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MINORS DNI

Pope and Cherry couldn’t get enough of each other. That much had been made obvious by the unrelenting passes of touch that only ever lingered on the other, stuck in an orbit that magnetized their bodies closer and closer without even meaning to. His brothers had often joked in the feeble few minutes of them being apart that they might fuse together if they weren’t careful, Pope only hummed, mused, unsure if he would be entirely against the idea. Pope would consider himself tame, though his family surely wouldn’t.

He kept his touches pg for the most part, always above the clothes, soothing the smooth curve of her hip, tawny sliver of skin peeking from her tiny shorts, a hand on her soft knee, the warm scent of her shoulder as he tucked his head to the soft slope between her neck. He’d press a kiss here and there, under the wiry mess of curls sticking to the dampness of her neck in the summer heat, fingers pinching her thigh when she giggled and wriggled in his lap. Even then he was tame, despite the bloom of arousal that seeped through his chest at the soft lilt of her story telling, some customer at work, fingers playing with the buttons of his shirt mindlessly, a habit she could never help. No, he was tame, Cherry on the other hand was a problem.

In the beginning she would almost never be the one to initiate touch. If she did, it took a great amount of consideration before doing so. Slipping her hand into his was a challenge, fingers anxiously twitching before slowly lacing her pinky with his, until the rest of her fingers curled into his. She was so timid, sweet and unsure, always overthinking what was appropriate. It was nothing like that now.

Andrew considers it might be his fault. All the times he had encouraged her, “I just wasn’t sure if you were okay with me touching you like that,” she’d murmur, and Pope would look at her incredulously, “I always want you to touch me.” So really, he’s the one to blame for his own predicament.

They had only been watching a movie. Her feet perched in his lap as she always had them, Andrews hands soothing soft circles on the inside of her calf, his family a wall away having a discussion neither of them particularly cared for. Her red painted toes wiggled disinterested in the movie, while his gaze trained on the television. She pressed her heel softly to the inside of Pope's thick thigh, thumb nail bitten between her teeth as she trailed her toes up the ridged seam. Pope's gaze flitted over to her, brown pretty eyes watching him intently, toes dancing along the inside of his thigh, sly grin curling the corners of her lips, “What?” she mouthed, shrugging softly. Her foot nearly pressed to the restrained outline of his cock when his grip circled her ankle, a soft gasp leaving her lips as he leaned over her legs, “You really think they won’t hear if we get up to something?” he murmured softly, low enough to mask his words behind Craigs boisterous voice. “Just wanna play with you, Andy,” Cherry hummed.

Pope shook his head, turning his face away when she scooted closer, legs off his lap to slide into his side, “Can I touch you? Please,” her soft lips grazed his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss there, “Just a little bit.” Pope can hardly breathe when her soft hand pushes over the growing bulge in his pants, palming the outline of him enough to make his hips stutter, “Bet I could make you cum just like this,” “Don’t.” “You don’t think so?” she breathes, nipping his shoulder as her palm presses harder to where the tip of him presses against the inside of his thigh under the thick denim, “You’re so sensitive. Bet you’re almost there already.” Her hand grips the shape of him and Popes eyes squeeze shut, thighs tensing, almost shaking, "Fuck. Do that again."

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