Sasquatch to the Moon

42: Pride

ROCKET

I was giddy all the way back to Håkon's house. I mean I was barely paying attention to where I was driving and I was singing at the top of my lungs to whatever showed up next on my playlist and hell I'm happy.

I bounce up his front steps and knock on the door, he's just inside, barely even out of his coat yet.

"I think we left off somewhere important." I hop inside and thread my fingers up into his hair, both of us struggling to get out of our shoes and jackets while caught up in our kiss.

"I think we did leave off somewhere important." He tucks me into his body and presses me back against the door we just came in from.

It's a cute gesture in essence but my insides flare up and I kiss him just a little deeper because of it. I love the adorable way he seems to just melt into my arms and how he seems to want to rub his cheek against my hand whenever I've got it by his face.

Håkon tugs at the bottom of my shirt as we stumble our way out of the mudroom and into the kitchen. I let him take it willingly, throwing my abandoned shirt onto the counter and tugging at him, asking him to do the same. His hoodie drops to the ground in the living room.

"How do you feel?" I ask, somewhat concerned, somewhat interested.

Håkon pulls back for a split second, smiling like an idiot. "Gay."

"Me too." I thread my fingers through his hair and let him stumble forward, getting me closer to him by putting me up against the wall near his staircase.

I take it a step further, running my hands down his chest and his abs and grabbing the waistband of his sweatpants and tugging, pulling him toward the thin staircase that leads up.

He falls forward, still locked between my lips and starts to stumble up the staircase with me.

It's a stupid and giggly and out of control kiss, his hands holding and poking and grabbing all of me and my hands in his hair and his back and digging into his skin. It's my chest bare against his and his body hard on mine.

I break off and tap his nose before turning and jogging the rest of the way up the stairs, deciding that kissing while on a staircase is probably a bad plan. He just laughs and chases after me, following my footsteps into his bedroom where he tackles me gracelessly onto his bed.

The tackle is far from agile. He crashes on top of me, his knee somewhat on my hip, his arm slipping and his shoulder driving into my side. I groan, laughing and shoving him with one of my hands to get him off my hip.

"Sorry," he mumbles, a blush creeping up his neck and warm to the touch.

"That was clumsy on both of us." I laugh, kissing his neck to ease the blush and to feel the heat of his skin on my lips.

"Fun fact, I did play rugby for a couple years, my tackles have no excuse being that bad." He rolls off me, sitting up and then grabbing my thigh with one of his hands, gripping and then pulling me swiftly into his lap with the grip on the back of my leg.

"You did?" I can't come up with a coherent thought, especially not with his baseball mitt hand pressed firmly to the upper backside of my thigh like that, giving me a little squeeze and tug to get me to settle better across his lap.

"Yeah, I was shit at it." He leans up, locking my lips between his. "I'm actually a terrible throw."

"No way." I mumble, leaning my chest against his.

"Yeah way," his head dips down, nudging my chin with his nose to get my neck open for him. "I was awful at baseball too."

I try to start a response but it comes out as a stuttered moan as the flat of his tongue presses against the spot above my adam's apple. He gives it a quick nip and then a kiss to soothe the area.