That One Night

Secrets

He had told you a secret.

Oh, how you plan to exploit that secret.

Your nails scrape lightly down his side and he just giggles. You do it again, harder.

"F-fuck."

You smile brightly, and he glares. "Don't. Just don't." You simply continue to smile at him. Your nails trail back up past his chest, ignoring the way they accidentally brush against the breasts he hasn't yet bought a binder for.

With hands on both of his sides now, you prep the nails you spent forever growing out against his soft skin, and he just looks at you like it's a fucking challenge.

Challenge fucking accepted.

Your nails, thoroughly dug into his skin, begin a very slow descent from two inches from his armpit all the way to his hips. An impressive whine passes his lips, one you didn't think you were capable of inducing. He squirms underneath your touch, his leg coming up, rubbing against you, though you don't think he notices the way your breath catches at the sensitive area.

"I have a fucking ultrasound in the morning!" He whisper-screams at you, glaring though he's still breathing hard from the way he was keening beneath you.

You give off, laying down next to him, legs still entangled. You scratch his stomach some more, roughly, and he glares, but doesn't push away.

A thought hits you. A stupid thought, one you will most definitely regret voicing in the morning.

But has that ever stopped you?

"Holy shit! Would biting work too!?" At this point, you didn't bother hiding that you were giggling like a fool, you'd been crushing on him for ages, and you're just sprawled out on top of him, like it's no big deal.

He glares, like he's about to flip his shit, and you just look at him like you're an excited puppy. Apparently it's endearing enough to have him burying his face in your pillows and displaying his arm for you.

Oh hell yes.

"Really!?" You ask, too excited to fell him squirming underneath you again. He simply sighs and shoves his arm even closer to your face.

"I'm gonna feel like a fucking vampire..." You mutter, pressing a light kiss to the area before you bite it, you almost back away at the noise he makes, but he's just grabbing at the sheets and not making any protests.

You pick a new area and continue to simply bite wherever you haven't, and dig your nails into any flesh you may find. He seems utterly wrecked when he finally pulls you off his forearm.

You think maybe he'll fall asleep now, his headaches seems to be ebbing and he's not clutching to you because of the voices anymore, maybe you'll both get a decent night's sleep for the first time in months.

After twenty minutes, he's still tense at you side, even his heart (which your ear is pressed against his chest to hear) is beating to fast for him to be considered calm. And once more you decide your decision is stupid, and you are most definitely going to regret this one in the morning, when you both are back to being sane, but you sit up again, sprawling across his form once more.

"Do you trust me?"

He'd told you his neck was really sensitive once. You never really thought about it much, but he still laughed and shied away whenever you breath on it accidentally.

"What?" He squinted through the darkness, hardly able to see without his glasses on.

"Do you trust me? Can I try something?"

His eyes searched yours for a few moments, before he leaned back and nodded lightly. "Fine."

You slowly and softly moved his dirty blonde hair out of the way, laughing softly as he shivered beneath you. You bit, none too gently, on his neck, directly below his ear.

He had a hard time holding his voice back this time, yelping when the first bite sunk. You momentarily remembered that this part of his body was actually pretty dangerous to bite down on, but when he gripped your shoulder for dear life, and moaned softly in your ear, you quickly forgot.

He'd always been on his own, or so he believed, and all you'd ever wanted was to be able to hold him and tell him he wasn't anymore. You'd never tell him, but even after he broke up with you, you still loved him.

When he yanked you from his neck and muttered "shit" in your ear, you knew you'd pushed him past his edge. After a quick trip to the bathroom on your part, you tangled yourself with him once more.

"I swear to good if there are marks anywhere on me tomorrow, I'll fucking strangle you."

You laugh at his empty threat, but retort "Tell them you fell off a swing" as you snuggle into his body. He sighs and wraps his arms around you.

You wake up to the sound of his bloody alarm, he's sitting up, and rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
"What fucking time is it?" You mumble incoherently.

"Too fucking early," he grumbles, "7:30am."

You curse and fall back into bed. His parents come to get him an hour later after a loud "Get your ass out here Kenya!" through his phone, and you know today's going to be one of those days when he can't escape his own head, but you hug him and simply mutter, "bye, Ken," as he walks out the door.

You get a moment to laugh at and pity him later when you pull out your phone to find the only message you've received from him all day reads:

fuck

And the second:

you

And the fourth:

no one notices because it blends in with my ugliness, but i have fucking marks all over me.