Chapter 1 #3
Now he was especially glad he’d just gone along with it.
Darcy was a sweetheart and good-looking, too.
Bigger than Charma himself, which he found sexy, Darcy had soft brown eyes and brown hair that was rather disheveled, like the breeze off the ocean had tousled it and Darcy hadn’t bothered taming it back.
He had a nice bod, too. And he smelled good.
Maybe it was a weird thing to notice, but he had been stuck in Darcy’s pocket for some time, right next to the guy’s prick, and there had been nothing to do really but breathe Darcy in.
He hoped Darcy didn’t kick him out too soon now that he was done eating. He didn’t much want to go back to his tiny “apartment” with its mini-fridge and hot plate for a kitchen. He’d teased Darcy about his little kitchenette, but really, it was palatial compared to what he was working with.
And, honestly, he didn’t want to go because he wanted to spend more time with Darcy.
The episode came to an end all of a sudden, and he realized that he’d spent the last however long thinking about Darcy and how they’d met.
“Do you want to watch another one?” Darcy asked.
“Yes, I do,” he replied right away without even thinking about it.
Darcy started the next episode, and while Charma wasn’t entirely lost, the truth was that he hadn’t been paying enough attention to the original episode they’d watched to be entirely sure what was going on in this one.
Oh, he could figure it out well enough, but he was honestly enjoying stealing longer and longer glances at Darcy.
The guy really was pretty. And sexy. Pretty sexy.
He rolled his eyes at himself. He was definitely attracted because he was being a huge-assed dork inside his own head.
Just stop it, he told himself. Just because there had been a moment back before they’d started eating when it had seemed that maybe they were going to kiss didn’t mean that Darcy was actually into him.
He could have totally misread the situation.
That was kind of his specialty if you believed his mom.
Watch the damn show, he told himself. There’s plenty of pretty sexy there. Ewan McGregor was hot with a beard. He made himself stare at the television for a full minute—thirty seconds at the least.
And then he looked back at Darcy, right into the pretty brown eyes. Caught. He was so caught. And instead of looking back at the television again, he just kept staring. Darcy kept staring, too. A tension built gradually between them. Neither of them said anything and neither of them looked away.
He found himself leaning in, not quickly, but in slow motion so either of them could snap out of it and break the moment. But he wasn’t the only one, Darcy was moving, too. They were going to kiss. If one of them didn’t look away, it was going to happen—it was inevitable. Charma didn’t look away.
Neither did Darcy.
Charma leaned that last little bit—or maybe it was Darcy who did the final leaning, it really didn’t matter—and then their lips were touching.
Charma almost drew back from the electric sensation that hit him.
It wasn’t one of those little shocks that you sometimes got from static buildup, which was good because ow, but it was like getting hit by something unexpected.
There was so much chemistry right there.
It made him freeze, and Darcy had frozen too and there they were, staring into each other’s eyes, lips touching but not actually kissing like a giant pair of dorks.
And Charma had no clue how to stop it—how to stop staring, how to start moving, how to make it less weird-assed.
Because it was. And that had his lips twitching because they were both being ridiculous.
Then they both started laughing. A lot. And he fell back against the couch cackling away like the giant dork idiot that he was.
It was okay, though, because Darcy was laughing too and when he met the pretty brown eyes again, Darcy rolled them, and Charma figured Darcy was thinking the same damn thing he was.
When the laughter finally faded away, Darcy gave him a grin. “So… you wanna kiss?”
“Yes.” The word shot out of him without thought and that was probably for the best, because they were both being silly idiots, drawing this moment of the kiss out for some weird reason.
He sat up and leaned toward Darcy again, trying hard to shut his rabbiting brain off. Darcy mirrored him and then their lips were touching again. This time when it happened, he closed his eyes and pressed harder against Darcy’s lips, letting the touching turn into kissing.
The electricity was still there, and he just accepted it, took it in and enjoyed it, and suddenly the awkward dorkiness didn’t matter and his brain lost everything but the feeling of their lips sliding together.
Darcy’s lips were soft and warm and mobile, moving against his own.
He’d kissed a boy or two in his life, but nothing compared to this. He’d never felt it through his whole body like this. He didn’t understand it, but that didn’t even matter. What mattered was how amazing this simple kiss felt and how he didn’t want to stop. So he didn’t.
It didn’t seem that Darcy wanted to stop either because he wasn’t moving away.
Sighing happily, Charma swiped his tongue across Darcy’s lips.
He tasted that silk and warmth and a hint of the acidic tang of tomatoes.
There was a sweetness there too, though, something unique that he figured had to be Darcy.
He licked again, a moan building up from deep inside him and, when Darcy’s lips parted for him like a door opening to a knock, the moan burst out of Charma, rushing into Darcy’s mouth.
His tongue pushed in between Darcy’s open lips like it had a mind of its own, sweeping through the heat and sweetness of Darcy’s mouth.
Everything around them faded. The noise of the TV was gone, along with the noise of the street.
All he could hear was the rushing of the blood in his veins and the sound of their breathing.
No, he most definitely did not want to stop, and he was going to keep kissing Darcy as long as Darcy would let him.
At some point, Darcy slid a hand along his cheek, cupping his face, cradling him, and he moaned again.
He wanted more. More touches. More kisses.
More. He let the taste of Darcy’s mouth fill his senses, and the scent of clean male joined in, the feeling of silk against his lips and tongue adding to the magic. And he still didn’t want it to stop.
Charma moaned and the sound was echoed by Darcy, and then their lips parted and Charma’s eyes flew open to find Darcy’s also open and staring right at him. He panted softly, exhaling over and over as he tried to catch his breath.
Now that they weren’t kissing anymore, the world faded back into focus. He could hear traffic and voices from outside. He could hear the sound of lightsabers from the television. A soft breeze from the open window slid across his heated skin and he shivered.
“Cold?” Darcy asked, but Charma shook his head.
“Not really.” No, he wasn’t cold, but his skin felt so hypersensitive at the moment that even the lightest of touches from the air felt huge.
“No? I was going to offer you a blanket and they’re all in my room…” There was a twinkle in Darcy’s eyes, a smile that went deeper than just his lips.
“Oh. Well, in that case I might be freezing.”
Darcy laughed, air brushing against Charma’s lips and he pushed forward again, stealing himself another kiss because fuck, these kisses were special. They were worth being kicked out of the family compound.
This kiss ended as slowly as the first had, and this time, Darcy asked, “You want to see my bedroom?”
“Yes, please.”
Darcy gave him another one of those deeper-than-his-lips smiles and stood, a hand held out to Charma. He stood and twined his fingers with Darcy’s, and they went together to Darcy’s bedroom where there would be a whole lot more than just kissing happening. He hoped.