As they kissed, she couldn't stop herself from sliding her hand along his chest and further down, to the crotch of his jeans, feeling the girth of his hard cock.

"Fuck," he murmured against her ear as he pulled away from the kiss, hips jerking into her touch. "You don't—don't have to…fuck." He gasped sharply when she squeezed him and then reached for the button. His hands came between them and caught her wrists gingerly.

"Don't."

Stung with rejection, she pulled away and looked away.

"Don't feel obligated to return the favor. I'll survive."

"And if I want to?" she asked, feeling her nostrils flare with a little bit of anger. She could see how hard he was, tenting his jeans in a profound manner, just as large as she'd thought it would. "What? Do you not want me to touch you?"

"I do." He had the good graces to look embarrassed, his cheeks and his ears turning red, as he lowered his eyes to where his hands encircled her wrists still. "I just…It'll be over very, very fast."

"We have two days to, um, consummate things. I just want to make you feel good too."

He didn't reply, simply mashed his mouth thin, as he released her wrists and leaned back, bracing himself on his hands. The flush that had swept his face steadily ran down his throat and dusted his shoulders. Silvery scars stood in stark contrast to the blood-pink skin, and she had the urge to kiss each one and trace its shape and know the story behind it.

She leaned forward and curled her hands into the V of his hips, thumbs rubbing the silky skin stretch taut over bone there gently, as she pressed a soft, chaste kiss that had his sigh feathering over her lips. When she pulled back, his eyes were lidded and startlingly soft.

"Can I?" she whispered, afraid to break the hush that had descended across the two of them, and kept her hands on his hips. Waited, her muscles coiled with tension, shoulders aching, neck burning with how she was hunched, back screaming for relief. Waited until he shyly nodded.

"Are you sure? You don't have to."

"I want to," he said finally, his voice loud in the silence, and she fumbled with the button of his jeans and unzipped his fly, easing the denim slowly down his muscular thighs.

His underwear, shockingly, was neon-blue, the black waistband embroidered with Hanes across the top, and surprisingly loose. She'd seen him in swim trunks and this seemed kind of like those, just with less fabric.

"Are these boxers or briefs?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her as she trailed her hands along his thighs, feeling the heat and solid muscle there, marveling at how the tight muscles twitched and jumped at her touch. She'd never been able to tell the difference between boxers, briefs, and boxer-briefs.

"Boxers," he muttered, voice cracking on the words, as she hooked the fingers of one hand in the waistband and the other gingerly cupped him.

He hissed, hands tightening in the comforter beneath him, as she marveled at the heat of his skin, how hard he was, the slight give of his skin, the spongy texture when her fingers squeezed him briefly. His hiss morphed into a low groan, head hanging down, chin touching his sternum, as he sucked his bottom lip so fiercely she was worried he'd have permanent scarring from his teeth.

"Is this okay?" she asked gently against his shoulder as she adjusted her stance so she wasn't hunched over his lap. His skin was warm against her lips as he muttered a shaky yes. A little whine escaped him when she dragged her hand up and down, his heat seeping past the fabric of his boxers. Blood thundered dangerously loud in her ears as she inhaled the spicy scent of him before gingerly wedging her hand past the elastic waistband of his underwear.

His skin was hot and slightly damp—sweat, maybe—and he gave a little gurgled whimper that reached between her thighs. "Fuck," he choked loudly, shaking his head, and his hand threaded into the baby hair at the back of her neck as he urged her to turn her face up from his shoulder, and when she did, his mouth slanted over hers.

His kiss was hungry and desperate, sloppy, wet, and it made her shiver all over, her skin tight with goosebumps. His cock was a heavy, solid length in her hand, skin silky and satiny as it shifted with her strokes, and he moaned. The sound was raw and guttural, and it stoked something inside of her, stoked something primal and feminine, and she wanted—no, needed to hear it again.

She tightened her grip, feeling the spongy give of his sensitive flesh, as she kissed him back, twining their tongues, loud, wet slurps filling the room. The sound of their kissing made her blush but he seemed to enjoy it, his hips rocking tentatively. She wondered how he'd taste and couldn't stop herself from breaking the kiss—amused, slightly, when he chased after her—and lay down on her belly. His cock was close to her face, hot and thick and heavy, and she could smell him, smell his hot skin and the musk of his sex. Her mouth watered as she hooked her thumb in the waistband and pulled his boxers down.

Her eyes went wide, comically, she was certain. "Holy shit," she whispered. He was big as she thought he'd be, maybe eight inches, with a considerable girth and standing proud amongst a patch of black hair. He was naturally black-haired then.

"Is everything good down there?" he asked, a quiver in his voice that sounded so uncharacteristic she grinned.

"More than good," she replied before she gave him an experimental pump, watching the glide of his skin, how it encompassed the glans of his head. She could feel him twitch in her hand. He gave a strangled curse, flopping back, as she explored him. She wanted to taste him, she realized with a burst of intensity, as he'd tasted her.

She leaned her head down and tentatively gave a kitten lick to the tip, moaning gently at the taste of his hot, salty skin before gingerly wrapping her mouth around the head. It was strange but not unwelcome, having him in her mouth, and his hand touched her shoulder briefly.

Opening her mouth wider, breathing a little deeper, she eased more and more of him into her mouth. The silken skin was smooth and gave way easily as she traced the veins that ran along the shaft's surface with the tip of her tongue. Blood thundered between her legs, and she moaned softly as she swallowed more and more of him, until she'd pushed almost the entire thing into her mouth. All she could smell was the scent of his sweat, the musk of his hot flesh, as she began to find a rhythm, applying nervous suction down his cock.

He whimpered, panting heavily, and the sound was music to her ears. Something about reducing such a taciturn beast of a man boiled her blood, desire swamping her, as she sucked and bobbed in tandem.

"Fuck," he growled, reaching beneath her with nervous finger, and his hand tapped her hip. Confused, slowing her sucking, she lifted herself onto her knees, and moaned softly as his hand swept around her hip and over her back, squeezing her ass enthusiastically.

As he began to rub her, she focused on bringing him to completion. She sucked harder, hearing the slurp of excess saliva, as she bowed down more, offering her buttocks to him. Her suction grew fiercer, pace quickening, jaw aching, as he squeezed and kneaded.

"Chloe," he gasped out, a hand burying itself in her hair as he suddenly pushed her off his cock, his hand replacing her mouth as he milked himself frantically, his face twisted and red with pleasure, sweat running in rivulets down his face. He came in thick spurts, his orgasm making his hand tight in her hair, twisting it, and she watched as cum dribbled out of the top of his fist in gloopy spurts.

She sat back, beaming at her handiwork a little bit, as he wiped his hand clean on the furthest edge of the comforter. Feeling inexplicably shy, she asked, peering at him through her eyelashes, "Was that okay?"

His face went red all over, all the way into his hairline. "It…was amazing. Was it—did it feel good to you?" he asked stammeringly, avoiding her eyes.

"Yeah. I'm kind of tired, though. Can we…should we sleep?" Her heart thundered at the idea of laying down with him, his heat and distinctly male physique pressed against her as they slept. She'd never slept with a boy before, and laying in the same bed as her girl friends was never weird because as long as she could remember, they'd pile on her bed and sleep like puppies.

"Are you gonna sleep like that?" Derek asked.

She looked down and flushed. "I'm sure they have…" She climbed off the bed and opened the wardrobe door, discovering a plain satiny nightgown amidst the racy, lacy ones that didn't cover her whatsoever that fell to her knees and was held up by thick straps. It wasn't anything racy but Derek kept his eyes averted all the same as she pulled it over her head eagerly.

As she was braiding her hair while she walked back to the bed, she noticed he'd already crawled beneath the covers wearing only his boxers, and he'd even picked up their clothes and folded them neatly at the foot of the bed on the floor.

Heart hammering, she slipped in beside him and kept to her side, scrunching herself into a ball. She could feel his weight behind her, the dip of the mattress, and knowing he was so close—that she'd just had her mouth on his cock and his tongue had been inside of her and tomorrow, tomorrow they'd have sex, right? That was what he was anticipating—made her tremble slightly.

"You know," he said, his voice breaking the silence and making her still, "I hate how they pushed us into this but I can't regret this. Not this, whatever this is, with you. I can't think of anyone else I'd rather do this with." He turned and she knew his back was to her them because she could feel the barest brush of the backs of his heels against her calves.

She reached for the light above them that still shone and clicked it off, plunging the room into darkness. As if heightened by the lack of sight, her heart began to pound even fiercer and she could feel her shaky breath pick up.

Before she could stop herself, she turned around and stared unseeingly into the black, imagining the wide span of his back, scattered with acne and moles, staring back at her. Before she lost her nerve, she scooted closer, tentatively placing her arm around his waist, feeling the minute he registered her touch.

He didn't shove her away, simply muttered something about her cold feet, and placed his hand on top of hers. Lacing their fingers.

She closed her eyes.