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The windows are opened wide, beige curtains dancing in the fresh breeze coming from outside, the smell of summer rain taking up the space all over the city. It’s a hot day, the rain not doing much for clearing the air, and sweat clings to you like a second skin, your hairline dark with it, drops of it sliding down your neck.
You lick your dry lips, tasting the salt of your own sweat on the tip of your tongue. You’re sprawled out on Choso’s living room floor, searching on the wooden floorboards for the slightest hint of a cool relief, without success up until this point. Choso’s lying next to you in the same manner, your fingertips almost touching, the small gap between them filled with heat.
You both have the week off of work, a much needed vacation, a much needed reprieve to recharge yourselves. The last days you spent mostly at a local lake, reading books and napping in the sun, jumping into the water to cool yourselves down. You love spending time with him, the two of you friends for years now and never getting tired of each other.
There’s the click of a lighter, smoke filling up the air above you, Choso handing you a cigarette you take with a quiet thanks. It feels wrong to talk any louder, the sound of the rain splattering on pavement too wonderful to disturb. You take a drag of your cigarette, turn your head to the side.
Choso’s already looking at you, strands of hair clinging to his skin where they slipped out of his messy bun, his lips painted rosy-red from the strawberry lemonade you shared. You get lost in the dark brown of his eyes, like you always do, and you’re drowning, lungs screaming for air.
You take another drag of your cigarette.
“This is nice,” Choso says, words almost lost under the pouring rain.
“What is?” You ask, ashing your cigarette over the old glass Choso always uses.
Choso shrugs, lips kissing the butt of his cigarette, smoke dancing up into the air.
“Being here with you, the rain, everything,” his voice is soft, still raspy with smoke like it always is. There’s warmth spreading through your chest at his words, the urge to bridge the gap between your fingers increasing by every second that passes, by every rain drop hitting the streets outside.
“Yes it is,” you answer, your eyes meeting his again. There’s something passing between you two, something that lingers in the space between you for years now, something that lives in every word you speak to one another, something that built a home in everything you share.
It’s at the forefront of your mind for days now, that feeling, that something that is seemingly getting impossible to ignore any longer. You know what it is, deep down in the depth of your heart and you can detect it in his every gesture, too.
And maybe, this is the right time, to bridge the gap between your fingers, to jump over the abyss that separated you, the abyss consisting of insecurities and fear. You take another drag of your cigarette, smoke curling into the air. You lift yourself up on one elbow, lean closer to where Choso’s lying, never breaking eye contact.
His eyes flutter close before your lips even touch. It’s the slightest brush of lips, a kiss that’s careful and fragile, a kiss so tender it makes your toes curl and your teeth ache. You put both of your cigarettes away, crawling up and over him, until you’re straddling his thighs.
He’s already there when you lean down for another kiss. There’s more force behind it now, a pressure, an urge, his lips fitting against yours as if they always belonged there, as if he’s simply yours.
Maybe he is, and you are his in return.
The first careful slide of his tongue over your bottom lip makes you groan, and you open up for him, like a flower starting to bloom in spring. As soon as your tongues meet it’s over. No more carefulness, no more tenderness, no more softness. It’s something wild now, something building up, a hurricane that’s forming over the ocean below, a wave short of cresting against the shore.
You groan into his mouth, tongues dancing, teeth catching on lips, the slightest taste of iron between you. Choso’s hands are restless, first buried in your hair, cupping your jaw, sliding down your neck. He’s mapping out the borders of your body, sliding over your arms, going back up, sliding down your sides. He’s following the curve of your hips, your thighs. His touch is electrifying, unpredictable in its strength and you wish you weren’t wearing any clothes. You want his fingertips branding your skin, want to wear his touch like armor edged into your skin.
You lean back on his legs, shifting your weight, coaxing him up into a sitting position with biting into his kiss-swollen bottom lip, licking over the spots soothingly where you know it stings. He’s following your mouth like a dog on a very short leash, your hands holding on to his shoulders, exploring the muscles in his arms, his chest.
You’re breathing heavily into each other’s mouths, spit clinging to lips when you separate further. Choso already looks wrecked, his cheeks sweet peach-pink, his eyes dark, hungry. You tug on his shirt, Choso lifting his arms without complaining, and you throw it somewhere behind you carelessly, already distracted by the skin you just exposed.
Of course you already knew how he looks, how defined his chest is, his abs. You knew about the piercings sitting in his soft brown nipples, how black ink expands over the soft planes of his pale skin. But to see it like this, with your heart beating erratically in your chest, with the feeling of his lips branded into your own, it’s something else entirely.
You’re speechless, caught up in the beauty of Choso looking desperate, his gaze filled with want, with a deep need for you. Without thinking you slip out of your own shirt, Choso’s gaze zeroing in on the black lace bra you’re wearing, your tits almost spilling over the cups, waiting for him to catch them. He groans, a sound so deep, so guttural it makes you shiver.
“I –” he swallows, dark brown eyes searching your face. “Can I touch them?”
“Yes, please,” you answer breathlessly.
Choso’s there in an instant, his fingers softly brushing over the edge of your bra, the slightest teasing touch on the swell of your breasts. The moan you let out is something soft, something quiet, something just for him. You adjust on his lap, can feel him hard and warm pressing against your ass.
Choso starts kissing over your chest, chaste kisses littered all over your skin. One of his hands slips on your back, opening the clasp. He’s slowly sliding the straps down your arms, exposing you to his eyes, to his waiting mouth. He’s a man on a mission now, licking over your tits in broad stripes, tugging on your nipples with his teeth, sucking them into his mouth, leaving hickeys all over them. It’s maddening, feels good and as if you’re going a little insane, your nails leaving little half-moons where they’re digging into his shoulders.
Time loses all meaning while Choso ruins you for anyone else, while he marks up your chest, while he claims your tits for himself. Your hips roll against his slowly, a motion that isn’t intentional, but comes as easy as breathing.
Suddenly, the world tilts on its axis and you’re sprawled out on your back again, wooden floorboards smooth against your back. Choso hovers above you, eyes glossy, something fond, something soft painted all over his features. You brush a finger over his eyebrows, following the line of his jaw, ghosting over the bridge of his nose until he smiles, dimples sitting pretty on his cheeks.
“Tell me, we can do more,” he whispers, his words, every syllable in tune with the rain still pouring outside.
“Everything,” you say, your own smile stretching your dry lips. “I’m all yours.”
Choso groans, hides his face in your neck. You can’t help but laugh, fingers playing with the strands of hair that slipped out of his bun.
“You can’t say that,” he complains against your skin. “I’ll just come in my pants like a fucking teenager and I’ll not be able to look at you ever again.”
You chuckle, pulling him out of his hiding spot with your hand grabbing onto his bun, up and up until he’s got no chance but to meet your gaze again.
“You know,” you start, thumb brushing over his throat. “It’s so fucking cute that the simple fact that I’m yours, gets you going like that. And just for the record– I’ll still be yours if you come into your boxers again and again. Because I love you.”
Choso’s squeezing his eyes shut, his hips snapping against your pussy and you can feel him pulsing through the soft cotton of his shorts, warmth spreading between you. His cheeks are cotton candy pink, his lips half-opened while he searches for air around his moans.
“Fuck,” he whimpers, teeth digging into his bottom lip. You’re a little dumbstruck, absolutely mesmerised and you want to laugh hysterically, because what the fuck. Choso came from you telling him i love you, and if that’s not the biggest declaration of love you don’t know what is.
You pull him back in by his hair, catch his lips, his tongue, in a wild kiss that feels dangerous, that borders on too much and not enough.
“I’m sorry,” Choso pants against your mouth and you click your tongue.
“Enough of that,” you mutter against his lips. “You’re fucking perfect.” Choso groans, dives down again, tongue slipping into your mouth easily. He’s opening your pants, button, zipper and then he’s pushing them down and out of the way. He’s kissing down your body, fingers brushing over every inch of skin. He makes himself at home between your legs, stares at your pussy as if it’s the last meal on earth.
Choso flattens his tongue, licks one broad stripe over your hole, your folds, up over your clit. You moan, already writhing on the floor from barely nothing. You can feel him smile against you, and he’s spreading your folds, licks into your hole again and again, until he’s fucking you with nothing but his tongue. You’re dripping, nails scratching over wood, fingers tugging on his hair.
Choso is relentless, tongue seemingly not getting tired, and he starts to rub little circles around your clit with his thumb, breath catching somewhere half-way up your lungs.
“Fuck,” you groan, and Choso hums, against you and into you, your own juices sliding down the crack of your ass. A needy whimper slips over your lips when he’s taking his tongue back to swallow, and Choso chuckles, pressing a kiss against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
He doesn’t let you wait long, two of his fingers sliding into you, stretching you and you can feel the coolness of the rings he’s always wearing bumping against you. His mouth closes around your clit, and he’s sucking, tongue flicking back and forth against it, driving you higher and higher, until you’re sure you’re floating, weightless, simply existing somewhere in the universe.
Choso’s fingers are steadily sliding in and out of you, squelching sounds mixing with the pitter-patter sounds of rain, and he sucks on your clit again, flicks his tongue against it and you shatter into a thousand pieces. He doesn’t stop while you’re coming, lets you ride it out against his mouth, fingers maintaining their steady rhythm.
Only when your back stops arching, when your legs fall open totally relaxed, does he slowly stop, soft kitten licks all over your sticky folds making you shiver. He’s kissing his way up your body, leaving a lingering kiss at the corner of your mouth. His dark brown eyes are sparkling, roaming all over your face.
“I love you too, by the way,” he says, and you chuckle before catching his lips in another kiss, his tongue tasting sweet, a little sour, like you. The taste of salt is heavy between you, shared over kisses, over whispered words and tender promises.
Inside Choso’s flat salt never tasted sweeter, while outside, the rain continued, the world tinted in all kinds of grey.