I don’t even know.
He pounced on his friend, pushing him back in the sheets and closing his eyes as his lips groped Julian’s, sucking and licking and always moving.
Julian moaned in the athlete’s throat and felt his muscles roll smoothly underneath the tanned skin. His hands came up to tangle in Derek’s hair, pulling him down forcefully. Derek growled in impatience, ripping off clothes and throwing them on the ground in a disregarded heap.
The rolled over, chests and hips colliding as they shifted, skins sliding over each other teasingly. Their lips crashed together and both boys groaned and grunted when the kiss was more than passionate and delicious and they wanted it to never end and why was this so good…?
But they didn’t care and with their lips still fused—kissing wildly, passionately and excruciatingly forcefully—their hands started to work now, too. Their nails left red marks over their skins, matching with the red finger prints from where their hands had crushed and kneaded painfully rough.
It was not love—but they needed someone to remind them they were still worth loving. Even when their respective objects of affection didn’t.