[ nick isn't entirely sure what he expects to happen. a few possibilities spiral out in front of him — the one where august pulls back and they never talk about this again, the one where august laughs because of course nick is just joking again, the one where august is disgusted and something fundamental breaks between them, the one where he kindly lets nick down, the one, singular possibility where august kisses him back.
he's not prepared for any of those possibilities, really, but he's least prepared for this. ambiguous enough that it could mean anything at all, that nick doesn't quite know what to do. it had taken twenty minutes of psyching himself up just to do this much, and the thought of taking another major leap is daunting to say the least. but he's in it now, there's no going back for better or worse, so he resists the urge to pull away and laugh, blow it off, make a joke, carry on as normal. no, maybe the only thing worse than an all out rejection would be to bitch out here. so he bites back the urge to run, the instinct that normally comes so naturally to him, and instead he matches august's quiet tone with a murmur of his own. ]
Because I wanted to.
[ it's as simple as that, really. nick wants to feel august's lips on his own, he wants to know what it's like to have august's hand running up under his shirt, wants to know if he'll be hard or soft or rough or gentle. nick has the tendency to fixate on anything that catches his curiousity, and he's been all too focused on this for too long now.
they're so close now, it hardly takes any movement at all. all he needs to do is tilt his head a fraction for his mouth to press against august, and he's lingering again, still close enough that when he whispers their lips brush again. ]
[Nick's answer confirms that this is actually happening and not at all where he expected their night to go. he's so used to the quiet nights where they talk or languish, the familiar routine of one of them falling asleep first and a screen on in the background, flashing blueish light across the angles of their faces. sometimes it's only darkness that welcomes them into deep sleep.
he snuffs the joint out in his hand, magic fizzling around it until it disappears, only a trail of smoke left as evidence. if Nick wants to lament about it being a waste, he'll have to save it for later. August wants to cherish this moment, keep it stored away in his mind to look at whenever he likes.]
You have no idea.
[it takes everything not to pull Nick into his arms and feel the weight of him on his body. he chooses a gentler approach, brings his hand up to Nick's neck, thumb grazing along his jaw, fingers pressing delicately - but firm - along his hairline. it's enough pressure to close the remaining barely-an-inch away distance. he kisses Nick the way he's always imagined kissing him, like finally is on the tip of his tongue, a release of passion he never thought he'd be able satiate. like he's been given permission to let go and show him. a kiss to remember forever.]
[ on an ordinary night nick absolutely would have bitched about the wasted butt of a joint, because he loves being annoying and belligerent almost as much as he loves being high, but this isn't an ordinary night. no, this stopped being an ordinary night an hour ago, when nick decided that he wasn't going leave until he knew what august's lips felt like against his own.
he feels the moment where everything really changes. august's palm presses warm against nick's neck and nick knows with absolute certainty that all of those questions that he's been fixated on are going to be answered. he leans in, up, closer, shifting forward until his knees press against august's legs and he can tilt his head into a deeper kiss.
nick wants to crawl into his lap, wants to push august down and peel his shirt off and feel his skin under his teeth, wants to touch and take so bad it almost aches in him, but he reaches out a hand, presses it flat on august's chest and--he's nervous?
nick doesn't get nervous, categorically so. even when probably he should, it's just a fact of life. he's confident to an almost unhinged level, even in the face of undeniable logic saying that he shouldn't be. nick doesn't get nervous, so this is...unprecedented, in a lot of ways.
his hand quickly clenches into a fist around august's shirt, lest he get any crazy ideas about pulling away or making space that nick emphatically does not want, and when he shifts up to swing a leg over august's lap and settle into it, it's clumsy, unpracticed and ungraceful.
it doesn't matter though, there's barely a moment to catch a breath before nick is kissing him again. ]
[Nick's clumsiness doesn't go unnoticed, from the moment he's grasping at his shirt to the way his leg almost knocks into his chest when he pulls himself into his lap. he lets out a breathy laugh that's caught in another kiss. his hand remains at his neck, he likes the way he can feel Nick's pulse beneath his hand and his hips, oh his hips that he wishes he could grip and manipulate the way he wanted.
his kisses are savoring, filled with a drawn out longing that become more and more intense as the seconds tick by. he can feel his wrist getting numb from leaning on it for too long but he doesn't care, he's too focused on the taste of him, tongue sliding past teeth to encourage Nick to open for him, because he wants to taste everything, to take his breath away and wet his tongue with his own. he wonders if they're moving too fast, if Nick is rushing into him the way he rushes into everything else. it's the thought that has him break away, nearly breathless as he looks into his eyes.]
Nick, I-
[voice low, he hardly ever trips over his own words. he's on the edge of something - it's taking everything out of him not to just take, take, take. there are so many things he wants to say, instead cutting himself off to dip his chin down and let out a soft groan into Nick's neck. then his hand is trailing down all the way to his waist. his shirt gets hiked up enough that when he wraps his arm around his lower back it's skin on skin. Nick is soft, cooler to the touch, and August's warmth radiates into him.]
What do you want?
[muffled words against skin, because he doesn't know. he'd be happy if they just sat here and made out for hours, even if it would feel like torture. as if to delay the answer, he explores Nick's throat with his mouth, stimulating his need to pleasure him, but taking pleasure in attempts of little bruising, leaving suckled marks on clean flesh.]
[ god, what does nick want. it's an impossible question to answer, least of all when there are teeth at his throat with just enough pressure that coherent sentences short circuit before he's ever able to fully realise them.
he's found himself in situations like this before, of course. august isn't his first kiss by any means, but right around the point where hands start wandering and breaths start panting is when nick usually laughs, and breaks, and spins away out of reach. what does he want, as if he even knows what's on offer, really. ]
Everything.
[ he hardly makes the conscious decision to answer, just tips his head back to expose more of his neck and slides down closer into august's lap. like this, he can feel the rise and fall of august's chest and it's--satisfying, in a way that nick can't quite explain, when he feels rather than hears the hitch in august's breath.
everything is right, though maybe anything would have been more accurate. whatever august is willing to give him, however far he's willing to let this play out. his hands drop, fumble at the hem of august's shirt, and it's probably a fair assessment that he's rushing things, but this isn't just impulse. days, he's been thinking about this, weeks, maybe longer if he's really willing to examine the way he lingers in hugs and drapes himself over august. nick tugs at the shirt, doesn't make a move to actually pull it off, but the intent is there. ]
[he breaks from Nick's neck, a sweet wet sound as his lips leave skin. his arm around his waist flexes, hand gripping into an open canvas, bringing Nick in as close as he can be as he looks at him to search his eyes. everything, i want you. he's trying to hold himself back, and already he's left marks on skin as if to say i've been here. he isn't trying to make a claim, but a memory, something to be touched, something that he could snap a photo of and wouldn't even need a face to know who it was.]
I want you, too.
[he doesn't say for how long. with a whispered 'hold on' and a grunt and strength that hides beneath his clothes in lean muscle, he scoots the both of them backwards enough - one smooth movement, somehow - that his back is now against one of the many chest of drawers that hold spare sheets that no one has touched in years. his arm is finally free from holding himself up and he can spare it the tingling that runs along his nerves.
he sighs, leans his head against the hardwood. his back is thanking him, too. he takes his free hand to place it over Nick's, reassuring. he wets his lips, cheeks flush.]
We can go slow.
[Nick is momentarily released from his grasp as he lifts his shirt up and off of himself in one swift motion, because that's what he wants, and he'd do anything for him. his hair becomes a little disheveled, but he doesn't fix it. the partial undressing of himself was quick, but his hands are slow to bring up Nick's shirt, taking it up in gentle movements bit by bit, hands working along the skin beneath it as he does so.]
[ does he want to go slow? not particularly, but even nick can recognise that the frenetic desire to grab, snatch, take is as much about nerves and the half-expected belief that if he lets up for even half a second, that august will change his mind or the moment will be lost. that if they take a breather, they'll overthink the moment too much and backpedal before they've gone too far.
nick doesn't want to go back, but he takes a moment to slowly exhale all the same. if nothing else it gives him the chance to look at august--and nick thinks he might never want to tear his eyes away after this. hair messy, lips wet, pupils big and black as he looks back at nick - nick almost wants to photograph him, immortalise it forever in more than just memory. ]
Do you want slow?
[ the muscles in his stomach flex underneath august's hand, and he resists the urge to just tear his shirt off in a matching move. instead nick curls a hand loosely around august's bicep, squeezing idly before he slides forward in his lap. not much, just enough that he can grind down just a fraction. just a little more pressure, paired with a slow, satisfied smile. ]
[torn between being swallowed and swallowing everything that Nick is, he struggles to answer. words become lost on his tongue, hands hovering along his chest. he's searching him again, hoping he can peer deep enough to see what Nick is thinking; buzzed and horny on his lap. he's better than any drug, and he wants to taste every part of him.
a soft groan escapes him and his eyes flutter closed for half a second when Nick grinds down against him, hips instinctively rolling up to met his. no, he doesn't want to go slow. but this is special - should be special, shouldn't just be some fuck that he takes however he wants. right? his silence is enough of an answer.
when he lifts Nick's shirt off, it's all he can do not to keep going, to switch their positions and take him as he desires. mouth parts and his throat opens, closes, he loves — 'i love' — ]
Nick. [he breathes out, thick with affection.] You know I won't be able to stop.
[maybe he's using that to his advantage. his free hands glide down Nick's sides and grip at his hips, purely to manipulate them to create more of that sweet pressure with a slow and tantalizing rhythm. god, that's good. he hates that they're only half undressed.]
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no subject
he's not prepared for any of those possibilities, really, but he's least prepared for this. ambiguous enough that it could mean anything at all, that nick doesn't quite know what to do. it had taken twenty minutes of psyching himself up just to do this much, and the thought of taking another major leap is daunting to say the least. but he's in it now, there's no going back for better or worse, so he resists the urge to pull away and laugh, blow it off, make a joke, carry on as normal. no, maybe the only thing worse than an all out rejection would be to bitch out here. so he bites back the urge to run, the instinct that normally comes so naturally to him, and instead he matches august's quiet tone with a murmur of his own. ]
Because I wanted to.
[ it's as simple as that, really. nick wants to feel august's lips on his own, he wants to know what it's like to have august's hand running up under his shirt, wants to know if he'll be hard or soft or rough or gentle. nick has the tendency to fixate on anything that catches his curiousity, and he's been all too focused on this for too long now.
they're so close now, it hardly takes any movement at all. all he needs to do is tilt his head a fraction for his mouth to press against august, and he's lingering again, still close enough that when he whispers their lips brush again. ]
Is this okay?
no subject
he snuffs the joint out in his hand, magic fizzling around it until it disappears, only a trail of smoke left as evidence. if Nick wants to lament about it being a waste, he'll have to save it for later. August wants to cherish this moment, keep it stored away in his mind to look at whenever he likes.]
You have no idea.
[it takes everything not to pull Nick into his arms and feel the weight of him on his body. he chooses a gentler approach, brings his hand up to Nick's neck, thumb grazing along his jaw, fingers pressing delicately - but firm - along his hairline. it's enough pressure to close the remaining barely-an-inch away distance. he kisses Nick the way he's always imagined kissing him, like finally is on the tip of his tongue, a release of passion he never thought he'd be able satiate. like he's been given permission to let go and show him. a kiss to remember forever.]
no subject
he feels the moment where everything really changes. august's palm presses warm against nick's neck and nick knows with absolute certainty that all of those questions that he's been fixated on are going to be answered. he leans in, up, closer, shifting forward until his knees press against august's legs and he can tilt his head into a deeper kiss.
nick wants to crawl into his lap, wants to push august down and peel his shirt off and feel his skin under his teeth, wants to touch and take so bad it almost aches in him, but he reaches out a hand, presses it flat on august's chest and--he's nervous?
nick doesn't get nervous, categorically so. even when probably he should, it's just a fact of life. he's confident to an almost unhinged level, even in the face of undeniable logic saying that he shouldn't be. nick doesn't get nervous, so this is...unprecedented, in a lot of ways.
his hand quickly clenches into a fist around august's shirt, lest he get any crazy ideas about pulling away or making space that nick emphatically does not want, and when he shifts up to swing a leg over august's lap and settle into it, it's clumsy, unpracticed and ungraceful.
it doesn't matter though, there's barely a moment to catch a breath before nick is kissing him again. ]
no subject
his kisses are savoring, filled with a drawn out longing that become more and more intense as the seconds tick by. he can feel his wrist getting numb from leaning on it for too long but he doesn't care, he's too focused on the taste of him, tongue sliding past teeth to encourage Nick to open for him, because he wants to taste everything, to take his breath away and wet his tongue with his own. he wonders if they're moving too fast, if Nick is rushing into him the way he rushes into everything else. it's the thought that has him break away, nearly breathless as he looks into his eyes.]
Nick, I-
[voice low, he hardly ever trips over his own words. he's on the edge of something - it's taking everything out of him not to just take, take, take. there are so many things he wants to say, instead cutting himself off to dip his chin down and let out a soft groan into Nick's neck. then his hand is trailing down all the way to his waist. his shirt gets hiked up enough that when he wraps his arm around his lower back it's skin on skin. Nick is soft, cooler to the touch, and August's warmth radiates into him.]
What do you want?
[muffled words against skin, because he doesn't know. he'd be happy if they just sat here and made out for hours, even if it would feel like torture. as if to delay the answer, he explores Nick's throat with his mouth, stimulating his need to pleasure him, but taking pleasure in attempts of little bruising, leaving suckled marks on clean flesh.]
no subject
he's found himself in situations like this before, of course. august isn't his first kiss by any means, but right around the point where hands start wandering and breaths start panting is when nick usually laughs, and breaks, and spins away out of reach. what does he want, as if he even knows what's on offer, really. ]
Everything.
[ he hardly makes the conscious decision to answer, just tips his head back to expose more of his neck and slides down closer into august's lap. like this, he can feel the rise and fall of august's chest and it's--satisfying, in a way that nick can't quite explain, when he feels rather than hears the hitch in august's breath.
everything is right, though maybe anything would have been more accurate. whatever august is willing to give him, however far he's willing to let this play out. his hands drop, fumble at the hem of august's shirt, and it's probably a fair assessment that he's rushing things, but this isn't just impulse. days, he's been thinking about this, weeks, maybe longer if he's really willing to examine the way he lingers in hugs and drapes himself over august. nick tugs at the shirt, doesn't make a move to actually pull it off, but the intent is there. ]
Gus, I want you.
no subject
I want you, too.
[he doesn't say for how long. with a whispered 'hold on' and a grunt and strength that hides beneath his clothes in lean muscle, he scoots the both of them backwards enough - one smooth movement, somehow - that his back is now against one of the many chest of drawers that hold spare sheets that no one has touched in years. his arm is finally free from holding himself up and he can spare it the tingling that runs along his nerves.
he sighs, leans his head against the hardwood. his back is thanking him, too. he takes his free hand to place it over Nick's, reassuring. he wets his lips, cheeks flush.]
We can go slow.
[Nick is momentarily released from his grasp as he lifts his shirt up and off of himself in one swift motion, because that's what he wants, and he'd do anything for him. his hair becomes a little disheveled, but he doesn't fix it. the partial undressing of himself was quick, but his hands are slow to bring up Nick's shirt, taking it up in gentle movements bit by bit, hands working along the skin beneath it as he does so.]
no subject
nick doesn't want to go back, but he takes a moment to slowly exhale all the same. if nothing else it gives him the chance to look at august--and nick thinks he might never want to tear his eyes away after this. hair messy, lips wet, pupils big and black as he looks back at nick - nick almost wants to photograph him, immortalise it forever in more than just memory. ]
Do you want slow?
[ the muscles in his stomach flex underneath august's hand, and he resists the urge to just tear his shirt off in a matching move. instead nick curls a hand loosely around august's bicep, squeezing idly before he slides forward in his lap. not much, just enough that he can grind down just a fraction. just a little more pressure, paired with a slow, satisfied smile. ]
I don't think I do.
no subject
a soft groan escapes him and his eyes flutter closed for half a second when Nick grinds down against him, hips instinctively rolling up to met his. no, he doesn't want to go slow. but this is special - should be special, shouldn't just be some fuck that he takes however he wants. right? his silence is enough of an answer.
when he lifts Nick's shirt off, it's all he can do not to keep going, to switch their positions and take him as he desires. mouth parts and his throat opens, closes, he loves — 'i love' — ]
Nick. [he breathes out, thick with affection.] You know I won't be able to stop.
[maybe he's using that to his advantage. his free hands glide down Nick's sides and grip at his hips, purely to manipulate them to create more of that sweet pressure with a slow and tantalizing rhythm. god, that's good. he hates that they're only half undressed.]