Raphael /BoyxBoy/

||Fourteen||

Day five.

It was only a few hours ago that we were curled up on the couch watching movies.

After a while, Raphael stopped drawing. He stopped twitching and tapping his pen like he would have done normally.

He had that expression on his face that meant he was thinking about something. Closed off and unapproachable.

I tried not to think about it too much.

"We should go out for drinks," he said.

"Now?" I'd asked at the time.

"When the sun goes down."

We went out to a club with Scarlet, and made sure Raphael had those drinks he so specifically demanded for.

His arms curled over my shoulders and pulled me closer to him so our lips touched briefly. Most of it was a blur of grinding dance moves while I sneaked  worried glances in Scarlet's direction.

She said it would be okay. Pulled me aside when Raphael grabbed another drink and reminded me that I hadn't known him for long. That I only knew a part of his entirety and I needed to work with what I had. She said, "People are not supposed to be easily accessed. It takes time and a shit ton of effort."

And then Raphael found us again, licked his lips and ran his fingers through his hair, which glowed bright under the spinning multicolored lights.

We danced a little more, drank a little more, and then his mouth found my neck and he pressed his body so tightly against mine that I felt him there. Aching against my own restrained arousal.

We hauled a cab to his apartment, said a quick goodbye to Scarlet before we left, and then made out some more in the backseat. So much more, so many muffled, bitten back moans of pleasure that only grew more exciting at the knowledge that someone else could hear them too.

His apartment was cold and dark when he managed to unlock his door.

By then it was one in the morning and he asked me to wait in his bedroom. It was one in the morning, and we were both drunk, and I was drunk in his bedroom alone. I didn't know if I should have been leaning against a wall, or sitting on his desk chair, or lying down on his bed. The paint on his walls was chipping. If he was so artistic, shouldn't he have repainted them by now? His bed was a mess, too. Sheets spilling over the edges, and pillows scattered where they didn't belong.

I stumbled to get to his bed anyway, opting for the corner. It was a small bed, fit for one. Not two. Not two plus the images in my head that played out over and over, each time under a different light, a different position.

He came back and leaned against his door frame, watching me watch him in the dark like it was normal behavior. "What?" I asked, because he was drunk and I was drunk, but he had more drinks than I had so I thought maybe I held something against him.

Raphael stepped inside his room, stopped by his desk and dropped something on its surface before standing in front of me. "I want to have sex with you."

I sat up a little. "Oh."

"I mean now," he said, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

"Now?" his body barely showed in the dark, a lean figure with sharp jutting bones and randomly positioned beauty marks.

"Yes." He pushed me down so I fell against his pillows, and then twisted around so I was on top. "And make it hurt."

I stared at him, and knew he could see the hunger in my eyes that looked just like his own.

His eyes fell to my lips, and then we were kissing all at once and I forgot everything else but the feeling of his lips and how he liked it when I used my teeth just enough to hurt but not to have them bleeding. I felt his hands skim over my back until my shirt accompanied his on his bedroom floor, and then it was a struggle of where to put his hands, where to put my lips, and if I could please  just fuck him already.

The rest was a compilation of sweating skin and wet lips. His blue nails that scratched down my back, the washed out drawings on his skin that I couldn't see, the creaking sound of his bed as we moved a little faster, the taste of alcohol, and the smell of his mint shampoo. The feeling of his hands that held me over him tightly, head thrown back and eyes screwed shut like he couldn't bear the thought of looking at me like that.

I didn't know why, because his hips were moving just as fast as mine, and his skin was just as pink and flushed as mine, and the whispers under his breath were just as filthy and sinful as the ones that left my own mouth.

I bet his heart was beating just as hard as mine was. Fuck, it should have, must have beat as hard as mine. Those curling flames of pleasure that licked over every surface of my skin surely transferred over to his body. Surely he also felt like the world was spinning out of perspective and it was just the two of us. Just me. Pounding into him like he'd wanted me to.

But he was more angry, more teeth and pulling skin, and pain. I wanted to stop and ask him why, maybe kiss him softly, touch him lightly, but a part of me enjoyed it shamefully. How I knew his teeth would leave marks on my chest, and my nails would leave behind red lines on his sides and down to hips.

"Fuck."

His legs went around my back and pulled harshly. My arms wavered over him, foreheads pressing as I almost lost my balance.

"You're finally getting what you want." He gave another thrust.

My heart pounded in my chest as I remembered exactly what he was referring to. Why would he say that now? Why would he-

I wasn't given enough time to reply.

With a final grip around my back, a bite on the curve of my shoulder, it was over in a blinding wave, and I slumped over his body in an almost fatal position, moving slowly to pull away.

But he gripped my hair and said, "No."

I felt shivers run down my spine. His hand reached down between us, played with himself and made sure I was watching. Caught my eye for the first time since he tore our pants off, and jerked his hand enough times so his back arched over his sheets before falling back again. And then he twisted away from me and walked nakedly out his bedroom door.

I lay my head over his pillow, still panting and out of breath and waiting for him to come back.

He must have taken a while, or I was more tired than I thought, because my eyes were shut when I finally heard his feet move over his creaking floorboards. Opened my eyes to see him bent over his desk, still naked, a pen moving furiously in his hand.

I wanted to call out and tell him to come back, warm his side of the bed, but even from where I lay I could tell he wouldn't want to. Would ignore me and pretend he didn't hear.

LostAndInsecure4w says I need to improve my smut writing skills but here's one anyway (Ily so it's okay)

Thanks for bearing with it lol  xx