Tease oneshots

Your eyes look like comimg home. Pt.1

Davey's eyes are utterly, impossibly blue. It drives Spot all kinds of crazy.

They're easily Davey's most striking feature: big and expressive and capable of crumbling Spot's willpower into dust with a single pleading look. It's unfair, really, that Davey has such ridiculously pretty eyes. He's already so good with words that he could talk a lemon into tasting sweet, he really doesn't need another weapon at his disposal.

He's not sure what it is about Davey's eyes in particular-Spot's dated plenty of people with blue eyes before and they never drove him half-mad with want-but Spot's spent hours staring at them, thinking about them, painting them. And, hell, he knows he's a sap, knows that Davey would probably find his constant staring really creepy if he ever stopped being so oblivious, but Spot just can't help himself. He's pathetically gone over on the guy.

"Spot, are you listening to me?" Davey asks, distracting Spot from his contemplations.
Spot blinks, then shakes his head, trying to focus back in on the math homework he's supposed to be working on. "Sorry, Dave, I drifted. What did ya say?"

Davey sighs, pushing his own schoolwork away and sitting up slightly. He's sitting on the floor of Spot's room while Spot himself lays stomach-down on his bed, Davey preferring to work on a hard surface instead of Spot's sinking mattress. "I asked you Whether or not you wanted to take a break and get something to eat."

"Sure, I could eat," Spot says. "What were ya thinkin of havin?"

"We could walk over to the sub shop on the corner, or we could order a pizza and split the cost."

Spot thinks about it, then shrugs. "Let's get pizza, if ya don't mind."

Davey nods, then leans over to grab his cell phone.

The new position causes the sunlight streaming through the windows to catch his eyes just right and-

Fuck. Fuck. God he's beautiful.

Spot tries to swallow. His collar feels uncomfortably tight against his throat. He barely registers that Davey's trying to ask him something, probably about the pizza. He nods without hearing the question, then stares back down at his textbook before he can do something he'll regret, like lean over and kiss Davey right on his pretty mouth.

He's so busy trying not to look at Davey that he doesn't notice when he ends the call. "Spot, are you okay?" Davey asks, his brow furrowed with concern.

"You seem distracted."

Spot tries for a casual shrug. "Naw, Dave, I'm fine. Just a little tired."

Davey scoffs, then moves closer. Spot has to work to keep his breaths even.

"Are you sure?" Davey asks, clearly skeptical. "You're acting weird."
Spot shrugs again. Davey moves even closer, leaning up and in, a hand outstretched to touch, biting his lip slightly as he thinks, his eyes gleaming with intensity behind his dark fringe and bright, piercing blue-

Spot pulls away before Davey can touch him, jerking back so suddenly that Davey is left grasping at empty air. There's a sudden, awkward silence as they both stare at each other.

"I told you, I'm fine Davey," Spot says finally, with a strained laugh. "Don't worry about it."
He forces himself not to look at Davey again for the rest of the evening.

00000

Davey's down on the floor, kneeling shirtless between Spot's splayed legs. His hands roam across Spot's body: up his torso, nails scratching lightly at his stomach, teasing down his inner thighs, then traveling back up his outer thighs to his hips. He presses his face into Spot's crotch, nuzzles at the hard bulge in Spot's pants, then leans up and unbuttons Spot's fly with his teeth.
Spot lets out a low swear. "Christ, Davey," he mutters disbelievingly as Davey works his cock out of his pants. "Are you sure you wanna-"