretty girls with pretty words, all of their faces blending in to the next. We would kiss, and it would be the same as any other time. Nice, familiar. It would be then, when I would place my hands on their bodies and they would sigh into my mouth, that I would think of him.
Her body's too soft, softer than his.
Her voice is too high, higher than his.
Her perfume is too strong, unlike his shampoo.
She isn't him.
Grimacing at the words in my head, I leaned against the metal fencing, pressing a cigarette between my lips and lighting it swiftly.
It's probably because he's a guy. It's exciting, and new, so of course I'd be thinking about it.
Of course.
Taking a lengthy drag of my cigarette, the familiar burn comforting, I exhaled a plume of smoke as I tapped my feet impatiently on the concrete just outside the school gates. Glancing at the rusted 'No Smoking' sign, I huffed a laugh as I took another drag, before crushing the cigarette beneath my feet and heading towards the school.
After a late night working, I was tired, but attendance was tracked and I had to at least try. If anything, I could at least nap in class, as long as no one interrupted me.
When I entered the halls, students glancing at me inconspicuously while stepping out of my path, I bit back an irritated sigh when a girl sauntered up to me, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.
"Hi, Nico," the girl giggled, brown eyes looking at me with clear intent.
Her eyes are lighter than his.
Forcing a smile on my face and the thought out of my head, I murmured a disinterested sigh, the girl grinning as she stepped closer to me. She leaned down slightly, most likely to give me a good view down her school shirt, lashes fluttering.
'Don't think about him,' I whispered to myself, ignoring the fact that the thought contradicted its intent. Looking at the girl, who was pretty but a little too eager, I let her mould herself to my body.
Leaning against the lockers, I didn't stop her when she crept up to her toes, pressing her lacquered lips to mine, tasting like artificial berries. I let her hands roam down my body, revelling in her satisfied giggle as I nipped at her neck, her body keening into me wantonly.
"Nico, let's go somewhere else..." the girl murmured, eyes looking around the crowded halls as if she were shy, the smug gleam in her eye telling me otherwise.
Looking up, about to nod, I found myself frozen as I met a pair of brown eyes, darker than hers. A jolt slammed through me, from my head to my toes, and I didn't think before detaching myself from the girl in front of me.
Wesley stared at me, a tormented expression on his face. I was suddenly very aware of my creased brow and tense face, and I wondered if I looked like how he was looking at me now.
The girl in front of me said something that I didn't catch, and that seemed to happen often these days. My mind was elsewhere, always elsewhere.
Because it has never been like this.
Part IV
I struggled to hold back my laugh when I saw his expression. For someone whose words were cloaked in lies, his face was endearingly honest. Every little change in his mood showed on his face, and right now he was screaming at me. His slightly widened eyes, tightly closed lips and tensed shoulders shouted 'Don't you dare take that seat'.
So of course, I did.
His face shifted the moment I lowered myself into the seat beside him, his throat bobbing as he swallowed loudly. I could feel the smile playing on my lips as I let my eyes close, the classroom quiet and the sun softly shining through the windows. We sat quietly for a brief moment, until Wesley cleared his throat, soft voice floating to my ears that, surprisingly, weren't annoyed at the disruption of silence.
His voice is nice.
Frowning at the thought, I forced myself to not open my eyes, to not stare at him.
"What?" I asked roughly, sensing the boy bristle next to me.
"Nothing," he replied, the silence returning.
It wasn't long before the hairs on my neck pricked upwards, the feeling of eyes on me heavy and distracting. With no one else in the room, it was clear that Wesley was staring at me. Indulging him in his naivety for a few seconds, I spoke again, tone a little lighter, teasing.
"Like what you see?"
Cracking open an eye, I swallowed back another laugh as Wesley let out a startled noise, his chair rattling as he jumped. While I could hold back the chuckle that tickled my tongue, I couldn't hold back the quirk of my lips as the boy's cheeks grew bright red, reaching all the way to his ears.
He's fun to tease.
Teasing the boy a bit more, his face getting redder and redder despite his best efforts to look calm and composed, Wesley then dropped his gaze to his books, fingers stroking the binding as he bit on his lower lip nervously.
"The other day... Or night I guess... Did we... you know..." he spoke, voice tentative, unsure.
I blinked once. Twice. Three times.
Did he not remember?
A strange feeling grew in my gut, uncomfortable and foreign. I swallowed and it was like forcing rocks down my throat, my eyes searching his face that was trained on the desk in front of him.
He really doesn't remember?
The unfamiliar feeling in my stomach grew, and I let out a small snort, wry smile on my face.
"Fuck?" I dropped, Wesley's eyes twitching. "Yeah, pretty sure we did."
"Oh."
The boy beside me seemed to deflate, a complicated expression on his face.
What does that mean?
No one has reacted like this before. He doesn't remember it, and he doesn't seem to want to mention it.
Did it not mean anything to him?
"Relax, it didn't mean anything," I said, stilling my breath. "I was curious, and drunk. And you were... well... more drunk." I ignored the way the words tasted foul, continuing anyway. "Just forget about it." Don't. "And don't go telling other people about it either. I'm not usually into people like you."
Because it has never been like this.
The moment my words left my mouth, settling in the boy's ears, a smile graced his lips as his body sat up straighter, revived.
"Oh, ok, thank god," he said, turning to me with an elated smile, one that caught the light of the sun drifting through the window, his brown eyes turning into molten bronze. "I'm not into people like you either."
His words echoed in my head, followed by a small pang in my chest.
What does that mean?
Part V
"Nervous?" I asked, exhaling a laugh when Wes's face drew tight.
"I'm fine," he said, voice strained, walking through the door to my bedroom. His movements were so stiff, I could almost hear his joints creaking. I watched him as he wandered in, eyes flickering here and there, and suddenly I was awash with a sense of nervousness.
I rarely had people in my room, not someone who was fond of sharing bits of myself to people. Colin has come over a few times, and Isaac barraged his way in maybe once or twice, but that was about it. Now, seeing Wes look at everything with those brown eyes of his, I didn't know what to do with myself. I felt more naked than I did that night we slept together.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice it when Wes suddenly turned. We were standing too close, closer than both of us seemed to realised, his elegantly curved nose bumping into me. The smell of his shampoo, crisp and fresh, tickled my nose for a second - a second too short - before he tore himself away from me.
Then he was falling, and I was too.
His back hit the mattress first, then my arms around him. His mouth was parted in surprise, but no sound came out of them as he stared up at me, unblinking. Something seemed to pass over his expression. Confusion. Recognition. Panic.
And then there there was a sharp sting on my cheek, my eyes wrenched from his as he punched me. Hard.
This fucking-
"Oh my fucking God," Wes gasped, eyes widening even further, something I hadn't thought possible. My jaw ached and anger and shock flared in my stomach, Wes's mouth rambling as he clambered off the bed, like a deer caught in the headlights. He was gone before I could say anything, leaving me there in my bedroom alone with a bruising face and a feeling that I couldn't describe even if I tried to.
Part VI
"Have lunch with me," I dropped, heart squeezing.
"Together?" Wes asked, face scrunching up in disbelief, making me laugh slightly. But then, his face twisted a little in... abhorrence? "What? Hell no."
"Why?" I asked, tilting my head to the side to study the boy that was so desperately trying to distance himself from me.
"Because I don't want to?" Wes said, looking at me like I was daft, though his eyes shifted to the side when I took a step closer. It made me smile.
"Aren't you hungry?" I asked, taking another step towards him, his own foot shuffling backwards.
Interesting.
Before I could step forward, Wes spoke, saying that he wasn't hungry. A split second later, his stomach rolled and rumbled, my smile widening until my cheeks hurt, fingers itching to reach out and just-
Laughing softly, I grabbed the boy's wrist, a little skinny and bony. I would feed him, and feed him well.
Pushing him towards the kitchen counter, almost hoisting him onto a stool, I made myself busy cooking something I knew tasted good. Considering I had bought the ingredients yesterday for this exact purpose, I made a point of looking at him, asking him if he didn't eat anything.
Please be fine, please be fine, please be fine.
"I'm not picky," he said, shrugging a little. Nodding to hide my sigh of relief, I tried to control the odd way my hand was shaking as I cooked our meal. Even though I had made this multiple times before, my movements felt lighter, Wes's eyes heavy on my back.
He's finally looking at me.
I smiled at the thought, answering Wes's questions when he asked them, until I slid the bowl of pasta in front of him. He stared at it dubiously, and I couldn't help but laugh at his apprehension. I watched him carefully as he popped a forkful into his mouth, lips closing and sliding over the utensil which emerged clean and slick.
"It's good," Wes said, the words registering a little late, my attention spent on the way his mouth moved, soft and supple.
I want to kiss him.
Wes spoke again, and I answered him with half a mind. He continued to eat, and talk, and I continued to watch. When he was done eating, he began to stand, moving away from me. Too far away.
"I'll do the dishes," he said, pink lips shining with saliva moving again.
Fuck it.
Grabbing his wrist, still slender and hard, I pulled him closer and covered his mouth with mine. He gasped, and I licked. Then he moaned, and I melted.
Yeah, fuck it.
Part VII
"You can't afford to be so slack," Principal Myers grumbled, arms crossed over his stocky chest as he glared at me from across the desk. "You're already repeating the year, yet you're barely making the minimum attendance."
Rolling my eyes at the words I had heard a hundred times before, my fingers itched for a cigarette. The man in front of me continued to spew out words I had no trouble ignoring, my mind only catching the ones I needed to hear.
"Alright, you're dismissed," the man said, waving me away with the flick of his wrist. Not having to be told twice, I left the office, the woman at the front desk casting me a cold look as she peered up at my tattoos. I smirked a little at the disgruntled expression on her face, fingers fishing for the cigarettes in my pocket. Popping one in my mouth the moment I was outside, inhaling deeply, my wound nerves loosened slightly.
It wasn't that I didn't want to do well in school - no one actively wants to do poorly. It's just that, in these dull walls and jail-like classes, I felt like there was nothing here for me.
At least, except for him.
I exhaled, smoke clouding my vision as I walked past the cafeteria, moving towards the back exit of the school to smoke in relative peace. In the near distance, I heard a familiar voice, sounding so bright. Laughing. Joking.
"You're sacrificing your precious pasta bake? For me? Is the world ending?"
My body seemed to be tuned into the frequency of Wes's voice, my feet carrying me towards it. My mouth curled upwards when I saw him, face alight with mirth, fingers pushing up his glasses. It was then that I saw that he wasn't alone. My steps faltered as the person with him - a girl - leaned forward. Close. Far too close.
"Shut up and eat it, Wes," she said, teasing. Wes's mouth opened, the girl giggling as she pushed her fork inside. Wes murmured something quietly, the girl's face breaking out into a wide smile. My throat felt tight, my stomach turning. I pried open my clenched jaw to suck a long, painful drag of my cigarette, trying to wash away the burning feeling inside my gut.
It was honestly like watching a horror movie in slow motion. The girl leaned forward, planting her lips on Wes's face, tongue flicking out.
This isn't right.
I blew out the smoke with force, frustration building. Wes's eyes seemed to widen, his head turning towards me. Brown met blue, and I grit my teeth, crushing the cigarette on the ground, imaging it was something else. Maybe someone else.
I called him, wanting to see his reaction, but most of all wanting him to push that girl off him. The call had the desired effect, his shoulders rolling and her hands dropping, letting me breathe. But then, he simply flipped his phone over, stormy expression on his face.
I've never felt like this before.
It's not supposed to be like this.
Nico - 1:02pm
Behind the pool
Now.
Wes flinched, and I knew he would read the message. He had to. I was sure of it. Turning on my heel, I walked towards the secluded pool shed, and waited.
I waited.
And waited.
And then, he was here.
He stepped into my threshold, and I grabbed onto him. His body was so easy to lower onto the ground, his limbs compliant and his mouth opened in shock, so easy for me to claim. Our mouths fitted together, tongues rolling, and he groaned. His mouth tasted like pasta that wasn't mine, and I hated it.
I really fucking hated it.
Hissing as his glasses prevented me from getting closer, I pulled them from his face, head tilting to the side to slot our lips together. His hands pressed against my chest, neither pulling nor pushing, another guttural sound leaving his bruised mouth.
I kissed him until I couldn't taste her pasta any more. Until all I could taste was him.
Part VIII
Wesley Dillon - 1:30am
I finished our project
Not going to urs on Saturday
I'll submit it on Monday
Dont worry, ur name is on it
Letting out a short laugh, I rolled over in my bed, propping myself up with a pillow. Arriving home from work, I was on the verge of being asleep on my feet, body drained and eyes bleary. It was late in the night - or very early in the morning, depending on how you looked at it - but Wesley's name popping up on my phone had pushed away the exhaustion.
I could hear his voice in his words, softly timid but biting when he wanted it to be. I could imagine him sitting on his bed, face scrunched up in annoyance against the glow of his laptop, slender fingers angrily tapping on his phone. It's his myriad of facial expressions that made him so interesting to look at, and so fun to tease. The twitches in his brow, pursing of his soft lips and warm glare in his eyes only made me want to pull out more and more from him.
The words I wanted to say came easily, a message send a few minutes after receiving Wes's.
Nico Beckett - 1:32am
Saturday's not a study date then
It's just a date
I wondered how long he would take to respond, what noise would escape from his mouth when he read my message, which did nothing to hide its true implications. I wasn't left waiting, since the boy replied almost straight away. His hastiness made my heart clench, a giddy sense of excitement building inside my core.
Wesley Dillon - 1:32am
Hell. No
Nope
No
No way in hell
Fuck you
A snort left my lips when I read Wes's message. He really was making this too easy for me.
Nico Beckett - 1:32am
You already did
Snickering at my message, a sense of longing washed over my body. I wanted to see him, to see his expression, hear his scandalised gasp. Maybe feel him lash out to his my arm in embarrassment, as it's something he would probably do.
His next message thoroughly dulled the happy buzz I had in my veins, snuffing it out completely.
Wesley Dillon - 1:33am
Forget about it
All of it
I don't want anything to do with you
Our project is done
So leave me alone
"Forget about it?" I scoffed, eyes narrowing. Mouth suddenly dry, I swallowed, the taste bitter. He was pushing me away, always pushing. For the first time in my life I was the one running after someone, chasing after him dedicatedly, almost desperately. He was always just in front of me, my finger tips brushing his back, the ends of his hair. When my skin would brush against his, however, he would take two steps forward, just slipping out of my reach.
I just wanted him to, just once, take three steps towards me. Because I couldn't forget it, no matter how hard I had tried to. I couldn't forget the way he felt, the way he melted against my hands. I couldn't forget how he cried out my name, voice rough yet so, so soft. I couldn't forget the way his brows bunched together when he was mad, or how his eyes crinkled when he smiled. I couldn't forget it, I couldn't forget any of it.
So I told him. Just one message, just one sentence. In four words, I laid my heart bare.
Nico Beckett - 1:35am
I can't forget it
I knew he had read it, something in my gut told me that he had seen it. Whether he would accept it was a whole different game, something I couldn't foresee. This predictably unpredictable boy, whose mouth said one thing and his body another, left me in a constant state of chaos.
I could feel him running again, two steps forward.
I had to pull him back, back to me. Back to us.
I steeled my nerves, calling Wes with determination. The phone rang and rang, Wesley's grumpy profile picture lit up on my screen. He didn't answer.
Two steps forward.
Nico Beckett - 1:43am
Really?
I know ur not asleep, Wes
Pick up the damn phone
Ringing him again, I released the breath I didn't realise I was holding, phone pressed tightly against my ear. Wes seemed to exhale as well, the sound so close to me ear, making me smile again.
"Took your time," I said, voice teasing. Wes huffed, and I swear I could feel his breath brushing against my ear lobe.
"What do you want, Nico?"
You.
"A date," I replied, swallowing my words and my heart.
Wes paused, before sighing. He didn't believe me, or he didn't want to believe me. This stupid, ridiculous boy, I had to make him believe me. Maybe I was pushing too hard, but I didn't know what else to do. I've never had to do this, never wanted to do this. Because it's never been like this.
"I want to kiss you," I said, voice slow. Sure. I had honestly never been so sure of anything in my whole fucking life. Never been so fucking honest.
"Me too," Wes whispered, words a clap of thunder. I blinked, heart alight with the glow on my phone. This boy's words flipped something in me, something I couldn't turn back from. Something new, something exciting, but something absolutely terrifying.
There was so much I wanted to tell him, but I knew he would run. So instead, I said something else, masking my heart with words.
"Good night, Wes."
Part IX
Even when he was so far away, I could see him in everything. When I'd cook, I'd think of him and the unabashed smile he had when he tasted my food. When Colin came to work with beans in his lunch, I found myself smiling like a complete fool. When I would move to light a cigarette, but stopping when I remembered how much he hates them. And when I was lying in bed alone in quiet darkness, I could only think of him.
It was ridiculous.
There wasn't a precise stimulus that made me realise that I loved him. It was beyond Wes to make me fall for him with a single grand gesture, no bouquet of roses or candle lit dinners to make me swoon. To be honest, he would probably rather die than do any of these things, but that was alright, because that was just how he was.
No, it wasn't a grand gesture that made me realise I had fallen in love with the dense, prickly boy. It was the little things; the late night talks, with the sound of the waves I couldn't see rolling in the background. It was the way he yawned through the receiver but didn't want to say good night. It was how his voice dripped with worry when I drove as I talked to him, his chastising timbre when he scolded me for that very same thing. It was how he cared while trying to make it seem like he didn't.
There had been many people who told me they cared about me. That they liked me, that they loved me. It was bloody ridiculous that I would fall for the one who adamantly told me that he didn't.
Wes was a fucking idiot, but I was an even bigger one to have fallen for him.
My thoughts were interrupted when a large hand slapped itself against the back of my head, Colin's shit-eating grin appearing in front of me. Rolling my eyes, back of my head stinging, I ignored his amused expression by rolling my body beneath the body of the car we were working on, senses bombarded by the smell of oil and metal.
"Heh, thinking about the person who's 'ridiculously adorable when they blush'?" Colin asked, his bulky form bending down to peer beneath the car, thick brows wriggling like twin worms. Colin's long-winded code name for Wes made me snort, but I didn't deny his words. At my silent response, Colin whistled, the corners of his mouth pulling up even higher.
"You've been zoning out more than I have lately," Colin said, chuckling. "Shelly said that if you don't get your shit together, she'll force you to clean the garage on your day off."
"Yeah, sure," I said, eyes rolling. I knew that Colin was only joking, considering Shelly was, undoubtedly, the most invested party in my relationship with Wes. Or, almost relationship, I guess. She never had a problem with me drifting off, her excited squeal always pulling me from my thoughts.
'Oh, you're thinking about him, aren't you!' she would always yell, nodding emphatically. 'Can't we meet him? You tell me about him all the time, but we don't even know who he is! Come on, Nico!'
Shaking my head, smile on my face, I fiddled with the wrench in my hands. Colin, not seeming to want to drop the topic, lowered himself to sit on the ground beside my outstretched legs.
"Have I met him before?" Colin asked, head cocked to the side. I shrugged, not sure of the answer.
"Maybe. He's from our school," I replied, Colin raising a brow.
"He's not that theatre kid, is he? You know, the tall, lanky one with the electrocuted hair?" Colin asked curiously, a wild laugh tearing itself from my chest.
"No, he's definitely not," I said, wheezing. "Why would you think that?"
"Isaac told me he saw the guy drooling at you once," Colin shrugged, face passive.
"That all he said?" I asked, already knowing the answer. Colin shrugged again, leaning back on his palms.
"Not really. Didn't hear anything else about it afterwards, though," Colin said, making me sigh.
"He'd probably have a lot more to say if he found out about me and, you know," I said flatly, Colin clicking his tongue in agreement.
"You're not going to tell him about it?" Colin asked, and I shook my head. Isaac and I had been friends for what seemed like an eternity, and I knew the kind of person he was. He was fun to hang out with, as long as you didn't piss him off, and was exceedingly generous with his friends. If someone looked at you wrong, or slighted you even in the most minuscule of ways, he'd be there at your back. He was hot-headed and full of testosterone, sometimes saying and doing things that were a bit too much, but he has never caused any problems for me. At this point, we'd been friends for so long, that it was easier to just go with the flow.
"Not worth the trouble," I said, pulling myself out from under the car, Colin giving me a long stare, before breaking out into a massive grin, his default expression.
"Then tell me all about it," Colin said, snickering. "About this boy that has you whipped as all fuck."
~~~
The night was going slowly, so achingly slowly, and I was bored. Although tired from work, I was unable to nap or fall asleep, body rolling around on my plush couch. It was around this time that I would usually be with Wes, the two of us lazing around, kissing, flirting, arguing. When he was here, time went by too quickly, but when he wasn't, it seemed to drag on relentlessly. I never thought I would be that sappy person who, without irony, believed that the clock merely ticked down the time I would have to wait until I saw him next.
It was when I was about to message Wes, fingers hovering over the contact I had so often dialled over the past few days, that the door bell rang. Bell had only just left maybe five minutes ago to visit her friend, and it was likely that she forgot something and came back for it.
Walking to the door, fingers on the handle and expecting to see my grey-haired, round-cheeked grandmother in front of me, I almost stumbled when I saw who was there.
"Wes?" I asked, the boy's eyes turned up at me, pupils wide and irises so very, very dark. His curly hair was pushed back from his face, wind-tousled and wild. Brown eyes were glimmering, his cheeks red and his lips slightly parted as he panted, chest rising and falling with labour. He looked like he had been running, or at least walking very, very fast. He closed his mouth slowly, my eyes catching his every tremor, and then swallowed. His eyes shifted, as did his body, taking two steps forward.
Clumsy hands clasped onto the front of my shirt, fabric crumpling, and his mouth pressed against mine, hard and desperate.
My body froze, his so very, very hot and pressed up against me. He was here, he was here. He ran here, all the way to me.
A groan left my lips as I crushed Wes to me, hands touching everywhere and yet not enough. It would never be enough. Running after him all those times was worth it, for this one time that he ran to me, was everything.
Part X
I couldn't sleep, at least, not restfully. The night had dragged on, my mind unable to stop replaying what happened at the bowling alley over and over. I could see it so clearly now, but in the moment, everything was blurred. I watched as Issac sauntered forward, his familiar smirk dancing across his features. I saw Wes's sister's face twist in disgust, and Wes's body stiffen, hand flying to his sister's back. His brown eyes, usually so warm and vibrant, were stretched wide and so, so scared.
My friends were snickering around us as Isaac's mouth opened, some of them nudging me in the side in amusement, but I couldn't respond. Hell, I couldn't even move.
I looked around at my friends, who were all looking on with only mild interest, making some snide comments about how Isaac's flirtation wasn't seeming to get across to the pretty brunette in his sights. They were used to seeing Isaac like this and barely batted an eyelash, merely leaning back like they were watching a rerun of a movie they had seen a thousand times. I realised that maybe, if it wasn't Wes there, if that wasn't his sister, I would be the same.
I don't want you to see me like this.
Isaac's mouth moved again, but I couldn't hear what he was saying, my ears ringing silence. When Isaac's mouth closed again, I saw Wes's face grow pale, his eyes flicking towards me for a brief moment before turning to his sister. I stepped forward when I saw Wes's hand trembling as it grabbed onto his sister's. My movement made some of my friend's heads whip towards me, heads tilted and eyes questioning, burning into my skull, rooting me in place. My feet were like lead, my ankles tethered with the chains held in the hands of my friends.
Isaac spoke, his words finally registering in my frazzled mind, and I saw Wes flinch when Isaac called his sister a bitch. Isaac's muscular arm reached forward, and so did my body. The chains around my ankles rattled as my body sluggishly stepped forward, heavy.
Suddenly, Wes's own body moved, pulling his sister's behind him.
No, no, no. Don't do it, babe.
"Don't touch my sister, you asshole!" Wes shouted, but with his smaller stature, thinner frame and shaky voice, he wasn't imposing in the slightest. Isaac's eyes flashed, his mouth curling sinisterly. Even though he was smiling, I knew that when he smiled like that, he was not happy.
"Oh, sister," Isaac drawled, brow raised. "What, do you two have some weird thing going on? You keen on your sister or something, fucking psycho." My stomach turned, my body taking another step forward, legs wading through tar. Wes's hands shook again as he spread them out in an attempt to separate his sister from Isaac, and I saw him swallow before narrowing his eyes, brown turning to steel.
No, don't provoke him, please, babe.
"I'm not keen on my own sister, you prick. And frankly, she's even less into you," Wes said, venom in his usually dulcet tenor. There was a loud crash, and I watched as everything moved in slow motion. Wes's pained cry rattled against my ear drums, his body crumpling to the ground. The chains around my ankles snapped, the tar melting as my body flared, seeing red.
Groaning at the memory, I got up from my bed to open the window, giving up on sleep for the rest of the morning. It was still dark outside and everything was silent, leaving me only with the loud sounds of my thoughts.
I fucked up, I really fucked up. I was useless, I froze at the one time where I shouldn't have frozen. I hated it, I hated myself. Why didn't I just move, stop Isaac from saying those things. Why didn't I step in front of Wes, to shield him and protect him from my own friend.
My friend.
Guilt and fear welled up inside me, and my throat scratched for a cigarette. I didn't hesitate to light one up, pressing it between my lips and letting the soothing warmth flood my lungs. I had been smoking less lately, especially around Wes. I could see how much he hated it, how he didn't hesitate to complain about it the smell or the taste of it on my tongue. I could also see how his eyebrows would bunch together when he told me that I was going to get cancer, and how they smoothened out when I crushed them against the ground. I could see so clearly how his face would light up when I would stop, and it made me want to do it more.
'You're not the person that she was describing you as.'
The words he had told me in the pool shed the other day made me laugh dryly, throat sore as the cigarette smoke burned. In that moment, I had felt so light. I liked the way Wes looked at me; exasperated at times, but always so warm, and so penetrating. He saw me, really saw me, and he accepted it. I wanted him to always look at me like that, like I was worthy.
But now, would his eyes change? After seeing that unsightly part of me, would he even want to look at me? Did I deserve for him to look at me?
Drowning in my thoughts, I only realised that the cigarette I was inhaling was nearing its end when the glowing heat of the tip was tickling my fingers. That cigarette was discarded for another. And another.
And another.
It was only when the rest of the world woke up, filling the air with sounds, that I could finally smother the thoughts inside my head. Glancing at the clock and seeing the time, I knew what I had to do. Cigarette between my lips, I lethargically got changed. I probably looked like a mess, eyes tired and skin dry, but I had to go.
I had to go to him.
It seems that I was early, but early was alright. My body was tensed with nerves as I waited outside my boy's house. I had to see him, to see that he's okay. Even... Even if he didn't want to see me, even if he saw me how everyone else saw me, I had to see him.
The front door opened, and the smoke I had just inhaled swirled in my mouth, suddenly suffocating. Wes hobbled out with his head trained on the ground, slender body leaning on a set of crutches, foot wrapped in white. My heart cracked at the sight of him, the cigarette dropping from my fingers.
When he looked up, his eyes widened a fraction, before softening. And he was looking at me. Really looking at me, like nothing had changed.
Like I hadn't changed.
My mouth curled involuntarily, foot pivoting on top of the discarded cigarette that I knew Wes hated. My hands that usually itched for a cigarette reached outwards, desperate to hold onto Wes instead. Wes asked me why I was here, but the answer was trapped in my throat. All I could think about was holding him, and never letting him go.
"H-Hey, we're outside, Nico," Wes murmured, voice hushed. I laughed, almost incredulously, as he said my name, his hands against my chest.
"Mm. Just for a second. Please," I whispered, not wanting to let him go. I didn't want to risk him running away, not again. Not when I think I finally had him.
I knew I had to release him some time, his body fidgeting in my grasp, but I was reluctant. Managing to peel myself away from him, the two of us climbed into the car and headed towards school. My left foot tapped against the floor mat of my car as I drove, my nerves still heightened, my hands tightening on the steering wheel every time I saw Wes glance at me in my periphery, clearly wanting to say something.
Oh God, is this it? Is he going to tell me that after this, he doesn't want anything to do with me?
It was when we were at a red light that he finally spoke, voice quiet and hesitant. "Are you mad about something?" My hands flexed, and Wes opened his mouth hastily, hands balling into fists in his lap. "U-Um... if it's because I complained about the smoking, I don't mind if you do it with the windows open. Kind of."
Oh God, this boy, I swear. This sweet, dense, loveable boy.
I let out a sigh, wondering why he thought that he was the problem, when I was the one that fucked up. I didn't deserve it, but he was still so fucking warm.
Fuck, I love him.
My hand tightened around the steering wheel again at the thought, wanting nothing more than to embrace him again. Pulling over, I couldn't stop myself as I leaned towards him, arms softly closing around him. I held him loosely, preciously, breathing in the smell of him to confirm that he was really here.
"Nico...?" Wes asked, voice tinged with confusion.
"I'm sorry. For letting my friends do that to you, and your sister," I said slowly, pulling back only to look at his bandaged ankle, my heart crumbling a little more. My eyes only left it when Wes let out a breathy laugh, fingers gently nudging my chin to look at him. He had a small smile on his lips, eyes gentle.
"It looks worse than it is, really," Wes assured me, thumb on my chin rubbing against my skin. "It's already a lot better, it shouldn't be long until I'm out of the bandages."
Lies. This boy, starting to lie again to make me feel better, the thought making my heart flutter.
"I'm really sorry, Wes," I repeated, pulling Wes closer. "I shouldn't have let Isaac-"
"Nico, you really don't have to apologise. You didn't do anything wrong," Wes said, voice firm, sure.
But I did, and you just don't see it. You're too sweet to see it, and I'm too weak to change that, because I don't want you to see me like that.
"I was kind of worried that you'd... think less of me. After seeing... that," I said, voice cracking. Wes's eyes widened as they took mine in, and I had to look away. Wes sighed, breath tickling my cheek, the same skin soon being covered by the palm of his hand.
"Nico," he said, guiding my had to look at him. He eyes held a smile, his lips salvation. "I could never think less of you. Only more, if that's even possible."
I was left speechless at his simple words, overwhelmed not quite doing my emotions justice. There were only three words that I wanted to say, but they weren't right for this moment. Not yet, not just yet.
So I turned my 'I love you' into a 'Thank you', my heart hoping that the kiss I pressed against him didn't give me away.
Part XI
Wes looked up at me, almost pouting, and I caved. Chuckling at his blatant "please kiss me" face, I indulged him and pressed my lips to his, only breaking it when my smile could no longer contain itself. Little by little, Wes had slowly let himself relax into my touch, no longer shying away from it like he had done in the past, and the thought warmed me to the core.
Sighing against my lips, Wes gave me a thoughtful glance, arms slipping over my shoulders. "You're right. Maybe a little spicy." The double entendre didn't escape either of us, our talk about pasta sauce a surface cover for a meaning far more obscene.
"Still tasty though?" I asked, my suggestive tone teasing out a playful shoulder hit from Wes, the boy rolling his eyes as he reached behind him to grab a bag of salt, opening it before waving it in the space between our bodies.
"It does need a little more salt, though," he said, making me nod, smiling at Wes softly.
"Mhmm. I thought so too, babe."
There was a thud, and my eyes followed the noise to the ground between our feet. Salt spilled form the dropped bag, and I snapped my head back to Wes, who was staring at me wide-eyed, mouth parted in a startled 'O'.
"What?"
My heart hammered when I heard his small, strained voice, sounding so pained that it made me hurt. I fumbled to grab his hands, flipping them over and around, trying to find the source of his pain. Hands inching up, inspecting the planes of his body, I hurriedly tried to figure out what was wrong, because from the look on his face, there was something clearly very, very wrong.
"Wes, what's wrong, are you feeling sick? Did you eat something weird at Benny's?" I asked, words rushed as I pressed my hand against the soft expanse of his stomach, which tensed immediately.
"N-No," Wes stammered, shaking his head weakly, eyes flitting here and there and everywhere, but not meeting mine. "I'm not feeling... not feeling sick... But you just..."
Me...?
Dread seized me, and countless scenarios flew through my mind. My mind picked over everything I've done, trying to pull out what could have made Wes reel like this.
Did I fuck up?
Did I fuck this whole thing up?
No.
I opened my mouth to say something, to make him come back to me. But he spoke first, words quiet and panicked, voice cracking.
"You... You called me... B-babe."
My mind was blank, my heart that was lodged in my throat sinking back down, thumping in my ribcage. Wes's lower lip wavered, face pale, and I couldn't hold it in, not when he was looking at me like that because of a single innocuous word.
Babe.
It had slipped out of my mouth without a thought, so natural and right that I didn't think twice about it. It was a word that had only floated around in my thoughts, my mind's voice whispering it every time I looked at the boy in front of me. It was just a word, but the single sound seemed to knock the wind out of him.
A relieved, hysterical laugh erupted from my lungs, and I pulled Wes close, as close as I could, pressing my face into his shoulder.
I love him. I really fucking love this bloody idiot.
Part XII
I smoothed the hair falling across my boyfriend's sleeping face, which crinkled with his dream. Though asleep, his body still seemed taut, his tears only having freshly dried on his cheeks. He was so small, so vulnerable in my arms, making me want to hold him tighter and tighter until I absorbed all of his sadness into myself.
Seeing him now only reminded me of myself, all those years ago when my parents divorced. I was only around nine years old, not quite understanding what was happening around me. There wasn't much that I remembered from back then, but I could remember the yelling. I would wake up to the sharp sounds of 'fuck you's' being slung back and forth, the occasional crash as fists were slammed on tables or objects were thrown. I could remember walking in, bleary eyed, and both of my parents turning to me, strained smiles on their faces.
"Nicolas," my mother cooed, bending down slightly with her arms outstretched, snake-like smile on her face. Sweet like poison. "Come here to your mama, hm? Let's go to the playground that you like, the one with the really big slide!"
"No, Nicolas," papa would say, gruff voice dripping with duplicitous affection. "Bud, come over here with me. You wanted to try out the new cars at work, right?"
"Work again?" mama scoffed, soft eyes hardening as she turned towards the taller man, lips pulling back in a snarl. "You already live there, and now you want to lock Nicolas there too?"
"You're fu- You're crazy," my father said, exhaling harshly. "And I was going to be civil, but I see that it's wasted on you. Do you think I would let you take Nicolas with you while you sleep with that cun-"
"Shut the fuck up, Harvey!" mama snapped, before her eyes widened, turning to me with that same sickening smile. Her pink lips were weeds disguised as flowers. "Nicolas, Nicolas, my baby. Why don't you go to your room and get changed, and then we can go, hm? Run along, now."
I nodded, quickly walking back to my room, the sound of the screaming beginning before I even reached the door. I could head papa saying naughty words, and mama yelling back the same thing twice as loud. They were so, so loud.
Crawling onto my bed, I slid under my blankets and pillows, burying myself in my sheets. I pulled out the mp3 player I got for my 8th birthday, and stuck the headphones into my ears, turning on my music and closing my eyes.
Loud, it was still so, so loud.
I felt a familiar yet distant sensation as the ageing memories played behind my eyes, something I hadn't thought about for a long time. The bitterness had dulled over the years, with Bell doing her best to heal the damage her daughter and ex-son-in-law had inflicted on me. My wounds had healed, but not without scars.
Wes stirred in his sleep, his nose scrunching up as he mumbled something incomprehensible. Unconscious and troubled, his smaller body wriggled closer to me, his arms holding onto mine like a lifeline, face pressing into my chest.
"It's okay," I whispered, my boy not waking up, but his body relaxing again, melting my arms. My heart bled at the sight of him, my throat growing tight. "I've got you, Wes. I've got you."
My words disappeared into silence, the night punctuated only with the sounds of our breaths, which rose and fell in sync.
And it was quiet. So, so quiet. Just how it should be.
Part XIII
I had never felt like this before.
Nervous didn't seem to cut it as I looked at the pile of discarded clothes on my bed, an eyesore and blight on my spirits. I had never had trouble choosing clothes, often throwing on whatever was at hand and being satisfied with how it looked. But now, knowing that I was about to officially meet my boyfriend's family for the first time, everything I tried on suddenly made me either look like a wannabe scene kid circa 2005 or a complete jackass.
Knowing that Wes's sister wasn't my biggest fan, and that his mother was still wrapping her head around things, I didn't want to do anything to fan their flames of apprehension towards me. Looking down at my arms, the black ink staining them making my stomach flip for the first time in my life, I waded through the pile for two long-sleeved shirts.
They would probably prefer these shirts, unless they're too dressy. Ugh, they're either going to think I'm trying too hard or that I'm an accountant in training. Fuck me.
"Nicolas?" Bell called, tapping lightly on my door twice. Grumbling a stressed 'come in', I turned to my grandma with a lost expression as she stepped through the door. Her eyes flitted over my room, lingering on the mountain of clothes behind me, on the two contrasting shirts in my arms and then on my face, before letting out a snort.
"Well, I never thought I'd see the day," Bell chirped, laughing merrily as I rolled my eyes. "My Nicolas, getting nervous over a boy. Oh, I should take a picture!"
"Grandma," I groaned, shaking my head as I threw the shirts on my hands onto the growing pile, moving to sit beside it.
"Grandson," Bell replied, voice echoing my strained tone. Taking a seat next to me on the bed, the mattress rippling, the elderly woman pat my knee tenderly. "What's really worrying you, Nicolas? And don't say it's about the clothes, I know it's more than that."
My grandma moved her hands to clasp mine, calloused and wrinkled hands comforting despite their roughness. Her gentle action dislodged a sigh from my mouth, my shoulders heaving in a weighted shrug.
"I don't know," I said, thinking. "It's lots of things, but nothing. I'm just... worried that they won't like me."
"Oh, honey," Bell breathed, chuckling lightly. "Now, why would you think that?"
Why wouldn't I?
"Well, for starters, his sister thinks I'm a violent thug," I said, laughing wryly as Bell raised a silver eyebrow. "And, from what I've heard from Wes, his family are... conservative, about things. You know, about appearances." I gestured towards the tattoos lining my arms, Bell nodding thoughtfully.
"And that's why you're thinking about wearing those long-sleeved dress shirts that I've never seen you wear before, is it?" Bell said, head nodding at the shirts at the peak of the clothing mountain.
"Yeah, I guess so," I mumbled, shrugging again. Bell sighed, releasing my hands from hers only to pinch my cheek harshly, my body leaning away from hers with an expression of betrayal. "Ow, what was that for?!"
"For being stupid," Bell huffed, eyes rolling. "It's good to see that Wesley has humbled you. God knows your ego is the size of Jupiter." Bell snorted at her own comment, before turning her body to face me straight on, eyes serious. "But Nicolas, you're stupid to feel the need to... hide, or change yourself for someone else. Even if it's for Wesley or his parents." Blinking a few times, Bell cocked her head to the side curiously.
"Did Wesley say that you had to dress a certain way?" Bell asked, and I frowned. Thinking back to when Wes asked me to come over for dinner, all I could remember was the nervous smile on his face, and the relieved and excited smile that overtook it when I said I would come. All he told me was that I should prepare my stomach, but also not to expect much. Oh, and maybe to have a snack beforehand in case the food is inedible.
"He didn't," I said, Bell smiling softly at my response. "But I need to make a good impression on his fami-"
"If he never said anything, then why are you worrying. That boy seems like he worries about everything, I'm sure he would have warned you if his house had a strange dress code or something," Bell said, reaching across the bed to grab my phone, pressing it into my hands. "If you're worried, just ask him. I have a feeling that he couldn't care less about what you wear, as long as you show up on time. And it's already getting late, Nicolas."
"Oh, shit," I said, glancing at the time. Bell slapped the back of my head at my language, getting up with a groan and the creaking of bones. Moving to leave the room, I quickly grabbed my grandma's hand, pulling her into a brief hug.
"Thanks, gran," I said, the woman chuckling and patting me on the back, waving the thanks away.
"Yes, yes. Now hurry and call your boy. You should really get going, even though watching you flounder like this is quite entertaining."
"Grandma."
Bell just snorted as she left my room, leaving me to call Wes and decide on something appropriate to wear.
It turned out that Bell was right, as always - Wes didn't give two damns about what I was wearing, because what I normally wore was enough.
I was enough.
Part XIV
I smiled as Wes's body leaned into mine, his back pressing against my chest as he tried to avoid being crushed by the crowd. I felt more than heard him sigh, and I could imagine the way his eyes would roll, following Benny's retreating back. He watched his best friend disappear into the throng of pulsating bodies, turning to me. Catching the end of his eye roll, I felt my smile widening as I took in the boy in front of me.
Dark eyes peered up at me, splashed with an array of colours under the flashing strobe lights, a little exasperation mixed in the amusement. His cheeks were flushed, like they always were, and his mouth was curved gently, closed lips looking impossibly soft, honestly just asking to be kissed. The smell of alcohol was thick around us, with a few notes of sweat mixed in, but with Wes pressed so close to me and his head hovering just under my nose, I could close my eyes and pretend that it was just the two of us, the smell of his shampoo taking my mind places.
He was beautiful, both that first night and now.
"What are you looking at me like that for?" Wes asked, voice teasing, but also curious.
Because you're beautiful, and you're mine.
Wes looked at me, waiting for an answer. Could he really not tell what I was thinking? How beautiful I find him, how abso-fucking-lutely gone I was for him? He had be wrapped around his finger, and he didn't even know it.
"Just thinking that I need to keep an eye on you," I replied, pulling him closer. Closer. There were too many people around, all of their eyes on us, on him. There were too many people looking at him, and that primal possessiveness inside me stirred. Though he couldn't read my thoughts, Wes definitely sensed the shift in the air between us, sucking in a tight breath, lashes fluttering.
"Why's that?" he asked softly, leaning his head against me, hands stroking the back of mine that hung across his body, fingers hot.
"Well, someone here has a track record of getting drunk at parties and sleeping with hot guys," I said, wiggling my brow to coax out a reaction from my boyfriend, who spluttered adorably, cheeks reddening further.
"I do not have a track record! It was just that one time, and... and it was with you!" Wes's hands pushed against my chest, making me laugh as he spun around, lip pushed out in a pout. My eyes dropped to his mouth, and the movement was not unnoticed, Wes's own flickering downwards, before he blinked twice.
"But wait. Did you really just call yourself 'hot'?"
"What, do you not agree?" I replied, swallowing my chuckle when Wes's hands slipped across my shoulders, blazing a trail of heated skin and goosebumps. Our noses bumped, both our lips slightly parted as we danced along the edge, seeing who would give in first.
I already knew it would be me, but not yet. Not yet.
"You're so fucking full of yourself," Wes huffed, though the words were full of adoration. We smiled, lips brushing slightly, teasingly.
God, this boy. Honestly.
"If not hot, then what? What kind of guys do you hook up with at parties then?" I asked, voice a little rough as I blatantly stared at Wes's parted lips, which were on the verge of moving with an answer. I was tempted to just shut him up then, head tilting to the side and leaning forward, but only barely. Wes's exhale hit my cheek, making me shiver. His lips moved with some words, enticing me, before his eyes lifted upwards, mouth curling mischievously. Then his eyes left me, looking over my shoulder.
"Yeah, I think I have a thing for guys like that one over there," he said, momentarily silenced by his words, but immediately afire when I took in the dangerous gleam in Wes's eyes and the knowing grin on his mouth. That mouth that was so fucking tempting but also so fucking rude.
I kissed him then, hard and unbridled, giving in. Our lips moved together, tongues rolling, and a moan escaped Wes's parted mouth.
"You're such a fucking liar," I groaned, Wes actually having the audacity smirk, making me kiss him again, and again.
"Yeah, I am, but what are you going to do about it?"
I almost laughed out loud, my heart hammering in my chest, his words knocking the sense out of me.
Yeah, maybe he does know that he has me wrapped around his finger. But I didn't mind, because he was mine as much as I was his.
Part XV
"So let me make it up to you."
Wes didn't seem to grasp the meaning of my words immediately, watery eyes creasing a little further as he stared at me. My heart caved as his lower lip trembled, my thumbs rubbing across his tear-streaked cheeks which were flushed under the pad of my finger. I slid my hands down to cup his cheek, kissing his lips briefly, pulling back to look at his face. His eyes had widened a fraction, comprehension flashing in his eyes.
"Fuck, come here, babe," I murmured, hand sliding down further to loosely tug at the sides of his neck, which arched as he moved to meet my mouth half way. A relieved moan escaped Wes's throat as I coaxed his mouth open, my tongue flattening against his. His throat moved under my thumb, my anger mixing with my desire until I couldn't think straight..
My hands dropped down again to grip onto his hips roughly, my fingers digging into his skin enough to make Wes suck in a tight breath, his mouth ripping itself from mine with a slick snap. I grinned, rubbing the skin on his hip, fingers slipping under his clothing, pressing on the areas that were probably a little tender, considering the hitch in Wes's already laboured breathing.
"Okay?" I asked, thumb brushing over the soon-to-be-bruised skin, Wes's eyes glazing over as he nodded emphatically, slamming his mouth against mine again, harsher than he had ever before. More, his body was saying. Screaming. Our teeth clashed, my fingers ripping at the clothing covering Wes's body. Our lips parted again, but only for the brief second it took for me to pull his shirt over his head, mine following soon after. Glancing down, I chuckled when I saw a few red marks around Wes's hips, his fair skin easily marked. Our eyes met as I pointedly pressed my fingers onto the patterns I had mapped out before, Wes smothering his moan with my mouth.
My fingers gripped tightly onto him, not wanting to let go, I hissed when Wes reciprocated my vice-like grip, his own digits clawing at my back and shoulders. His nails left a heated blaze across my skin and it stung, but it wasn't painful. Quite the contrary - it was hot. So fucking hot.
"You're so fucking hot - fuck," I cursed, Wes responding with a downward pull of his fingers that ended at the dip between my scapulas.
"Nico," Wes panted, letting out a sound that was halfway between a breath and a laugh. His mouth then closed over my lip ring, almost sucking on it, before I felt him smile against my mouth. Then, suddenly, his teeth closed down on my bottom lip. Hard.
This fucking boy-
"Oh, fuck," I growled, pushing Wes harshly at his hips, his body falling onto his bed, body bouncing as the mattress creaked. I threw my body on top of him, his legs spreading instinctively as he pulled me down, as if he couldn't breathe without having my mouth on his. I only indulged him for a moment, before pulling back with a teasing smirk, Wes's glare only making my pants grow tighter.
"Spoiled brat," I chuckled, voice raw. Wes moved his arms to try and pull me down, but I clicked my tongue, pinning his wrists on either side of his head. Wes's glare only heated up as he twisted his arm in my grasp, my fingers tightening in response.
"Stingy bastard," Wes huffed, managing to roll his eyes before his arms went slack in mine. Raising a brow, I didn't relax my hold on his arms, not sure at what he was playing at. And oh, was he playing.
Arms pinned down, Wes had to resort to other body parts to grab my attention - not that he didn't have it in the first place, when he was there splayed out beneath me, lips red and swollen and already looking so undone. I didn't have time to prepare myself, mentally or physically, when Wes rolled his hips upwards, his clothed hard on rubbing against mine. My jaw clenched as my cock throbbed, already bucking forward to chase after the friction Wes had provided, the both of us moaning in tandem as our hips collided again.
"We need to get these pants off," I muttered, growing irritated by the sheer amount of clothing we both had on, my words almost taking an air of offence. Wes blinked up at me, before snorting, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he laughed. The shift in his expression hit me in straight in the gut, my stomach twisting and my heart swelling.
How does he do it? How can he be so fucking hot but so fucking cute at the same time, he's not playing fair.
The momentary break in his hungry expression was over as quickly as it came, his smile disappearing when he bit his lip at the feeling of me pulling off his pants and underwear in one swift motion. Fabric rustled, before falling to the ground, leaving Wes bare apart from the marks I had painted on him.
But there weren't enough - there would never be enough.
"You're mine," I said, voice steady as I licked and nibbled at the sensitive skin on his neck, moving lower and lower, closing around a hardened nipple. My words and actions seemed to trigger something in Wes, his whole body shivering beneath me, his lower lip trapped between his teeth as he suppressed his strained voice.
"Mine," I said again, right beside his ear, and Wes's hips thrust upwards. Apparently the feeling of his bare and hard cock rubbing against me was too much, a choked noise leaving his throat, arms rebelling against my stern hold.
"Fuck, Nico, yes. Yes. I'm yours, I'm yours, please," Wes gasped, head tilting backwards as he ground himself on my thigh. "Please let me touch you. Please, I-I need to touch you." Wes's voice was so desperate, so unashamed and so honest that I really had no choice.
"Only because you said please," I teased, letting go of his hands, only for him to hit me once against my shoulders in annoyance, before using them to pull himself upwards. My empty hands sought his body, pulling him by the waist until he was straddling my lap. His erection bumped against his lower stomach, red and dribbling a little at the tip. I pressed my forehead against his after pressing a short and hard kiss to his open mouth. Breathing heavily, Wes whimpered as he rocked his hips back and forth, riding my thigh like he would die if he didn't.
Wes's cock was wet, his pre-cum dripping down its length and onto my jeans. My eyes didn't know where to look, wanting to take in Wes's euphoric face, his bare chest rising and falling as he desperately tried to breathe, or the dark and wet patch of fabric on my thigh that began to spread with every wet jerk of Wes's hips. Taking everything in, my own hard-on was getting so fucking painful in my pants, straining against the fabric.
"You're making a mess on my pants," I chuckled, voice hoarse and strained.
"Ngh," was all Wes managed to get out, peeling his eyes open as his hips stuttered. Looking at the dampness he had left on my leg, Wes's arms tightened around my neck.
"Take them off then," Wes breathed, hands dropping down to fiddle with my zip. Soon, my remaining clothes were thrown somewhere across the room. I didn't know where - my attention was rather preoccupied. Kissing Wes again, I spoke against his lips.
"Do you have condoms, babe?" I asked, Wes choking. His face was already pink with arousal, but the tips of his ears flushed with colour at my question, making me chuckle.
"Y-Yeah," Wes said, turning his eyes away, too shyly for someone who was grinding himself on me like his life depended on it just a second ago.
"Oh?" I responded, genuinely surprised that he had some. We had never had sex at his place before, and I knew that he didn't usually want to, not when his family could potentially hear everything that was going on. The thought clearly didn't cross his mind right now though, as it shouldn't. But the fact that he had condoms meant that he had thought about it at some point, contemplating the idea enough to actually have gone out and bought condoms.
An image of Wes at the pharmacy standing in front of the condom section blitzed its way into the forefront of my mind. I could imagine his face, bright red and embarrassed, brown eyes glancing around him to make sure no one was watching him. I could imagine him looking at the different types, thinking about which ones he'd like, which ones I'd like, and maybe getting a little turned on at the thought before remembering where he was and turning even redder.
The thought shouldn't have turned me on, especially when I was already so fucking hard, but it did.
Fuck.
"Where are they, babe?" I asked, voice urgent. "And lube. Do you have lube?"
Wes only nodded, quickly gesturing towards the bottom bedside drawer. Detaching myself from him and jumping off the bed, I clumsily rummaged through his things, and as expected, an unopened box of condoms and plastic-wrapped bottle of lube were found shoved at the back of the drawer. Stepping around the side until I was standing at the foot of the bed, I couldn't get the condom on fast enough, and I only grew more frustrated by the ridiculous amount of plastic packaging covering the bottle of lube.
Wes, still reclined with his legs spread wide, seemed to share my frustration as he let out a long whine.
"Your plan really is to kill me, huh?" Wes said, and I would have laughed if I wasn't so fucking desperate.
"Well, I didn't deny it back then," I replied, finally able to open the bottle of lube, generously coating my fingers until they were slick and glossy. Wes gasped when I gripped his ankle, pulling him closer to the edge of the bed, his ass edging upwards, so ready for me. Sinking to my knees, I smiled when Wes swallowed, throat bobbing and eyes locked onto my fingers until they disappeared inside him.
"Oh, shit," Wes moaned, his curled back unfurling as he threw his head back against the sheets, his fingers digging into them. "Nico, Nico, I need more. More. It's fine, it's fine, I want more than your fingers," Wes rambled, his thoughts clearly a mess as his words rolled over one another, almost incoherent between his gasps.
My cock twitched, and I wanted nothing more than to bury it in Wes's ass. But seeing him so desperate, I had to tease him. I had to. Pulling my fingers out of him, Wes keening at the emptiness, I stood up and positioned myself between his legs. One hand at the base of my hard-on, the other pulling on Wes's outstretched leg, I nudged my erection against his slick rim. Wes's breath hitched, body tensed with anticipation. I smirked as he eyes flew open the millisecond I pulled my cock away from him, livid.
"You didn't say please," I said, licking my lip. Wes looked at me incredulously, and I just challenged his gaze with the upturned corner of my mouth.
"You're such a-"
"Ah- say please," I said, Wes's cheeks puffing as his hands tightened on his sheets again.
"Please," he said, like the words tasted sour. I laughed, brushing my cock against the rim of his ass again, which jerked towards me. Just the head of my cock managed to slip inside him, Wes groaning, once at the sensation, and again when I took it away.
"Please what?" I asked, knowing it was the last time I'll ask, because I couldn't take it any more. Even if he didn't say what I was asking him to say, even if he cursed me out, called me a 'stingy bastard' or an outright asshole, I would spoil him because I was so fucking turned on.
"Please shove your cock into me and fuck me, you fucking asshole," Wes gritted out.
Trust him to indulge me and cuss me out at the same time.
That's my Wes.
In one, unrestrained movement, I thrust into Wes, his body jerking with the force as he let out a loud cry. I didn't let him recover as I pulled out completely, thrusting straight back in to the hilt, my hips slapping against his again and again and again and again.
No matter how many times we did this, the feeling of being inside him was still as - if not more - mind blowing as it was back then. He was so fucking tight, and warm, and every time I would slam into him and hit that spot that only I knew how to find he would let out sounds that were nothing if not downright sinful.
Wes's thighs were red with how hard I was gripping them, and I was sure that in the morning there would be five finger-shaped bruises on each leg.
"Nico, Nico," Wes moaned, like a twisted prayer that only made me groan, letting go of his reddened thighs to lean over him, hands fisting his hair to pull his mouth to mine. Wes cried out into my mouth, his own hands clawing and scratching, tugging my hair and anything he could grab onto. As much as I've marked him, I was sure that I wouldn't leave his place unscathed either. Wes kept crying out my name, seemingly unable to form any other coherent thoughts, his ass beginning to clench in a way I knew meant that he was close.
"Are you coming, babe?" I panted, Wes unable to answer with anything more than a squeeze of my bicep. Wes's mouth hung open, breaths uneven and erratic, his head turning to the side.
"No, babe, look at me," I said, voice rough, hands turning my boyfriend's face to look at me. God, he's so fucking beautiful. "Let me see you when you come. I want to see you."
"Fuck, fuck, Nico, I'm coming, I'm coming," Wes cried out, his back arching as he came. Thick, white cum blurted onto his stomach, his dick slapping against his stomach as I continued to ram into him, chasing my own orgasm. Seeing Wes's face contort with such ecstasy was what tipped me over the edge, my mind growing blank as I came inside of him, this boy that I loved with everything that I had.
Wes let out a quiet 'oof' as I collapsed on top of him, our sweaty chests pressed together tightly. He let out a breathy laugh, almost sounding dazed, as his body began to climb down from its high. My body was still buzzing, though exhausted, a satisfied smile creeping onto my face as I pressed my lips to Wes's collar bone, the boy responding by carding his fingers through my hair. I felt his mouth press against my forehead, the action so tender and gentle that I shivered.
We lay there for a moment, just basking in our afterglow, until I was sure Wes was probably struggling to breathe with the weight of my body on top of his. Pulling myself up, I chuckled when Wes's face twisted into a discontented pout, his bruised lips pressing together tightly.
"We should get you cleaned up," I said slowly, glancing down at his stomach, where the evidence of our satisfaction had dried and crusted on his stomach. I couldn't help but lick my lips at the sight, so incredibly erotic that I felt blood begin to traverse downwards, but I was already spent.
When I pulled myself further off, Wes shook his head and grumbled something unintelligible, his arms tugging me back down on top of him. I laughed, enjoying his neediness, pressing a few pecks to his chest and neck.
"Okay, not yet, then."
We lay there in silence, giving me time to think about what had transpired just moments before we had sex, regret sobering me up completely.
"I'm sorry," I had said, Wes mirroring my words. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Our words were apologies that sounded like I love you's, the two of us smiling at each other towards the end of it. We forgave each other, then we teased each other, Wes spluttering when he seemed to finally grasp the fact that Jamie was still home. I stared at Wes's face, taking in his naturally wavy hair that was in chaotic disarray, the adorably panicked contour of his mouth, and the bright glimmer in his eyes. Though his words were always - fondly - convoluted, his face was so expressive. I committed the image of him in this moment into my memory, filing the expression away close to my heart.
I wanted to see all of his expressions every day, until the day I fucking die.
"Maybe we should move out together then," I said, the words impulsive, surprising me. Wes's eyes widened even further, mouth popping open, and it was my turn to panic. Oh God, was that too soon? Fuck, it probably too soon. I forced my face to not bunch up, to show how terrified I was.
"What?" Wes asked, his voice trembling, eyes darting to the side as he swallowed thickly. Oh, no. No, no, no.
I shrugged, the motion excessively casual.
"We could move out together," I said, brain scrambling to explain this. To explain that this was something I hoped for, but that I could wait. That I would wait, as long as he needed. "I mean, not now, but after you graduate, maybe. I've been thinking about it. I mean, these days we basically always stay at each other's places anyway, and it would be easier if we moved somewhere closer to my work and your uni, wherever you get into." I mentally kicked myself as I noticed my words picking up their tempo, the panic settling in. "Uh, but only if you want to. It was just a thought."
Please.
Wes was quiet, until his brown eyes flickered back to me, cautious.
"Really?" he asked, looking a little apprehensive, his fingers nervously gripping onto the sheets beside him. "Do you really... want to move in together? Really? Really?" With every word, his apprehensive expression seemed to dissolve, until a giddy smile found its way onto his face. Oh, thank God.
Laughing with relief, I nodded, kissing the tip of his nose, the small giggle that it elicited from Wes doing things to me.
"Yes, really." Yes, yes, yes. "I'll take that as a yes?"
"Hell yes!" Wes shouted, pushing his body into mine with force, his squeal muffled by my chest.
I could see it then; the two of us, ten years into the future. On most days Wes would probably wake up before me. He would maybe try to get out of bed without waking me up, but he would always have trouble since we always managed to get tangled in each other's arms as we slept. I would groggily complain that he woke me up, but would forgive him straight away when he'd laugh and kiss me. Then we would roll around in bed until our stomachs grumbled at us. I would make him breakfast, and watch the happy expression on his face as he ate. He'd have tea, I'd have coffee, but we'd taste both when we'd kiss.
Maybe in ten years I would finally have my own restaurant, and Wes would maybe be a teacher. 'Mr. Dillon' I would tease him, until he grew red in the face and slapped me. I would probably use this to tease him in bed as well, and he'd pretend to hate it but the way his body responded when I called him that would tell me otherwise. Would it be Mr. Dillon though? Or Mr. Beckett?
Would we be married? I had never really considered it, not after the train wreck of a marriage that my parents had shown me. Maybe marriage wasn't at the forefront of Wes's mind either, not after the whole deal with his own parents. Maybe we'd be just happy being together, no need for signatures on a document. But maybe we would be different, maybe we would be married, to show our parents that we weren't like them.
That we'd last. That we were it. Because I knew that Wes was it for me.
Wes was the first for all the things that mattered. My first.
And he's sure as hell going to be my only.