A/N: Thank you for coming along on this ride with me. The inspiration struck and I needed to go with it. Just a little, ahem, heads up that this story's rating has changed to an M for adult content. And you're about to find out why. Enjoy! :)
He's managed maybe two hours of sleep in the last twenty-four thanks to a term paper that kept him up the night before. And yet, Jamie lies there in his bed, totally awake. Sleep refuses to find him.
With his hands tucked beneath his head on his pillow, he gazes up at the ceiling and mentally replays the moment with Eddie in his bedroom. He can't get it out of his mind and he doesn't know how in the three years they've been friends, they've never managed to blur those boundaries until today.
There had been near-moments. Little flickers of maybes when they'd catch one another's eye for a lingering beat. Instances of weakness, on both of their parts, when they found themselves alone or rejected, or having a much better time with each other than they were with whoever they were supposed to be with at the time.
But they always found excuses, always maneuvered away from the line they refused to cross. He just hopes that the fact that they stumbled over it this time didn't screw them up for good.
"Reagan." She whispers his name from the other side of the room and Jamie jumps, shifting to glance at the door.
"Hey," he whispers back, then pushes himself upright. "You okay?"
Noiselessly, she closes the door behind her and looks over, tucking her hair behind her ear.
He focuses in the darkness that almost glows with blue moonlight and eventually he makes out her silhouette. She wears a long, pale sweater that drapes off one shoulder. As she comes closer, he sees her bare legs that stem from soft cotton shorts, only a tease longer than the top she wears.
"I'm okay," she answers. "I can't sleep, though."
With a soft exhale, he swipes a hand through his hair as he sits beneath the blankets. "Me neither."
"So I'm sorry about earlier," she says. "When I kissed you… I don't want you to think…"
"No, I know."
She nods and crosses her arms over her chest as she glances around the room.
He wasn't sure what he was asserting that he knows, but something tells him she's not exactly sure that she's sorry.
Finally, she looks over at him once more. "Are we good?"
He breathes out a quiet laugh. "We're good."
Rocking a few times on her heels, she stalls at the foot of his bed. "Okay, so maybe those Son of Sam stories freaked me out just a little."
He feels the amusement tug at his cheek. "Hey, you started that conversation."
"I know. I was sort of morbidly interested, and now I regret my curiosity."
"Well he's serving like, multiple life sentences upstate, so I think you're alright."
She huffs a dramatic sigh. "The windows in this house lock, right?"
"You seriously question the security of this house, all things considered?"
Her head tilts side to side in acceptance.
"Besides," he adds, "The Son of Sam killer didn't break into people's houses."
"True."
"I mean, Ted Bundy did, but-"
"Oh my god, Reagan!" She tries her best to maintain a whisper and dashes over to his bed on quiet feet before she pounces there on the blankets.
He cracks up, tilting over as he makes room for her.
"Ugh," she mutters. "Don't be a jerk."
"Okay, okay," his soft laughter dissipates as Eddie scoots up beside him on her knees. "I'm sorry."
"Too bad Danny left, because I'm sure he could protect me."
Jamie groans, narrowing an offended gaze at her and the smug curve along her mouth. "Oh man, that hurts, Janko."
She leans in, burying her giggles into his shoulder. "Well hope you weren't intending to sleep comfortably because you've got yourself a bed buddy for the night." Eddie adjusts the blankets and slips her legs underneath beside him.
"Is that right, buddy?" He questions as he watches her settle in.
"Mm-hm." She scoots down onto her back. "It's your fault."
A scoff hisses out of him before he resigns himself to his back beside her. The arrangement feels platonic for all of three seconds until it doesn't.
He shifts his pillow so that she at least gets some of it and stirs as he attempts to fit himself on his back without his leg grazing hers under the covers.
"Alright, shifty," she speaks up.
"I'm trying to give you room." He decides it would be easier if he just turns onto his side and he ultimately settles that way. "How's that?"
She glances over at him and he meets her gaze long enough to spark a flicker of heat in his chest. Rather than answer, she merely shifts onto her side away from him. For just a moment, he's disappointed but the move is probably for the best.
They lie there in the quiet late night amid faint noises from wind in the trees outside and one another's rhythmic breathing.
His eyelids finally begin to feel heavy when her voice invades the quiet.
"Jamie?"
"Hm?"
"You're a real pain in the ass."
A soft laugh rumbles his chest.
"But thank you for inviting me here."
He feels a secret smile crest along his lips. "No problem," he murmurs. "I'm glad you came."
They're quiet again and then Jamie notices the way she shifts back, edging closer to him. It makes an unexpected breath hitch in his chest and he has to wonder whether she meant to nudge his chest with her back.
He moves too. Faint touches he's not sure are accidental make his pulse thud. His knee brushes the back of her thigh.
Everything about her, the way she lingers right there, her hair soft, just grazing the edge of his jaw, makes him ache. She smells so good, the clean hint of the shower she'd had before bed doing a number on his willpower.
"If you scratch my back, I'll fall asleep faster," she tells him.
He stifles a laugh behind her and feels the smirk on his face. "You and your back scratches. You're like a little bear."
A sleepy giggle shakes her shoulders and she eases up to swoop all of her hair over the shoulder she's laying on, as if she's giving him more access. "Please?"
His eyes fall closed and he gets comfortable on his pillow. Drawing lazy circles with his fingertips, he absently scratches her back, something he's treated her to countless times. On campus, they'd be studying or watching TV and a back scratch was often one of Eddie's innocent requests. She was usually satisfied with a good hard grazes along her shoulder blades for a few seconds.
She inhales deeply. "Thank you."
"Good?"
"Lower."
His hand does as instructed, traveling low to her waist.
"Under," she murmurs.
"Under what?"
"My shirt."
That was a new one. Reaching down, he finds the hem of her sweater and carefully ducks a hand underneath. He scratches light fingertips back and forth over the dip in her lower back and doesn't miss the airy whimper that floats from her when he does.
He squeezes his eyes shut and almost pushes his face into the pillow like he's trying to force the memory of that noise out of his head. After an aimless path up the center of her bare back, Jamie's fingers gradually slow. Leave her with a friendly pat on the back, retract your hand and turn over before you stumble into dangerous territory. That's what his head should be telling him.
But it's failing him right now and the desire to be close to her, prompted by the way she exhales gentle sighs at his touch is what's making all the decisions for him.
The scratching motion stops and instead, he begins to skate fingers in a curving path up the plane of her back, then back down, before he flattens his palm against her.
He feels her push back against his hand, urging herself closer, and he continues.
He's mesmerized by the feeling of her smooth skin and the way he feels her breath catch when he dips his hand along her waist.
"Are you asleep?" He whispers.
"No."
He tries to control a shaky breath, exhaling through his nose, as his touch falls to her hip, over her shorts.
She swallows another floating sigh and with what has to be complete intent, arches her back until the curve of her ass grazes the front of his shorts.
His heart hammers inside his chest and he manages to keep from tugging her hips back, even though hers would fit so perfectly against him.
Instead, his hand squeezes, appreciating the rise and fall where he grips her hip. Then he slides his hand up, just at her ribcage before he swipes his thumb there.
Her breath comes out hard and she shifts in front of him again, rocking her hips back in this achingly slow roll that's getting him hard and he's about to not care whether she knows.
But she knows. Her movements aren't thoughtless. They're deliberate and so damn sexy and he's not sure how long he can sustain this sort of unspoken… activity and still believe it fits into the confines of an innocent back scratch.
He leans in and drops his forehead to the inviting curve at the back of her neck. There, he lets his eyes fall shut as he manages a deep breath in an attempt to tame his heartbeat.
She opens up one shoulder and turns her head, twisting back against him. He feels her hand find his where it rests on her side. She eases it out of her shirt. Then slides fingers under his, lacing them together, opening and closing and grazing his palm.
He lets out this little hum of amusement as she plays with his hand which she sweetly echoes.
Eddie tugs gently, and he's not sure where she's going with it as she guides his arm across her.
He rolls closer as she presses his flat palm against her chest, right at the open neckline of her sweater. She adjusts his hand, then lower, holding her own over his and it takes him a second to figure out where she's leading him.
And before he can make another move, he feels it. The dull thump of her heartbeat, pulsating an urgent rhythm that he just barely makes out if they lie still enough.
His eyes close once more and a faint smile twitches his lips as he breathes out a soft laugh against her hair. "Mine too," he murmurs.
Her fingertips stroke the back of his hand, then he feels her trace her index finger over his hand in the slow shape of a heart.
Easing his hand away, he pulls it back and slips it underneath her shirt once again. There in the center of her back, he copies the shape, drawing his fingertip lightly over her skin to make a heart of his own.
Eddie hums another soft note before she begins to shift. She turns over in his arms to face him and it steals his breath for a silent moment to have her that close. With parted lips, her unsteady breath teases his.
Closer, his mouth grazes hers. The slightest brush of his lips elicits this barely there noise in her throat and lures him to touch another kiss there.
She meets his lips briefly, but they hesitate, separating again by a mere whispered breath. It's as if they both know that once they give in to how badly they need to feel each other, the scales will tip completely. They'll fall over the line and have no hope of scrambling back across this time.
Their heavy gazes meet in the darkness for just a flicker of validation and then the weight of Jamie's kiss lands, rough against pillowy lips.
Rather than sink beneath him, she presses into him just as hard, anchoring him with a hand on his face.
He holds her, needy hands find her waist again and it's anything but feather light touches this time. Easily, they seek out more of her, slip down to her hips and urge her closer.
Her thigh slinks on top of his and Jamie skates his palm from her hip, down the curve of her ass and along her thigh before he grips the back of her leg and tugs her against him.
The invitation pulls her until she nudges him onto his back and follows on top.
He doesn't contain the murmured groan that echoes in his chest when she straddles him beneath the blanket and tilts her hips down. But in this big, silent house, neither one of them can keep it up with noises like that or they'll give themselves away. Especially with the door unlocked. Long greedy, heavenly kisses have him lost in how damn good she feels on top of him. She buries her noises there, suppressing them in her throat until they escape in a rushed exhale.
Sometimes she takes a break to nip playfully at his lips, to flick a taste of his tongue and watch him chase her as he raises his head to capture her mouth once more.
When she lets him, she sinks back into him and the sensation lifts his hips, shamelessly seeking out friction between her legs.
Fuck, it feels too good and he's distracted by how hard she's gotten him. Every time she rocks her hips, digs fingers in his hair and lets go of one of her quiet whimpers, he fears he'll lose it.
His hands travel up her back, underneath her shirt once again before they dip down and he slips fingers beneath the waist of the shorts she wears. When he does, she rocks her hips like she craves more of him and the slow friction between them has him wondering when the fuck one of them is going to lay on the brakes.
Because the way things are going, with neither one of them making moves to get rid of the other's clothes, this can't end all that smoothly. He hasn't felt this close to coming with half his clothes still on since he was about sixteen. And even then, a desperate makeout with his high school girlfriend didn't compare to the blissful heat of whatever this is and if the sensation manages to overcome him, he might die.
He can't stop her, but he can't presume she wants to keep going either. Not here. In his childhood bedroom with his parents asleep down the hall. That notion helps abate the urgency of his hard-on, so maybe for everybody's sake, he should focus on that a little longer.
Eddie's movements slow against him, lingering lazy kisses on his lips that feel stung, tingling with want. Her back rises and falls with heavy, quiet breaths and she holds his face in her hands as she tips her forehead against his.
He sees her look down at him, grazing his swollen bottom lip with the edge of her thumb. Maybe this is where they stop. Where they decide it's getting too heated considering the circumstances and they call it a night.
His hands slide out of her shorts and he holds her at her waist. He welcomes another kiss from her. This one softer, almost chaste before she pulls away.
She brushes another one against his lips and he reciprocates, teasing the very edge of her tongue with his own and it prompts this repressed sigh from her throat as her eyes flutter shut. She does it to him and he nips at another kiss. But she cuts that off when her mouth falls on his again, hungry this time and fuck, they can't quit.
With a hard breath, she slants her mouth heavy over his. He grasps her hips, palms the curve of her ass over her shorts before his hands slide inside.
Another airy whimper floats from her, more urgent this time and he doesn't hesitate to reach down the back of her shorts and tug her closer with a blatant handful of her ass.
The move grinds her hips harder and he holds her to him as he meets each rise and fall with his own.
She doesn't tear her mouth from his. Not to breathe, not to make a sound. She can't. He can tell she's burying the need she has with kisses that are too hard, but he does the same.
If their hushed noises don't tell on them, the subtle creak of his mattress springs will. And there's no denying the rhythmic tell of his bed that they've initiated.
She hitches her knee up higher at his side and it's like she's riding him with every intentional roll of her hips and it's about to ruin him.
Her breath escapes her in short, uneven bursts when she breaks off his kiss and drops her head to the side of his neck. He manages a gulp of fresh air, tilting his head back as her muffled soft moan fades into his skin.
Her hips buck against him and she almost squeaks against his shoulder over his t-shirt, but she quickly digs her teeth there to deny it. Her hand slides under his other shoulder and she grips so hard he has to bite his lower lip to keep from calling out.
She sucks in a quick breath and he feels her halt her movements altogether. It's so sudden, it confuses him.
Her back jerks as she clings to him. She gasps and he holds onto her, feeling another shudder pulse through her before she manages a shaky exhale and practically falls limp on top of him.
He blinks.
She doesn't move but he feels her racing heartbeat against his chest.
Did she...
Just-?
... to be continued!