13. "I promised I wasn't going to push you."

Darren's POV on chapter 13 of As a White Knight on His Steed

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Hearing Chris say that I'd have to sleep in my own bunk from then on put a bit of a damper on my exuberance that morning, but I was surprised to find how little it truly bothered me. I felt like nothing could really disturb my equilibrium now that we'd professed our love for each other.

All of my insecurities from the previous week seemed so silly. I realized – Duh! – that Chris was not me. Just because when I was in love with someone (Chris, Chris, Chris – always Chris) I wanted to be as physically close as possible every single moment of the day and night, that didn't mean that he did, too. And that was okay. What mattered was that he loved me. And I loved him enough to want him to have whatever he needed, even if what he needed turned out to be me staying in my own bunk so that he could get a good night's sleep.

Of course, I did my best to negotiate for as much cuddle-time as possible within the boundaries of his comfort zone. After a little back-and-forth, and a lot of kisses, we finally agreed to a nightly snuggle-session every evening between dinner and the campfire. That way we could keep the cuddling separate from our tradition of reading to each other right before bed, and still end up sleeping in our own bunks.

The first evening didn't start out quite as smoothly as I'd planned, though. We hurried away from the dining hall right after dinner, and as soon as we reached the bunkhouse, I threw myself down on top of the blanket on the bottom bunk and patted the space next to me. "C'mere."

"Darren, get off of my bed!"

"You said we could cuddle!"

"Darren!"

"What?!"

"Look at your feet!"

I glanced down. "Oops," I said apologetically, sitting up and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "I guess I should take my boots off."

"Ya think?" Chris asked acidly.

"Sorry," I said, pulling off the offending boots. "I've just really been looking forward to cuddling with you all day. Forgive me?"

"Of course," Chris said. Because he's the best. He sat down on the bed next to me and took off his own boots.

I furtively brushed some dirt from the blanket before lying back down. Then I pulled Chris down in front of me, wrapping him in my arms.

"My turn to be the big spoon," I told him.

"Mmm, okay," Chris agreed, snuggling back against me. "This feels good."

"It really does, doesn't it?"

Chris interlaced his fingers with mine and brought them to his lips. I hummed contentedly and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

After a few minutes, Chris rolled over onto his back and I snuggled against his chest. We lay quietly like that for a while, half-dozing.

Eventually I roused myself enough to ask, "Is it okay if I kiss you?"

Chris seemed to be caught off guard by the question. "Why would you even need to ask?"

"Well, we've never kissed lying down before. And I know that you want to take things slowly, and that you worry about one thing leading to another, and I promised I wasn't going to push you, so I just thought I'd better check."

"It's fine, Darren," Chris said, smiling.

So I kissed him, tentatively at first, and then with more warmth. Chris returned the kiss, and I was a little surprised to discover that it really did feel different to be doing this lying down. Mindful of Chris's desire to take things slowly, I was careful to keep my hips and legs on the bed next to him, and to lean on my forearm so that only our lips were touching. Still, just the sight of him lying there beneath me was almost unbearably arousing.

The sound of my alarm going off couldn't have been less welcome. "Damn," I said. "We need to go to the campfire."

I rolled over and allowed Chris to get up first, surreptitiously adjusting myself in my jeans while his back was turned. Sigh.

The next evening found us cuddled back up together on the bed. This time Chris took the initiative, leaning over and bringing our lips together. I reached up, pulling his chest down against mine.

Chris sucked in a sharp breath, and I looked at him questioningly. "Is this okay?"

"Um, yeah…um, just…um, you know…um…" Chris stammered, blushing. It was the most adorable thing I'd ever seen.

"Yeah, I know," I smiled, bringing our lips back together.

Chris hesitated for a moment, then kissed me back passionately, all traces of shyness evaporating. I gasped as I felt his tongue tracing my lips, and he took the opportunity to lick into my mouth, sliding the tip of his tongue along my teeth and then flicking it over my hard palate. I felt like I was drowning, in the most delicious way.

This time, when the alarm went off, I wanted to hurl it across the room.

All week we kept growing bolder, allowing our hands to roam (above the waist, of course, but still) and our lips to wander to each other's necks and ears and collarbones (god, his collarbones). By the time the alarm went off each night, signaling that we had to go to the campfire, I was painfully hard. It was torture. The most wonderful, marvelous, exquisite form of torture.

By Saturday, I think we were both ready to explode. Knowing that we'd have the entire evening to ourselves, we showered and changed into our pajamas (which I'd gotten into the habit of doing in the bathroom, out of respect for Chris's sensibilities) right after dinner. Then we sat side by side on the bed, looking at each other with an equal mixture of hesitance and hunger.

I wanted Chris so badly, but there was something daunting in the knowledge that there'd be no alarm clock to interrupt us once we got started. I felt paralyzed by my desire. I needed him to make the first move.

Chris broke the tension with a laugh, knocking our shoulders together and asking teasingly, "Well, are you just going to sit there all night giving me puppy-dog eyes, or are we going to cuddle?"

I launched myself sideways, tackling him into the mattress, barking for all I was worth, and then licking his face.

Chris squealed, pushing me away. "Ew! Dog germs! Now I'll have to go wash my face again."

"Aww… Don't go. I'll kiss it and make it better."

Chris's eyes softened, and I kissed his (slightly slobbery) cheek, then his nose, and finally his lips. He reached up to pull me closer, and for the first time I allowed myself to settle fully on top of him. Chris sighed, hugging me tight, and I just melted.

Making out with Chris was like entering another dimension, where time didn't exist. I lost myself in his lips, his hands, the warmth of his body. Chris moaned as I nibbled across his neck, fisting his hand into my hair in a way that drove me wild. I sucked hard at a spot just below his ear, and was shocked when his hips bucked up, pressing his very obvious erection against my own.

I was just about to apologize for taking things too far, when Chris suddenly growled and flipped us over, pinning me beneath him. He seized my lips in a fierce kiss, grinding his hips down boldly. I gasped in surprise, then returned the kiss with equal passion. I was completely out of my depth, and yet somehow my body seemed to know just what to do. Soon, we were rocking rhythmically together.

Suddenly Chris dropped his head against my neck, panting. I could feel him trembling all over, and not in a good way. I grabbed his hips with both hands, holding him still. "Chris, baby, are you okay?" I asked, concerned.

"Yeah."

"Chris, you're shaking."

"What?"

"You're shaking," I repeated, "and I think you're hyperventilating."

Chris took a shuddering breath, and I could see tears gleaming in his eyes. "Sorry," he choked out.

I felt a fierce wave of protectiveness rise up inside of me. Strange, because I wasn't sure what exactly I needed to protect him from. All I knew was that he was frightened and upset, and all I wanted was for him to feel safe and loved.

"Shh," I soothed, scooting partially out from under him and pulling his head down against my chest. "It's okay. There's nothing to be sorry about. You know we never need to do anything you don't want to, right?"

"But I do want to. So what's wrong with me?"

"Chris, baby, nothing's wrong with you. Weren't you the one who told me that just because you want something, that doesn't necessarily mean you're ready for it?"

"Yeah."

"Well, something's telling me you're not quite ready for this. And it's okay. I'm not in any hurry."

"You're not mad?"

"Of course I'm not mad," I said emphatically, squeezing Chris more tightly and placing a kiss on his forehead. "I love you. And I'm happy just to lie here holding you until it's time to go to sleep."

I wrapped one arm around his back and ran the fingers of my other hand slowly through his hair. Gradually his quivering eased and his breathing returned to normal. We lay in silence for a while, and there was something infinitely precious in the way I could feel him relaxing against me.

"Would you stay here with me tonight?" Chris finally asked.

"I'd love to."

End Notes: I just want to say how much I appreciate all of you lovely readers and reviewers. You're the only reason I'm writing this story. Thank you so much for making me smile, making me laugh, making me squeal, making me blush… 3