Page 125 of Shrapnel

“Mhmm. No one has ever dry-humped me before.”

“Ohgod,” Owen curled into a ball with his back to Jamie, smothering his face with a pillow. “Let go, I need to go jump out the window.”

Jamie chuckled, pulling himself up so he could nuzzle into Owen’s neck. “It was nice. I’ve never been woken up like that.”

“I didn’t know I could do that.”

Jamie scooted in close to him, his chest to Owen’s back. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t…obviously I’ve been horny before but it’s usually just…a thing? Like sneezing. Something that happened but it didn’t really affect my life.”

Smugness radiated off Jamie in waves and Owen alternated between wanting to die and wanting to smack the grin that was undoubtedly plastered onto his face.

“And now?”

God, he was loving this.

“Now I’m…very, very horny and it’s your fault. You and your stupid waist and pretty nipples.”

That got Jamie’s attention, he pulled the pillow off Owen’s face and turned him so that he was laying on his back and Jamie was draped over him. He brushed the bedhead from Owen’s eyes and tried to hold back his pleased smile.

“My waist?”

Owen refused to dignify that with an answer. He didn’t need to know all the things Owen was thinking about. Like Jamie’s strong fingers on a gun, or his long neck, or the way his dark hair coyly curled around his temples.

Jamie straddled him, pressing his obvious arousal against Owen’s thigh. He gasped when that thick heat pressed into him, eyes flicking up to meet Jamie’s which had gone from soft amusement to downright predatory in a matter of seconds.

“You’re not suffering alone.”

He kissed his neck, lips just gently grazing across the soft skin under his ear. It tickled. Goosebumps crawled along his skin. Owen shivered and his hands slipped around Jamie, finally feeling that waist under his fingertips and fuck, it was narrow enough for his fingertips to touch.

Jamie kept nosing along his neck, content to gently kiss with an aching casualness that made Owen squirm. Jamie huffed a laugh before sucking softly and Owenfelthis pupil’s blow. Because apparently, he was fourteen and getting his first hickey.

He rocked his hips, finally getting some friction with Jamie’s thigh. It wasn’t enough. He made a needy sound and the air punched out of Jamie—he captured Owen’s lips in retaliation. He bit down on the lower lip, sucking it into his mouth when he finally slotted their cocks together. Owen would be embarrassed about the noise he made later, because right now he needed to keep doing that.

Jamie pulled at his shirt, but Owen stopped him, squeaking a protest.

Jamie stopped and looked at him quizzically.

Owen groaned and dropped his hands over his face. Parting his fingers, he peeked out at Jamie and felt whatever blood was left in his upstairs brain flee south. The sun was haloing Jamie, catching the wayward strands of his dark hair. He was so toned and perfect. His pink nipples hard and lovely, even with the nubby bar of metal.

“You…you’re so…that.” He waved his hands at Jamie’s. “I’m soft.”

He snorted. “Are you shy?”

“No.” Owen wrinkled his nose. “I just don’t look like you.”

Jamie batted his hands away, stroking his abused lower lip with a thumb. “O Face, I’m a lot of things. But a narcissist isn’t one. I have no interest in fucking myself.”

That wasn’t the point. Owen tried to explain but Jamie kissed the protests off his lips. He slid his hands under Owen’s shirt, fingers skating up his skin. They were so long and strong, it was like they were everywhere at once. His nipple was tweaked, and Owen gasped, heels digging into the mattress. Jamie rolled it expertly.

“Owen,” Jamie murmured breathlessly. “Can I see you?”

Swallowing thickly, he nodded. Not because he wanted him to. Owen was pretty sure he was a sex with the lights off kind of guy. But because Jamie had shown so much of himself to Owen. He had metaphorically ripped off every Band-Aid and let Owen in.

Reverently, Jamie pulled at the hem of the borrowed t-shirt. He folded it up in his hands without breaking eye contact. He waited until as much of the material as possible was rolled up into his hands before sliding it over his head.

Instead of getting right back into kissing, he leaned back and let his eyes roam Owen’s body. Taking in his fill. The blush on Owen’s cheeks extended down to his chest and he looked away.