Library Makeouts

Spot wasn't actually an affectionate guy. Neither was Race for that matter, but as it happened, Race was usually the one who initiated contact. Unless that contact was eventually going to lead to sex, Spot rarely indulged. Race didn't mind necessarily, but sometimes he wished Spot would at least just give him a kiss goodbye. It didn't have to be in public, although he knew that wasn't why Spot didn't do it.

He never let himself think about it for very long. He didn't think it worth worry over, but sometimes he would just get a craving for the brush of his lips, but didn't necessarily want to go running off to some empty classroom.

But, then there were moments. They came about once or twice a month and he always relished them. Sweet, quiet, intimate moments that Race never told anyone about, but tucked away in the center of his body for an especially cold day. The thing about being with Spot Conlon was that it often went hand in hand with uncertainty and more than a few fights. It was then that he would think back to the last time they had one of those moments and he would feel the warmth blossom in his chest, chasing away most doubts.

This was one of those store-them-up-for-winter times, when Spot's hands were shockingly quiet and they moved slowly, soothing and sliding instead of tugging and pulling. His hands always directed though. There were days when Race would find himself dizzy with how fast Spot's strong, charcoal stained fingers would have his shirt yanked off and rough over his chest. But now, with the edge of the table digging into his back, Race could enjoy each pad of Spot's fingers individually as they danced into his hair and under the back of his shirt.

His hand was braced against an art history book opened to a chapter on the ancient Byzantine Empire and Race's laptop was whirring quietly next to that. He had a paper due tomorrow and Spot was supposed to be working on a series of sketches he was going to use in the mural that was his senior thesis, but instead they were spending their time making out in a sparsely populated corner of the art library. Spot's mouth was hot and the kiss was messy, teeth and tongues. His hands were still so soft.

Race was making small, pleased little noises, liking the way they slipped between Spot's lips as they kissed. Spot was silent, as he usually was, but intent. He dropped his hand from Race's hair to his ass, tugging him closer. Race hummed his pleasure and enjoyed the fact that there was no urgency in either young man. Every movement was deliberate and languid. Winter was rolling in outside, but in the basement of the library it was too warm and Spot's hands were cool against his skin. Race was busy combing his fingers through Spot's recently cropped hair. He didn't like it so short, but Spot had gone through a stage of avoiding the usual scene kid fashion statements like they were a plague. He sneered at the kids in skinny jeans and converse, with their hair obscuring their eyes. The school was full of them, of course, but he'd taken to wearing heavy boots, Dickies and plain t-shirts. Shaving his head had been the icing on the cake. Race had laughed, telling him he looked like a butch lesbian. Spot hadn't thought that was so funny.

But he sort of enjoyed the rough burn of the shaved hair against his palm. Spot was now leaving wet kisses down his throat and Race stored each one away individually in different parts of his body. One he tucked just behind his ear, the other he kept hot in the palm of his hand. The kiss Spot left on his collarbone stayed there, settling under Race's skin to be remembered on one of the aforementioned cold winter nights.

Race opened his eyes to watch the other man tugged his t-shirt to the side to kiss his shoulder as well. He kept his hand on Spot's head, the other settled comfortably under the waist of Spot's pants, against the upper curve of his ass.

"This one'll tide me over for a long time," Race murmured.

Spot looked up at him, lips red and swollen from kisses, his eyes bright and cheeks flushed. "What?"

"Nothing."

There was a short silence before Spot just snorted and kissed him again. Race smiled into his mouth and wiggled to ease the dig of the table into his back.

Back.