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We're not even close to the last people to leave. Not even from the group I invited. It's still late though, well past 1:00 in the morning and my muscles are absolutely singing with the adrenaline of a good workout, the likes of which I only ever get from dancing. My blood is thrumming and it's only partially from the exercise; most of it, I know, is from the fact that I'm going home with a boy.

I'm going home with Jack Zimmermann.

Even now I can remember the warmth of him pressed against me on the dance floor, the brush of his breath against my ear when he'd whispered the promise of later.

It's officially later by a few hours now and even if I know I shouldn't be expecting the offer to still stand, I can't help hoping. Even if I can't even begin to imagine what sort of things Jack's had in mind. If anything at all.

"Did you have a good time?" I ask him as we head back to the apartment, hand in hand. The air is cold against my sweaty skin and I try to supress a shiver, just holding Jack's hand a little tighter instead. "I'm so, so glad you decided to come. I'm sorry if it was kind of a lot. My next birthday will be more subdued, I promise."

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"I did have a good time, oui," I assure him. Sure, parts of the night got me a little on edge, and the familiar temptation was there, but I resisted. It was easy to resist when I had Bittle to distract me.

Our hands are entwined and I squeeze his tightly as we pass under a streetlight. The dim orange light catches on Bittle's skin, the sweat glistening on it, and makes him seem to glow. The eyeliner is smudged around his lashes, making his eyes look big and bright, and I've never wished for my camera more since arriving here.

"Your birthday will be whatever you want it to be," I say softly, pulling him closer, "and I'll be there."

"Mm, is that a promise?" I ask a little coyly, my shoulder bumping against his arm when he pulls me closer.

I keep expecting this feeling to change at some point, that'll go from being constantly surprised and sure that I'm dreaming to comfortable in what this is. And I am comfortable, honestly. Dating Jack honestly doesn't feel all that different from just being friends with him. Except now I get to actually touch him instead of just thinking about it all the time. And I get to kiss him.

And, honestly, there's a whole lot more I still want to do even if I'm nervous.

"I don't have to stop celebrating this one just yet, do I?" I glance up at him then, smiling a little as I squeeze his hand. "You, uh. Earlier, you said something about later..."

"One I'll try my best to keep, mon chou." We get to our building and something low in my belly stirs at his words. There's nervousness there too, but I do my best to ignore it.

"Hmm, did I?" I ask, cutting him a teasing look. I squeeze his hand back and lead him into the elevator. The low light reflects off of the glitter on my high cheekbones and in my hair, and I slide one big hand around Bittle's hip to draw him closer. I lean over him to hit the button for our floor, and turn my head to press a kiss to his temple. "Oh, now I remember."

His tone is teasing and I honestly can't tell if there's intent there or if he's trying to brush it off, if maybe now that it's officially later and we're walking home, he's tired or maybe nervous or maybe just... not interested. I try not to ignore the swoop of disappointment in my belly and it helps that he doesn't let go of my hand even after we step into the lobby of our apartment building.

Seconds later, we're in the elevator, alone, the dim light catching on the glitter across his cheekbones, the bits of it in his hair. I try to keep myself from looking, but it's sort of hard, especially when he rests his hand on my hip and pulls me closer, his lips brushing my temple.

His voice is low and this time there is definitely intent. My blood goes warm and I can't help the giggle that pushes free of my lips as I turn in against him, my face against his shoulder. "You're gonna be the death of me, aren't you, Mr. Zimmermann?"

The elevator door pings and I jump a little, my face likely bright red as I take him by the hand again and we walk down the hall, though I hesitate when we get to our doors. Realizing how ridiculous and... and adult it sounds, I look up at him. "Uhm. Yours or mine?" Then I realize how presumptuous that is and I have to immediately backpedal. "I mean, we don't-- I was joking, really. About the later thing. We can just call it a night if you want. If you need to get sleep or... or anything."

"I certainly hope not, Mr. Bittle," I reply against his temple, accent thick due to the adrenaline and nerves swooping through me. We leave the elevator and he's flushed in a way that makes me smile, though it fades slightly when he starts to ramble. I'm not sure what I have to do to get Bittle to trust that my feelings for him are real. I adore him, and I want him.

So I show him. I put my hand on his chest and push him gently back against his door, framing his throat with my thumb and forefinger as I lean down to kiss him. This kiss is deep and insistent, full of passion as I lick into his mouth with a soft groan.

"Yours," I tell him, and for a moment I'm not sure if I'm talking about his apartment. "Let me in, Bits."

Jacks's eyes flash dark and before I know it, he has a hand on my chest and he's pushing me backward until I'm pressed flat against the door of my apartment. My breath catches and that's even before his lips meet mine. Unlike so many of our other kisses, there's nothing tentative about this one, nothing gentle. His tongue slides into my mouth and I have to reach up and grab his shirt to keep from falling straight to the floor.

Somehow, it ends too quickly, blinking my eyes open in a daze when he speaks again, his breath a whisper against my lips.

And then every bit of blood in my body rushes south. "Oh, good heavens," I breathe, my throat suddenly completely dry as I try to swallow, nodding dumbly.

My hands are shaking as pull my keys from pocket and it takes me a truly embarrassing amount of time to get the right one in the lock and the knob turned. Elvis blinks up at us from his perch on the couch and I make sure the door is closed and locked behind us before I clumsily kick off my shoes.

Before I can talk myself out of it again, I crowd up close to Jack, my heart going about a mile a minute. "Maybe, uh... maybe the bedroom? Would that be okay?"

"Yeah, that's okay," I tell him, toeing off my own shoes and wrapping an arm around Bittle's waist. I'm clutching him tightly enough that his feet barely touch the floor, and I kiss his forehead as I lead us down the hall.

"We don't have to do everything tonight," I murmur, reassuring myself just as much as him. "We can just see where it goes, eh? I just want to touch you."

He isn't quite carrying me, but I can't help but let out noise as my feet nearly lift right up off the floor. He walks me backward to the bedroom, me on my tiptoes the entire way, my hands grabbing at the shirt at his back.

"Okay," I reply, letting out a breath of relief I hadn't even realized I'd been holding. As much as I've thought about stuff with Jack, especially lately, I'm not sure I'm really ready for everything. Maybe that'll change in the heat of the moment, I don't know, but just thinking about it makes me feel a little panicked.

Pulling in a breath, I step a small step back, though I can't quite seem to stop touching him, my hands smoothing down his sides, clutching at the fabric of his shirt and tugging faintly. "As long as I get to touch you, too. You have no idea how long I've been thinkin' about this."

"Mm, what have you thought about, mon chou?" I ask in a low, sultry tone, trying to distract us both from our obvious nerves. We get into the bedroom and I shut the door with my foot while pulling my shirt over my head in a graceful movement.

I turn us around so that I can sit on the edge of the bed and pull Bittle between my knees, hands curled around the backs of his thighs while I lean in to press a kiss to his flat stomach through his thin shirt. "Tell me."

It's far, far from the first time I've seen Jack without a shirt. But there's a big difference between seeing him shirtless in the locker room or the gym or swimming than in my very own bedroom.

I darn near swallow my tongue, staring as he sits on the edge of my bed.

He has his hands on my sides seconds later, pulling me gently to stand between his knees. My hands are only shaking a little as I run them up over his arms and shoulders and he leans in, his face pressed to my stomach. "Oh," I breathe, sliding one hand up the back of his neck and into his hair as I struggle to remember how to breathe. "Well, uhm. Back... Back when we were at Samwell, I used to think about you sleeping just across the hall from me and when... when I touched myself, I'd wonder if you were, too."

I can feel my face go hot as the words fall from my lips. It's not something I ever anticipated telling anyone, much less him and I suddenly wonder if it's too much already.

The admission is shocking in a way that sends heat rocketing down my spine, and my mouth drops open against Bittle's stomach. After letting out a shaky breath, I tip my head back and look up at him with wide eyes the color of a pending storm.

"Really?" I breathe out, sliding my hands up over the curve of his ass and squeezing, one cheek in each hand. I can't return the sentiment, not exactly. Jerking off was always just sort of routine for me, a necessary function. I never really thought about anything specifically, but I'd be lying if I never saw warm brown eyes or golden hair flash behind my eyelids.

I'm not sure what would be too much too fast, but I feel like something has been awakened in me. I want, maybe more than I've ever wanted before.

"Will you, uh--" I pull back enough to curl my fingers in the front of his jeans, popping the button with my thumbs. "Do you think you could show me, mon petit? I want to see what I was missing."

Jack's breath is hot against my belly, the holes Blue tore in it leaving absolutely no barrier between his mouth and my skin. I swear my whole body shivers as he looks at me, eyes wide and dark. Goodness, he looks hungry.

How do I get him to never stop looking at me like that?

My breath catches as he squeezes me, my pants already getting tighter by the second, especially when he slides those hands around to the front of my jeans, expertly popping free the top button. "Oh God," I breathe, swaying forward as all the blood in my body seems to rush south.

"Is that... You-- You really wanna watch that?"

I've never really thought about it that way, like a performance. When I pictured it back in the Haus it was always something we were doing together, furtive under the sheets, staring at each other across the hall or sometimes in the same room. Usually, I just pictured him, how he might look stretched out naked in his bed, touching himself lazily, the muscles in his arm and abdomen and thighs clenching and shifting with every stroke. In my fantasies, I've always been the one watching.

Swallowing, I manage a nod then. Because, as scary as it might be, there's something heady about Jack wanting to see that, wanting to see me.

I slide my hands down his shoulders and over his arms, squeezing firm muscle and soft skin. There isn't a single spot on his entire body I don't want to touch. "Can I watch you too, maybe? Or we could, uhm. We could do it together." And then maybe I'll know how to touch him if and when we get to that. It's not like I've had any practice on anyone but myself before and that's hardly practice at all.

"Oui, of course I do," I tell him, sliding his zipper down slowly and peeling the tight jeans down his hips. The front of his underwear is tented and my eyes are drawn downwards. I can't help but remember the last time that I did this, but it didn't feel at all like this. It didn't feel like this at all. "I want to see those soft hands at work."

A low breath escapes me at his suggestion and I nod, pushing his shirt up to press a kiss to his belly before sliding back further onto the bed. I nod and undo my own pants, wriggling my hips back and forth to push them down my thick thighs without ever taking my eyes off of his face.

"Yeah, Bits. We can do that," I breathe out, holding out a hand for him. "Come here, mon chou."

Heavens, Jack is undressing me. His hands are just as careful as they always are as he pulls at the zipper of my jeans and slides the denim down my hips. It's all I can do to keep breathing, especially when I notice him eyeing my erection. He doesn't say anything about it, which I hope is a good thing, instead leaning in to press a kiss to my stomach that has my knees wobbling all over again.

"Goodness, Jack," I breathe, my fingers carding through his hair as my stomach muscles flutter under his lips.

He pulls away too soon, but I have no complaints, my eyes falling wide as he works on squirming out of his own pants, revealing thick thighs and strong calves and... and his own tented boxer-briefs. Oh God.

Shaking a little, I nod and crawl onto the bed to join him, taking his hand as I settle onto my side, not wanting to look away from him for a second. "You're seriously like some sorta Greek god," I tell him with a laugh, letting go of his hand so I can graze my fingers along the curve of his collarbone, tracing the line of it downward before palming his firm chest and down his ribs. He's so warm and so big and I have to bite back the urge to just fold in close and rub myself all over him. "I can't believe I actually get to touch you."

It's not long before I have to take a deep breath just to try to calm down. Bits joins me on the bed, starts touching me, and I arch up into it like an eager cat. "You flatter me, Bits."

My accent is thick and I take a deep breath as I slide my hand up Bittle's thigh, up over his ass and the dip of his lower back. His skin is so soft, flushed pink, and I lift my head to press a kiss to his shoulder. My abs flex with the action just as Bittle's fingers slide over them, and I turn to kiss the side of his neck before lowering myself back to the bed.

I want him closer, so I take hold of his hips and pull him in so that he's straddling my thighs, that distracting ass of his settling down on top of me. Our dicks are nearly touching like this, cruelly separated by two thin pieces of cotton, and I can't help but to rock up into him a little bit. "You can touch me. *Je t'en prie, Bits. Please." *

"Not flattery if it's true," I remind him with a soft, breathless laugh as his hand smooths over my leg and around to settle on the small of my back. Just that touch alone is enough to send every nerve in my body on fire and when he leans up to kiss the side of my neck, my fingers trip over the dents and curves of his abs. It's hard not to shiver.

He moves quickly then, grabbing hold of me and rolling onto his back, pulling me over him. Laughing in surprise, I catch myself with a hand on either side of his head, staring down at he stares up. The sound dies in my throat when he rocks upward, his dick right up against mine, separated only by our underwear.

"Oh my God, Jack."

I have no idea what he's saying and I make a mental note to definitely add French as my foreign language course at Barton as I move one hand down to his chest, using him for leverage as I rock my own hips down against him. It's not like anything I've ever felt before, another boy's dick right up against my own. And not any boy's. Jack's.

The fact that he's hard for me is almost overwhelming and I lean down closer, biting my lip as I move again, my hands smoothing over his chest and shoulders. "I, uhm. I thought about this some too," I confess, surprising myself with my ability to form words. "Never once thought it might actually happen, oh my goodness."

It's been so long since I've been touched like this, and I spent so much time convincing myself that I didn't need it. That's all gone out the window now that Bittle is on top of me, rolling his hips against mine. I need it. I need him, and I let out a broken sort of moan as he touches me.

"It's happening," I rasp out, reaching up to slide my hands down his sides and then down into the back of his underwear, cupping his ass with both hands and pulling him down more tightly against me. I use my thighs to grip his hips and roll us over so that I'm top of him, pinning him to the bed, and my eyes are dark as I look down at him. I flatten one hand against his hip, fingertips sliding into the waistband of his underwear. "Can I take these off? Is that okay?"

Jack's huge hands slide down my sides, fingertips slipping under the waistband of my boxer-briefs and pulling. I can't get over how hard he is, how feels beneath me and, soon enough, I'm not lying over him at all. He rolls us easily, my back hitting the mattress and I feel all the air woosh out of my lungs as he hovers over me.

I can barely even breath, much less speak again, my eyes wide as I look from his face down to where his hands are slipping under my waistband again. Swallowing, I nod, my heart thudding triple-time beneath my ribs.

Intellectually, I know Jack has seen me naked already. I know he isn't gonna be surprised by anything that he finds. But I'm not sure he ever really looked, if even wanted to. He's never seen me hard and I've never been naked and hard in front of anyone before. What if he doesn't like it? What if... what if I'm somehow not what he's expecting and he changes his mind?

"No chirping," I somehow manage with as much of a teasing smile as I can manage, my hands shaking a little as I run them up over his arms again, curl over his shoulder.

Before I can move to slide his underwear down, I look at his face and realize how nervous he seems. His hands are shaking where they're resting against my skin and he actually seems to think I might be cruel enough to tease him, even after everything. I swallow hard and furrow my brow, sliding my hand back up to his ribs and leaning down to give him a soft kiss. Maybe I was rushing things, too swept in my eagerness to really think.

"We don't have to," I murmur, kissing him again and rolling onto my side to lay next to him, one arm wrapped around his middle to pull him close. "Not tonight. We can just do this, mon chou."

I don't know if I'm relieved or disappointed when Jack's hands still and he slides up to kiss me instead. It's a soft kiss, gentle, and I tip up into immediately, my hands falling to his bare sides, over the lines of his muscles before he rolls to lay beside me.

He's not pulling away at least, his arm still wrapped around my waist and I slip one leg between his, fingers trailing down the firm, flat skin of his belly, finding the little trail of hair just beneath his belly-button and tracing it.

"I'm sorry," I breathe. "I'm... I want to. I do, I promise. I'm just... I've never done any of this with anyone. And I really, really like you, Jack. I don't wanna mess it up."

"You have no reason to be sorry, mon chou," I assure him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before tipping my face down to smile at him. "I really like you too, and you're not going to mess it up."

I cup his cheek and thumb at the arch of bone, eyelids drooping a bit. "It's been... a really long time for me. Years. We'll wait, Bits. I have no problem with that."

"Years?" The surprise is probably evident in my tone and I cringe a little, my fingers still petting the skin below his belly-button. "Goodness, sorry, that came out really rude. I'm just... I'm surprised. I know people were basically beatin' down your door back at Samwell."

I let my fingers slip a little lower then, toying with the waistband of his boxer-briefs as I look up at him. "And I'm not... I don't really wanna wait on everything. If that's okay? I'm nervous, but I'm not scared. I can't think of anyone else I'd rather do this with."

"I guess," I reply, shrugging a bit. I never really noticed all the attention. Sure, I noticed some of it, but I mostly remained pretty willfully oblivious for the most part. "But, uh-- I haven't been with a girl since before I-- before I went to rehab. Haven't been with anyone since then. I just wanted to focus on getting better."

I swallow hard, lost in my thoughts for a moment, but Bittle's touch brings me back. A small smile graces my face and I slide my hand up his arm, gaze lifting to his face. "I don't want anyone else either."

Edited 2016-06-01 04:25 (UTC)

It's silly, maybe, but something about all that is calming. I've never once really imagined Jack as being promiscuous by any means, but I've always figured he has more experience than me. And he has, obviously. But maybe it's not all that much more. And it's been years like he says then maybe he won't be too disappointed if I do something wrong.

His eyes meet mine again and it's really hard not to just melt under that gaze so I shift in a little closer, my hand smoothing over to his hip. Leaning up, I brush my lips against his, mostly because I want to and because I can, sucking lightly at his bottom lip as I pull away again.

"So you've... I mean, I'm assuming you've done something with a guy before," I say, brushing my thumb against his side. "What was that like?"

I'm expecting the question, honestly. No one knows about me and Parse. Shitty suspects, but I've never confirmed it. The memories give me a lot of conflicted emotions now, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Bad, mostly.

"Um. Just one guy," I tell him, swallowing hard and letting my hand slide up Bittle's side. "You know him. Kind of."

There, I said it. Bittle is smart. He'll figure it out.