#trystan smith x reader

He pulls back slightly to look at you, his hand still tangled in your hair.

The interview is in thirty minutes, but right now, he doesn't give a damn about it. "Twenty-eight minutes," he replies gruffly, his thumb rubbing against your cheekbone. "Good..." You pull him in for a kiss by his tie He groans into the kiss, his hands immediately going to your ass as he lifts you up against the dresser. The tie gets loosened even more as he deepens the kiss, his tongue demanding entry. He breaks the kiss briefly to murmur, "Twenty-two minutes..." Before capturing your lips again. Your hands start undoing his pants. He hisses through his teeth as your hands slip inside his boxers, wrapping around him. His hips buck forward instinctively.

"Twenty-one minutes..." His own hands start pushing up your skirt, finding no resistance as he cups your bare ass cheek. "No panties," "told you... just wanted to see ya" His heart pounds at your desperate words. He kisses you harshly, biting your bottom lip. "Fuck it then." He pushes your skirt up completely and aligns himself with your entrance.

"The young people today seem to be growing up slowly. I don't know why. Maybe they don't need to grow up before their time. One of my good friends got married and had a child at the age of 18, and was ordained as a Baptist minister. Maybe it's for the best, but they'll have a wild youth."

This was Tryst's opinion about his two new acquaintances, schoolgirls, with whom he engaged in illegal small-time business, if I may say so, even though he was barely older and certainly not more responsible than they were.He tried not to tell you anything, putting too much emphasis on the secrecy of this matter. And other things such as the sale of pills.

"If I tell you, they'll arrest you for counterfeiting if the FBI or some other shit comes after me." He told you. "No, it's better for you not to know, it's safer."

"Who needs you, like they don't have other things to do than catch schoolgirls and their dealers." You replied, laughing.

One night, you were sitting at your computer when you felt a vibration on your desk. It was your phone, and the screen displayed a combination of numbers that you didn't recognize. You stared at the phone for a moment before answering the call. However, you didn't say anything; instead, you remained silent, and there was a deathly silence on the other end of the line for the first two seconds, accompanied by a distinctive crackling sound.

"Hello?" came a hesitant voice.

A little earlier, Tryst was driving down an empty road that was wet from a recent cold rain, aggressively banging on the steering wheel with his cast on his finger, while checking the rear-view mirror to see if anyone was following him. His adrenaline had subsided a bit, and he was feeling sleepy, so he opened the window a little to let the cold night air keep him awake. He turned off the highway and parked on the side of the road. He opened the glove compartment and took out a spare flip phone, almost blindly dialing your phone number as the light from the headlights barely illuminated the interior.

He saw that you had answered the call and put the phone to his ear.

– Hello – He said.

– Who is this?

– This is Tryst, listen I don’t have much time. I’m in trouble, I’m in a huge trouble.

– What happened to you again?

– Wait don’t interrupt. One person, let’s say, wants to kill me. – He glanced at the bag filled with pills next to him.

But I won’t tell you anything else, in case we’re being listened to.

"We're not being tapped, Tryst, you're calling me from another phone.

– In general, being a good guy who won't disappear without an explanation, I'll tell you everything, but only in person, so write down the address and come.

Tryst dictated the address and was the first to hang up, saying finally, "only you will leave later." After that, he sat in place for about a minute, and then released the clutch and drove back onto the freeway.

He drove to a crossroads and turned north toward the edge of another state. At the edge he stopped in front of an agricultural cooperative. He went inside and bought a couple of veterinary supplies because he was sure he would need them. Cotton,

adhesive tape, gauze, a bottle of peroxide, paid and left.

Got back in the car, started the engine, sat for a while looking at the mirror

rear view of the pharmacy. As if thinking, not forgetting anything, although

it was not so, and he did not need much. He put his fingers under the seat of the car and for some reason again touched the bag with money, then with pills, all in place. Then he drove out of the parking lot and headed towards the city, trying not to exceed the speed. Not far from the bay with a sharp rocky shore stood a small motel, where as he knew it was possible to pay in cash as in the good old days.

When he saw a parking lot near a large hypermarket, he drove into the back, where the yellowish lights of the giant signs couldn't reach, so that his car wouldn't be visible.

He got out of the car and assessed the distance he would have to walk on foot. The small, dark motel building was within his sight, which was a good sign.

Tryst looked around, leaning against the car door. He then lowered his head to his chest and stood in that position for a minute. Finally straightened up, slammed the door and moved down the street.

You weren't particularly worried about him, you were sure that Tryst was in a little trouble and it was a waste of time to be so worried, probably now you were just shaking your head condescendingly, feeling a feeling similar to that of a parent who gets a call about his child's behavior from school, but not in any way worried. He told you about his plans in case some town officer took him on, he said you shouldn't go home under any circumstances, someone might be waiting for you there, or they might catch you when you leave through the back door. He told you all this with a touch of humor, as if he couldn't believe that he might have crossed someone important. So you halfheartedly threw your house keys and wallet into your bag, took your car keys and went outside, thinking that you should have insisted that the meeting take place at your house, and not in the hell knows where.

Tryst paid for the room, put the key in his pocket, went up the stairs and walked along the corridor of the old hotel. Dead silence. The darkness. He found his room, inserted the key in the lock, entered and locked the door behind him. Streetlights leaked light through the tulle curtains. He put his bag on the bed, went back to the door, and turned on the light above it. An old-fashioned switch with a button in the middle. Early 20th-century oak furniture. Brown walls. A standard, cheap bedspread.

Tryst stood at the sink, washing his face with water that drained into the sink with a pale pink tint.

When the car's headlights cut through the darkness, he looked through the gap between the curtains and tried to see who had arrived.

You closed the car door and walked calmly towards the motel. After the long drive, your curiosity had faded, and you were no longer particularly interested in finding out who had arrived.

You headed towards the reception desk.

The receptionist, an elderly and frail man who was reading a magazine, stood up from his chair when he saw you.

–Good evening, ma'am.

–There's one guy is waiting for me, so please tell me what room the man who checked in about an hour ago, maybe a little less, is staying in. He has dyed blond hair.

You weren't sure what kind of ID Tryst had shown.

–I'm sorry, but I can't disclose information about our guests.

–Yes, you can.

–Ma'am, I've already told you...

Before the man could say anything else, you saw Tryst standing at the top of the stairs, waving at you. Without saying a word, you rushed towards him, but he turned around and walked towards his room without waiting for you, forcing you to follow him. Only in the dark hallway did he stop and turn towards you, opening his arms for a hug.

–What the hell is going on here?

You didn’t hug him back, and he simply stepped back and took the key out of his pocket. He turned the key and opened the door.

–Come in. – He turned on the light and waved you inside.

– I would conclude that you're on the run, but you haven't gone that far. What's the matter, who are you crossing? I swear, if it's about your friends again, then...– You didn't finish when he turned to you.

–You look even worse than usual, did someone punch you?

–You're very quick on the uptake. You're probably interested in the details, right?

– No, I'm not interested, I was just passing by, so I decided to drop by to say hi.

He smiled.

–Sit down.– You sat on the bed.

–I've decided to go into hiding until things are settled.

–What needs to be settled?

– Well, I pissed off a guy because he thinks I cheated on him, but I didn't. – He raised his voice, as if he was convinced that you didn't believe him enough. – And now he wants to kill me. Or maybe he doesn't, but I don't want to take any chances. By the way, were you followed?

– No, Tryst, I wasn't followed, and I'm starting to get nervous about what's going on.

–That's why I take care of you and don't get you into trouble. And by the way, it's my friends, and it's all because of one of them. Well, I'm blaming him.

– I wouldn't have agreed to anything shady if you'd suggested it.

–That's what I thought once.

–You're not me.

–That's true.

–And your nose is broken.

You reached out to touch his face, but you didn't.

–Are you serious? I didn't noticed.

You didn't say anything,

–I'm fucking with you, I noticed that.

– Thank you, Tryst, I understand. Can I help you?

– I don't know, can you?

– Probably.

Now he was sitting on the toilet. looking at you. The whites of his eyes turned red, and under the bright white light reflected from the tiles on the bathroom walls, bags under his eyes were visible well.

– Come on, take a risk. You looked at him in silence, pinched his bridge of the nose between your palms, and pressed hard on the uneven area. Tryst cried out and groaned, doubling over.

– Fuck. Fuck that was...

– It hurts, I know, well done. You soaked a piece of cotton with peroxide, tilted his head back, and pushed the cotton inside to stop the bleeding.

Tryst looked at you from under half-closed eyelids. You noticed his gaze and kissed his forehead. Then you paused for a moment and kissed him on the lips, lightly, not hard.

– Is that all? – He smiled and leaned closer to you, standing up slightly. You put your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down, and pressed your lips against his.

His kiss was insistent, as if he had been waiting for a long time. His arms wrapped around you, and you responded to the kiss by bending over, barely able to stand, until you gave in and landed on his lap. His lips moved down your jawline, then to your neck, and he still held your forearms tightly, as if afraid that you would leave.

–You want more than just a kiss, don't you?

–And you?

–Not in the bathroom.

You both stood up almost at the same time and awkwardly made your way to the room, still randomly touching each other with your lips. You helped him take off his shirt and threw it somewhere. You pushed him slightly, but it was enough for him to fall onto the bed, pull himself up, and lean back against the headboard. You leaned down from above and continued the kiss, hovering over him like you were about to fall, resting one hand on the bed and the other on his torso, and when you shifted most of your weight onto his rib, he coughed and tensed.

–Easy, I've been hit there too

–Battle scars, huh?

–More like intentional harm to health. – He said. And you gently ran your fingertips over the place that stood out as a faint yellowish-purple bruise on his skin, which stretched over his ribs. Returning to his neck, you bit down on the spot just above his collarbone, leaving a mark. He leaned forward, breathing in slightly. You continued your trail of kisses down to his chest, reaching his nipple and biting it lightly, while your other hand reached down to unbutton his pants. Tryst made a small sound, almost like a quiet gasp.

—Maybe you will...– he sighed when he felt your hands wrap around his cock. – will you move faster?

–Why would I? – You smiled, a little teasingly.

He arched slightly and you heard a sound like a whimper.

–Please. – He said on an exhale. It didn't sound so much desperate as just polite, as if he didn't want to ruin an intimate moment, but he didn't know for sure how long you were going to delay. You raised your eyebrows and smiled at that.

–My God.– you said, your breath warm on his neck.

The room was dimly lit, and the shadows on the wall formed strange shapes. It was very quiet, with no sound coming from outside, and the only sound in the room was the sound of his ragged breathing.

You wrapped your hands around his cock and quickened your movements. He threw his head back and moaned softly. The symphony of soft, chaotic sounds and body movements created an intimate atmosphere, and you were already soaked through.

– Did you bring a condom?

–Look in my jacket.

You wiped your hand on the blanket, stood up, and walked over to the jacket lying on the floor. The outer pockets were empty. Tryst stared at you, frowning.

–There’s one in the inside pocket.

You dug around a little more and eventually found what you were looking for. You climbed back onto the bed and kissed him on the lips again.

–Missed me? – He smiled.

You slowly hooked your fingers under the edges of your underwear and pulled them down, leaving you in just your t-shirt. You swung your leg over and leaned over Tryst, resting your elbows on either side of his head, your eyes met, and you looked at his red lips, swollen from kissing, as he ran his tongue over them. The moment seemed very long, and he was already taking air into his lungs when you finally sank down onto his cock. He made a hissing sound and leaned forward, gently placing his hands on your hips to support you.

You set a steady pace, sinking down onto him again and again. He wanted to say something, but he didn't have enough air or strength. There was nothing to say.

Usually, Tryst was more talkative and active, but he was probably tired from the events of the previous evening. You ran your nails across his stomach, causing him to tense up and let out a shaky moan. His body was writhing beneath you, his hips thrusting up in a chaotic motion, stimulating all the nerve endings you needed. You pressed your nails into his skin, and the pleasure intensified as you picked up the pace. Tryst's legs tensed even more as you maintained the rhythm.

–Good, good, that’s good. – he whispered quickly, trying his best not to make any noise. You threw your head back and closed your eyes.

–Yes, that’s good.

You placed your hand on the side of his neck, stroking and running your palm over his torso. With one hand, you pinched his nipple. Tryst let out a whimper. You resumed kissing and nibbling on his neck and torso, taking every ounce of pleasure you could. His body reacted quickly, actively giving in to your caresses, and his breath was taken away by the tenderness of the moment. His lips were filled with sighs and soft moans, interspersed with incoherent, unintelligible words spoken lazily and without much desire to be heard.

When you lowered yourself particularly sharply, he squeezed your hand that was resting on the bed.

– M'close, M'close – he repeated it a few more times before you felt him come, biting his hand to keep from making a sound, and now he was really moaning. You kept it a little quieter, your orgasm coming on a little more slowly, more languidly, definitely not like the "wave" feeling, it was something else. You were warm and you were there, kissing him and holding his hand, the mix of physical and emotional sensations creating a giant volcano simmering somewhere in your chest. You felt his cum filling the condom, and in an attempt to catch up with your own pleasure, you speeded up, sinking down on him again and again. You missed the moment when his grip on your hips tightened, his body tensed, and he began to writhe more intensely. He tried to say something like "hey, hey, wait, slow down" in a voice that trembled with tension, but he couldn't form the words. He tried to say something else, but he couldn't.

That sound made your orgasm hit you more abruptly than you expected. You stayed there, throbbing like a pump and breathing heavily. He was breathing even harder. You slowly got up and were surprised to see that he was still hard.

– You're something else. – You said.

- No, you're something else, my dear, and you haven't stopped for a second.

–I'll help you.– You said and took off the condom, throwing it aside. It slapped against the carpeting of the floor.

Tryst winced at the temperature contrast.

–And what are you...

–Like I said, I'm going to finish what I started.

You spread his legs and ran your tongue from the base to the tip. He threw his head back, hitting the headboard. You took his cock into your mouth and quickened your pace. He moaned, his eyes fixed on you with a look of intense focus. You increased the speed and heard something that sounded like "I'm already..." You pulled away and replaced your mouth with your hand, pumping him as hard as you could. Soon he was practically doubled over, his abdominal muscles contracting and white streaks of cum splattered his stomach. You lay down next to him and ran your hand through his hair. He closed his eyes and finally relaxed. Your hearts were still racing, and you could feel the sweat on your forehead, making you feel hot. He raised himself up on weak elbows, leaning over you and holding your head with both hands. He touched his forehead to yours and kissed you on the lips.

–Thank you for coming, I appreciate it. I know I don't talk much and all that, but you know, business and all that stuff.

– I love you too. Now get up.

– What? Why?

– We're all sweaty, and I don't want to sleep like this.

You pushed him away, stood up on slightly shaky legs, and was about to walk away, but then you turned around and held out your hand.

– You're coming too.

He looked at you for a few seconds, his expression showing no emotion, and you felt like he was daydreaming, looking at you but not seeing you. His blue eyes stood out against the redness of his sleep-deprived eyes. Then he shrugged his shoulders, as if he were shivering.

–Okay.

You were lying in complete darkness, the only light coming from the vape that Tryst was still smoking. You were lying in silence, and the light from the car headlights in the distance illuminated the room for a fraction of a second, revealing the intricate cracks in the ceiling.

He turned towards you, and the scent of sex faded from the room, replaced by a subtle aroma of hotel soap mixed with the usual body odor. You were almost asleep when you heard him calling your name.

– What are you thinking about?

– Nothing.

– That doesn’t happen.

– You better tell me what you’re thinking about.

– I don’t know, I don’t want to think about anything right now, everything’s been bad lately.

You turned to him and your faces were an inch apart.

– You know it’s going to get better.

– This doesn’t usually get better.

You ran your hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face.

– You’ll figure something out. You can count on me.

– I know I can.

You ran your hand over his cheek and left a light kiss on his lips. He moved closer to you, placing his hand on your waist and resting his forehead against yours.

– I also know that I love you.

– I love you too.

You felt something wet under your hand, but you didn't say anything. Instead, you tightened your grip on his waist and buried your fingers in his hair, continuing your lazy movements until you fell asleep, feeling his body gradually relax.

You were sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the TV screen, where the same news was being repeated over and over again, and on the Starz channel there was an old action movie, there was nothing to watch, but you wanted to keep you occupied with something. Every now and then, sounds typical of a city at night could be heard on the street. The shouts of rowdy drunks wandering under the streetlights, the sounds of police or ambulance sirens, and car horns.

Half an hour ago, when suddenly you hears a knock on the metallic door, you already knew who it was, the melody of the knock was specific and unique in its own way. Tryst. Always him. Behind the threshold was him as you thought. He looked tired, his eyes almost sunken into his skull, making him look even more like an overworked bank employee during a stock market crash. The thought came to you suddenly, and you smiled to yourself.

He stepped inside and quickly closed the door, fumbling with the lock for a moment before getting it closed. He took another step inside, but when he saw your gaze, he took off his shoes.

– What are you doing here?

– Aren't you happy to see me?

– No, it's just that we're kind of living in the 21st century, aren't we? I thought it was customary to call now.

– The old romance is dead, and it's a shame, a real shame.

– Let me guess, you either need something or you're in trouble.

– Yes and yes. But that's not why I'm here.

– Well?

He walked inside, shuffling a bit on the floor, taking off his jacket and throwing it on the shaggy surface of your couch.

– I wanted to spend time with you. – He said, as if making an excuse to you, knowing why you might think that.

– Not bad. Anything else?

– No, really. – He spread his arms out in a gesture inviting a hug and you rolled your eyes, but more in a playful manner. You walked over and gave him a quick hug, still not understanding the purpose of his sudden visit.

– We-ell? – You asked.

– I'll take a shower at your place, okay? – He jerked his thumb back toward the bathroom door.

– Yeah, go ahead. Try not to leave after that, and for now... – You looked around the room as if searching for something. – I'll figure something to do.

He chuckled, somehow sadly.

— Great.

–Wait. – You said, walked to the closet, opened the first drawer, took out a T-shirt, then took out the pants from the drawer below.

– You’ll put it on later.

– Yes, ma’am.

He took the clothes and went into the bathroom and the lock clicked. You took his jacket from your couch, but by the hem, not the top, so some change, a couple of crumpled bills and a dead vape fell out of it. But your attention was caught by a plastic bag with one pill from a transparent gelatin shell. You sighed, picked everything up from the floor, trying to hook the coins with your fingers, put everything on the table, went to the hallway and hung the jacket there. You left the bag on the floor. Let him come back and pick it up himself, you wouldn't touch it. As if you had done a lot of work, you sat down on the couch like a tired worker, automatically picked up the remote to turn on the TV, but it was already on.

You heard the sound of running water stop, followed by the sound that a shower hose usually makes when it returns to its normal position. Then the lock clicked and the door opened. Tryst stepped out and immediately noticed an object lying on the floor.

– Damn. How did this get here?

– It fell out of your jacket.

– Hey hey, I hope you don't think it's mine.

– Did someone secretly put it in your pocket? For free? Damn, you're lucky.

– No, I'm selling it, you know that, right?

– Just don't tell this version to police, okay? – You chuckled. – Yes, I remember. Just pick it up, I'm a little afraid to touch it.

– Yes, yes, of course. – He said, quickly picking it up and putting it in the inside pocket of his jacket. A shadow of relief crossed his face. He walked over to you and sat down next to you.

– Hey, I just needed some money, and you know...

– No need to explain, it's all good. As long as you're not in jail, hustle as much as you want. – You looked at him and felt a sense of unease. His eyes were red, and his face expressed a mix of panic and intense frustration.

– Hey? Tryst? Have you been crying?

– Me? No. – He turned away. – No, no, everything is fine.

You didn’t say anything.

– What’s wrong with you, out with it.

– Nothing. – He whispered.

– You roll up to my place in the evening with leftover stuff you didn’t sell and now you’re crying to me. That’s totally how someone acts when they’re not in trouble.

– God! Okay. You really want to know, don't you? He leaned back on the couch and looked up at the ceiling.

– It's just... Everything's really bad right now. You remember those girls. They're in trouble because of me. My daughter will grow up without a father because I can't see her. You're wondering why I haven't written to you. I've been sleeping for an hour at most lately. My eyes are already tired from the phone; I can't stand looking at it anymore.Do you understand? I've been trying to help everyone, but it's all gone to hell.

– Stop shouting, the neighbors...

– That's exactly what I'm saying! Even now, I have to think about someone. Thank you, damn it, thank you.

By this point, he had already gotten up from the couch and was pacing around the room, which was illuminated by the yellowish light of an Ikea floor lamp and the flashing colors of a TV set, which was set to a low volume. The atmosphere could have been described as peaceful, if not for the storm of emotions that Tyst was currently unleashing.

– And nothing's getting better. "The darkest night before dawn." Everyone says that, but I don't know. Where the fuck is the dawn?

He sat on the floor and looked at you. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. You sat there, unsure of whether to approach him. There was a moment of silence. A deathly silence. But it only lasted a fraction of a second, and then you heard the sound of electricity coming from the outlet and the sound of human speech on the TV.

Tryst looked ahead of him and continued quietly. His exhausted, wide-open eyes reflected the flickering images of the video sequence.

– I got involved in all this just because I needed the money. I can’t back out because I’ve already signed up for something without really understanding what I’m getting myself into. – He lowered his head onto his hands.

– I’ve also dragged the girls into this. And I can see the way you’re looking at me. I really can. – His voice trembled terribly and rose several octaves. He looked out the window at the part of the city that was visible from his position. On the street, the lights of the houses created bizarre combinations of squares of windows, and the dotted lines of the streetlights were visible below. The streetlamps glowed with a yellow light, and cars passed by at full speed, accelerating on the empty night roads. He stared at all of this for a long time, probably not even seeing anything.

– I don't care, you know. It's all pointless. If you want, you can call me a treacherous bastard. They say that women dream about the misfortunes that threaten their loved ones, and men dream about the misfortunes that threaten themselves. But I don't see dreams anymore.

You remembered all the times he got up in the middle of the night, grabbed a beer and smoked for a long time, looking out the window, letting the cold in and sacrificing an extra hour of his sleep. He closed his eyes, and a tear rolled down his cheek. His face was illuminated by the light reflected from the headlights of a passing car. You sat next to him. You didn't say anything, but you pulled him closer.

– I'm sorry, God, I'm so sorry.

– Well, how do I look at you? Huh? Perhaps I look strange, but I don't think anything bad about you, and I understand everything. I'll help as much as I can, don't worry. And don't apologize, I've never blamed you for anything, you're doing well. And the fact that you don't write me is an eternal problem, there's nothing special about me being displeased. Don't worry, everything is fine. – You said, while he was crying loudly, in his usual manner, clinging to you, sitting on the hard floor, covered with a carpet that provided minimal comfort. You ran your hand through his hair, which was stiff from the dye. Then you grabbed his head and pulled him close to kiss him on the lips. Perhaps you shared his feeling, the one that can be described as a "stitch in the chest," as if you had suffered a heart attack. It was both exciting and intimate in its own way, to kiss him on his salty lips in a dimly lit room after his nervous breakdown.

He crawled back onto your couch. You climbed on top of him and continued kissing. His cold hands gripped your waist. He arched his back. The kiss became hotter and more confident, as it often does. His hands, although they didn't squeeze you tightly, remained like a stone on your waist, as if he didn't want to let go of you for a second.

– I want you. Really.

– Relax, baby. I want you too.

You turned over, so he could place himself on top now. He pulled down your pants first. Then he hooked the edges of your underwear and removed them as well. He spread your folds and pressed his mouth against them, moving his tongue at different speeds. You made sighs of approval when he found the right spots, set the pace, and added his fingers. You lightly pressed his head, feeling that it was enough for now.

– Get a condom.

– Yes ma’am.

When he finished fiddling with it, he leaned over you and wrapped his arms around your head, resting his elbows on the bed for support. You could feel the plastic cast on his index finger. Poor guy.

– Come on, inhale. – He said as he entered you. You inhaled without his prompting. He kissed you on the lips, and you grabbed the back of his neck, stroking the back of his head.

– You’re doing well, Tryst, I love you.”

– How are you? – He asked, unable to form long sentences as he was interrupted by hoarse moans and breathlessness.

– Very good...you? – You ran your hand over his side, then stroked his back and returned to his face. He looked at you with the same expression as a desperate sailor drifting on a boat in the middle of a raging ocean, looking at a bird that signifies the proximity of land and, most importantly, brings a branch of hope. You looked at his eyes, which had become much brighter against the background of his flushed eyelids.

– Me too. I love you too. – As if coming to his senses, he says and kisses you on the lips. Again.

He comes with a moan. You are also shaken by a pleasant contraction of your muscles. A second after he pulls out of you, he collapses on top of you, gasping for breath, and you wrap your arms around him, running your fingers along his spine.

Later, after you decided to take another shower to wash off the sweat, this time together, you stared at the TV again, now a little more involved in the movie. Your legs were stretched out along the long part of the couch, where people usually keep their bedding. His head was resting on your lap, and you were running your fingers through his hair.

– Thank you, really, I'm serious.

– For what? For loving you? – He smiled and turned to face you, looking up at you.

– Yes, I suppose so.

– Then thank you too. – His eyes shone slightly and you could have sworn you didn’t know how that was possible before. You run your fingers over his forehead and the outline of his nose where there’s a small cut. He takes your hand and you interlace your fingers.

–Аlways happy to help. – He said and you kiss his forehead, then his lips lightly, and look back at the screen. He's already lost interest, exhausted, and falls asleep, still holding your hand. You might have to stay like that all night, but you don't mind.

______________________________________

well I think it's my destiny to write more plot than porn but guys I tried really. 'Сause like how can you resist he's such a cutie