Tease oneshots

Your eyes look like coming home. Pt.2

Spot's not sure how they got to Davey's bedroom.

He remembers Davey dragging him out of the kitchen, remembers pausing to press sloppy kisses against the curve of Davey's neck because Spot couldn't pull away long enough to get up the stairs. Davey's got both hands fisted in the front of Spot's shirt; Spot's own are wrapped around the curve of Davey's waist. Davey urges Spot backwards until the backs of Spot's legs hit the edge of Davey's bed. He falls back onto it and pulls Davey down with him in a heap of tangled limbs.

Spot recovers first, fitting himself comfortably between Davey's legs and pressing him into the mattress with the weight of his body, with the force of the kiss. Davey's mouth is hot and demanding against his, one leg hiked up high on Spot's hip. Spot sneaks a hand up the back of Davey's shirt, caressing the soft skin he discovers there. Davey lets out a soft, pleasurable noise and clutches Spot tighter, his fingers tugging at Spot's hair until he moans, and everything devolves into a hazy messy of kissing and touching.

"Fuck," Spot murmurs, pulling away. He needs a second to breathe, needs a second to think. Davey's chest is heaving, his clothing rumpled and his shirt half-unbuttoned, his lips red and kiss-swollen, and his eyes beautifully, impossibly blue. Just the sight of him is enough to make Spot's dick twitch and harden in his pants, and shit, he's gotta stop before he does something they'll both regret.

Spot sits back on his heels and tries to calm his racing heart.

Davey lets out a little whimper of disappointment. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere, Dave, I just need a sec to get my head screwed on straight," Spot says.

"What's wrong?" he asks, pushing himself up on his elbows.

"It's just, are you okay with this?" Spot asks, serious. "I mean, I'm not expecting anything from you or nothin, and I don't want us to get caught up in the moment and take things too far."

There's a pause as Davey absorbs this information. He sits up and edges closer, then reaches out to grab Spot's hand.
"Spot, I'm fine with taking things slow," Davey says, playing with Spot's fingers.

"But are we slowing down because you don't want to keep going, or are we slowing down because you think I don't want to keep going?"

"Because if you're pulling away because you think you're making me uncomfortable, or that you're pressuring me, or because you think I don't want this," Davey continues, and Spot watches transfixed as Davey tugs on their joined hands, presses Spot's palm against the flat of his stomach, then guides it lower until Spot's palming Davey's dick through his jeans, "you shouldn't."

For a moment, Spot just stares at him, dizzy with how much he wants him. He must let the silence stretch for too long, because Davey drops his hand and looks away again, losing his nerve.

"I mean, but, it's fine if you don't, um, if you don't want to," Davey stammers out, red with embarrassment, "I-I can, uh, we can stop, or, um- "

Spot lunges forward and draws Davey into a deep kiss, pressing him back down and plundering his mouth with his tongue. He pulls back a hairsbreadth. "I want you," Spot says, his voice rough with desire. He grinds their hips together, slow and deliberate, and marvels at the high whine Davey makes in response. "But I gotta be sure. You need to be sure."

Davey stares up at him, his face flushed but his eyes warm and trusting. He pulls Spot closer, presses their foreheads together, then kisses him with aching gentleness. "I'm sure, Spot."

Spot hesitates one more second, gives Davey another chance to change his mind, then dives back in, capturing Davey's lips in another heated kiss. Davey's mouth is warm and eager against his, his hands moving to clutch at Spot's shoulders, urging him closer until they're pressed flush together.