Hunting Sunsets

Ten

Warmth bled through my veins as a soft tan colored blanket rubbed against my freshly shaven legs. The feeling of smooth, heated skin against my spine was a calming sensation. I loved the way the larger hand encasing mine rubbed the back of my palm. It felt like a little burst of bliss to be wrapped up in the heated bubble. And while I was focusing on the sparks in my hand, there was another arms wrapped around the waist and wresting on the outside of my upper thighs right next to my ass.

"If Jake ever catches us we should just use this as an excuse," I murmured softly, snuggled against Smith's chest on his couch. There was something so erotic about feeling his rigid abs against my bare skin even if I was in a sports bra. "You have a cuddle fetish and that's all this is."

"He'll totally buy that if he walks in on us having sex," Smith's deep voice rumbled in his chest lamely, the tone of his inflection sounding like liquid honey to my eardrums. I could listen to Smith talk all day and not even care about the topic; his voice alone was enthralling enough. "Jake might be dumb but he's still a Stanford student."

"Maybe you could just hit him in the head with a volleyball really hard at practice. He won't even remember it."

"Pretty sure that's assault, Baby," Smith spoke softly. "Especially when I'm purposefully hurting him."

"Says who? It's a sport. Accidents happen."

"It's a good thing you're an engineering student and not a lawyer," he retorted, removing his hand from my hip to reach behind him and take a sip of the glass of Chardonnay on the end table.

"I'm sorry we can't all be good at everything like you, Kyoh," I grumbled half sourly. "Not saying you're a God but compared to the average man it's aggravating that you always pull through. But I could beat you into submission in calculus and tennis any day."

"If we start arguing about who's better at a useless class like calculus then fucking hit me with that volleyball," he drawled back.

"It's not useless. Millions of people use it in their jobs every day. Just because you think stats and economics is by some miracle 'fun' doesn't mean you can knock the good shit."

"I hate you so much."

"No you don't. You love me." I reached back with my left hand and took the room temperature class from his hand, bringing it to my lips as the sweet yet almost somehow umami taste filled my mouth, the cool liquid running down my throat. "This is why I make older friends," I told him with a small smile, leaning my head against his chest when I handed the glass back.

"I'm going to get fucking arrested one day for giving a minor alcohol," Smith muttered under his breath while putting the glass back and returning his large hand to my leg under the warm blanket.

"And weed," I reminded him. "That's two misdemeanors incase you were wondering. Don't worry, nine more months and you can stop giving yourself an ulcer about it. Besides, I'm pretty sure if I'm old enough to fuck you and go to war then I can get high with my friends and not kill anyone, including myself."

"Oh my god in six months I'll have been your age four years ago," he shivered in mock disgust. "You're like fucking five."

I elbowed him in the ribs as his chest vibrated with a laugh. "If you really want to go that route then I was fourteen when you turned eighteen. You've only been legally allowed to have sex with me for two years and we've been doing this for almost nine months. You really like pushing the law, don't you Smith?" I joked with him, genuinely laughing my ass off.

"I suddenly feel very criminal sitting here like this," he replied in a seemingly dismal tone with a laugh pulling at his voice despite his attempts to hide it.