( &&. stone cold )

micah jordan. xviii.

[bilalbaqri]

Bilal rested his elbows on Micah’s bare thighs as he thought momentarily of what he was to paint. He tried to ignore just how close they were and what a small distance it would take for Bilal to lean in and kiss the boy that second. He wanted to, with all his might, he restrained himself, instead just brushing over his chest with the back of his hand. “You’re really cute when you’re drunk did you know that?” Bilal murmured, occupying himself by dipping his brush into the tubs of paint he had. “M’gonna have to shower you before you get to bed because I’m not sending you back home with paint on you” He snickered, turning back to his chest. Bilal let his eyes sweep over Micah’s chiseled chest, a small smile reaching his lips. “Dunno if I’m good at pups if I’m honest” He apologised, resting his free hand on Micah’s waist to steady him as he began painting a bright yellow crescent moon on his chest. “Dunno if you’ll have a good look from where you are but I’m going to do my best take on a classic” He smiled, swiping his brush across the smooth skin of Micah’s chest almost too carelessly for it to be considered deliberate. Maybe it had been the symptoms of the night wearing off on him or the fact that he could smell just how sweet Micah smelt. “I have to say, it won’t be as amazing as what you did for me, but expect something sub par at the least” 

[micahjordan]

“No.” Micah argues back indignantly, shaking his head just as indignantly. “M’not cute.” He slurs, but he giggles anyway. “You’re cute though.” A grin pulls at the corner of his lips and he nods his head insistently. “So cute. So beautiful. Like Ama.” He feels his cheeks heating up, but he’s not embarrassed and he has the lack of inhibitions to thank for that. He grips Bilal’s knees tighter, his gaze remains level with the older male’s, but his smile falters slightly at Bilal’s next words and it’s like the glass of intoxication that surrounds him has been momentarily fractured. “Naked?” He asks shaking his head. “I can’t-- I can’t be naked. I can just sleep here, ‘nd shower in the morning.” He nods in affirmation, his slightly panicked eyes seem to mellow out after he voices his plan. At least he knows, despite his drunkenness, he has his morals intact, no matter appealing standing in a shower with Bilal seemed. The smile returns to his lips as Bilal agrees to paint a dog on him, the cold paint hits his chest and Micah momentarily forgets how to breathe as his eyes train on the concentration on Bilal’s face. Another giggle passes his lips and Micah swats Bilal playfully, and most definitely in a flirtatious way. “Hush you, you’re a great artist. You can paint a dog in your sleep.” He pauses, then looks down at Bilal’s work in progress, realising it’s not a dog, but possibly a moon. “You should put a love heart around it. It will be cute. Cute like you and Ama.”

[bilalbaqri]

Bilal, undoubtedly, with no sense of shame or one ounce of subtlety, stares at Micah. There’s something just mesmerising about Micah. How soft he looks under the dim light, tan skin glowing especially where his cheeks tint red and it can’t be from how warm he is - could it? His skin is warm from under Bilal’s hands, rested sweetly at his bare knees as he leans forward to better accomodate his body. Micah’s intense concentration in finger painting at his chest is amusing and endearing altogether, a fire lighting up within Bilal deep in the depths of his stomach. It’s the desire to please the boy in front of him, in even the simplest of ways. He’s not sure where it spurs, but its there whether he likes it or not. Bilal hoped to god it isn’t obvious though, that Micah could ask him to do anything and he may just get on his feet and do as Micah wishes. He hoped and hoped that under the pad of Micah’s finger, he couldn’t feel the quick, hastened thrum of his heart beat. Bilal tried to ignore it himself, instead focusing on the redness of Micah’s lips, almost matching the red paint he had drawn onto his skin. He almost lost track of everything whilst staring, only realising that Micah had said anything when his lips moved. “All done?” Bilal asked, glancing down at his chest. He let out a soft laugh, rubbing at Micah’s thighs gently. “I love it. It’s cute, you may give Ama a run for her money” He chuckled, pushing back away from Micah to unslot their legs. Instead, Bilal lowered his chair and spread Micah’s legs apart so he could slide between them, moving Micah’s thighs to rest over his own. “My turn,” Bilal smiled, reaching past him to grab a paint brush. “I’m not as skilled as you and Ama, haven’t perfect the art of finger painting but I will one day. But for now, you’ll have to sell for some half assed painting on your chest if that’s okay?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrow at the younger boy. 

[micahjordan]

There it goes again, that feeling churning in his stomach whenever Bilal touched him, his soft hands rubbing his things, inducing pleasure within him. He had to keep reminding himself that it was the alcohol that was making even the smallest of Bilal’s gestures seem more erotic than it was probably intended to be. It didn’t stop his skin from flushing, heat rising to the surface of the skin of his thigh, but Micah couldn’t bring himself to move away. God help him, but he was enjoying it, his mind was already entertaining the thought of Bilal touching him in other places and, as much as he wanted to blame it entirely on the alcohol, it wasn’t as if he never thought about it sober whenever their skin made contact. It was just that, he tended to have better control of his thoughts when he was sober, and he didn’t run the risk of vocalising them. He knew that, after tonight, he had to repent for every irreligious thought clouding his mind as he looked down at Bilal’s hands. He lifted his gaze up to meet his again, spreading his legs apart obediently so Bilal could tuck himself in closer. Micah figured his thoughts were best directed towards controlling his breathing and maybe, not focusing on how close Bilal was to his crotch. So, he smiled sheepishly, hoping that Bilal would mistake the flush of his skin a result of the alcohol. “Thank you, I do try.” He joked, offering the single dad a teeth bearing grin as his eyes trained on his ever movement. The eighteen year old quirked up an eyebrow, but the smile tugging his lips did not waver. “What- what are you gonna paint?” He slurred, unable to mask the excitement bubbling up in his throat, “A puppy?” He offered lamely, puffing out his chest slightly to provide a better canvas, one hand gripped on Bilal’s knee. “Or you holding a puppy? That’ll be cute.” He mused, pursing his lips in thought. “You, Ama and a puppy! Triple the cuteness.”

[bilalbaqri]

Bilal turned to look at the boy when he finally spoke up, a soft laugh leaving his lips. “Anything but paint me” He smiled, reaching over to grab a paint brush from one of the cups, deciding on one of the acrylic paint brushes. Bilal raised his eyebrows, leaning back to look at Micah before he finally sat back down on his stool. He supposed it was his fault for suggesting, or even starting it all. “Are you sure?” Bilal chuckled softly, putting his paint brush down on the easel. He reached for the hem of his shirt, “I mean there’s already a lot going on here - not sure if there’s even enough room for more paint” Bilal grinned, lifting it up an inch before pausing. “And I don’t know, my body isn’t as impressive as yours Micah. I’m a dad, I’m required to have a dad belly. It’s in the rule book, I didn’t want it either” Bilal added, holding his hands up in mock defense. Biting his lip, he finally pulled the hem of his shirt up - tugging the fabric up and over his head before tossing it away from the paint. He wasn’t very shy when it came to his body. Maybe the fact that Micah was intoxicated, he had that screen to hide behind. Bilal was really nowhere near as defined as Micah, soft in the right places and sharp when he needed to be. No, he was too skinny too sharp, not enough muscle, too much skin and bones. But nevertheless, he figured he could work with what he had. Bilal dragged the stool close so he was sitting in front of the boy, thighs bracketing Micah’s bare legs. “Alright love, hit me with your best shot. You’re not the only one who’s paint on me” He smiled, squeezing at Micah’s thigh encouragingly. “Ama does a good number on me when she’s upset or bored but I’m sure you won’t be so messy that you’d dip your fingers into the paint and ruin me, right?” 

[micahjordan]

The sound of Micah’s giggles filled the room; one thing he noticed while being intoxicated was that everything seemed so much more funnier and ridiculous. Like, for example, the idea of painting Bilal. “I can’t do that - won’t be able to paint you properly - won’t be able to do you justice.” He slurred, as he grinned, eyes eagerly awaiting for Bilal to peel off his shirt, fingers itching to do it for him. But he managed to restrain himself, only just. He giggled again at Bilal’s comment about his dad belly. “Shh!” He hushed, picking up his paint brush and poising it to get ready to find a space on Bilal’s chest. Green irises scoured the other’s body as he pulled off his shirt and suddenly Micah wished he wasn’t so drunk, he wanted to be able to take a mental picture of Bilal like this, tuck it away in the folds of his memories. He’d seen Bilal shirtless before, but not like this -- not so close to him. His breath caught in his throat for a moment but he recovered and dropped the paint brush before dipping is fingers in the red paint. The smile on his lips broadened significantly as he attempted to scoot closer. “Shh.” He reprimanded as his eyebrows puckered together in concentration and he began painting on his left chest plate. His fingertips seemed to know have more knowledge of the intentions of what he was painting than his brain. The wet coat of red paint slid over Bilal’s warm skin easily, producing an image of a stick figure with curly hair (done using his other index finger dipped in brown paint), and an arrow pointing to it labelling the figure as ‘Micah’ in childish handwriting. He wasn’t the most artistic person, but he was proud of it, unable to control the giggles that seeped past his lips. “Okay I’m done!” He announced, drawing back slightly. “You like?”

[bilalbaqri]

Micah was just, too adorable. And it wasn’t just some compliment he thought to say to him, it was more of a fact. A fact that was wearing Bilal down slowly. The last time he was so overwhelmed with his feelings for Micah, he ended up pushing him against his back door and kissing him senseless. Of course, he found himself regretting it as soon as they pulled away. He was a dad, he couldn’t go around dating people. It just wasn’t right and Micah was so young, he had his whole life ahead of him. No, he couldn’t do that. He had to stop thinking about Micah in that way, or at least control his urges. Bilal felt a little guilty for ignoring what happened between them but it was the only way. He could hear Micah calling for him, asking him to model which left him smiling far too wide.  Stripping out of his clothes, he tossed them into the laundry basket by the bathroom and pulled on an old t-shirt and his sweats. He laughed softly at Micah’s words. Bilal could barely sound out what the boy was saying, only managing to catch the words pretty, cheek bones and honey. Taking a shirt from his wardrobe, he made his way back to Micah. “You should put a shirt on before you get sick, love” Bilal crouched down, just enough to stroke his thigh gently. He took the paint brush from him to allow him to put his shirt on and took it upon himself to draw a small heart on the younger boy’s thigh. “Sorry, can’t do babe, I’m not a model but we can paint together?” Bilal tried to compensate, “I’ll even let you paint on me if you want” He chuckled, getting up to his feet. Bilal took the time to roll his head back, easing up the tension in his shoulders before he brought out an easel for himself, setting it beside Micah. He propped a blank canvas onto it easily and dragged a stool to sit beside him. 

[micahjordan]

When Bilal reappeared, the thoughts in Micah’s head fizzled away again, and he pulled his gaze from the paint palette to the young father standing before him and holding out one of his t-shirts. A lazy grin pulled at the corners of his lips, revealing his teeth and he plucked the shirt from Bilal’s fingers and turned it over, trying to work out which way to put it on. After a few seconds he pulled it over his head, it was a slightly tighter fit on him, but it felt nice to know that this shirt touched Bilal’s skin. It smelled like him too; which was just as comforting; like having his very own personal Bilal attached to him. Micah licked over his lips and was about to ask Bilal if he could keep it for a few days before he became acutely aware of the paintbrush touching his thigh, and he looked down to see a red heart drawn. Okay so now, surely, he’s not making this up. Surely, Bilal is a lot more touchy than he usually is and that heart... well, what did it mean? Micah wasn’t particularly sure what to make of it, but he was afraid to say anything in case it stopped. He looked back up at Bilal through his eyelashes, trying and failing to get a read on the older male. His gaze followed Bilal’s movement around the room and he swallowed as the other settled beside him. “I’d like to paint you.”He spoke up after deliberating on it for a while, he shook his head realising he had misspoke. “I mean-- I mean, I wanna paint on you.” Micah spoke softly, his gaze falling onto Bilal’s chest before Micah grabbed another brush and smiled cheekily, eyes twinkling with excitement. “Take off your shirt, please.”

[bilalbaqri]

“It can be if you want. I haven’t made ‘moves’ since before Ama was born so I suppose I’m a little rusty” Bilal grinned, pressing his lips once more to each other Micah’s wrists. It was adorable how different drunk Micah was to regular Micah, more outspoken and without the bumbly shyness that he loved. Maybe it had been because he was a father now but his paternal instincts came out before he could stop them. Having been so used to taking care of Ama, he found himself wanting to do the same for Micah. Except, what he felt for the boy was nothing close to paternal. While he felt protective of Micah, he also wanted to make him feel good and happy and he almost even craved to see the smile on his face. Which is mostly why taking him out to the bar had been rewarding in itself, seeing the way Micah bounced around wide smile on his face. Upon seeing Micah’s response, he let out an amused laugh, finger hooking into one of his curls and watching it spring back. “Okay let’s do something fun” He agreed, turning his hands so he could help Micah stand, free hand settling on his hips to ground him. “You wanna paint?” Bilal found himself asking, eyebrows raised. He nodded with a grin, letting Micah tangle their fingers together before he led him to the small section by the window where he liked to paint. Bilal sat the curly haired boy down on his stool, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “Do you feel like using acrylics or water colours?” He asked as he began to ruffle through his draws, “I personally think you’re more of an oil paint kind of guy - or maybe a water colour kind of guy” Bilal hummed as he took out his used set of oil paints and water colours. Setting them on the small table beside the easel, he pointed at the two cups of paint brushes. “Those are the brushes for the oil paint and thats for water colours” He explained as he brought a small canvas onto the easel. “I’m going to get changed real quick and you can start and then we can paint together if you want?” 

[micahjordan]

At Bilal’s words, Micah felt the blood rush to the surface of his skin and a blush tinting his cheeks. He told himself it was the alcohol, or perhaps that the room was too warm. But he dwelled on the fact that Bilal said he might be making a move; which, sure, it wasn’t a proper confirmation. But it was the best thing he had gotten since they had kissed that night. His teeth sunk down on his lower lip as he tried to hide his smile, watching Bilal kiss over his wrists, the contact sending a sensation that shot up his arm and he was convinced was the cause for the hiccup of his heartbeat. He lifted his gaze back up to meet Bilal’s as he felt the other male’s hands on his hips and, perhaps it was his drunkenness that somehow gave him more courage, but he traced his fingertips to smooth over the eyebrow that Bilal had raised. “Yeah!” He spoke enthusiastically, almost going cross-eyed as his eyes followed the movement of Bilal’s fingers around one of his curls. He allowed himself to be led into the other room, squeezing Bilal’s hand as their fingers locked together, and ignoring the sweatiness of his palms while simultaneously hoping Bilal would do the same. The room was a little colder and Micah became acutely aware of his semi-nakedness, he hugged over his bare torso as he nodded, trying to concentrate on Bilal’s words, but he was more focused on the movement of his lips. Bilal’s lips were so pink. It was actually beautiful, the way it contrasted his tanned skin. He brought his own fingers to his own lips as he thought back, again, to that night. The night they kissed. He didn’t have to sit down and imagine how Bilal’s lips felt, because he had already felt them, not just that night, but every night afterwards in his dreams he felt the same plush lips against his own, the same contented sigh the passed through Bilal’s mouth and into his own, the feel of the door against his back, and Bilal’s tongue in his mouth. Bilal had brought a small canvas in front of him and it occurred to Micah that he had absolutely no idea what Bilal had been saying. His attention was brought back to the center after the last words Bilal had uttered and Micah nodded as his gaze danced between the two cups of brushes. He picked one, and examined the brush and he looked at the oil paints and dipped the paint brush in one of the darker shades of red before looking at the blank canvas  and furrowing his eyebrows. “Billy!” He called out, stretching out the syllables of his name in a slur. He was positive the other boy had left the room by now, so he hadn’t bothered to turn around. “I wanna draw you, come be my model please!” He continued with a broad, lazy grin. “Probably wont-- wont be able to do you justice because you’re just so pretty.” He emphasised with a slur. “You’re really pretty, did you know that? I bet you get that all the time but everything about you is so pretty, your eyes, your eyelashes, your cheekbones, your lips, everything.” There was something in the back of his mind urging him to stop talking before he embarrassed himself further, but there was a blockade of alcohol blocking the signal from his brain to mouth. “Your eyes are so warm, I don’t think there’s the right shade of brown here... they have this, like, honey-coloured tint to it, it’s so pretty.” He wasn’t calling out anymore, mostly talking to himself as he stared at the colours to see how he could mix them to adequately create the shade he desired.

[bilalbaqri]

Bilal let out a soft chuckle when he heard the low groan from the younger boy. His hands rubbed gently at his waist, “Sorry, my hands cold?” He apologised before settling down at his hips, squeezing at his love handles playfully. Maybe Bilal was really pushing his luck, letting himself be more comfortable, more affectionate with Micah knowing the boy might not remember in the morning. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it when Micah was sober. It was more, he was afraid of leading him on - especially after the kiss they had shared. Bilal laughed when Micah ran his fingers through his hair. If it were anyone else, he’d scold them for touching his hair but with Micah, he found himself holding his forearms and kissing each of his wrists, “That one of your moves?” He grinned, letting Micah step away to push his jeans down. Bilal figured it’d be more responsible if he was standing and not a breath away from Micah’s thick thighs. Flushing a little, he stood up and turned away to give the younger boy some space. He ventured towards the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water as he listened to his words. Bilal turned though, hand guiding the glass paused mid air when Micah called his name. Facing the boy, he let out a soft laugh as he put his cup down and hurried to him, eyes falling to his jeans pooled around his boots. Kneeling, he patted Micah’s knees, “Sit on the bed please, it’ll be easier - you won’t have to balance yourself” He chuckled, waiting patiently for Micah to sit down before he pushed up his trousers enough to lift his ankle boot off his foot. Bilal peeled his sock off before working his boot off his other foot. Maybe it was the fact that he liked Micah, so his judgment was really clouded but when people were drunk, they were never as adorable as Micah was. Once his sock was off his foot, Bilal helped him out of his jeans, amazed at how Micah had even gotten the tight fabric over his legs. “Alright, you’re all good. Wanna brush your teeth and have a glass of water now babe?” 

[micahjordan]

Micah wondered if he was just imagining how extra handsy Bilal seemed to be -- the logical part of his mind, whatever was left of it, was telling him it was his imagination, that if that was anything ‘extra’ he was feeling it was because Bilal was trying to take care of him. But the inebriated part of his mind was telling him otherwise. “Mmm, yeah.” He mumbled with a smile stretching across his lips as he drunkenly nodded; he was grateful for the out that Bilal gave him, at least he didn’t have to delve into some hopeless explanation as to why he had groaned like that. As his fingers threaded through the raven locks, he looked down at Bilal, eyebrows raised and smile broadening. “Is that one of your moves?” He countered when Bilal kissed his wrists, and there was no mistaking the flirtatious underlying of his tone. Drunk Micah was a lot more confident and coquettish, it seemed. His green hues followed Bilal out of the room, gaze settling on the other’s butt for a few seconds before his cheeks flushed and he looked away, attempting to focus on his jeans. A grateful smile graced his lips when Bilal came back into the room to assist him, Micah did as he was told plopping onto the edge of the bed, his heart racing as he felt Bilal’s hands around the back of his calves and his ankles, trying to take his boots and jeans off. He reclined back, closing his eyes as Bilal assisted him, and he could have sworn he had dozed off for half a second until he heard Bilal’s voice. He sat back up, the spot between his eyebrows pinching together as he shook his head so furiously his curls bounced. “No, not yet. Let’s do something fun.” He suggested with a wicked grin, grabbing Bilal’s wrist as he attempted to rise to his feet again, made suddenly aware of his state of semi-nakedness by the cool air that rushed to the parts previously hugged by his his tight jeans. “Let’s paint something!” He suggested enthusiastically, tugging on Bilal’s wrist before levelling their palms together and then clasping his fingers through the gaps between Bilal’s fingers and lacing them together.

[bilalbaqri]

Bilal knew he was being a little bit too handsy with his neighbor, especially after he’s constantly forbidding himself to fall for him. He shouldn’t be allowed to, not when he’s got Amanah. It wouldn’t be fair on either of them, even if Micah did have feelings for him. And maybe kissing Micah wasn’t the best way, but he figured if he could get it out of his system, rid himself of these (growing) feelings for the boy then the both of them could be saved. Yet there he was, after a night out, helping him get his clothes off. It was truly unethical and possibly leading Micah on if on the off chance he did have feelings for him, but thankfully he was drunk and hopefully didn’t remember just how attentive Bilal was being. Bilal knelt down, hands gliding down Micah’s arms and to his waist on his way down. He laughed softly at the boy’s words, “Want me to get your trousers off babe or did you want to do that yourself?” Bilal asked, unsure. He just wanted Micah as comfortable as possible but he wasn’t sure if helping him rid his jeans would be appropriate without his consent anyways. “Well…” Bilal though, rubbing at Micah’s thighs absently, “I didn’t really go to meet anyone. I just wanted you to have fun, I guess. Did you have fun?”

[micahjordan]

Due to his drunkenness, Micah was having difficulty separating his thoughts from his speech, he parted his lips a few times, but managed to catch himself before he actually spoke -- however, when it counted, he failed to stop himself and a low, audible groan erupted from his throat when Bilal slid his hands down his arms and held on to his waist. All Micah could do was hope for the sake of of everything that it could be passed off as a whine rather than a groan and he figured (well, actually, hoped) Bilal hadn’t heard it, but the latter seemed unlikely. Despite the blush that coated his cheeks from the embarrassment of it all, Micah decided not to even acknowledge it, hoping that Bilal will do the same just to avoid the awkwardness that was bound to follow. His green hues skated down Bilal; there was something... compromising about the position they were in right now, Bilal knelt down in front of him, eye-level with his, um, member. Micah tried not to think about it like that; in fact, he was unsure as to why he thought of it like that. Instead he smiled broadly at the other boy, running his fingers through Bilal’s hair and ruffling it somewhat. “No, no, it’s fine- I can- I can- do it myself. Thank you!” He side stepped away from the boy and proceeded to unbuckle his jeans and pull them down. Apparently, when he was drunk his self-consciousness was almost non-existent. He pulled his jeans down, revealing his pale legs and looked back at the older male as he spoke. “Yeah, I had tons of fun! Everyone was so-so-” He stopped himself, furrowing his eyebrows as he realised he hadn’t taken off his boots, so pulling his jeans off completely was going to be a difficult, if not impossible task. With his jeans around his ankles, Micah stared down, trying to decide on what to do next; apparently in his drunkenness, he also lacked decision-making skills and logic. “Umm, Billy...” He began, looking back to meet the other’s gaze and smiling sheepishly. “Help, please?”

[bilalbaqri]

Bilal had been in such a dark place prior to Ama. Before she was born, he was just any guy, working purely on desire and impulse. There was no thought of consequence and no thought of what the other would be thinking of. He worried his parents, he knew and when Aria appeared with a hand on her stomach claiming she was pregnant, everything had changed. His father had talked some sense into him. Aria and her family didn’t want the baby so it was up to Bilal to care for it. But nothing truly changed until after Amanah was born and he had come home to his parents only to have a good look of his daughter and realising he had lost so much time. She was already five months old and she was moody, much like he was as a child because her teeth were growing in. It physically pained him to see how much he had missed out of his daughters life and it had only pushed him to stop fucking around for good. He found himself a nice granny flat for Ama and him at the back of a very religious family’s luxurious house who were even nice enough to invite him to dinner every Sunday’s. They were sweet and they loved Ama but it was from the very beginning, when he had met Micah he just knew nothing was ever going to be the same. They had worked up quite the unlikely friendship. Micah was young and Bilal enjoyed his company, even so much as to invite him over at night to watch movies with him. He liked how young he was, mind fresh and open to new things and he was so impressed with how Ama could curl in his lap and fall asleep. It definitely helped that Micah was down right breath taking, from his emerald eyes that haunted Bilal every time he shut his eyes to the pink curve of his plump lips and curls he wished he could tangle his fingers in. It was enough excuse for him to press Micah against the back door of his house once he had walked him up to his home like every other night, pressing his lips against Micah’s warm ones. Since then, Micah was everything he thought about and he was only minutely glad the younger boy didn’t go home with anyone tonight. Bilal halted when Micah caught his wrist, turning back to raise his eyebrows. He rested her warm palm against the younger boy’s cheek, lifting his chin up with his free hand when his grip slackened. “It’s okay babe, she’s not here and we don’t have to pick her up until you’re well enough tomorrow okay?” Bilal smiled as he stroked his thumb across Micah’s flushed cheeks, heat radiating against the pad of his finger. He crouched down just enough, holding his hands against the tops of Micah’s knee as he leaned in to kiss the crease between his eyebrows, “Okay babe, you don’t have to wear the clothes. Let’s get you out of these okay?” He asked, taking the sweats and shirt from him and placing it on the bed. Standing, Bilal tugged at the hem of Micah’s shirt, “Arms up please, babe” 

[micahjordan]

Micah couldn’t ignore the way way his heart rate quickened as Bilal’s hand caressed his cheek, his eyes flickered shut as he leaned to the warm touch and he focused on regulating his breathing. Bilal always made him feel this way; so out of control. His body just reacted to everything Bilal did; the way he’d look at him, every time their skins touched, each kiss Bilal pressed on him. It was becoming increasingly difficult for Micah to hide the effects the other boy had on him, to hide the blush that would tinge his cheeks, the way his knees would sometimes buckle when Bilal unexpectedly kissed a part of his face, the way his hands would shake if their fingers accidentally brushed. Now more than ever, he felt like a child who had a crush on their babysitter because that was Bilal who showed no interest whatsoever. It was hopeless, but it didn’t stop Micah from falling deeper for him. He nodded, a smile smile tugging his lips as he reopened his eyes, just in time to watch Bilal lean closer and kiss between his eyebrows and all Micah could think about was what would happen if he happened to tilt his head upwards a few inches so their lips could meet instead. “Okay.” Micah responded softly, lifting up his arms obediently as Bilal tugged his shirt over his head, the sound of static sharp in his ears. Fingers brushed away the curls that fell in his face. “I think one of the guys was interested in you too.” He mused aloud as his green eyes focused on the boy in front of him. “He kept asking if you could join us – a ‘party of three’ he kept calling it.” A giggle passed his lips and he shook his head, “I told him you weren’t interested… I just sort of assumed you weren’t. You weren’t were you? ‘Cause I think you should have used to opportunity to maybe find someone too.”

[bilalbaqri]

Maybe it was wrong that Bilal was spending so much time with Micah. Or that he knew that his ulterior motives weren’t friendly at all. He had feelings for Micah and it was as simple as that. He liked how Micah was so good with Ama and he liked that he could be in the others company, talking about anything. But Micah was so young and he had such a long life ahead of him. Bilal didn’t want to take any chances, didn’t want to be his first experience and suck him into a family before he turned twenty, feeling obligated to stay. It drove him crazy so he kept Micah at bay even though he knew how the boy felt. It was so clear, Micah wasn’t subtle and he was so sweet and pure it only made Bilal feel even guiltier for feeling the way he did. Bilal chuckled softly when Micah stumbled into him, his arm looping around his waist protectively, the other rubbing at his back once he landed against his chest. “Cologne and sweat? You’re mad, babe” He smiled, hooking his finger into a curl at the back of Micah’s head. Bilal was startled when when Micah lifted his head only to laugh at Micah’s alertness, “Ama?” He questioned, closing the door behind Micah and squeezing his hip to get him to walk in step with him. Bilal couldn’t help it as he brushed his thumb across Micah’s lip at the sincerity of his confusion, how worried he was about Amanah’s whereabouts. It tugged at something within him, chest tightening fondly. He resisted the urge to kiss him right then and there which was quite commendable considering just how adorable Micah looked. “Ama’s with my parents, we can pick her up in the morning if you’re well enough” Bilal smiled as he escorted him towards the cozy comfort of his granny flat. Unlocking the door with his free hand, he pushed the door open and guided Micah inside. “I’ll let you borrow something comfortable yeah babe? Those jeans are way too tight to be comfortable” Bilal chuckled as he sat Micah on his bed, pressing a quick kiss to his mop of curls before retrieving one of his shirts and sweats. Returning to the younger boy, he handed him the clothes, “You can change in here and I’ll be in the kitchen getting you some water okay? Let me know when you’re decent” 

[micahjordan]

It was nice to know that, even as intoxicated as he was, his body still retained its full functionality. The second the word babe fell out of Bilal’s lips, the familiar swarm of butterflied that were nested in his stomach and only ever prevailed when Bilal said or did something, appeared. A slight blush appeared on his cheeks, but Micah only hoped Bilal would assume he was just flushed from all the alcohol warming him up. His green hues trained on Bilal’s lips, trying to make sense of the words he that shaped around his mouth, but all he could think about was the last -- and tragically, only -- time he had felt them. It was his first kiss, ever, and he recalled them feeling so soft and warm; the butterflies flapping around frantically as Micah made sense of what was happening and wanted to wrap his arms around Bilal’s neck. But the kiss was over as quickly as it began and the two of them never spoke about it again. Micah told himself it was fine, perhaps Bilal had been drunk that night, or had a sudden lapse in judgement and thought he was someone else. But one thing’s for sure, he hasn’t stopped thinking about that night, wondering when -- if ever -- Bilal was going to kiss him again. Micah’s attention was brought back to the foreground when he felt Bilal’s thumb across his lips and he closed his eyes and exhaled shakily at the the touch. He had to stop himself from leaning in and kissing Bilal right there and then; whatever had happened that night, it was clear the other didn’t want a repeat of it and Micah was willing to respect that, even while his judgement levels weren’t at its best and his vision was dizzying. He stumbled int the flat with Bilal guiding him most of the way, he felt like the ground was moving beneath him, so it was a relief when he finally sat down on the bed. Green hues flickered up after Bilal kissed his head a smile stretched sloppily across his lips, his dimples hollowing. “You’re so nice, Billy. So, so nice.” He slurred, not realising he had gripped on tightly to Bilal’s wrist therefore stopping him from actually leaving the room. “Oops, sorry!” He gasped, giggling as he slackened his grip but still held on. “I don’t-- I don’t want Ama to see me like this.” Micah stated, shaking his head with a frown and a crease between his his eyebrows, then he looked down at the clothes that were handed to him. “I don’t wanna wear clothes, either.” He whined softly, using his free hand to fan himself. “It’s so hot.”

[bilalbaqri]

Bilal couldn’t wipe the fond smile from his face, whether he liked it or not. It was just instinctive, whenever he was with Micah. Even then, after a long night at the bar, after witnessing his innocence and inexperience with flirting and guys in general. It was just endearing and he couldn’t help the swell of his chest as he looked over at the boy in his passenger seat. He was glad that he put aside a night to hang out with Micah without worrying about Ama. Though he missed her, it was nice being with the boy. He had come to really care about him. If he could, he’d spend all day with Micah, even if they were just sitting together in silence. He relaxed him, made things easier and freer. He just enjoyed being in his presence, even if it was just friendship. He couldn’t subject Micah to anything more, he didn’t deserve the baggage. As he pulled into the driveway Micah’s family had designated just for him, he glanced over at Micah. “Okay babe?” He asked, turning the engine off and unbuckling his seatbelt. “Stay there yeah? I’ll help you out” Bilal mumbled, getting out of the car and heading straight to Micah’s side to help him out. After opening the door, he reached over him to unbuckle his seat belt before carefully easing him out of the car, his hand coming to rest on the frame to cushion his head in case Micah moved too swiftly. “Alright then?”

[micahjordan]

All in all, it had been a good night. At least, that’s how Micah judged it. He’d gone out with the intention of enjoying a ‘boys night out’ at a gay bar with Bilal and had gotten approached by a few different guys over the course of the night. If his memory served him right (which, considering the circumstance, it most certainly didn’t) the flirty exchanges went smoothly -- one guy was even nice enough to offer him his bed for the night. Billy swooped in before anything else could happen. He appreciated him for that; for hovering around, and taking care of him. But even in his drunken state, Micah felt somewhat guilty for ruining his night by being too drunk to look after himself and effectively becoming another kid that Bilal had to babysit. Now, sitting down in the passenger seat of Bilal’s car, the windows wound down slightly to allow some fresh air, and still incredibly buzzed from the numerous drinks he’d consumed, Micah chatted away, recalling the events of what he repeatedly described as a “super-duper fun” night. He was hyperaware that he was talking a lot -- too much, maybe -- but from the smile on the other boy’s face, he didn’t seem to mind much. Either that, or he was just being polite. As Bilal pulled up to the drive. Micah began to open the passenger side door, before he halted at the sound of Bilal’s voice. He nodded obediently, waiting for the other boy to come to his side and assist him. Micah flashed a dimpled smile at Bilal, putting an arm around his shoulders and climbing out of the car. “Thank you, Billy.” He mumbled as he got to his feet, suddenly feeling dizzy and unable to keep his balance. He staggered, almost falling into Bilal, but somehow managed to steady himself and grip onto the older boy tightly, his face buried in his neck. “Hmm, y’smell... really nice.” Micah slurred, nuzzling against his neck for a few seconds before lifting his head and emitting a dramatic gasp. “Wait, Ama!” He glanced back to the car, seeming to momentarily forget that she hadn’t been with them at all all night. Seeing no sign of her a frown replaced the smile that previously occupied his lips. “Where is she?” He asked, confusion clouding his features and his eyebrows puckered together as he looked back at Bilal, his gaze searching for answers.