"..love was just more than holding hands." Conrad's smooth voice tickled an old memory in the back of his mind. He'd heard this song before, though he couldn't quite remember where or when. Likely, he'd heard it off some oldies radio station. He had to say, though, that he much preferred Conrad's version.
Conrad hadn't asked to see any of his bruises (okay, it's not like he had any currently) but Wes still didn't bother wasting any time when he followed the other by taking his own shirt off too. It pulled at his hair as he yanked the damn thing over his head but he didn't have time to fix the mess it was now. Conrad was guiding his hands across his naked torso and nothing else mattered.
"You wouldn't have gotten those bruises if you hadn't been so fucking stubborn," Wes felt the need to remind him. He leaned in, feeling very confident that he could get away with some nose nuzzling, and teased Conrad's mouth with a nibble to his bottom lip. Maybe he was the devourer. The hand that Conrad had moved was as impatient as his mouth. He caught the sound of pants being undone and immediately dove his fingers beneath the waistband, not bothering to try for the zipper. It scraped into the back of his hand but it was a small penance for the treasure below. He inhaled a giddy gasp when his fingers first brushed over that hard heat. They explored what they could, pressing through the fabric to better feel the muscle underneath.
"You could have asked, you know. Not sayin' that I've been throwing myself at you but," Wes moved his other hand to Conrad's shoulder and shoved him backward into the mattress. He grinned at the sight of the blonde sprawled on the bed like this. "I've been kinda throwing myself at you." Admitting that he'd been physically attracted since practically the first moment they'd met wasn't hard. Wes felt like he'd been obvious. Until he thought Conrad hadn't been interested. So he'd backed off. If only he'd known.
It would be easy to pin Conrad down. Especially since he was letting him. Fuck, that was a turn-on on its own. But Wes wanted to touch Conrad with more than just his mouth. He glanced to the headboard, briefly around the room, then down to Conrad again. When his gaze fell on the belt still holding up those pants, he grinned. Wes unhooked the belt and slowly slipped it off. Twisting it, he fashioned the belt into make-shift handcuffs and then held it out. "How badly do you want it, James?"