#this is perfect

Ykw, I'm up for this.

After a bit more time passes they invite you out with them. Weeks of mutual flirting with quite the few suggestive comments mixed in there, it’s all too easy for your touch-starved self to be all over them for the night. You’re constantly in their space, always trying to make sure you’re close enough to feel their body heat radiating. It’s mostly an excuse to just feel someone else’s skin on your own—feeling intimate but not romantic—and it isn’t necessary done suggestively except for a few deliberate looks and touches and positions because why would you pass up the opportunity to flirt with them in person? You like them, a lot. You like the closeness they allow and happily reciprocate, you like the way they entertain your suggestive flirting and creatively tease you back.

When you guys leave hours later, feeling warm and lighter than you have in years, almost overcome with this urge to kiss them—to make out in their car. You sit in their car with them after the outing, still in the parking lot of the place you guys went to. You guys just talk for a bit, about the night, about how you enjoyed each other, about how fun it was. Something weighs on you though, these good feelings feeling too good to be true. And with the way they’re talking to you it almost feels like they’re building up to something. You suddenly feel really anxious, realizing that perhaps you got too comfortable with the carefree way you get to relation with them. Perhaps you’ve missed something? All the getting to know each other and flirting and touching could have been…as much as it would have been to any ‘normal’ person; and is maybe being interpreted as such. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

You continue talking to them but they notice you’re hearts not in it, noticing the way you wring your hands or fidget with your jeans, the way you’ve started to lean away from them instead of toward—busy berating yourself in your head for how carefree you’ve been. They pause the conversation, gently grabbing your attention with a hand on your knee. You guys are in the backseat of their car, and openly discussed choice because you both wanted to continue the closeness the glovebox between the driver and passenger seat would prevent. It’s with reluctance that you look at them, hoping they can’t tell your eyes keep watering. You’re scared to ruin this—to lose this again.

“I think I might be aromantic. …I’m not entirely sure of it for certain—not really into labels—but I thought you deserved to know”, falls out of your mouth, eyes instinctively drifting away as the admission makes you tense. There’s silence for a minute, and it takes everything in you to not fucking scream because the silence feels like too much and not enough. They don’t let the suspense strangle you for too long though, a smile gracing those lips you’d like to taste—for curiosity’s sake, if nothing more. “I might be a little aromantic too. We’ve been flirting and touching and stuff all night, but I still think of you as a friend I really like. And being “friends” puts you in no lesser position in my life; I really like you”.

You sigh in relief, laughing slightly as you draw them in for a hug, hiding your face in their shoulder for a moment to collect yourself. You squeeze them a few times, their own added pressure helping ground you—having gotten quite anxious during this. They rub your back a bit, knowing it’s something comforts you. You reluctantly pull back to look at them, looking as if you’re seconds away from blurting something else out. You explain that you want to feel things out further with them; being friends, but seeing how things form between you two and simply enjoying it so long as you’re both happy with it. You ask them if they’d be up to talk about it way more extensively over text tomorrow. Your memory is shit, and the finer details of this important discussion of boundaries and wants and needs will be something you need to be able to look back on to make sure you’re being the friend they deserve. They tell you they’d be happy to, because they want to talk about those things as well, and are always happy to answer whatever questions you pose.

Your eyes dart to their cheek for a moment after their agreement. That overcome for affection feeling bubbling up again. You ask if you can kiss their cheek, and maybe their lips too, if they’re comfortable with that. They smile at you, a yes quickly leaving their lips. You gently cup their face and lean in to firmly kiss their cheek. You can’t leave it at one, though. You pepper their cheek in kisses, laughing quietly with how giddy you feel getting to do this. Your head turns to capture their lips, kissing them lighter this time, careful to not mess this up. Kissing is sexual for you, not romantic at all; the closest things get to feeling romantic are the cheek kisses you feel are wholly affection, just something you do to express the warmth they make you feel.

They’re the ones that turn the kiss firm, leaning in further, tilting their head. Arousal shocks your lower stomach at the feeling of their tongue swiping across your bottom lip, suddenly very much so wanting their tongue in your mouth. A small noise is drawn out when they slip their tongue in and your tongues touch. Making out is a pathetically easy way to get you aroused, unfortunately. They start to rub your thigh, dragging their fingers along the inner side, knowing what it’s doing to you.

You respond in kind, leaning in more and placing your own hand on their thigh, simply squeezing since you’re so focused on kissing. You feel like you’re burning up over nothing. They’re barely touching you but feel sort of desperate for more. You spend a bit in the backseat of their car just…making out, teasing yourselves with finally getting to do this with each other.

When the kissing slowly simmers down, you feel hot all over and your breathing is heavier than it should. You look at them with low eyes, very nearly wanting to say hell to it all and ask them to take you back to their place instead of yours. But you guys have a conversation to have tomorrow, because jumping into that isn’t something you want to rush. You don’t want to finally get to have sex with them only for them to leave; unfortunately being one of those people that can’t separate the physical and emotional aspects of it. It’ll always mean something to you. Probably never anything romantic, but definitely intimate.

In fiction they're great but I don't like it when it happens to me specifically

I seriously don't like the getting the consequences for something that is super out of my control

Throws the muscle mommy Dream propaganda your way

Yesssss

YESSSSSS