!!

How does that even work? It’s Adrian, for fuck’s sake! The guy who can't stop talking about owls over the phone and refuses to get the hint when you haven't replied to his twentieth text in a row. The one who's obsessed with killing people but will lecture you for two hours if you step on a bug by accident.

But recently, you've noticed other things. Like the fact that he got a new haircut and gained a little more muscle apparently. Or how good his hand looks when he's holding a beer bottle and how easily he can wrap his fingers around it because apparently his hands are big. It makes you wonder how they'd look around something else, like…your neck, for example.

Fuck. 

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t notice Harcourt walking towards you, so you definitely weren’t aware of the fact that she’s been observing you long before she even dared to speak, her eyes drifting you where you were looking– at who you were looking, to be more precise. Arms crossed over her chest, she looks back at you with the faintest smirk on her face, awaiting any sort of answer from you.

“Me? I’m great,” you reply nonchalantly, looking up at the night sky as if to distract yourself from this potentially incriminating conversation. It also helps to avoid looking at Adrian again, who keeps dancing with the others, completely unaware of the effect he’s having on you right now.

“Really? Cause you’re a bit…I don’t know, quiet,” your friend points out, standing right next to you as she also rests her back against the edge of the brick wall. “Like you’re all lost in your thoughts for some reason.”

Her disguised accusation makes you scoff, faking confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ems.”

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. So, how long?”

You almost choke on your beer. How long? How long what? Your mind drifts to the most inappropriate places, feeling your face burn in embarrassment because why are you even going there in the first place! That’s clearly not what Harcourt is asking. Not like you’d have an answer if that was what she wanted to know, because you’ve never actually seen–

“Oh my God, what the fuck?” she exclaims, frowning with pure disgust adorning her features as she shakes her head due to the image engraved in her brain. “I meant how long have you liked him. Jesus Christ!”

Feeling even more embarrassed, you struggle to find words at first. “Yeah, I figured that was what you were asking. Obviously. But I don’t– I really don’t understand why you’re asking me that.”

Harcourt takes the opportunity to include Chris in the conversation, since he walked away from the other three who keep dancing around and laughing their asses off to grab another beer. “Hey, could you please tell her how obvious she’s being?”

“You mean, the way she’s staring at Adrian like she wants to rip his clothes off and fuck his brains out?” he asks casually, which almost makes you want to jump off the roof right now to avoid further scrutiny.

“I am not looking at him like that!”

“You kinda are though,” he argues, offering you a shrug because he’s really not trying to crack a joke or anything, which makes your situation worse. It means he’s being truthful. You really are staring at him like a fucking creep. “We all noticed.”

“Except Adrian, of course,” Harcourt clarifies, watching as he just keeps moving his hips along with the rhythm of the music while having the time of his life. “I don’t think he’ll realize unless you say something.”

That suggestion horrifies you, looking at the two of them like they lost their mind. “Why would I say something to him?”

“Because he also looks at you like he wants to take your clothes off and fuck your brains out?” Chris replies, as if that piece of information should be obvious at this point. You turn to look at Harcourt, who nods with that same ‘you should know this by now’ look on her face. “He’s had a crush on you since, like…I don’t know, the first time he saw you?”

You can only laugh at that. “He doesn't have a crush on me, he's just…very friendly.”

“Yeah, right,” Chris chuckles sarcastically, almost half way done with his beer already. You guys have been drinking way too much tonight. “The screen saver of his phone is a picture of the two of you at that weird Star Wars thing you guys went to!”

“Okay, so what? Your birthday is his fucking password!”

“But he doesn't get a boner every time he watches me killing bad guys, does he?”

Harcourt can't help but look disgusted once again. “Ew. How the hell do you know that?”

“Because he shares way too much information with me that I really don't like knowing,” he replies, slightly frustrated at the fact that he's practically Adrian's personal diary at this point. “Besides, it’s kinda obvious when you look–”

“I’m sorry, I never had the urge to look at Adrian’s crotch after a mission,” she cuts him off immediately, visibly in disbelief as to why this is even part of the conversation. “Maybe that’s why I never noticed.”

“I don’t like looking at his dick either, but after he told me I got curious! Nevermind! My point is, that fucking creep is obsessed with you.”

You would never admit it out loud, but part of you always knew. You’re not that dumb as to not notice the way he acts around you. How he laughs a little too loud at your jokes, or the fact that he seems to remember absolutely every single detail about yourself that you’ve ever shared with him. The time he went absolute killer mode because a butterfly tried to kill you right in front of him. Not to mention the many times you’ve caught him staring at you.

There's a brief pause in the conversation before Harcourt turns to look at you, shrugging. “Looks like your feelings are reciprocated.”

You point a warning finger at her, which makes her smirk instantly. “I don't have feelings for him, okay? It's just…I don't know, I probably feel a little attracted to him, but that's it.”

Is that it? You’re not exactly sure. It’s like the amount of beer you’ve consumed tonight opened a little box you’ve kept locked and hidden at the back of your mind. Sure, Adrian might be a little too much sometimes, but there’s something…endearing about him. It’s actually entertaining to hear all about his last hyperfixation, and it’s almost adorable to see how excited he gets when he rambles on and on about it. And…okay, no. That’s enough. You can’t be thinking shit like this.

“Alright, cut the bullshit,” Chris says rather suddenly, standing right in front of you, demanding a definitive answer. “Do you want to fuck him, yes or no.”

“I–”

“Yes or no. It's a yes or no question. Not ‘I’ or ‘maybe’ or ‘let me think about it’. All you have to say is yes or no. For example, ‘do you like apples?’ yes. ‘Is Nick Jonas the hottest brother?’ no, we all know it’s Joe,” he insists, speaking so incredibly fast that it's almost making your head spin. “Don’t think too much about it, just answer the goddamn question. Do you want to fuck Adrian, yes or no.”

“Yes! I mean– shit.”

He offers you a satisfied smile and a friendly pat on your back. “There's your answer.”

“I should probably warn you not to have sex with him, cause that could end up being a complete disaster,” Harcourt starts, trying to offer some sort of reason, but she's just too drunk to care at this point, “but honestly, just go for it. Have fun. Just…you know, he might become even more obsessed with you.”

You stay quiet, because you don't want to admit out loud that the idea of him potentially getting more attached to you after tonight isn't necessarily a thought that bothers you as much as it should. Besides, it’s not like fucking him means that your friendship will be over. Is it really that terrible if you take it one step further? It's not like you can't stay friends. He'll understand that dynamic.

“Let's pretend this entire conversation didn't happen, shall we?” is all you have to say after that entire interaction, leaving the empty beer bottle you've been holding at the table to grab another from the boxes that Adrian brought tonight.

Leaving Harcourt and Chris alone, you walk over to where Adebayo is standing with her phone, struggling with her balance just a little as she goes through her playlist to find a song. Next to her, Economos is trying to snatch the phone away from her hand.

“Trust me, you'll love this one!” he insists, but Adebayo snatches his hand away. “Come on, we agreed that each one gets to select a song!”

“Yeah, the ones with actual taste!” 

He stops his attempts at getting the phone, looking very much offended. "That's so uncalled for.”

“Oh, my favorite person ever!” She smiles at you as soon as she sees you approaching them, her voice revealing just how drunk she is. “Do you want to dance? I think we should dance together.”

“That's exactly what I was thinking.”

“You could definitely dance to my song if you give it a chance, you know.”

“No, dude, we don’t want to dance to old people music,” Adebayo jokes, letting out a soft chuckle at his reaction.

“Aw, leave him alone,” you join in on the joke, patting John’s back sympathetically. “He's young at heart. A lot of twenty-something teenagers have severe back pain these days.”

“Fuck both of you,” he snaps, but he's unable to hold back his laughter. “You don't even know what song I had in mind.”

“Alright, fine. Surprise us.”

Adebayo hands him the phone, and just a few seconds later a Britney Spears song starts blasting. John hands her back the phone with a satisfied grin before walking off to grab a beer. The two of you exchange a look, but don't comment on it. Instead, you start dancing together without a care in the world. 

Chris and Harcourt are talking by themselves at one corner of the rooftop, but you don't have enough time to focus on them because your attention drifts to Adrian and Economos as soon as you hear the latter shouting when he's being drenched in beer.

“Dude! Now it looks like I peed my fucking pants!” he says, obviously annoyed, pointing at the wet patch on his jeans.

Adrian can't help the scandalous laugh that escapes him. “It does look like you peed yourself!”

Economos thought it would be a good plan to get some well-deserved revenge, pouring beer all over his friend as retaliation. Adrian, of course, couldn't care any less. If anything, he seems to enjoy being drenched in alcohol.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Adebayo chuckles, giving you a mischievous look before she rushes to grab a bottle of beer.

You immediately decide to join them, mimicking your friend's actions. As soon as you turn around to face the group again, right after grabbing a new beer, you're completely frozen in place, unable to function properly due to the sight in front of you.

Adrian’s shirt is discarded on the floor and he's already taking his shoes off. It just keeps getting worse (better) when you watch him hurriedly work on getting rid of his pants too, seemingly wanting to get as less beer on his clothes as possible.

It's both a torture and a gift to be able to see this. Him, almost naked at this point, drenched in beer. It's like you could see every drop of the golden liquid dripping down his torso. Every muscle of his body glistening. And the sight of him parting his lips and sticking his tongue out if hopes of some of the beer landing in his mouth? Holy shit.

How have you not noticed all of that before? 

You remind yourself you can't be staring at him like that, so you do your best to ignore the sinful thoughts that invade your mind as you join Economos and Adebayo. All of you pour the three bottles over him, unable to contain your laughter at the end result. He's absolutely drenched. You try to keep yourself from trailing your eyes all over his body, finding it extremely difficult. 

How come it's so incredibly hot up here on the roof all of a sudden? You feel like you're burning up the more you focus on not staring.

“Could someone get me a towel?” Adrian asks, which makes the scene even more comical as he tries to wipe his glasses clean with John’s shirt. “Hey, Harcourt, I think I might need to use your shower.”

“You guys are unbelievable.” She shakes her head when her eyes land on her almost naked friend, absolutely covered in beer. 

“Where did Chris go?” Adebayo asks with obvious confusion, visibly disappointed that he left so suddenly without even saying goodbye.

Harcourt lets out a tired sigh, shrugging. “He said he wasn't feeling well.”

“Oh, really?” you inquire, and she immediately turns to look at you. It's like she knows you're trying to get back at her for her previous investigation regarding your own situation.

“Yes, really,” she insists coldly, almost warningly. “Is there any beer left or did you waste all of it on this?” she asks shortly after, hinting at Adrian.

“I brought enough to last us like a week, don't worry,” he replies, proud of his calculations on how much alcohol he was supposed to bring tonight.

“Great,” she replies dryly, taking her keys out of her pocket to throw them at him. Adrian effortlessly catches them in the air. “Go take a shower.”

“Thank you– oh shit, I almost forgot my clothes.”

“I can take them downstairs, don't worry.” You don't know why you decided to speak up at that very moment. Maybe your drunken brain saw it as an opportunity, or perhaps you were genuinely trying to be helpful. Because there is a chance that you're offering to help out of the kindness of your heart, right? Not because you're awfully horny and you just want to be alone with him. “I mean, since you're covered in beer.”

Adrian looks at you, a bit stunned at first. “Oh…okay, yeah. That'd be helpful. Thanks!”

At that very moment, you're experiencing an even worse version of the walk of shame in front of your friends as you follow after him. Harcourt and Adebayo are trying very hard not to smirk when you look at them, while Economos is looking in between you and Adrian as if he's trying to make sure he's getting the vibes right.

“Have fun!” you hear Adebayo as the two of you are about to leave the rooftop, unable to hold it back any longer.

“What?” Adrian asks, sounding genuinely confused as he turns to look at you for an explanation. “Why would she say that?”

“I have no idea,” you lie, shoving Adrian towards the door to encourage him to keep walking, fearing any of them might want to say something else. 

Hopefully no neighbor has the misfortune of witnessing an almost naked guy covered in beer walking around the apartment complex. You don’t think you’ll be able to live with that kind of embarrassment as you have to walk past them with an apologetic smile on your face.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You should've left Adrian's clothes on the bathroom counter and gone back upstairs with the others, but you're apparently too far gone at this point, because you decide to lay down on the couch while you…wait for him? Is that what you're doing?

You just lay there in complete darkness, hearing the sound of water coming from the shower and his occasional singing. It's only when both of those sounds stop that you debate whether or not you should even be here. There's still time for you to get out of the apartment and he’d have no idea that you've been here the whole time. Perhaps this is stupid. Pointless. Dangerous. Perhaps you should just go upstairs.

As soon as you stand up from the couch, the door of the bathroom opens and you're frozen in place when you see Adrian at the doorway. Relief washes over you when you realize he's wearing his jeans.

He offers you a confused, yet somewhat pleasantly surprised look. “You're still here. I thought you went upstairs already.”

“Oh, I was just–”

“Luckily I didn't walk out naked! I was about to, but this isn't my house so…that would’ve been a bit distasteful, I think,” he says before you can finish, offering you a casual smile as he walks closer to you. “I’m sorry. What were you going to say?”

“Wha– oh! Yeah. I just stayed here to rest for a bit.” It's the first lie you can come up with at that moment, hoping it's convincing enough. “Too much beer, I guess.”

“Well, you can always take a shower. It helps to sober up completely.” You watch as he walks towards the bag he brought for the night. It looks unnecessarily heavy, so you can only assume he packed it full with things he probably won't even need to spend the night at someone else's house, but he still decided to bring them ‘just in case’. As soon as he gets up from the ground after retrieving his deodorant and toothbrush, he lets out a little groan. “Wait, no…nevermind. Still drunk.”

You laugh shortly, taking a seat on the couch again as you just watch him walk back to the bathroom. “We’ve been drinking a lot tonight.”

“Yeah, but it was worth it, right? I mean, it's been a while since the five of us got together. It's only fair that we get absolutely hammered.”

He goes back inside the bathroom, but he leaves the door open this time. You have a fantastic view of his back while he brushes his teeth, so you just sit there and enjoy the show.

You notice he focuses on something on the wall before he exits the bathroom, and you only realize what it was when he’s already putting Emilia’s bathrobe on, barely bothering to tie a loose knot at the front before walking back towards the living room.

“What a shame Chris wasn't feeling good tonight,” he comments out of nowhere, sounding genuinely concerned. “I need to text him and see if he's okay. Maybe he needs his best friend there with him, you know?”

“I think Eagly is probably at the house, so…he'll be fine,” you reply jokingly. If you had to guess, he probably left after whatever unpleasant conversation he had with Harcourt. It's the only explanation you have as to why he left without saying anything and why Emilia looked so distant (more than usual, at least) all of a sudden.

“His human best friend! I don't think Eagly is able to fluff his pillows and tuck him into bed.”

“Yeah, and I don't think Chris would enjoy it if you do that.”

“No way, he adores it when I take care of him! It's like our thing,” he insists, like Chris genuinely appreciates it when he acts like a clingy best friend– which probably happens all the freaking time. “Wait. You're not jealous, are you?”

The question stuns you for a few seconds, blinking up at him as you try to come up with an answer. Why the fuck would you be jealous? And why does a seemingly innocent and stupid question get you all defensive for absolutely no reason? Like he's calling you out on something he shouldn't when, in reality, he's just being his random self asking random questions you shouldn't take seriously.

“Why are you wearing that?” you ask, attempting to change the subject entirely as you finally address the fact that he’s wearing Harcourt’s robe. 

It looks good on him. Very good. Tiny, tight, hot…

Stop it! It's your friend's robe, for fuck's sake! Don't you dare think it looks hot on your other friend!

“I figured it'd be more comfortable to sleep in this rather than my shirt,” he replies casually, doing a little spin to show you how it fits him from all angles before he takes a seat on the couch next to you. “So? You didn't answer my question.”

“Do I even have to? I mean, why would I be jealous about you tucking Chris into his bed?” you ask back with a playful grin on your face.

“I don't know, that's why I was asking,” he shrugs, seemingly entertained by the conversation as much as you are. “In case you are jealous but just don’t want to tell me, I could tuck you in and fluff your pillows too, if you want.”

Again, perhaps the alcohol you've consumed tonight is the one to blame for the fact that you can’t seem to keep your mouth shut as soon as a thought pops in your head. Or maybe it's the fact that you're desperate for absolutely anything at this point. Whatever it is, you can't help yourself. 

“Oh, really? And that's all you'd do?”

You notice the way he looks at you like he might have a clue of what you're saying, but still looking a bit confused. A bit mortified too, perhaps. “You mean, like…giving you a blanket or something?”

“Or…” you test your luck even further, inching just a bit closer to him on the couch. 

“Or…leaving a glass of water on your nightstand?”

His reply makes you giggle, shaking your head at his naivety. “No, Adrian. I meant other things.”

“Other things?” he repeats, and you can see his Adam's apple move when he swallows thickly, sitting completely still. “Like– uh, I can't really– can't really think of anything else at the top of my head. Weird,” he rambles nervously, letting out a soft chuckle as he looks back at you. “You might have to give me an example.”

You really try to keep it together. To maybe build this up a little more before fully going for it, but you can't really hold back from him much longer. There’s just something that keeps pulling you in towards him, no matter how much you try to fight against it. 

It's obvious that he won't dare to say or do anything unless he's absolutely certain that you mean what he thinks you mean, so you know you have to make the first move.

Adrian's breath catches in his throat when you dare to move closer– too close. Before he can fully process this is actually happening, you're straddling his lap like it's the most casual thing ever. Like you've been on top of him before. Like this isn't about to give him a fucking heart attack.

The fact that his hands immediately find your hips is encouraging. “Maybe I can show you what I mean.”

He looks up at you like his entire life depends on whatever it is that you want to do next. “Yeah, that sounds…that would be great,” he mutters, hands gripping your hips with a little more intent.

Adrian stays completely still at first, letting you take the lead. When your face moves closer to his, you notice the way he leans in, thinking you're going to kiss him, but you don't. Not right away at least. He stops leaning in as soon as he realizes you're actually just trying to tease him, a soft smile appearing on his lips because he enjoys that you’re doing that.

You don't want to torture him for too long, so you’re leaning closer a few seconds later, chosing to press your lips against his neck first. The contact almost makes him shiver, already earning the tiniest of sounds from him. 

He allows himself to enjoy your affections, tilting his head to the side to expose more of his neck to you. Another sound escapes him, louder this time, when you drag your tongue against his pulsepoint, arms wrapping around your hips to press you impossibly close to his body.

“Fuck, this is– you're…so fucking hot…” you hear him mutter, the excitement and eagerness in his voice evident. “I’m, like, really turned on right now,” he adds shortly after, like that's somehow a bad thing.

You have to move back from him after he says that, offering him a reassuring smile. “That's kinda the point, Adrian.”

He smiles back, visibly relieved after hearing that. Feeling slightly more confident on what he should be doing, you watch as he delicately traces your jaw with his fingers before his hand eventually rests at the back of your neck. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers, already looking like it might genuinely crush him if you say no.

But of course you won't say no to that. Instead, you lean down to crash your lips against his in a kiss that’s slow, tentative and incredibly sensual at first…until the first roll of your hips. As soon as that happens, your lips part in a breathless gasp and he urges you back into the kiss– all tongue, teeth and longing now. Like the two of you were waiting for this very moment to come for a very long time, matching each other's urgency.

His grip on you is strong enough to keep you close to him, but not as tight as if to restrain you from moving on top of him. If anything, he seems like he wants you to keep moving. You grind down onto his crotch again, denim against denim. It doesn't feel nearly as good as it could if there were less clothes involved, but at least it's something.

Just a few seconds later, still making out with you, he switches positions so you could be laying down on the couch– Harcourt's couch, you think, as your brain suddenly remembers where all of this is taking place. 

“Is this okay?” he asks when you're underneath him, slightly out of breath. “Sorry. I won't be stopping all the time– trust me, I really don't want to stop. Ever. Like, I would be doing this all day if I could, but I don't know if you like to be on top all the time or what.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, getting comfortable on the couch. “Don’t overthink it, just…it’s okay.”

He nods. “Alright, yeah. Cool. Just checking.”

Adrian immediately crashes his lips against yours again. It's like he’s unable to keep his hands still. They move all over your body– hair, boobs, waist and thighs primarily, trying to explore as much of you in the least time possible.

You can't help the little sound that escapes your lips when he kisses your jaw, quickly moving down to your neck. One of your hands tangles in his hair, his curls still damped from the shower. Your fingers gently pull in silent encouragement and he's immediately rolling his hips down to meet yours with a necessity that almost has you gasping for air.

“You have no idea…” he starts, lips brushing against your pulse point as he moves yet again. Your legs immediately wrap around his waist, urging him to keep grinding against you as much as he wants. “No idea how many times I’ve thought about this moment. Holy shit…I might be having one of those dreams again.”

The comment makes you giggle a little, not expecting that confession. “This isn't a dream.” It's a bit difficult to maintain a conversation under the current circumstances, so that's as much as you can say for now.

“Yeah, I really hope it isn't. And if it is, I hope I don't wake up any time soon.” You thought that was the end of it, but of course he won't shut up that easily. His hips roll down to meet yours again, a soft moan erupting from both of you. “I was dreaming about you last night but my stupid alarm woke me up. So annoying.”

“Well, unless you’re dreaming of fucking me in Harcourt's couch, I’d say you're very much awake right now.”

You're growing a little impatient, both hands traveling down to grab the robe in an attempt to slide it off of him. He understands your intention immediately, moving away just enough to help you with that task. 

Before you're able to take a single peak at his body again, he leans down for another kiss, this one a lot shorter than the previous ones but just as intense. “Oh, I could have sex with you anywhere, to be completely honest,” he admits with an innocent smile. “Well, we’ve technically done it everywhere already. In my dreams, I mean. This one time we–”

“Adrian,” you cut him off, smiling softly. “As much as I’d love to hear all about your wet dreams about me, the others could enter through that door any minute now.”

“Right. Yeah, perhaps we should speed this up,” he agrees, although you can easily tell how disappointed he is when that realization sinks in.

“Don’t pout at me,” you warn him playfully, right before gently shoving him away to take your shirt off, throwing it carelessly to the ground. His eyes immediately trace down your form, glued to your chest with absolutely no attempts of being subtle. “Can you help me?”

There’s no need to ask twice. Adrian moves his hands to your back, easily undoing the clasp of your bra before hurriedly removing it from your body. It’s like he’s seeing heaven when the piece of clothing is finally off of you. “They’re even better than I dreamed of,” he comments, almost in disbelief as he gently squeezes them with his hands. As if he’s trying to figure out if this is actually happening. If he really is this lucky to be able to touch you.

His evident appreciation makes you feel like you’re on fire, back arching off the couch as he kneads your breasts with more intent now. It doesn’t help that he has this smug little grin on his lips when he realizes you’re enjoying what he’s doing.

“Fuck, they’re perfect,” he whispers, adoration evident in his words, leaning down to press his lips to your cheek, hips pressing to your own just as he’s pinching one of your nipples between his fingers. The sound that escapes your lips makes him smile from ear to ear. “Do you like that?”

“Yes,” you mutter, another sound interrupting you as your back arches again when you feel him pinch your hardened nipples again, “obviously.”

“Not obviously,” he argues in a soft voice. “I like hearing you,” his tone gets just a little lower now, enough to make you feel goosebumps when his breath crashes against your skin, “especially those pretty sounds you make when I touch you. I want to hear more of those, actually. I wonder how much louder you can get.”

He sits up, looking back at you with an eager smile as he quickly works on getting rid of your jeans. You can’t help the little gasp that escapes you when he pulls them down your legs in one swift move, your panties along with them. 

There’s something incredibly gentle in his roughness though, as if he’s trying to do everything for you. Like he’s analyzing what’s okay and not okay just by looking at your reactions. Gathering information to know what you want from him. You don’t really know how to feel at the idea of him studying you so closely right now, bringing some unexplained vulnerability that’s both scary and exciting.

The way his eyes trail down your naked form, silently appreciating every inch of you, is almost making your brain short-circuit. It’s just too much. It makes you feel like you want to hide yourself from his worship, while simultaneously wanting him to keep looking at you like you’re the most mesmerizing sight he’ll ever see in his entire life.

Adrian leans back down, seemingly unable to remain away from you for too long. He keeps one hand pressed on the armrest at the back of your head to keep his weight from crushing you, his other hand trailing down between your thighs.

You let out a little moan when his fingers brush against your slick folds, back arching up to him as you look into his eyes. His brows furrow just enough, expression conveying how much it turns him on to touch you like this.

“Fuck, you're so wet,” he mutters, almost in disbelief as his fingers begin tracing gentle circles on your sensitive clit. “I didn't know you liked me this much.”

“Shut up,” you reply, slightly breathy, letting out a soft chuckle.

Another moan escapes you. It encourages him to keep going, especially after your nails dig on his bicep. The eye contact is absolutely insane, like he's unable to look away from your face as he watches the consequences of his actions etched across your features. Your moans increase with each move of his fingers, grinding your hips against his hand in an effort to increase the pleasant sensation that runs through your body. 

The second you feel two of his fingers sliding inside you, a deep whimper erupts from you and he groans in appreciation. His lips find your neck again when you throw your head back against the cushions. You feel him suck on your skin, which only makes you that much desperate, mind practically numb at this point.

“You like this too?” he asks, almost playfully as he curls his fingers inside you, his palm pressing against your clit as he speeds up. “It sure looks like you are enjoying yourself.” He moves back, just enough to look down in between your bodies, letting out a low groan at the sight of his fingers buried deep inside you. “Holy shit. You're so– so amazing. So pretty. Perfect. Look at me, please…”

You comply with his request, eyes locking again as he quite literally wrecks you with his fingers. It's surprising to meet this side of him. The right mix between needy and demanding. Like he's not scared to take what he wants from you, but still making it look like you are doing him a favor.

How come you never realized all of this potential existed?! All the time you wasted, when you could've been fucking the living shit out of him.

“Adrian,” you mutter as soon as you remember you're not exactly alone tonight. The rest could walk in any second now, and you really don't want them to see you like this. His name sounds more like a plea than an actual warning, though, so he doesn't really take it into consideration as he keeps fingering you with such vigor. You actually congratulate yourself for not coming undone yet. “We have to– fuck!” you try again, voice at a slightly higher pitch than usual, your lack of breath evident.

“Isn't that what we're doing?” he asks, and you can't really tell if he's joking or not. “You said we had to be quick, so I’m…you know, quick,” he adds not long after, like he has no issue having a conversation right now. He sounds like he could casually start talking about the weather right now. “Which is, like, super annoying, by the way! I kinda wanted you to ride my fa– holy fuck, do you hear the mess you're making?”

“Y-yes…kinda your fault…”

“You’re welcome,” he smiles proudly. “Hey, you never said if you liked this or not.”

Your eyes almost roll to the back of your head when his fingers curl inside you again, legs slightly trembling as your orgasm approaches. “Does it…fucking look like– oh! Please don't stop!”

Eyes shut, your hips grind more insistently against his hand as you chase your much needed release. Part of you would love to stay with his fingers inside you all night, testing how much your body can handle before you're begging him to stop, but you know that's not possible. At least not tonight.

You feel him kiss the top of your head, rhythm steady. “You're close? Fuck, please tell me you're close.” The needy whisper against your temple makes you clench around his digits, and you can tell just by the sound he makes that it drives him absolutely insane. “Ohmyfuckinggod that's so hot. Please…please let me feel you. I need to feel you clenching like that again, please…”

His words are just too much, adding to the intense pleasure his fingers are providing. Your orgasm hits you like a fucking tidal wave. Bright white shines behind your eyelids, legs trembling and nails clawing at his arm as you try to hold onto any sort of stability you could manage to find in a moment like this. His movements slow down gradually, allowing you to climb down from your high while peppering your face with soft kisses, occasionally whispering one or two praises against your skin while he gives you time to recover.

“I have to say, that has to be the hottest thing I've ever seen in my entire life.” The first thing you see when you open your eyes it's that adorable ear-to-ear grin of his. A smile that absolutely doesn't reflect the way he just fingered you. “You are the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and, again, his smile really doesn't match his actions at all. How dare he offer you such a cute smile before taking them into his mouth, drinking in your arousal like it's the most delicious thing he's tasted? It’s fucking diabolical of him.

The sound of appreciation and delight that vibrates on his throat when your juices invade his mouth makes you clench pathetically around nothing, body already begging and aching for more despite the limits you’ve been pushed to already.

Of course he doesn't protest when your hands move down to his jeans, continuing to lick his fingers clean before he takes them out of his mouth. “This is so much better than my dreams already, although in them I had the time to do a lot more things for you.”

Still a little out of it from your (no exaggeration here) life-changing orgasm, you let out a soft chuckle at his words. “I’ll sit on your face next time, okay? Stop whining.”

You can see the way his face lights up at that, looking at you like he's trying to figure out if you're being serious or if you’re just joking around. “There’s a next time?”

His question is as endearing as it is nerve-wracking. You weren't planning on saying that out loud– why would you even say shit like that out loud. The last thing you want is to come off as desperate or something. But Adrian doesn't seem to be thinking that you're desperate. If anything, he seems relieved to hear that you're open to doing this again rather than it just being a one-time thing that was only possible due to a couple of Bud Lights.

Noticing you won't answer his question right away, he immediately starts talking again. “I mean, I wouldn't be opposed to a next time either. No pressure, of course, but…you know. It could be fun. And friends have fun together, right?”

Friends. Yes, exactly! Thankfully he sees it that way too. No need to complicate the friendship with silly little things like this, right? Friends fuck all the time and their friendship stays intact. Why couldn't the two of you be that type of friends?

You look up at him, your fingers gently tugging at the waistband of his jeans as a silent way of letting him know you want them off immediately. “We can have fun together,” you reply, agreeing with his previous statement.

Adrian looks over the moon right now, his mouth finding yours in an instant. You keep an arm around his neck to prevent him from moving away, moaning into his mouth. He kisses like he's been deprived of any sort of intimacy for way too long and it drives you absolutely insane. If you knew he kisses like this, you would've done something with that information a long time ago.

As the two of you make out, he gets rid of his pants and boxers and, almost instantly, your available hand searches for him. He lets out a breathy moan against your lips when your hand wraps around his length, which encourages him to kiss you that much harder.

You stroke him a few times, noticing the way he can't help but thrust into your hand, his sounds muffled against your mouth. The size of him is surprisingly pleasant– nothing that would make you fear for your life, but certainly one to remember. 

Again, if you knew this piece of information before…

He moves back from the kiss just enough to look at you, lips slightly swollen and glistening. “As amazing as your hand feels…I would– uh, I need to be inside you. Like right now, or I’ll lose my mind,” he whispers, growing incredibly desperate. “Please?”

You smirk at his evident eagerness, enjoying how he curses under his breath when you stroke him just a little faster. “It's really hot when you say ‘please’ like that.”

Lips just inches away from yours, he moans in a way that feels almost painful. It’s needy and desperate. “Please, let me be inside you. I’ll fuck you however you want, I promise. Whatever you want, just…oh my–”

He hides his face in your neck when you finally show him some sort of mercy. You don't let him thrust inside you just yet, but you guide him close enough so the swollen tip of his cock could dive into your folds, sliding deliciously over your clit in a way that has both of you gasping for air.

“Yes…fuck.” His voice is this quiet, needy whisper. Pathetic, almost. His body tenses just enough, his sanity threatening to snap with each teasing circle you draw around your clit as you use him to masturbate. “That's so hot, I…holy shit, you feel– so good.”

It's like you completely forgot you're fucking on Harcourt's apartment at this point. You could stay all night teasing him like this, just to get more of those desperate pleas and breathy whimpers. To see just how much he can take before bursting into your hand because he’s just so turned on he can’t help it.

“You feel good too,” you offer him. “And I bet you'll feel even better when you're inside me.”

“Don't– if you talk back to me right now I might…fall in love. Just warning you.”

You laugh, not really taking his words seriously. “Don't fall in love with me.”

“Don't tempt me then.”

Neither of you say anything else regarding that. Instead, you finally align him with your entrance and he just immediately thrusts into you. Sharp, intense and impossibly deep. It makes you gasp at the immediate intrusion, but you gladly take every inch of him, accommodating to his size.

“Sorry. I’m sorry…couldn't wait.” His breath tickling your neck makes you shiver, your mind going absolutely blank. All you can focus on is the way he's ball's deep inside you and he just refuses to move. “You feel fucking incredible, just like I imagined. Oh my fucking– thank you.”

He finally moves, sliding out of you just to fill you up with the same violent urge as before. “Thank you,” he whispers again, the hand at the back of your head grips the armrest tight, the other glued to your hip as he keeps you in place. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

Each thrust is accompanied by a soft gratitude escaping from his lips before his teeth sink on the side of your neck, just enough to get you to moan out a bit louder for him. Your legs are hooked to his hips, hands pressed against his back. 

He sucks on your neck a little too hard, making you let out a little whine at the feeling, but he quickly soothes the spot with his tongue. “You better don’t leave a mark,” you manage to say, evidently out of breath. He doesn’t respond. “Adrian.”

“Shhh,” he eventually replies. You can’t see his face but just by the tone of his voice, you can tell he’s smiling. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You fucking–”

He doesn’t let you finish. He refuses to hear more of that as his thrusts speed up to a point where you even forget how words work. It’s like you can’t quite figure out what language you speak, or what ‘speaking’ even means. Instead, you’re reduced to a moaning and panting mess underneath him. 

Adrian holds you close to his body, as if he’s hoping you two could somehow merge into one if he tries long enough. Your nails claw at his back and your whole body starts to tense, announcing your inevitable orgasm.

The sound of his skin colliding against yours echoes across the entire apartment, and you’re pretty sure everyone in this building is already aware of just how good Adrian is fucking you right now. Even when you try to quiet your moans, it’s simply not possible. Not when he’s hitting that particularly sensitive spot inside you with expert precision while repeatedly moaning into your ear in a way that’s downright disrespectful.

You can almost feel him twitch inside you when your walls begin clenching around him. “Fuck, do that again,” he grunts urgently, hips almost faltering. “Do– please, do that again.” 

As soon as you clench again, he thrusts into you even harder. You didn’t even know it could get any better, but here he is proving you wrong. “Adrian, I’m gonna–”

“I know, I know,” he cuts you off, almost soothingly. “Let go for me…let me fucking feel you– god, please, let me feel you.” He sounds so incredibly desperate, you think his words alone would be enough to make you come. “It’s okay…I got you. I got you…”

Your entire body trembles with the intensity of your release. The sound that leaves your mouth is absolutely sinful, nails mercilessly clawing at his back and eyes closed shut. The fact that he doesn't slow down one bit just adds to the tortuous pleasure, not giving you any time to climb down from such powerful ecstasy.

“Fuuuuck,” he grunts, fingers digging into your hip as he tries to keep you in place to keep up his pace. “You feel so good…so fucking tight. I could fuck you like this every day and never get– get tired of it…shit, I think I’m gonna cum too. It's– you want me to pull out?” 

“No, no…don't pull out,” you reply in an obvious fucked out voice. At first that was all you were going to say, but then you remembered how much he seems to enjoy it when you talk to him. “I want you to cum inside me. I need it– need you.” Almost as if you're fearing he'd move away, you wrap your legs around his hips to keep him close, despite the soreness in your muscles. “Please?”

That was his downfall. He's done. Maybe he could handle your breathless moans and the way your walls squeeze the living shit out of him because you're way too overstimulated, but there's absolutely no way he'll be able to control himself when you ask him to cum inside you. A man can only take so much.

His orgasm is as painful as yours, and you can only whimper as you feel him twitch deep within you, shamelessly filling you up. He gives you a few more sloppy thrusts until he's as much of a panting mess as you.

You offer him the softest of moans when he moves just a little, and you can tell the minimal shift of your bodies also affects him when he curses under his breath, trying to stay as still as possible until both of your bodies have relaxed enough.

A smile appears on your face when you notice his glasses slightly crooked, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. This is probably the hottest he’s ever looked. The most adorable too. “Was that better than it was in those wet dreams of yours?”

“You have no idea,” he replies almost immediately, which makes you laugh. “Was it– like, did you enjoy it too?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you repeat his words, smile widening just a little when you see the excitement on his face.

“Okay, great. Good. How bad would it be if I was here thinking this was the best sex of my entire life and you absolutely hated it? So, if you were to rate this from zero to ten–”

“Ten.”

“Really?” Another laugh escapes you when you see how much your answer surprises him. “That was quick! But wait, was it really that good or you’re just being nice to spare my feelings? Because I’ve seen online that girls are really good at faking it.”

“When have I ever been nice to spare your feelings?”

Adrian seems to think about it for a few seconds before he seems satisfied with the answer. “Yeah, fair enough.” There’s the briefest pause before he speaks again, his face inching closer to yours. “Next question. Would it be totally outrageous if I kiss you right now? As friends, of course.”

“You're such an idiot.”

“Hey! An idiot that almost made you scream your lungs out, mind you. I think Harcourt's neighbors are gonna hate her. So, no kissing then?”

You roll your eyes at his insistence, but you’d be lying to yourself if you say that you wouldn’t like the idea of kissing him right now. He's proven to be a good kisser and his mouth feels very nice against yours. Not to mention you already had sex so, really, what harm could a couple of kisses do now?

If everything stays in friends territory, there’s really no issue.

So, of course, instead of trying to get him to stand up, you place a hand at the back of his neck to bring him closer. All the initial pent-up tension is out of the way now. The kiss is a lot slower, but mind-numbingly sensual. Just the right amount of intensity and tongue. A+ kiss.

His fingers are tracing lazy patterns above your hipbone, but as soon as you feel his hand gripping your hip again, you immediately move away from the kiss. “Nope. It's enough for one night.”

“But we can be extremely quick,” he replies in a hurried whisper, trying to kiss you again.

“The others could walk in here any minute now,” you insist, gently trying to get him to stand up. “Come on.”

Adrian groans as a complaint, but makes the rational decision of standing up, giving you enough space to sit up. The first thing you do is recover your panties from the ground, putting them back on before gathering all your clothes and the backpack you brought with yourself for the night.

Without exchanging any other word, you hurry to the bathroom to get ready for a much needed sleep. Your legs feel sore and your mind races with thoughts of what just happened tonight.

You just had sex with one of your closest friends and you liked it, although ‘like’ would probably be the understatement of the century. It was so good, you fear you might be coming back from more a little sooner than you initially anticipated when you were considering the possibility of this potentially becoming a recurrent thing between you.

Holy shit, you just had sex with one of your closest friends and you absolutely loved every second of it!

As soon as you see yourself in the mirror, your eyes widen in shock when you spot two marks on your neck. They're barely there, but you know they'll just get worse overnight. Part of you wants to be upset, but the other is somehow excited to have a few souvenirs to remember this night.

You don't have much time to look at the hickeys, though, because your phone starts buzzing with an incoming call.

“Yes?” you ask as soon as you answer.

“Are you two done fucking? We're going downstairs,” Harcourt replies with a not-so-pleasant voice, which is classic coming from her. “We’d rather avoid getting scarred for life.”

“We– uh, hold on.” Denying it was useless at this point, so you just abandon that plan right away. “Adrian, are you dressed already?”

“Ew.”

You see him walk towards the bathroom, already in his jeans and Emilia's robe back on. “Yeah. Why? Do you want to have sex again?”

“Ew!” 

“No. Ems says they'll be here in a minute, so she wanted to make sure we are…decent. All clear, you prude.”

“Thank god!”

As soon as she says that, the call is over. You place your phone on the bathroom counter before turning around to see Adrian casually standing by the doorway. “Do you mind? I need to pee.”

“Oh, sure,” he says with an apologetic smile, quickly closing the door to give you some privacy.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You’re very thankful that you decided to use the bathroom before the rest came downstairs, because as soon as the front door of the apartment opens, John runs to the bathroom and locks himself in there for what feels like hours.

“Come on, man! Open up!” Adrian exclaims for the millionth time, insistingly knocking on the door. “How do I know that you're not passed out on the floor choking on your own vomit?”

“Leave me the fuck alone!” Economos mumbles from inside, which only encourages Adrian to knock even louder.

Meanwhile, the rest of you are in Harcourt's kitchen. She's having her last beer while you're reminding a very drunk Adebayo to drink her glass of water before going to sleep.

“Trust me, you'll thank me tomorrow,” you say, offering her a smile as you hand her the glass.

She takes a sip, obeying your instructions, before she gives you a confused look. “I can't believe you fucked Adrian tonight.”

“I second that,” Harcourt agrees almost immediately.

“Hey, it was technically your idea.”

She looks absolutely horrified that you're saying that. “How was that my idea when you were already thinking about it before I even brought it up?”

“Wait, you told her to do it?” Adebayo asks, visibly lost. “But even if she did, you could've just…you know, not fuck him.”

Harcourt smiles victoriously. “Exactly.”

You're speechless for a moment, looking in between the two of them. “Whatever. I won't have this conversation with you if you're going to be judging me all the time.”

“Oh, no. No, no. No judgements. If you're into him that's completely fine– in fact, I’m happy to hear you got dicked down,” Adebayo rambles a bit with her words. “It's just…surprising, that's all. But you look cute together and all that! Your babies are going to be beautiful.”

“He's not my boyfriend. Or the father of my future children. We’re just friends.”

“Oh, please, that's bullshit and you know it,” Harcourt laughs, shaking her head. “I’m sure he has a list of baby names on his phone already.”

“Yeah, so does Chris, probably.”

Harcourt shoots you a death glare while Adebayo bursts out laughing, slouching over the counter as she tries to keep it together. “Holy shit, your taste in men is immaculate.”

She keeps laughing uncontrollably, and even when you want to stay pissed at Harcourt for all her comments, you really can't keep a straight face because your friend's laugh is really contagious. 

You notice Harcourt having the same struggle, and she eventually gives in. “What the fuck is wrong with us?” she asks, a soft chuckle escaping her.

“I have no idea. But hey, good sex is good sex. That's all that really matters.”

She sighs, but still raises her beer in your direction. “Cheers to that.”

As soon as Adebayo recovers from her fit of laughter, you're once again placing the glass of water on her hand, inviting her to drink up. “These are absolutely insane, by the way,” she comments playfully, her finger hinting at the side of your neck where the purple marks are. 

You can’t help but look annoyed again. The hickeys were probably the first thing the two of them pointed out to poke fun at you. “Really? We’re doing this again?”

“It’s very…teenagery,” Harcourt offers with a smirk. “But cheers to them too.”

The conversation ends when Adrian is back from the bathroom. “Hey, girls! So, Economos is already passed out in the bathtub. He looks like a corpse, but I can assure you he’s very much alive. Like, if you focus long enough, you’ll notice he’s breathing. He does need a pillow or something though.”

Harcourt takes the last sip of her beer before leaving the empty bottle on the counter. “I got it. You three figure out how you’ll be sleeping here in the living room.”

“Oh, couch’s mine!” Adebayo immediately stands up from her seat, stumbling towards the couch before she plops down on top of the cushions, seemingly ready to sleep now. She’s already putting a blanket over herself, before you can even tell her that she’ll be sleeping on the couch. Perhaps she’s too drunk and tired to even care if you do tell her.

Adrian turns to look at you now, a bit uncertain with the proposition he’s about to make. “We can sleep in the recliner together.”

You immediately shake your head at that idea. “Definitely not. We’re not sleeping together. You take the recliner and I’ll sleep on the other sofa.”

“In that case you sleep in the recliner,” he argues back. “That sofa looks way too small and uncomfortable.”

“I can sleep anywhere, really. It won’t be an issue.” When you see he opens his mouth to insist, you immediately cut him off. “You won’t win this one, dude. I’m serious. You take the fucking recliner.”

He stays quiet for a few seconds. “You know, you look oddly adorable when you get bossy.”

“Don’t say that,” you sigh, walking towards the living room. As if you could avoid that interaction just by walking away a few steps.

“What? It’s a friendly compliment!”

“Is it?” you question him, and he just shrugs like it’s not a big deal. Perhaps it isn’t a big deal. Perhaps this is him being ‘just friendly’. Perhaps it’s your own brain the one having a hard time differentiating what’s friendly and what’s not, overthinking the situation. Shit. Are you the one complicating things now? Whether it’s him stepping out of line or you not knowing where that line even is, you decide to continue. “To me friends don’t cuddle up on a recliner all night, so that’s out of the picture.”

He shrugs, a bit confused by the sudden distance he feels between the two of you. “Okay, that’s fair,” he offers softly, like he’s trying not to worsen the situation, even when he doesn’t know exactly what went wrong here.

Another brief silence follows before you look back at him again, your icy words leaving a bad taste on your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t– I just want to make sure we’re on the same page about this.”

“I mean, we’re friends,” he states the obvious, taking a seat on the recliner as he looks back at you. “Right? That’s all we ever will be. Friends.”

“See, that’s my fucking point,” you argue, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “It feels like you want me to make the decision for the two of us.”

He stays quiet, which isn’t exactly helping your racing mind. “I think you're looking waaaay into the situation.”

“Really? So what if I were to tell you that I want us to be more than friends? What would you say to that?”

He scoffs, like the idea of you two being anything but friends is insane to him. “Uh…I’d say you're fucking crazy because that is not happening!” You almost want to roll your eyes at the disgusted look on his face because it looks like he's overreacting on purpose. Then, his expression shifts to one of genuine curiosity and a hint of excitement. “Wait. Do you actually want us to be more than friends?”

“No, you fucking idiot! I don't want us to– whatever. We’ll have this conversation tomorrow. I don’t want to wake Ads up.”

“Thank youuuuu,” she mumbles from the couch.

Harcourt is back in the living room just to say a quick goodnight before going to her bedroom. You don’t even want to look at Adrian anymore as you start turning off all the lights to finally get some sleep. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You’re not sure how much time has passed. Maybe a few minutes, or possibly hours. You did manage to fall asleep at one point, but now you’re fully awake with your arm almost completely numb and your neck hurting a little because this sofa is painfully uncomfortable. Your head hurts a little too, but that might be just the effects of the alcohol dying down. Nearby, you hear Adebayo’s soft snoring.

Rolling around a few times, you try to find a comfortable enough position to go back to sleep, but none of them are good enough. There’s always something wrong about your posture, and it stings just enough to let you know that if you allow yourself to fall asleep like that, you’ll regret it in the morning.

You consider your options. The floor or going back to the rooftop. Maybe try to find Adebayo’s keys and go sleep in her car. All of those seem a lot better than the recliner.

There's no fucking way you're touching that fucking recliner. It pisses you off just thinking about it. But your anger is not necessarily directed at the furniture, or even towards the person currently sleeping on said furniture. 

If anything, you're pissed at yourself for being such a bitch to him earlier. You didn't mean to be so mean with him, especially after the special moment you shared earlier that night. You're still not entirely sure what made you snap like that, but you do know that you regret it profoundly.

After a few more attempts at trying to find a decent position to sleep in, you seemingly give up on that and decide to stand up, going to the kitchen for a glass of water. You stay there in the dark, facing the sink, and even though you tried to be as quiet as possible, you soon realize you’ve woken Adrian up.

You only realize he’s awake when he wraps an arm around your waist, almost fearing you’d walk away from him if he didn’t hold you in place like that. The robe is open, because you can feel his chest pressed against the fabric of your shirt, and it fucking burns. It’s like that’s the only thing you can focus on.

“Take the recliner,” he whispers. It almost gives you goosebumps.

“The sofa’s fine.”

“I could hear you rolling around for minutes. Seriously, take it.”

There’s a silence that follows. He doesn’t move back from you and you stop arguing about the recliner because his arm around you feels a little too nice, so you just figured that if you stand there long enough, you’ll get to enjoy his touch for a bit before having to go back to sleep. 

Not even a few seconds later, you feel his lips on your bare shoulder, his grip tightening just enough. “Adrian…” you mutter, as if that warning could get him to stop because you are not able to find enough self control to push him away right now.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he mutters back, but still presses his lips against your skin again. “Can’t help it…”

You turn around before he can do anything else, your body still glued to his. A bit of light comes from the window, so you’re able to make out his features despite the darkness surrounding the two of you.

This is very dangerous territory, but you really can’t find enough strength to care about that when he’s looking down at you like he’s silently begging for something. Anything. Whatever you’re willing to give him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats eventually, because he knows what’s happening and he knows he shouldn’t. But just like you, he doesn’t seem to care much about the consequences. In fact, he wants all the consequences. As many consequences as he can get out of this situation. He’s fine with that. “I know what you said earlier. And I know you probably want to punch me in the face right now– which is fine, by the way. I think it’d be quite the privilege to get punched in the face by you. Not like I want you to punch me in the face, but…well, maybe I do. I don’t know. I mean, if the punching’s coming from you, then I wouldn’t really mind because, like, it’s you. What I mean is–”

You kiss him before he can continue, grabbing his face to bring him down to your height. He gladly accepts it, both arms tightly wrapped around you now. It’s almost scary how much sense this all makes– the way he holds you, his tongue brushing against yours, even the weird flutter in your stomach. 

The line you wanted to mark from the very beginning is practically nonexistent at this point and a terrifying realization sinks in. What if Adrian isn't the only one wishing for something else to come out of this situation? 

What if there's a part of you that doesn't want to be just friends either?

Now, this really shouldn't be happening.

You’re absolutely fucked.

When the kiss ends, he has this big grin on his face. It’s just the cutest thing. Has his smile always been this cute? “That was better than a punch in the face,” he offers cheerfully, still trying to keep his voice down so he doesn’t wake anyone up. 

“I can always punch you if you ask nicely enough,” you offer back as a joke, but your smile fades a little when you remember your behavior earlier. “I’m sorry for being such a bitch to you before. It was totally uncalled for.”

“It's okay. Although…maybe another kiss might make me forgive you even more.”

That comment brings a smile to your face, and even when you want to devour his mouth again, there's something within you that still tries to hold back. So, all you give him is a kiss on the cheek. “Is that good enough?”

“Everything that comes from you is good enough– all of it. It's perfect,” he clarifies. You think you might die at that very moment because fuck, the way he's looking at you when he says that. No one has ever looked at you like that.

You try to ignore the fact that your face is burning right now. “Let’s get some sleep, okay? We can unpack all of this tomorrow.”

“Okay, but please go sleep in the fucking recliner.”

“Or…we both sleep in the–”

His eyes light up immediately. “Yes,” he replies way too quickly, almost fearing you’d change your mind if he takes too long agreeing.

He goes back to the living room, laying down on the recliner as he waits for you. At first you hesitate a bit, fearing the thing might lose balance or not be able to hold both of your weights. Recliners don’t really feel like the most stable of furniture. But you eventually do join him, and aside from a few weird sounds that freak you out as you get comfortable, it seems to work just fine.

You rest on your side, snuggling closer to his chest while Adrian wraps an arm around your shoulders to keep you close. The last thing you remember before falling asleep are his fingers softly massaging your scalp and a short kiss at the top of your head.

What-fucking-ever. You’ll figure this mess out tomorrow.