All That Matters
Title: All That Matters
Author: Viv
Genre: angst, smutt, fluff
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Simple Plan [music - band]
Pairing: David/Sebastien
Disclaimer: *shakes head* of course they're mine, like, DUH!
Summary: You hate having to hide… [standalone]
Dedications: to anyone who's been waiting for me to write something that is an actual NC-17, especially lovestephenking.
You know it is wrong when strong familiar arms pull you into a dark closet during a photo shoot. You know that you shouldn’t be letting his hand softly caress your cheek as his other hand reaches behind you to lock the door.
You hate hearing Pierre tell you about how he just can’t wait to ask his girlfriend to marry him. You hate how Jeff is always gushing about how, at 28, he’s finally prepared to settle down with the woman of his dreams in that lovely house he saw the week before. You hate how Charles goes on and on about what he did for his girlfriend on their anniversary. You hate how Patrick is still with his high school sweetheart and utterly happy with her.
You hate feeling so lonely among your friends, even though they do genuinely care about you more than you think they should.
You also hate being gay. The one that didn’t have a pretty and sweet girl who waited for him at the airport whenever he got back home, the one that had no one special to call when on the road.
But you hate it even more how you have to keep this relationship a secret, how you have to hide from the rest of your friends the things you and him do together in the dark. You hate having to hide the fact about how you know him very well, maybe a bit too well, inside and out. You hate hiding the fact that you are more than friends, more than best friends, and that what you have with him has nothing to do with brotherly affection.
But do you care?
Fuck it all.
You love the way his warm breath ghost over you cheek when you run your hands underneath the dark fabric of his shirt, the way he tenses briefly when you start drawing patterns onto his back before he melts into you right when your lips meet his.
Like now.
You love how your slender fingers run across his firm stomach, making its muscles contract slightly as he presses you against a wall, grinding his hips against yours. Pushing him back lightly, you love the feel of his smooth skin beneath your tongue as you trail it down from his lips, to his jaw, his throat, before kissing and sucking that exact spot that always seems to make his breath hitch up slightly.
You’ve learned to memorize each part of his body. And yet you discover something new each time.
“I need you.”
He knew that before the words even came out of your mouth. He is the one person that can make you feel alive, the reason why you are still with the band, the reason why you keep performing and giving your best each day.
Sure, there are the fans… but he is the one thing that makes you forget about your envy of others when he intertwines his fingers with yours, when he gently nips on your earlobe, or when he gently tugs at your lip ring with his teeth.
He knows all that. And whenever his keen senses discern the sadness in your eyes that others cannot see, like today, he takes you somewhere private and makes you forget everything for a brief moment, except for the feel of his skin against yours.
“I need you too.”
You know he harbors the same feelings than you. You know of his insecurities whenever you look at him, you know that he is also afraid of ending his life alone. He also yearns for a presence in his life, one that would stand beside him no matter what. You can read his eyes like an open book.
You are his shield against the world. The small amount of privacy that he has is mostly spent with you. You are his sanity; the moments spent with you are his fleeting moments of security, the ones that keep him grounded. You are his deepest secret.
It’s a secret how he’s always the first one to get impatient as he starts tugging at your pants. It’s a secret how you know of that small, practically unnoticeable scar on his elbow that he made when he fell from his bike when he was about thirteen years old. It’s a secret how you both know without even looking at each others when you both desperately need something.
You love the sight of slightly tanned fingers sliding down the pale skin underneath your uplifted shirt. You love the way he slowly but roughly moves his hips against yours, the way his fingers deftly unbuckle your belt, unbutton and unzip your pants before pulling them down.
“We don’t have much time.”
You love how between the two of you, you can both just… let go.
You lips swiftly descend on his, your hands running down his exposed stomach, dropping down the dark fabric, as they make their way down to his pants, expertly opening them and letting them slide down his legs as you drag your fingers around underneath the waistband of his boxers and you feel him shudder underneath your touch.
Something not unknown to you flashes through his eyes and he gasps when one of your hand suddenly drops down further to stroke his obvious arousal, over the thin fabric. He presses himself into it and, in the process, presses his warm body closer to yours again.
You instantly remove your hand and wrap your arms around him, pulling him flush against you. Your lips, still moist and swollen for the last kiss, meet again and you both gasp at the contact of your still covered arousals.
He whimpers into your mouth and desperately tugs at your boxers, blindly trying to pull them down.
“David. Please.”
You swiftly pull his down and he presses back into you as you both swallow each others’ moans when you feel the electricity coursing through your body, caused by the feel of swollen cock against swollen cock, perfectly aligned to meet and rub against one another.
You hate how you both have to be so quiet so that no one would find out. You hate that even when you want to throw precautions to the wind and forget everything, you have to remember to be so careful as to not let others discover the two of you together. You both have to stay in control at all times.
Fuck it’s hard.
His hand shyly touches your cock before feeling its length, as if it was still new to him. Your erection is suddenly surrounded by cool fingers and your eyes widen as you hold back the groan threatening to rise from your throat.
One of your own hands travel across his stomach and glides to the small of his back, holding him still as your free hand reaches down to his dick and give it a slow stroke. As expected, his back arches slightly into your touch and his eyes flutter closes as you lean forward to drop light kisses on his eyelids.
You jerk each others off for a few minutes until you feel him start to tremble and his eyes open as he stares at you for a moment before running his thumb over the tip of your erection and letting go as he pushes into you to meet your parted lips in a hungry kiss. Your breathing speeds up.
“David. I need you.”
You love the way he says your name.
You abruptly shove him away and turn him around, pushing him against the wall as you press your chest to his back, your hand drifting down his side and to his ass, fingers sliding in between to find the opening. You other arm goes around him and you draw patterns on the taut muscles of his stomach as your mouth attaches itself to the side of his neck, right beside his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, when he lets himself be supported by you as he lets his head fall back on your shoulder.
You finally locate his opening and carefully enter on digit in and pause, waiting for him to adjust to the feel of something inside of him.
He stills and stops breathing for a brief moment before finally letting out a loud sigh and turning his head slightly to brush his warm lips over your jaw, signalling to you that he is alright.
You love how with him, the pace suddenly changes at any given moment. That with him it can be both rough yet soft, how it can be aggressive yet sensual. With him you can feel everything, your senses are heightened and every pores of your body react to his touch.
You slowly insert a second finger, pushing in and stretching him in a scissoring motion. You watch as a drop of sweat trails down his forehead, down his neck, and you let your tongue flicker out to lick it off his slightly salty skin.
When you think he is stretched enough, you finally enter a third finger, pushing in quickly and deeply and suddenly he tenses, his eyes opening and widening as he gasp loudly and you know right away that he is ready.
You pull your fingers out before reaching up to turn his face to yours and you kiss him again. You know you had both came to the photo shoot completely unprepared for this to happen and you want to reassure him as much as possible because you really wish it wouldn’t hurt him at all. He kisses you back, smiling softly and nuzzling your cheek. He is willing to endure that pain as much as you are. It was his turn and he was not going to back away.
You love how he can give himself to you completely in these moment, how he suddenly makes you feel like you are the only person to exist, the only person he cares about. You love how you always worry about one another but yet how you both are more than willing to take the pain and soreness whenever your or his turn came, whether you were both prepared or not.
You know how he wants it right now. You know it by the way his hands find yours on his stomach and his hip. You know it by the way he looks at you underneath his lashes, his eyes half closed and his mouth parted, his breath hot on your smooth flushed cheek.
His eyes. You love how his blue eyes, usually so bright and clear, become intense and dark, so dark, that his gaze could burns into you only it doesn’t. Instead it meets yours and holds it, showing to you nothing else but lust and desire. You love how he can convey so much with his eyes.
You press you tip to his opening and then swiftly, in one single push, enter him completely, your hips practically slamming into his ass. His eyes suddenly shut close and he tenses. You whisper into ears sweet, tender words to try to ease his pain as much as possible and reach one hand up to gently wipe away the lone tear appearing at the corner of his closed eye. After all this time you still hate seeing him squeeze his blue orbs shut and swallow the pain.
You notice his chest slowly starting to rise and fall once again and know right away that it is a sign to go on. You drop a small kiss behind his ear and murmur a few more words into it as your hands find their way back to his hips before slowly pulling out completely and carefully but quickly pushing back in.
Loud moans escape both your lips and you know, through your fogged mind, that you’ve found his spot already. You pull out and slam back into him and he can’t hold back a cry. He let’s you take control, only pressing one hand against the wall to keep himself pressed over you as the other reaches back to grab your neck. He tilts his head to weakly press his parted lips to yours, desperate and needy as you reply with more force and your tongues meet.
You pull out and push in repeatedly, each time more violently, hitting his prostate, your mouth still attached to his, your hands holding him down by his hips, both your breaths mingling and quickening, tongues battling.
With each thrust you go in deeper, with each thrust your rate increases, with each thrust you both lose more control, with each thrust you both struggle more and more to remain standing, your pants and boxers at your ankles, with each thrust you kiss each other harder to swallow your moans and cries of pleasure.
All you can feel is how tight he is around you, the wonderful friction you feel, the warmth that engulfs you each time you push back in, the way he gasps into your mouth. You are only aware of the way your lips fit together, of the way your bodies fit together perfectly.
And then - then suddenly you forget to breathe as your lips separate from his, his breath hitches up, his body tensing and you feel him releasing and you silently come too, a surging, hot pleasure running all over your body, blinding you completely as your firm hold on him wavers and all you can see are spots of light underneath your eyelids as you fill him.
A moment later and you pull out, tiredly opening your eyes and trying not to fall as he slumps back, his breath ragged and his mouth open, his blue eyes close and his hands now holding onto yours.
His eyes flutter open and he looks up at you, smiling weakly. You turn around, your arms now around waist and over his stomach as he follows your movement, keeping his back pressed against your chest as you lean back against the wall, right beside the spot where you were both previously positioned to avoid the mess he made, and slump down against it.
You love giving him pleasure. You love the way he looks when it’s over, you love the way he still holds on to you when it’s done. You love how he leans back into you and closes his eyes, letting your breathing pattern sooth him. You love how he looks at you afterward.
What you hate, however, are the words that usually follow, always coming out his mouth to bring you both back to reality. Suddenly you remember that you are in a dark closet when you should be in front of a camera, mugging at it with your band mates.
“They’re probably all looking for us now.”
You hate how these moments are so short. You hate how they are always shattered with the knowledge that the others are around or could come around. You hate how you both have to pretend after that nothing went on, that you just both went off for a small break and simply lost sense of time.
But you love how you can lose sense of time each time you are alone with him. You love how he smells, you love the way the corners of his sky colored eyes crinkle when he smiles at you. You love how he yawns and stretches in your arms, how even after that he still leans back into your embrace and doesn’t make any move to get up despite the words said earlier.
You bury your nose into his neck and inhale deeply.
“They’re probably worried.”
He quietly agrees and slowly rises as you follow suit.
You pull up your boxers and your pants and pause, reaching over to him and slightly pulling up his pants and going through his pocket to pull out the pack of tissue paper he always have on him. Taking a few out, you wipe the tip of your member and pull your boxers and pants completely up this time, buckling your belt when you are done.
You then turn to him, his back facing you, and kiss his cheek before reaching down to wipe his opening as you smirk while he blushes. When you are done, you pat his ass and tug his boxers and pants up and then reach to the front to zip up and button his jeans as you drop another kiss, this time on his neck. He turns around and fixes your hair.
You love how you both take care of each other after these little moments. How it seems like it is the most normal thing in the world to do. You love all of this. You love being with him. You love everything about him.
And suddenly it dawns on you.
Why the fuck do you harbour all these feelings of resentment towards the world? Why the fuck do you envy others, hate their happiness? Why the fuck do you still think you are jealous of everyone?
Because you are not. Not anymore.
Of course, you still hate having to hide this thing you share with him. You still hate the fact that you can’t let the others know about this. Not yet.
But why, really? Why? Why the hell hide?
“We better get back. They’re probably pissed by now.”
You look at him and wonder why you still think so much negative thoughts when he’s standing right in front of you, his hands still holding yours, his blue stare warm, caring, loving and directed at you.
Loving and directed at you.
“Fuck them.”
You suddenly wrap your arms around his waist and pull him close, kissing him like you have never kissed him before. You pour every ounce of yourself into that one single kiss.
You hate it how you have to hide this. You hate to imagine how your friends’ reactions would be if they found the two of you in this position.
“David?”
But do you care?
Fuck it all.
They can find out if they want to, they can think whatever they want; you realize that you don’t give a fuck. You only care about one thing now.
“I love you Sébastien.”
You love the way the words roll off your tongue for the first time, love the way his eyes widen before brightening. You love the way he softly smiles and laughs lightly, suddenly not caring anymore if the others hear.
You love even more the next words that he says, his head tilted to the side as he leans in close and kisses your earlobe.
That’s all you need.
“Love you too David.”
And suddenly that’s all that matters to both of you.
---
January 10, 2004
Author: Viv
Genre: angst, smutt, fluff
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Simple Plan [music - band]
Pairing: David/Sebastien
Disclaimer: *shakes head* of course they're mine, like, DUH!
Summary: You hate having to hide… [standalone]
Dedications: to anyone who's been waiting for me to write something that is an actual NC-17, especially lovestephenking.
You know it is wrong when strong familiar arms pull you into a dark closet during a photo shoot. You know that you shouldn’t be letting his hand softly caress your cheek as his other hand reaches behind you to lock the door.
You hate hearing Pierre tell you about how he just can’t wait to ask his girlfriend to marry him. You hate how Jeff is always gushing about how, at 28, he’s finally prepared to settle down with the woman of his dreams in that lovely house he saw the week before. You hate how Charles goes on and on about what he did for his girlfriend on their anniversary. You hate how Patrick is still with his high school sweetheart and utterly happy with her.
You hate feeling so lonely among your friends, even though they do genuinely care about you more than you think they should.
You also hate being gay. The one that didn’t have a pretty and sweet girl who waited for him at the airport whenever he got back home, the one that had no one special to call when on the road.
But you hate it even more how you have to keep this relationship a secret, how you have to hide from the rest of your friends the things you and him do together in the dark. You hate having to hide the fact about how you know him very well, maybe a bit too well, inside and out. You hate hiding the fact that you are more than friends, more than best friends, and that what you have with him has nothing to do with brotherly affection.
But do you care?
Fuck it all.
You love the way his warm breath ghost over you cheek when you run your hands underneath the dark fabric of his shirt, the way he tenses briefly when you start drawing patterns onto his back before he melts into you right when your lips meet his.
Like now.
You love how your slender fingers run across his firm stomach, making its muscles contract slightly as he presses you against a wall, grinding his hips against yours. Pushing him back lightly, you love the feel of his smooth skin beneath your tongue as you trail it down from his lips, to his jaw, his throat, before kissing and sucking that exact spot that always seems to make his breath hitch up slightly.
You’ve learned to memorize each part of his body. And yet you discover something new each time.
“I need you.”
He knew that before the words even came out of your mouth. He is the one person that can make you feel alive, the reason why you are still with the band, the reason why you keep performing and giving your best each day.
Sure, there are the fans… but he is the one thing that makes you forget about your envy of others when he intertwines his fingers with yours, when he gently nips on your earlobe, or when he gently tugs at your lip ring with his teeth.
He knows all that. And whenever his keen senses discern the sadness in your eyes that others cannot see, like today, he takes you somewhere private and makes you forget everything for a brief moment, except for the feel of his skin against yours.
“I need you too.”
You know he harbors the same feelings than you. You know of his insecurities whenever you look at him, you know that he is also afraid of ending his life alone. He also yearns for a presence in his life, one that would stand beside him no matter what. You can read his eyes like an open book.
You are his shield against the world. The small amount of privacy that he has is mostly spent with you. You are his sanity; the moments spent with you are his fleeting moments of security, the ones that keep him grounded. You are his deepest secret.
It’s a secret how he’s always the first one to get impatient as he starts tugging at your pants. It’s a secret how you know of that small, practically unnoticeable scar on his elbow that he made when he fell from his bike when he was about thirteen years old. It’s a secret how you both know without even looking at each others when you both desperately need something.
You love the sight of slightly tanned fingers sliding down the pale skin underneath your uplifted shirt. You love the way he slowly but roughly moves his hips against yours, the way his fingers deftly unbuckle your belt, unbutton and unzip your pants before pulling them down.
“We don’t have much time.”
You love how between the two of you, you can both just… let go.
You lips swiftly descend on his, your hands running down his exposed stomach, dropping down the dark fabric, as they make their way down to his pants, expertly opening them and letting them slide down his legs as you drag your fingers around underneath the waistband of his boxers and you feel him shudder underneath your touch.
Something not unknown to you flashes through his eyes and he gasps when one of your hand suddenly drops down further to stroke his obvious arousal, over the thin fabric. He presses himself into it and, in the process, presses his warm body closer to yours again.
You instantly remove your hand and wrap your arms around him, pulling him flush against you. Your lips, still moist and swollen for the last kiss, meet again and you both gasp at the contact of your still covered arousals.
He whimpers into your mouth and desperately tugs at your boxers, blindly trying to pull them down.
“David. Please.”
You swiftly pull his down and he presses back into you as you both swallow each others’ moans when you feel the electricity coursing through your body, caused by the feel of swollen cock against swollen cock, perfectly aligned to meet and rub against one another.
You hate how you both have to be so quiet so that no one would find out. You hate that even when you want to throw precautions to the wind and forget everything, you have to remember to be so careful as to not let others discover the two of you together. You both have to stay in control at all times.
Fuck it’s hard.
His hand shyly touches your cock before feeling its length, as if it was still new to him. Your erection is suddenly surrounded by cool fingers and your eyes widen as you hold back the groan threatening to rise from your throat.
One of your own hands travel across his stomach and glides to the small of his back, holding him still as your free hand reaches down to his dick and give it a slow stroke. As expected, his back arches slightly into your touch and his eyes flutter closes as you lean forward to drop light kisses on his eyelids.
You jerk each others off for a few minutes until you feel him start to tremble and his eyes open as he stares at you for a moment before running his thumb over the tip of your erection and letting go as he pushes into you to meet your parted lips in a hungry kiss. Your breathing speeds up.
“David. I need you.”
You love the way he says your name.
You abruptly shove him away and turn him around, pushing him against the wall as you press your chest to his back, your hand drifting down his side and to his ass, fingers sliding in between to find the opening. You other arm goes around him and you draw patterns on the taut muscles of his stomach as your mouth attaches itself to the side of his neck, right beside his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, when he lets himself be supported by you as he lets his head fall back on your shoulder.
You finally locate his opening and carefully enter on digit in and pause, waiting for him to adjust to the feel of something inside of him.
He stills and stops breathing for a brief moment before finally letting out a loud sigh and turning his head slightly to brush his warm lips over your jaw, signalling to you that he is alright.
You love how with him, the pace suddenly changes at any given moment. That with him it can be both rough yet soft, how it can be aggressive yet sensual. With him you can feel everything, your senses are heightened and every pores of your body react to his touch.
You slowly insert a second finger, pushing in and stretching him in a scissoring motion. You watch as a drop of sweat trails down his forehead, down his neck, and you let your tongue flicker out to lick it off his slightly salty skin.
When you think he is stretched enough, you finally enter a third finger, pushing in quickly and deeply and suddenly he tenses, his eyes opening and widening as he gasp loudly and you know right away that he is ready.
You pull your fingers out before reaching up to turn his face to yours and you kiss him again. You know you had both came to the photo shoot completely unprepared for this to happen and you want to reassure him as much as possible because you really wish it wouldn’t hurt him at all. He kisses you back, smiling softly and nuzzling your cheek. He is willing to endure that pain as much as you are. It was his turn and he was not going to back away.
You love how he can give himself to you completely in these moment, how he suddenly makes you feel like you are the only person to exist, the only person he cares about. You love how you always worry about one another but yet how you both are more than willing to take the pain and soreness whenever your or his turn came, whether you were both prepared or not.
You know how he wants it right now. You know it by the way his hands find yours on his stomach and his hip. You know it by the way he looks at you underneath his lashes, his eyes half closed and his mouth parted, his breath hot on your smooth flushed cheek.
His eyes. You love how his blue eyes, usually so bright and clear, become intense and dark, so dark, that his gaze could burns into you only it doesn’t. Instead it meets yours and holds it, showing to you nothing else but lust and desire. You love how he can convey so much with his eyes.
You press you tip to his opening and then swiftly, in one single push, enter him completely, your hips practically slamming into his ass. His eyes suddenly shut close and he tenses. You whisper into ears sweet, tender words to try to ease his pain as much as possible and reach one hand up to gently wipe away the lone tear appearing at the corner of his closed eye. After all this time you still hate seeing him squeeze his blue orbs shut and swallow the pain.
You notice his chest slowly starting to rise and fall once again and know right away that it is a sign to go on. You drop a small kiss behind his ear and murmur a few more words into it as your hands find their way back to his hips before slowly pulling out completely and carefully but quickly pushing back in.
Loud moans escape both your lips and you know, through your fogged mind, that you’ve found his spot already. You pull out and slam back into him and he can’t hold back a cry. He let’s you take control, only pressing one hand against the wall to keep himself pressed over you as the other reaches back to grab your neck. He tilts his head to weakly press his parted lips to yours, desperate and needy as you reply with more force and your tongues meet.
You pull out and push in repeatedly, each time more violently, hitting his prostate, your mouth still attached to his, your hands holding him down by his hips, both your breaths mingling and quickening, tongues battling.
With each thrust you go in deeper, with each thrust your rate increases, with each thrust you both lose more control, with each thrust you both struggle more and more to remain standing, your pants and boxers at your ankles, with each thrust you kiss each other harder to swallow your moans and cries of pleasure.
All you can feel is how tight he is around you, the wonderful friction you feel, the warmth that engulfs you each time you push back in, the way he gasps into your mouth. You are only aware of the way your lips fit together, of the way your bodies fit together perfectly.
And then - then suddenly you forget to breathe as your lips separate from his, his breath hitches up, his body tensing and you feel him releasing and you silently come too, a surging, hot pleasure running all over your body, blinding you completely as your firm hold on him wavers and all you can see are spots of light underneath your eyelids as you fill him.
A moment later and you pull out, tiredly opening your eyes and trying not to fall as he slumps back, his breath ragged and his mouth open, his blue eyes close and his hands now holding onto yours.
His eyes flutter open and he looks up at you, smiling weakly. You turn around, your arms now around waist and over his stomach as he follows your movement, keeping his back pressed against your chest as you lean back against the wall, right beside the spot where you were both previously positioned to avoid the mess he made, and slump down against it.
You love giving him pleasure. You love the way he looks when it’s over, you love the way he still holds on to you when it’s done. You love how he leans back into you and closes his eyes, letting your breathing pattern sooth him. You love how he looks at you afterward.
What you hate, however, are the words that usually follow, always coming out his mouth to bring you both back to reality. Suddenly you remember that you are in a dark closet when you should be in front of a camera, mugging at it with your band mates.
“They’re probably all looking for us now.”
You hate how these moments are so short. You hate how they are always shattered with the knowledge that the others are around or could come around. You hate how you both have to pretend after that nothing went on, that you just both went off for a small break and simply lost sense of time.
But you love how you can lose sense of time each time you are alone with him. You love how he smells, you love the way the corners of his sky colored eyes crinkle when he smiles at you. You love how he yawns and stretches in your arms, how even after that he still leans back into your embrace and doesn’t make any move to get up despite the words said earlier.
You bury your nose into his neck and inhale deeply.
“They’re probably worried.”
He quietly agrees and slowly rises as you follow suit.
You pull up your boxers and your pants and pause, reaching over to him and slightly pulling up his pants and going through his pocket to pull out the pack of tissue paper he always have on him. Taking a few out, you wipe the tip of your member and pull your boxers and pants completely up this time, buckling your belt when you are done.
You then turn to him, his back facing you, and kiss his cheek before reaching down to wipe his opening as you smirk while he blushes. When you are done, you pat his ass and tug his boxers and pants up and then reach to the front to zip up and button his jeans as you drop another kiss, this time on his neck. He turns around and fixes your hair.
You love how you both take care of each other after these little moments. How it seems like it is the most normal thing in the world to do. You love all of this. You love being with him. You love everything about him.
And suddenly it dawns on you.
Why the fuck do you harbour all these feelings of resentment towards the world? Why the fuck do you envy others, hate their happiness? Why the fuck do you still think you are jealous of everyone?
Because you are not. Not anymore.
Of course, you still hate having to hide this thing you share with him. You still hate the fact that you can’t let the others know about this. Not yet.
But why, really? Why? Why the hell hide?
“We better get back. They’re probably pissed by now.”
You look at him and wonder why you still think so much negative thoughts when he’s standing right in front of you, his hands still holding yours, his blue stare warm, caring, loving and directed at you.
Loving and directed at you.
“Fuck them.”
You suddenly wrap your arms around his waist and pull him close, kissing him like you have never kissed him before. You pour every ounce of yourself into that one single kiss.
You hate it how you have to hide this. You hate to imagine how your friends’ reactions would be if they found the two of you in this position.
“David?”
But do you care?
Fuck it all.
They can find out if they want to, they can think whatever they want; you realize that you don’t give a fuck. You only care about one thing now.
“I love you Sébastien.”
You love the way the words roll off your tongue for the first time, love the way his eyes widen before brightening. You love the way he softly smiles and laughs lightly, suddenly not caring anymore if the others hear.
You love even more the next words that he says, his head tilted to the side as he leans in close and kisses your earlobe.
That’s all you need.
“Love you too David.”
And suddenly that’s all that matters to both of you.
---
January 10, 2004