“Yes.”
“Fine.” But Hal doesn’t sound put-out. He’s breathless with elation. Luke can feel his heartbeat in his lips as they ghost along his jaw.
Some small, worried part of Luke wonders if Hal has fully thought out this whole sex-with-a-man thing. If he’s trulyattractedto Luke in that way; if he looks at him and thinks about where he wants to put his hands.
“I like your face,” Hal murmurs against the point of Luke’s chin. Tiny scrape of his teeth that sends a shiver through Luke. “I like the way your jaw locks up when you get frustrated.” His thumbs sweep down the length of the bones, moving up softly when they reach the hinge. “I love how blue your eyes are when it rains; they’re so pretty.” A touch to the outer corners, careful up beneath the lenses of his glasses, and then down, to the corners of his mouth. “I love the way you chew on your lip when you’re writing. It gets all red.” He lifts his head to plant a kiss there, the simple intimacy of it makes Luke gasp.
And then he’s moving again, slow, wet, sucking kisses under Luke’s jaw, down his throat. “I like to watch your heart beat – here.” His tongue passes over his pulse point.
Luke closes his eyes and grips Hal’s shoulders, tight enough to leave bruises. No sex act has ever felt this intimate. He never imagined Hal might be like this, this gentle and relentless.
Hal moves lower, nuzzles down into the vee neck of Luke’s sweater, kisses the hollow of his throat while his hands smooth across his chest. A curious fingertip traces Luke’s nipple and it hardens through the rough wool of his sweater.
“I love your chest, and your stomach, and your back. I always wanted to know what your hips would look like with bruises on them.” He squeezes them to drive the point home.
When Luke feels his breath against his lips, he opens his eyes again. Hal’s breathing heavy; his pupils are blown, black eating away all the green.
Hal takes one of his hands and brings it to the front of his jeans, lets Luke feel how hard he’s getting. “Do you believe me?” It’s a whisper, laced with desperate hope.
“Yeah.”
Luke almost can’t believe this is happening. That Hal wants him. But when he straddles Hal’s thighs and gets in his lap, Hal’s hands stay on his hips, fingers slipping up beneath the sweater to make contact with bare skin. And when he feels his hardness pressing against Hal’s through both their jeans, Hal bucks up into the contact, breath catching in a broken, completely turned-on way.
“You think I’m hot,” he says, because Hal does, hedoes.
“I think you’rebeautiful.”
Luke whimpers and seals their mouths together.
It’s an unhurried kiss this time, exploring one another, changing angles and figuring out what makes the other murmur low noises of pleasure in his throat. Luke starts a slow grind against Hal’s lap, not enough to get them off, just a pleasant teasing.
Luke finally pulls back, hands buried in Hal’s wrecked hair, and takes a long, long look at his best friend. The love beams out of him like sunlight, through the soft devotion of his gaze and the sweet curve of his smile. And now that he allows himself to see it, Luke knows it’s been there this whole time, his whole stay in DC, from that first moment at the airport. And it was there three years ago, too, and when they were still in school.
“You big idiot,” he says.
“I know.”
“Before…I really liked it when you called me ‘baby.’”
“I liked saying it.”
Luke rests their foreheads together, marveling…just marveling. “I think maybe we shouldn’t rush things.”
“I think you’re right.” Hal slides both arms around his waist and holds him close, stilling the movements of their hips. “I’m fine with slow. Slow is good…baby.”
Luke’s breath catches. “Jesus.”
Hal chuckles, self-satisfied and happy. “Come on, we’ve got an early day tomorrow. We should get to bed.”
“We gotta get off my bed first so we can unfold it.”
“If you think you’re sleeping on the couch again,” Hal starts.
Luke kisses him.
~*~
The moment Luke’s head touches the pillow, Hal rolls toward him and wraps him up in both arms. The difference from last night strikes a vulnerable place inside him, puts a lump in his throat. Last night, Hal had held him, but careful, gentle, not wanting to push. And now he holds Luke tight, noses into the crook of neck and shoulder and exhales in a contented, warm rush. It’s innocent, and sweet, and just about comfort and contact.
Luke rolls his head toward him, until his lips are pressed to his forehead. “Goodnight,” he whispers.
“Goodnight, baby.”
And it is.
