“Hm, me neither.” Gray should have known going into their living arrangement that it’d be much like their college days, sharing a bed or the floor or the couch whenever sleep was necessary. “Relaxing does sound nice, though. I approve of the evening plans.”
He felt a shiver run up his spine as Chase’s hands find the skin under his shirt, the feeling of it more than pleasant. “A hundred percent, huh? You sure you know what you’re asking for? I can be plenty annoying if I really try.” There’s a playful smirk on his lips that can’t quite be seen due to the position of Gray’s head. He leaned back and placed a kiss on the tip of Chase’s nose.
“We’re cuddling in my bed, though. Mine’s cozier. Sorry.” He chuckled and planted another smooch, this time on Chase’s lips. He lingered for a bit longer than he normally did, allowing the kiss to melt some of his nerves. It was slightly selfish, but not entirely. When he pulled back again, he nodded his head to the oven. “How much longer until the cookies are done?”
You sure you know what you’re asking for?
Chase is never sure of what he’s asking for, but he’s sure about him. He’s never been more sure of someone in his life.
“I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to be yours.”
That kiss to his nose makes his heart flutter, as simple things tend to do. There’s a way Gray looks at him that makes his abdomen feel funny, that makes his heart feel like launching up into his throat, but it’s a nice feeling. Like the first kiss, drunk on his college bed, excited and nervous, but oh so good.
It doesn’t help that Gray has that second kiss linger. Chase is so selfish and coveting of him, he wants to melt in his arms and stay there, fawning over his handsome face and pining over his lips and his eyes and his nose. He adores him. Love is not a strong enough word to describe what he feels when Gray sneaks even the briefest of glimpses.
Just as he takes his face in his hands, prepared to go shutting him up with his tongue in his mouth, the oven behind him beeps. Chase’s shoulders slump visibly, as if he was unprepared, saddened by the fact that he can’t just sprawl him out over the counter and take him how he sees fit-- even if one of his favourite foods is ready just for him.
“Looks like you were right on time,” he murmurs as he draws away, turning to throw on some oven mitts and retrieve his cookies from the heat. The smell of oranges fills the room, and he can’t picture a better moment than this one, at peace with himself for the first time in a long time. “Be careful. They’re hot. Don’t burn yourself.”
amandla
dailybridgerton
titsay
izzy806
origamiaround
theartofmadeline
stormborns
