chapter twenty-five

harris

I feel like I should feel more awkward than I do for freaking out in front of Seb like that. Somehow, I don't feel bad at all. Actually, I feel fucking fantastic. I don't think I've ever had a conversation like that, one where I felt taken care of and listened to and, I don't know, validated? Is that what I'm feeling?

I really like this boy.

Seriously, this is bad. I like–like him, which is so not good. From personal experience, when you have a crush on your friend with benefits, things can tend to go awry pretty quickly. Which is terrifying, because that's the one thing I don't want to happen. Losing Seb? I couldn't do it.

We're curled up on the couch, watching movie two of the night—the second How to Train Your Dragon due to what I guess is becoming a mini-marathon, although I don't know if I have it in me to watch the third. His head is on my lap, and I'm trying hard not to think of all that we did earlier. It was perfect though, way better than the first time Liam ever gave me head. This was smoother. Better. There was an actual connection. Also, Seb asked first. Always a plus.

I returned the favor afterwards. I hope he liked mine as much as I liked his.

My fingers tug through the occasional tangle in his hair, undoing every miniscule knot and admiring the silkiness of his freshly-washed hair. It took a while to dry after his earlier walk in the rain. We waited until there was a break in the weather to grab our Paco's, but outside now, I can hear the distant rumblings of thunder, signaling the on-coming of another storm.

Seb sighs. "I'm getting so sleepy," he says. "I don't know if I can stay up longer."

It's not that late, but I'm tired, too. "I'm exhausted," I tell him, still running my fingers through his hair.

"Do we wanna finish this...?" he asks, turning to look up at me. His shoulder digs into my thigh, just a little, but I don't mind it.

"I mean, are you too tired? We can head downstairs." I move my hand from his hair to his arm and rub little circles over the T-shirt I lent him, because his grey shirt was too soaked. He's wearing my basketball shorts too, although I can't see them under the blanket he insisted upon covering up with.

He sighs through his nose. "Yeah, maybe."

He doesn't say anything for a minute. His eyes are focused on Hiccup Haddock on-screen, but I'm watching him. He's got a few pimples on his temples, reaching onto his cheekbones, but the breakup is clearing up. Even more so now than at the start of the summer, his face is all freckles, blossoming across every inch of pale skin. There's not enough sunscreen in the world for this boy, I swear.

"Well," I tell him, "we can head down then. Did you bring a toothbrush?"

Seb sighs again, stretching in my lap. His head presses down in a not-terrible spot, but I ignore it. "Yeeeep."

"Cool, cool."

"Why? Does the thought of my morning breath perturb you, McCammon?" he asks, looking back up at me. His irises look almost black, what with the only source of light in the room coming from the blue-hued ice on-screen.

"Oh, most definitely," I tell him, then bend my knee up. His body goes limp, just to fuck with me. I grin. "C'mon, let's go to bed."

He groans as I lift his shoulders and stand up. "Do I have to get up?" he asks, pouting. "I'm so comfy."

"You can stay there," I assure him. "Enjoy sleeping on the couch."

"Uuuuuuuggggghh. Fine."

Seb picks himself up off the couch with yet another grumble, standing and rolling his head from one side to the other. "You better spoon me so hard," he says.

"Whaaat? I thought I'd be little spoon."

"Definitely not." He tiredly rubs the sides of his face. "I like the thought of your arms around me."

"Awwww."

"Shut the fuck up, Harris."

"What, it's adorable." We head to the basement stairs, awkwardly standing next to each other until I take his hand, and suddenly, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. There's a thrum of excitement rushing through my abdomen at the mere thought of sleeping together. Not sex, but literally sleeping.

Sebastian Krause is going to spend the night in my arms. Which sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me.

"You're so cute," I tell him while we're headed down the stairs. I'm holding onto the rail, leading the way for the both of us. "Just in case you didn't know."

His grip on my hand tightens. "Simp."

"Dipshit."

And just like that, we're standing in front of my bed. The towel from earlier is still there, and I really hope that my blush isn't visible. I still can't believe how good that had felt, his mouth on me like that. He had the hand-mouth-hand combination down pat. I could hardly believe it was his first time. It took me and Liam a while to play around and figure that out. When I'd asked him about it, he'd shrugged and said, "Internet." I'd nudged him and said, "Mad skills."

I pick the towel up and chuck it onto the floor, then walk over to turn off the overhead light, exchanging it for the soft yellow of my desk lamp. "Do you mind if I sleep shirtless?" I ask Seb.

"Nope. Which side of the bed do you want?"

"Uhhh, that one," I tell him, pointing to the side on our collective left. "If you don't mind."

His smile is soft and easy. "I don't mind."

"Cool, cool, cool." I rip off my sweatshirt in one deft maneuver. "If you want to sleep shirtless or whatever, I don't mind."

"What does 'whatever' mean here?" he asks, laughing. "What, is that just naked?"

Aha. Fuck. Naked. Naked. "I mean, it could." I shrug. Please, please let me appear nonchalant. "It's up to you."

Seb keeps his gaze on me the whole time. He bites his lip for just a second, something that must be intentional, which is absolutely evil because it definitely has the intended effect. With no preamble, he's taking off the shirt I lent him, and then his nimble fingers are untying the drawstring of the basketball shorts, and he's shimmying them down to the floor, where they land in a heap around his socks.

It leaves him in just his boxers, plain and black. And, fuck, he's hard. He's not the only one.

"Let's get into bed," he whispers, craning his neck down to kiss me.

I don't say anything; I just meet his gaze with my own, an unspoken understanding passing between us. And then our lips meet, and I'm filled with a buzzing warmth I haven't felt in a long, long time.

This is different from the other times we've fooled around. I think we both know that. I'm more nervous for sure, but I'm not scared.

We get under the covers, hiding beneath the fluffy blanket on my bed right as the storm hits. Rain pounds against the tin sides of my window well, and the fuzzy warm light of my desk lamp is just enough to light up about three-fourths of his body beneath me. I'm between his legs again, feeling my hard length press up against his stomach. His hands slide down my bare back, his touch torturously light. I want him to pull me tight against him, so tight that it feels like our bodies are one, and that each of our breaths will mingle.

I'm pressing kisses to the sensitive skin just beneath his collarbone. Soft at first, but gradually, they harden, until I'm sucking hard enough to leave a hickey—something he'll be able to hide with a shirt, yet something we'll both know is there.

Seb's hands glide up and down my back. He's breathing hard, and I know this teasing is torturous for him. But the more impatient he is, the more I find myself wanting to play around.

My lips trace their way down his chest to his stomach, just to above his boxers. Fuck, he's so hard. I press a quick kiss against the tent in his boxers, and he gasps, his hands knotting themselves in my hair.

"Harris," he groans, but I'm already moving back up to kiss him.

"Shh," I tell him.

"Wait, wait," he says, and I can feel the hesitation in his voice. I stop, right as we're face to face.

"What is it?"

His forehead scrunches up, leaving these cute little lines. I want to kiss each one, but I refrain. "Do you have lube? And protection?"

"Yeah, don't worry," I assure him. My mom was always adamant about using protection, even with guys (especially Liam), so it's pretty ingrained. I don't need the herpes talk again. "We've got plenty of condoms and plenty of lube, okay?"

He nods. "Okay."

"Okay." I press a kiss to his forehead, and he sucks in a breath, his hands on my hips. "You're sure about this?"

"Yes. Are you?"

I kiss him again, this time on his temple. "Yes."

"Okay," he says, then exhales. "I'm ready."

"We'll go slow," I promise him. "I won't rush this."

He nods, and this time, I kiss him on the lips, just so he can kiss me back.