Almost Cinderella

Chapter 9

The following morning was awkward.

Thyme had picked Tine up in front of his dorm for the second leg of their excursion. For a whole five minutes, Tine sat awkwardly beside Thyme at the backseat, looking everywhere except his seatmate who was also pointedly not looking at him. He can't blame Thyme. The events of last night were still fresh in Tine's own mind and Thyme wasn't drunk enough to claim to have no idea of what happened either.

The time came that tongues and lips and mouth and teeth were no longer enough. Soon, Thyme was pulling Tine's shirt, dragging him to lay down on top of him. They both know what this was and what this wasn't. This wasn't an expression of love, no! Far from it! Nor was this plain desire.

This was desperation. In it's rawest, purest form.

The desperation to be loved back by the one who holds their heart. And if a split-second fantasy was all the world was going to provide? They'd take it whole-heartedly.

Tine's hands had already crawled under Thyme's shirt, the rough pads of his fingertips rubbing insistently against Thyme's nipples. Thyme moaned wantonly, as his partner's lips began to attack the sensitive junction between his ear and neck.

"More," he gasped, imagining a different pair of hands, a different set of lips, "more."

Tine raised his head to look at his partner, a clouded look in his own eyes. "Yes, baby. I'll give you more."

Slowly, he unbuttoned Thyme's shirt, licking each stretch of skin as it was slowly exposed. Soon, Thyme's rosy, pink nipples were visible, and Tine can't help but smack his lips in anticipation.

"Delicious," Tine said, his hot breath dangerously close to his partner's buds.

"Please," Thyme gasped.

"Please, what?"

"Please suck."

Tine smirked, "always been a bossy, little minx. You know I can never say no to you."

Tine's tongue descended on Thyme's nipples and as he licked and nibbled on the protruded flesh, the latter held on tightly on Tine's hair and writhed under Tine's attention.

"You like that, don't you?" Tine whispered. "You like me doing this to you, that's why you always like doing it to me."

"Yessss," Thyme groaned. And in one swift motion, he pulled Tine up again to his lips, smoothly slotting their legs together, their clothed crotches in contact with each other's thigh.

Soon, there was nothing else but the carnal sounds of moans and wet kisses, and the shadows of two bodies desperately trying to convey their feelings. To the wrong person, yes. But sometimes, one chases only the chance to merely speak, and not to be heard.

A dull thud crashed the illusion.

The portraits that Thyme had purchased earlier that day were haphazardly thrown on top of his bed, close to the edge. They had accidentally fallen to the floor in the passion of the bed's two occupants. Thyme, who was at that moment grinding on Tine's lap, instinctively glanced down to the source of the sound.

Kavin's portraits lay scattered on the floor; the loosely wrapped paper covering had slid away in the fall. And in that split-second where Thyme was gazing at Kavin's carefree smile, a wave of guilt washed over him. Quickly, he scrambled off Tine's lap and gently picked up the fallen portraits one-by-one, carefully checking each frame for any dents on the wood or cracks in the glass.

Finding none, he glanced back to his bedside partner, only to be met with Tine's fully-clothed form exiting the room without a goodbye.

"So..." Tine began, after a particularly awkward stretch of silence. He had tried to offer Thyme some snacks to clear the air but it backfired when their fingers accidentally touched and they both flinched at the contact. "Wanna talk about last night?" Tine asked, bravely. He'd rather address the elephant in the room now than endure a minute more of this awkwardness.

"No!" Thyme dismissed quickly, a red flush creeping up from his neck to his ears.

"That's great, because I don't want to, either," Tine thought. If he could slap last night's Tine, he would. After all the lengths he went through to hide from Thyme the fact that they slept together, he had to go ruin it all by making out with Thyme, himself.

"That's fine!" Tine said defensively. "We don't have to talk about it. In fact, I suggest we completely forget about it! It never happened! Last night? Nothing happened last night! I took you home after drinking, then I went back to my dorm and made good progress on my knitted couch blanket."

"You knit?" Thyme asked, brow arched in disbelief. Tine was mildly offended that that was the detail he chose to latch onto.

"I'll have you know I'm a particularly good knitter!"

"I didn't say anything."

"Well you look like you want to say something!"

"That sounds more like a 'you' problem. Besides, I just didn't peg you as the type to knit."

" The type to knit?? Excuse me? And what type do you think I am?"

"I don't know? It just sounds like a terribly delicate activity. I mean, you don't look like a jock, but you don't seem like a delicate art boy to me, either."

"Ugh! Stereotypes!" Tine exclaimed. "You know what? That's it! I'm going to knit you the best sweater you've ever had in your life. And, yes, that's counting all those luxury brands you have."

Thyme raised a brow. "You sure about that? You know, I don't wear anything less than premium."

Tine gave Thyme and his animal-print attire a slow once-over. "I'm pretty sure I can manage."

They dissolved into comfortable banter after that. The thoughts of the previous night still lingered at the back of their minds. It wasn't easy to completely erase it from memory after all, but it was easy enough to pack it into a tiny box and store it in a corner where you won't accidentally see.

"Anyway," Thyme began after giving his measurements to Tine ( "Give me your measurements, this sweater has to be perfect!" ). "Where are we going again?"

"It's perfect that you asked, because we're here!"

They were at the university football field and they were there to meet the fourth guy on Tine's list.