Bsf!Choso who suggests dry humping for fun.
You shouldâve said no. You shouldâve kicked him in the shin and told him to take his dumb stoner fantasies elsewhere. Instead, two minutes later, you were straddling his lap, both of you fully clothed, trying not to laughâ and failing.
âThis is already the dumbest thing weâve ever done,â you muttered, even though your palms were already pressed flat against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat through his t-shirt.
âThatâs not true. Remember the tequila night when we almost joined that cult?â
You both started moving at the same timeâ jerky, hesitant, like you were testing the watersâ until his hands slid down and locked on your hips, big and warm, guiding you into a slow, deliberate grind. The denim of his jeans was rough against the thin fabric of your shorts, and every shift of your hips made the friction sharper, hotter.
âThis is so stupid,â you said, fighting the twitch of your mouth.
âYup,â he replied, voice steady but pitched lower now, like he couldnât help it. âTotally not hot at all.â
It wasnât supposed to be. Except then⊠yeah. Something very obvious was pressing up against you, thick and hard under the denim, right where you were settling your weight. You froze for half a second, heat crawling up your neck, pulse skippingâ and that was all it took for him to smirk.
âYo, stop,â you blurted, instantly defensive even though you hadnât actually moved away.
âYouâre getting horny,â he said casually, thumbs digging into your hips.
You shoved at his chest, but he didnât budge. He leaned back into the headboard, looking infuriatingly relaxed while still holding you in place. Then he rolled his hips up onceâ slow, controlledâ and the pressure hit you dead-on.
âRelax. Weâre not about to start making out,â he said, but his eyes dropped to your mouth anyway. âI just⊠didnât expect my dick to get bullied into action.â
âCho, that is the most disgusting sentence youâve ever said to me.â
âWorking on it,â he said, grinding up into you again, harder this time. The heat between you spiked, the drag of denim against you suddenly almost unbearable.
Your hands slid to his shoulders like you were going to shove him away, but instead your fingers curled, nails digging lightly into him as you moved with him. His grip shifted lower, big hands sliding over the curve of your ass, squeezing once before dragging you forward to meet another sharp push of his hips.
âWeâre never talking about this again,â you said, voice breaking a little on the end.
âBet,â he murmured, but didnât stop. His hands roamed, one slipping under the hem of your shirt, hot against your bare skin, the other holding you down exactly where he wanted you.
âThere is no next time,â you managed, but your hips were still moving, chasing that pressure like you couldnât help it.
He tilted his head, smirk widening. âRight,â he said softlyâ and then pulled you tighter against him, making sure you felt every inch.
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