Peterick//More Than You Bargained For

ten: music

I muffle in surprise when I feel Pete's lips on mine.

I feel my face get hot as I lean in to the kiss.

He pulls back after a brief amount of time, smiling like an idiot. "Sorry," he whispers, "I've just been wanting to do that since 7th grade."

Did he just-?

I attempt to form words. "I-I'm-I don't- why-"

Pete cuts me off, continuing his line. "'Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.'"

When I realize that he expects to keep going, I look down at the script, my heart thumping furiously. "'Th-then have my lips the sin that they have took.'"

"'Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!'" Pete props my chin up with his hand as he murmurs the last line, "'Give me my sin again.'"

He leans forward, now, pressing his soft lips against mine. He frames my face with his hands; mine explore his delicate hair.

Everything about this feels so right. I feel high with the caress of Pete's sweet lips against mine. Music fills my ears, as if our embrace composes a song of the raw touch that happens between us.

And suddenly everything stops. Pete's face is mere inches away from mine. "Patrick, should we be doing this?" He asks, concerned.

I take one look at his messy hair, his doubtful look, the shadow over his eyes created by the curtains that are his eyebrows, his blood-red lips, and I decide. "Screw what we should and shouldn't be doing."

I grab the back of his neck and reconnect our lips. And there it is again, the music. It speaks of our gentle grace and our compassionate touch.

And suddenly I want more than this. My hands travel down from his neck to under his shirt, where I explore the map of his smooth back. My fingertips caress each inch of his hot skin, and it feels good.

This feeling isn't like what I felt two years ago, when we were best friends. Two years ago, I never felt the need to touch him, to be with him intimately. This feeling is different, like there was a spark in our relationship. Like all of a sudden, a fire ignites.

Pete pulls away again. We stare at each other for a moment with our lips slightly parted.

"What did we just do?" I ask the boy with wide eyes.

"I don't know," he whispers, "but I kind of liked it."

I sit back, still analyzing Pete's features.

So this is what I've been wanting. Every secret glance at his lips, every gaze at his butt, every stare at his chest- I've been drawn to him.

I ask, "Since seventh grade?"

Pete looks down, volumes more shy than he was thirty seconds ago. "Yeah."

I've gotta give it to him. Guy's got patience.

"I was a nerd in seventh grade."

"Not to me," Pete says quietly.

I sit up, looking around for the script. I eventually find it had fallen under the bed during our embrace.

Pete asks, "What are you doing?"

"I've got one more line," I explain after grabbing the fallen script. I clear my throat and read the last line proudly: "'You kiss by th' book.'"

I drop the script. "Done."

"That was one hell of a read-through," Pete observes.

I chuckle. "Can we do that every time?"