#theinternetisfulloftrash

His throat stretched, head tipped to show the line of his neck, the strong cords of muscle and the swell of his Adam's apple. The neck of his shirt was loose, a faded old black T-shirt that was a favourite of his, stolen from a movie set years past now. It was worn in a soft to the touch, smelt of Dylan and their washing powder always.

Your fingers dropped and smoothed against the bare skin of your thigh as you watched him, your knees bowed inward just so.

He looked strong like this, you thought, the width of his shoulders against the dishwasher, the thick line of throat the dip before the meeting point of his clavicles just visible, the way his hand consumed the circumference of the glass easily.

You swallowed and swayed as you set your glass down to the left of you before turning in to let your eyes more easily keep Dylan.

With a tilt of his head, the glow of the light streaming in from the windows changed, illuminated the constellation of moles that mapped the span from ear to lips. You shivered at the brush of heat on your thigh and your gaze flickered to find Dylan’s fingers, skimmed up and down the line of skin, a hazy touch that Dylan barely seemed aware of himself.

His phone was abandoned in his lap, the hand not on you still held the almost empty glass, head laid back against the dishwasher, eyes closed lashes casting a long shadow. He was humming, you realised after a breath, lost in the swell of music, seemingly content with the lazy flirt of skin on skin as his fingers danced pattern on your skin.

Heat breathed up your spine, fire from Dylan’s fingers to the inside of your thigh, up through to the base of your stomach, a kiss of butterflies under your ribs.

You sighed, and watched, and wanted, licked your lips and returned your eyes to the map on flushed skin, the sun kisses dark landmarks that drew your eyes to the line of his ear, jaw, throat, soft skin hot from alcohol.

A soft sound passed your lips as you turned in closer to Dylan, blinked once, twice until you blinked and your nose and lips and eyelashes had found Dylan’s cheek.

Your next blink was an incidental butterfly kiss before your lips pursed in a soft press, under the mole that you knew was there, larger than the others just a breath away from his lips.

Dylan’s long fingers paused, greedy with the skin of your right thigh, palm flattened and fingers curled to take grip, a light scratch of nails as he relaxed his fingers before he took hold once more.

You had lingered, and finally exhaled before you drew your mouth blindly to the trio of lighter freckles that bridged to the next mole just lips away from the hinge of his jaw. You kissed the skin, licked your lips of his taste before you kissed again, leaving a brush of wet skin behind.

Your arms grew restless in your own lap then, the heat of Dylan close, under your lips, the stillness of him as he let you kiss on him. His frame was warm and solid under you, his body rose and fell with his breaths, chest jostled you just so with the subtle movement. His breaths and his grip on your thigh were his only participation.

Your touch blindly found Dylan’s shoulder then, fingers sought the side of his neck, held him as your mouth found its next target, your favourite mole perfectly below his earlobe.

you found it with lips and then the bite of teeth, a deep inhale through your nose and you pressed closer, limbs heavy and melting where you held onto him.

Dylan seemed to come to life with the nip of your teeth against his skin, hands found your waist, a hot thrill pushed through your skin as he gripped. His head turned, met you with his nose bumping your ear, breath hot against your skin.

“What you up to baby?”

You shivered, his voice was a low husking whisper, and some silly part of you twisted with an ache of longing, you wanted him closer still just from the hum of his voice like you weren’t already skin to skin.

You huffed, frustrated as if Dylan had ruined your plans, sprung you in your scheme, as a traitorous blush swallowed your cheeks and nose and chin.

“Nothin” you replied, scratched your nails in a circle against his neck, went back to your focus, hoping that would keep him still a little longer.

You pulled back just far enough to bridge to the next mole on his neck, pressed three lingering kisses there before nuzzling in, unable to help but follow the smell of Dylan. It was warm and clean and boy washed with the alcohol he’d been drinking and a light sheen of sweat glowing on the back of his neck.

“Oh, you’re not trying something on with me?”

Dylan asked again, whole his body had gone warm and relaxed in your arms under the simple scratch of nails and presses of lips. quiet smirk on his lips.

Despite the way he’d melted into you, you could feel the curiosity in his hands on your frame, the way his fingers fidgeted, played with the thin fabric of your tee between his fingertips, twisting it up lazily till the cotton pulled tight against your skin.

You smirked at his words, unable to help yourself when a small bundle of giggles grew and burst from between your lips, shoulders shimmered with it as your hand gripped tighter to his neck. Your lips vibrated against the freckled skin you’d been kissing at as you smoothed your laughter.

“Don’t really have to try it do I Dyl, you’re kinda an easy drunk”

It's an easy tease, but you can’t help yourself, really because it was true and you both knew it.

“Oh” was the only breath of warning you got before his hold tightened on you, strong hands took a grip of your waist and he positioned you in his lap easily.

You let out a small whimper of defeat and pulled you away from your target once more.

“I’m an easy drunk?”

Dylan asked then, his hand moved to hold you under your chin, tilted your chin up to lock your eyes in his. His gaze was fire warm and his lids were low, lashes a dark smudged frame around dark brown.

“Big words for the girl who was copping a feel”

his voice was low, steady and deliberate and your lower stomach pulled with it, you kept his gaze until the room bent around you and your drink warmed body swayed, eyes pulled away.

“Was not copping a feel” You refuted and found yourself a nice place to rest your head, the warmth of Dylan’s shoulder under your cheek.

“Big talk, girl, big talk” Dylan’s laughter shook his chest and rocked you with it, one of his hands found your hair and his fingers skimmed the strands.

You pulled back with a sigh and shake your head, the motion heavy and you let out a fumbled laugh at the way your vision blurred.

“I wasn’t putting the moves on you Dyl”

You paused to try to find the right words that didn’t show your hand.

“I just, um decided that- well I was looking at you like your face and stuff” your hand waved vaguely in front of yourself as your tequila sweetened mind stumbled around your words.

“I decided I wanted to count all your moles with my lips, because we don’t know like the official count, I guess in case we needed that, like, information”

You trailed off and reached quickly to pick up Dylan’s cup, sipping at the last of the mostly melted icy drink.

You were only maybe half hiding behind the glass to hide the dark red of your cheeks, the realisation that what you said out loud was maybe a bit more embarrassing than just agreeing that you wanted to get handsy with him.

The sound of your own heart pounded full in your ears and you exhaled, felt your chest rise and fall with the movement. The room was filled only by the sound of Frank Ocean's voice rolling around you both, sweet, steady and low.

A bead of water dove from the base of the stemware, the condensation dripped onto the fabric of your tee just to the left of your breast, wet the fabric through as Dylan’s hand met yours to ease the glass out of your grip.

You shivered with it, the drop of cold water, the touch, the tequila at the bottom of the drink that burned a hot line down the centre of you.

“That’s mine” Dylan breathed, placed his lips on the glass where yours had been, took the very last few drops on his lips before he set it to the side with his eyes locked on yours, held in them a dark intention.

It was a smouldering gaze that drew the lines of you, the shape he knew so well under the tee and small sleep shorts you wore.

You suppressed a shiver, licked your lips and drew a small breath. The space between was hot, a wire line coiled between you that had you pressing your hips down subconsciously, your thighs widened and you felt your nipples tighten under the thin fabric of your shirt.

The tequila already had you spinning, skin hot, but it held nothing to the proximity of Dylan.

His hands found yours once more, thumbs and fingers circled your wrists and picked them up to place your palms flat against his chest. His fingers drew up the outside of your arms, thumb pressed in and smoothed over the taut muscles of your forearms.

The heat of his skin was thick even through the fabric of his t-shirt and your fingers pressed in, hungry for more of him, starving with the weight of Dylan’s eyes on you.

The brown of his eyes fell to your mouth then, lingered, but never pressed closer to follow through.

His silence and stillness were so unlike him, Dylan was all hands first followed by mouth lips and teeth and you ached for the familiar grip that usually accompanied that gaze, the pull of you into him over and over.

His hunger for you had never been so quiet.

You wanted to know what he thought, wanted his reaction, wanted him to follow through in the promises his eyes were making.

You pressed closer, a drag of your hips down, Dylan’s sweats bunched with the movement under your thighs, pulled your lower back in, arse pushing back.

The man underneath you didn't respond in like, didn’t find the cradle of your hips with his own, no pressure to the hottest part of you.

“Dylan”

“Yes baby” he answered unhurried, words diligent from his tongue.

You watched his face, calm and expressionless as he regarded you, a glow of softness under his eyes and a wash of deep red in the hollows below his cheek bones that held you in his want.

“Dylan?” you repeat, a whisper this time, a question, the only word you could find in your mouth.

“Yes baby?” he whispered back, voice earnest.

He swallowed and you watched, he wet his lips and let his eyes undress you once more in a slow pour of his brown eyes.

He shrugged, hands finally moving to take you in them once more, found your thighs and followed them up to the hinge of your hips, kept going until he pushed up under the fabric of your t-shirt to place his hands against soft skin.

“You want to count, then count baby”

The gentle command made sweat bead at the low of your back, lids felt heavy with it, and you felt as the pulses in your wrist thundered.

He smirked then, easy and warm and your body tightened, your fingers wound up in his shirt and you leaned in just so, eyes watched the easy rise and fall of Dylan’s chest, his slow breaths as he watched you, leant back and waiting.

“Don’t get shy on me now, got a lot of ground to cover haven’t you?”

Dylan muttered when you didn’t react, his thumb drew lazy circles on your skin and licked his lips.

You sighed, and really, Dylan didn’t ever really need to ask, to invite you to his body because you always wanted, and he knew that.

But something about him lying in wait for your touch, so casual in his command, the way he watched you with a lazy intimacy made the low of your gut twist with a kick of a thrill; something low and dirty that thrummed a heartbeat between your legs.

Your knees drew in from where they were tucked on either side of Dylan’s wide frame, you tightened around nothing with the movement, only a tease of Dylan's fingers at your hips. Heat bloomed through your core as you willed his touch to push closer.

“Guess so” you agreed.

Dylan smelt ever so faintly like the cigarette he suck a few hours ago and you want to be wrapped up in it, woven to him like the lingering scent.

Your lips found the corner of his jaw, the predominant mole you know well and you mouthed at it. The man's large fingers cripped at your body with the contact, and you placed small kisses to cover it and the smatter of smaller freckles that marked the skin like a spin out of stars framing its moon.

Your arms twined around Dylan’s neck, leveraged yourself to tilt down into the seat of his lap, closer until your chest was pressed to the muscle of his, your breasts tight to his body. A deep breath shifted his chest against you, a brush over your pebbled nipples that made your lips part.

“One”

You whispered under your breath, exhaled over the line of Dylan’s neck as you felt the rock of his hips underneath you finally, a press of growing hardness to the centre of you, hot even through the layers of fabric that pulled with each lazy grind.

“One”

Dylan muttered back to you, and between heavy breaths, his hand found you, the low of your stomach, skimmed down with a feather touch to trace the seam of your shorts.

The touch was barely there and your back arched to take more of it, to feel the pressure that was anchoring your body pressed to where you wanted it.

“Ah” Dylan breathed and his other hand found the back of your neck then, slid up into your hair and gripped, drew your face to the side of his throat.

“Count” He mumbled, his finger still tracing the seamed line of your soft shorts, just a breath away from what you wanted. needed. You shivered, ached, and your head spun with it.

“Two” you whispered into his skin, the single word a beg, teeth grazed the mole, turning the surrounding skin red.

Dylan nodded and his single finger became two pressed against you. He slid his hand down so that his palm was in line with the heartbeat of your pussy at its peak, fingertips laying at the spot where your panties had started to dampen with your want.

You nodded, understanding his game and clenched your thighs to keep still, to be good.

“There we go, my clever baby”

Dylan praised, a smile in his words and you flushed, would have rolled your eyes if it wasn’t for the tequila that had washed away your usual initial resistance that came with Dylan’s blatant praising of you, of just how much you liked it.

“Just need to count as many as you want”

Dylan whispered to you like a secret, the love in his words made your next breath catch, stutter.

He pressed the pad of his fingers up just enough that the pressure, the promise of it made you gasp into his shoulder, as your body throbbed with it. Your fingers twisted in the waist of his sweats.

“Count”

Dylan encouraged you again and you nodded, eyes closed as your lifted your heavy head to find the sun mark closest to his lips, pressed a kiss over it.