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The living room'sdark except for the glow of the TV. Some cliche action flick Riot picked out, though we're barely watching. The popcorn between us has gone cold, and I don't think either of us has moved in over an hour.
Riot's thigh presses against mine, warm and solid. It still feels new being this close, blow jobs aside, but it's starting to feel natural too. We've got a comfortable quiet going, just the movie's explosions and cheesy one-liners filling the space between chatting.
"That line was supposed to be funny, right? Hard to tell with this shit plot," I comment.
Riot chuckles, his breath tickling my ear. "Yeah, it's impressively terrible. But this..." His hand trails up my leg. "This is way better than any movie."
A smile tugs at my lips as I turn my head towards him. "Got that right." I close the distance between us, kissing him slow and deep. It’s insane to me that I can do this now.
Or that I want to.
Riot makes a low sound in his throat, hand tightening on my thigh. We take our time exploring each other’s mouths, the movie fading to background noise. He tastes like buttery popcorn and mint, and I can’t get enough.
His thumb brushes my cheek when we finally separate. “What do you say we ditch this cinematic masterpiece and find something better to do?” His suggestive smile sends heat swirling through me.
“I like the way you think, Kensington.” I grab the remote and flip the TV off, bathing us in darkness.
Riot’s mouth finds mine again as his hands trail across my chest. My fingers dive into his silky hair, pulling him closer. The kiss is lazy and a little bit dirty while we feel each other up.
His lips move to my jaw, my throat, each press lighting me up. I tug at his shirt, needing to feel his skin. He reaches back and pulls it off in one smooth move that I’ve done myself a thousand times and never found hot until now. I explore his jacked chest and inked arms, tracing each ridge. Mapping every plane and valley.
“God, London,” he breathes, nipping my bottom lip. “I want you so fucking bad.”
“Then do something about it,” I dare, pulse racing as our mouths crash together again.
Riot lets out a low growl into our kiss, his roaming hands and hungry mouth making it damn clear how bad he wants this. He tugs at my shirt until I lean forward enough for him to pull it over my head.
Skin to skin, we crush together, hands greedy to touch whatever they can reach. I kiss and nip along his neck as his fingers trail fire up my spine, making me shiver hard.
"Fuck, London," Riot rasps, tipping his head back so I can kiss lower. I lick over his collarbone, drinking in each hitch of his breath.
His hands move to grip my hips, guiding me until I'm straddling his lap. The new position aligns us perfectly, hardness meeting hardness through our jeans. I rock my hips and we both groan at the delicious friction.
Riot's blown pupils meet mine, desire etched on his face. "I want you so much, baby," he murmurs, palm cupping my cheek.
Hearing the endearment in his wrecked voice makes me ache. I press our foreheads together, noses brushing. "I want you too, Ri. Just you."
And I do. I might’ve never wanted a guy before, but I sure as fuck want him. I haven’t even looked at a girl—fuck, anyone else at all—since he became my focus.
We stay pressed close, just breathing each other in. The tension between us is electric, a powerful energy that I can almost taste.
Riot moves first, his hand sliding to the back of my neck to guide my mouth to his again. The kiss is simmering now instead of burning. Still passionate but infused with this new closeness.
I pour everything I'm feeling into it, trusting my body to speak for me instead of fumbling for words. Judging by Riot's response, he hears me loud and clear.
We kiss slow and deep, lost in the sensations and emotions crashing over us. Riot's hands roam my back, tracing every muscle. I thread my fingers through his hair, angling the kiss how I want it.
I shift closer in his lap, chasing more contact. Our bodies are gravitating towards each other, as if pulled by a magnetic force. Riot lets out a low groan as I rock against him, his cock pressed against mine.
"Want you so fucking much," he breathes against my lips.
"You keep saying that, but you aren’t doing shit about it. I'm right here, Ri." I slide my hands down his sculpted torso. He’s like a work of fucking art. "Take what you want."
Riot shudders, eyes burning into me. Slowly, he splays a hand over my chest, then guides me down onto my back along the couch. He settles between my thighs, gaze predatory.
I lick my lips in anticipation as he trails a hand down my stomach, palming me through my jeans. If I thought it’d be weird to do this with a dude, I was very fucking wrong. My hips arch desperately, begging without words for more.
Riot obliges, undoing my fly just enough to slide his hand inside. I suck in a sharp breath as his fingers wrap around me, stroking with confidence only another guy would have.
