He closes his eyes for a second. When he opens them, he looks like he’s made a decision. Usually, the decision is no.
“I’m not doing this here, I’m getting you home—”
“You’re hard too,” I say, my eyes glued to his very obvious boner.
He stops.
“You’re wearing gray sweats,” I say, stating the obvious. “I can see it.”
A pause.
It’s aveeery longpause.
He looks down at his crotch. Then back up at me. His expression cycles through several stages, like a loading screen, and then settles somewhere aroundI hate you (I hate that you’re right).
“That doesn’t mean—”
“It means we’re synced up,” I push.
“It doesn’t mean we do thishere.”
“The floor is actually fine. I’ve been sitting on it for hours. It’s a good floor.” I pat the rug. “Very solid.”
He snorts a laugh. “When you’re high you talk just like Finn. It’s annoying as hell.”
I want to sayFinntalks like me. But then we look at each other for a second that stretches out in the way seconds do when you’re this baked. The bass is doing that thing to my sternum, and he looks flushed in the dim, neon party light. All those pretty colors on his pretty face.
Kit is really beautiful.
He looks around the room. I watch him do the slow scan, cataloging the bodies, the couple, the sleeping girl, the guy with the cup. His face is doing math.
I watch the math happen.
He puts one hand on the floor. Then the other.
And he lowers himself down, flat on his back, right there among the passed-out bodies, arms at his sides, legs together.
Still.
I stare at him.
My brain is at like 52% now, and all 52% is dedicated to Kit lying on the floor like he just turned himself off.
I crawl over.
It takes me a second because my limbs are not responding great, but I get there. I wedge my knees between his and force his thighs open, settling into the space. I do all of it and he just lets me move him. I have to pause and breathe for a second because just manhandling him sends a shockwave straight to my dick.
I shove his shirt up.
There are bruises on his chest. Fading ones, the yellow-green of a few days ago. I stare at them for a second, a little confused, a little—
Someone else put those there.
I don’t have enough brain cells right now to figure out how I feel about that. Is that hot? I think it might be hot.
But also annoying.
Very annoying. I don’t like it at all.
