Heavy breathing.
Sweat and saliva against heated skin.
Chests bumping against each other. Hands running against legs and backs. Sheets tangled at the end of the bed.
Whimpers and moans. Grunts and soft cries. Brought on by every hard thrust, sometimes suppressed - other times not.
Hard, desperate kisses with soothing words caught in the middle. Legs wrapped around a waist.
No love, no devotion. Just sex and hormones. It means nothing. Just two teens who need release, finding it in each others arms. One on the bottom, his head spinning in confusion and lust - begging for more. One on top, he doesn't need love - it's just another fling.
Wrists held down, caught in submission and dominance. Their minds focused on the feelings the other brings. They aren't allowed to share inner feelings - no regret, no changed minds...
No love.
It's not supposed to mean anything.
It's happened too many times for it to mean anything.
Right?
Suddenly a gasp, a shaking body as he tries to move his wrist to cling to the one inside him, "A-AAH...I l-love you, Noah!"
It means something!
The top stops moving, glaring softly and tightening his hold on the wrists. He gives one final thrust.
"Shut up, Cody."
It doesn't mean anything to him.