[BxB]
In the eyes of the public, Rhys Martinez is the darling boy of the governor of New York, who has an angelic smile and charming wit. The people of New York and the media adore him, girls and boys (as well as some men and women) are desperate fo...
WARNING! Some non-explicit sexual actions between two minors. This is the censored version, for further information, please, read my notes at the end too
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Wednesday September 12, 2018
Waking to the dubious pleasure of long fingers pushing into his sleeping pants and just skimming against the side of his erection is both a new experience yet not. He doesn't find any shame in his hips jerking forward and seeking more of that feather-light connection, but it doesn't take a genius either to realize that the hand in stretching his waistband out does not belong to him. Especially when something hard and hot pushes insistently against his backside, and it feels like his back is trying to catch fire from the scorching expanse of naked, firm skin covering it.
Rhys blinks his eyes open, looks down at the long dark arm wrapped around his stomach before his gaze slips to the hand half-hidden in his pants fondling him shamelessly. His brows knot together, tethering on the fence between giving into the jolts of lightning attempting to draw a moan from his lips and waking his best friend up before things go too far. He knows Thommy is lonely, and beneath all his blasé jokes he wishes someone would care for him enough to call him theirs. It's not even that Rhys doubts the strength of their friendship, but toeing the line of being too close for platonic friends and blowing it up without even discussing consent and what it would mean for them are two vastly different things.
"Is this the part where we pretend that I didn't molest you while asleep and things become horribly awkward before I make a dumb joke and we sweep the issue under the proverbial rug?" Thommy whispers against the back of Rhys' neck, sending delightful shivers down his spine.
Rhys knows they could do that. It wouldn't even be awkward, not really. They might have not pushed past that invisible line but this is hardly the first time they woke up kind of rubbing against each other, even if neither of them has attempted to touch the other's dick ever before.
"What do you want?" Rhys asks and cranes his head back, his nose brushing against his best friend's. Their lips are just a hair's breadth away from each other, and Thommy's nearly black irises are all but devoured by his wide-blown pupils.
"To not regret saying I want more."
"Will you regret it?"
"You're my fucking best friend, Cielito, I can't lose you over something so... trivial," Thommy sounds hoarse, his full lips breathing the words into Rhys' mouth. "I can't lose you."
"You won't." And Rhys kisses him without hesitation, giving into the desire to stake his claim thoroughly on the one person he views as truly his, take all Thommy can offer and demand even more. "But we are not going further without talking about what we want either."
Thommy groans and slumps onto his back. "Can't you, I dunno, jerk me off at least or something? I'm aching here. Stop being so rational!" he complains. "I want you to, you have all the consent I can give and I won't make jokes even though morning breath kisses are gross... Can't believe my first kiss tasted like the mix of whatever died in our mouths in the morning."
