They stayed like that for a while, making out until Mitch’s arms grew uncomfortable. He reclined so that his back met the mattress, and Avi went along with him, his thighs bracketing Mitch’s hips. Mitch only wished that he had more hands so he could touch them, touch everywhere, but the only two that he possessed skimmed the wide expanse of Avi’s shoulders, trailing lower and lower until they reached the lumbar region. There they stayed.
What he really wanted was two handfuls of ass, but he also didn’t want to be presumptuous. His fingertips rested at the hem of Avi’s jeans, tangling in the belt loops and gently tugging at them as he fidgeted. Avi finally pulled his tongue out of Mitch’s mouth, and with a knowing smirk asked, “Are you waiting for an invitation?”
“Yes,” Mitch answered very seriously.
“Alright,” laughed Avi. “Actually, I’m gonna-” He lifted off of Mitch and rolled to the bed’s edge, then stood. The lack of contact had Mitch ready to fuss, but was silenced when Avi undid his belt then shucked his pants off, then stood there in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of briefs.
“What about the shirt?” Mitch blurted before thinking, and had to fight to keep himself from running out of the room for that braindead remark. But Avi cracked a smile, the flush on his face further darkening; like all of a sudden he’s a shrinking violet with modesty, despite the amount of time he’s wandered around the house in tiny athletic shorts or sometimes just a towel.
It felt as though someone was supposed to make a comment or a joke about the situation, but Mitch was too stunned to be witty as he watched Avi go along with the suggestion. After he pulled the shirt over his head, he kept his eyes fixed off to the side. And the quip did come -albeit delayed- when Avi finally made eye contact; with a sly grin, he pointed out that Mitch was staring.
“I am,” Mitch quietly admitted, his heart pounding out of his chest. He stayed propped up on his elbows and kept perfectly still when Avi returned onto the bed, crawling on hands and knees until he was over Mitch once more. It all overwhelmed Mitch to the point of paralysis, because he had so much that he needed to say while simultaneously he was afraid to show his hand this soon. And then Avi touched his neck, sliding his palm up the side and triggering shivers to ricochet down Mitch’s spine.
If Avi wanted to, he could break him with the greatest of ease. Surely he must have sensed it.
Terror seized Mitch, and he’s back to being a rodent at the mercy of a bird of prey. Despite hearing Avi’s story -and believing it, even- his instincts stayed on edge; much too loud, much too eager to spring away. In recent months, he experienced both tenderness and sadism, and concluded they were too similar to tell apart.
Avi went in to resume from where they left off, but before he made much progress, Mitch spoke up. He asked what Avi meant by ‘play song’ on the list?‘, and Avi patiently explained that he learned a new song. When pressed for which one, he exhaled and admitted that it was crushcrushcrush.
“When did you realize that you had feelings for me?” Mitch asked as a follow up, and Avi’s mouth formed a line.
“Are you going to keep asking questions?”
“Yes,” Mitch nodded. Avi closed his eyes and gave a small smile.
“Why?” The inquiry wasn’t out of annoyance, Mitch could tell that much. Avi appeared to take it all in good stride, his infinite patience a godsend right then as Mitch waded through the depths of his own self-sabotaging trepidation.
“I want to know everything about you,” Mitch finally responded, scared but honest. He was relieved when Avi’s smile spread wider.
“OK, fire away. I’m gonna keep doing this though.” He peppered kisses along the side of Mitch’s face and then lower, down his jaw and grazing the corner of his lips. Taking a risk, Mitch dared to rest one of his hands on Avi’s flank and kneaded the muscle there. “I think sometime around Graveyard Smash. Couldn’t stop thinking about you in that dress, then I just. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.” When a kiss landed at the hinge of his jaw, always a sweet spot for Mitch, a hungry whimper made its way out of his throat. Avi’s fingers splayed on Mitch’s chest, his sternum scar positioned between the index and middle. “Can I ask how you got this? I’ve been wondering.”
The scar remained a source of discomfort for Mitch, despite carrying it for his entire lifetime. Addressing it in a vulnerable state would normally be unthinkable, but Avi being his only audience made it tolerable. He liked telling Avi things, after all. So, with an even tone, he explained that it was from two open heart surgeries, one when he was an infant and the other at 19 years old. He explained his birth defect, his faulty heart valves and how they’d been repaired and how he might live a reasonable lifetime if he could get his shit together and stop smoking.
After finishing, he apologized for dampening the mood. Avi responded by pressing his lips to the scar, traveling down its length and causing Mitch’s breath hitch.
It went on for a while longer like that, breathlessly divulging secrets and making confessions to one another, things they’d been both dying to either ask or say but were too personal in nature for someone other than a partner. After a few more rounds of questioning, Avi settled Mitch’s frightened rabbit’s heart by gently reminding that they had all of the time in the world. Presumably, he meant that he intended to stick around. Mitch went to protest, but Avi was faster, taking him by the wrists and guiding his hands to his ass, insisting that Mitch grab hold. He didn’t need a second demonstration, and pulled Avi tight enough until they were flush with one another.
“Please just let me do this?” he pleaded, whispering into Mitch’s ear before nipping at the lobe and grinding against him. Thin layers of fabric was all that separated them, but Mitch could feel every inch of Avi’s dick dragging against his own. A damp spot on the fabric of his briefs made contact with the bare skin of Mitch’s belly, nearly killing him.
“OK,” Mitch agreed at last and shut up, half of his body and all of his brain turned to jelly from Avi’s choice of words. He wanted nothing more than to reveal the sentiment that’s burned him up for months, especially right then. But he knew better. So instead, he reversed their roles and got Avi onto his back, praying that his actions -the touches, the tastes- did a competent enough job to showcase his devotion. The noises that he pulled out of Avi sounded promising, and if he could continue to deliver, maybe it’d tide him over until the moment was perfect.
In the meanwhile, the confession would stay between his teeth, wedged like a popcorn kernel that needed to be extracted.
But he could wait.