Re: Quiet Home: Misha & Oliver
Misha racked up bad decisions like billiard players racked up balls. But Misha, he didn't think any, and he reckoned thinking was required for good choices. But Misha's choices, they were all like this. They were gut and pretty boy and the taste of spit on his lower lip. Someone breathing hot into him, and him breathing cool back, and it was living at its most pure. It was skin and sensations, and Misha had a hankering for that something awful. And Oliver, Oliver was real sweet with his parted lips and momentary stillness, and Misha thought the other boy would retreat. But Oliver didn't retreat, and Misha's smile against Oliver's mouth was pleased as could be. He even made a sound that said as much, something real quiet and still in the dusty room, but born happy on his tongue.
And Oliver not thinking on dogs on brains scattered, that was just a boon, a bonus, a plus that Misha wasn't even aware of any.
Chest to chest, and maybe Misha ought to be the type of boy that went right for a hand between the thighs, but he wasn't. There was something 'bout the birdlike press of Oliver's chest against his own, something real sweet 'bout the weight against his chest, something real warm 'bout the staccato of Oliver's heartbeat. It was simple touching, sweet and chaste, and there wasn't a thing adult 'bout it, but it still made Misha go warm to his toes.
Oliver's hands found themselves against Misha's shirt, fingers curled, and Misha let his hands do what they wanted slow. He pressed his fingers to Oliver's hips, after shifting his weight and hands slower that tortoises on sweat-sticky summer days. He didn't clutch, close fingers, tug or grab. He just settled his hands there light, and he parted his lips for Oliver, letting the boy do the chasing with his tongue. It was an offering, control given for control taken with those unpressing fingers to hips. "That okay some?" he asked, muffled against Oliver's mouth, and his lips trailing just small along Oliver's jaw, then back quick as rain, so the boy didn't startle and run like a pretty little deerling.