Chapter 2 The Taste of Him #3
Wait, his eyes are closed. Oh, thank God, I think he’s asleep.
What the hell was I going to say? Hey, have you ever not been able to get hard until you thought of me?
Shit, who would say that? Damn rum must be getting to me.
It’s screwing with my thoughts already. It’s so hot in here, too, especially with where we’re sitting.
When I readjust my position, I see that the light coming through the small porthole is shining brightly on the side of Sivan’s neck.
His skin looks so smooth, the marks of stubble are nowhere to be seen as I look him over, and with his hair in a bun like it is right now…
he looks kind of…hot. What is wrong with me?
Why am I feeling this way? I feel the strangest urge right now, and that tingling feeling is back, too.
His scent is drawing me in, and I find myself moving closer toward his face, and the closer I am to him, the stronger the tingling sensation gets.
Shit, I can barely breathe. Something is definitely wrong with me.
I lean back against the crates and lift the bottle from his hands.
He’s still fast asleep; he didn’t even move when I slid the bottle from his grip.
I look at the bottle as I bring it to my lips, then glance at Sivan’s mouth.
I wonder what he tastes like… Before taking a sip, I trace my tongue around the rim of the bottle.
Holy shit…is that what he tastes like? I’m tingling all over now.
With my gaze locked on him, I tip the rest of the rum into my throat and swallow.
No. I have to stop, I tell myself as I close my eyes and lean my head back.
This isn’t me. What did I just do? I licked the damn bottle, so I could taste my best friend?
What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t do this.
I close my eyes tight and try to picture a girl…
any girl. Maybe I can force these thoughts from my head.
Yeah, I’ll just push them away. I’ve never thought this way before, so it can’t be that hard to stop.
After all, this just started today, so leaving these thoughts behind should be easy.
What happened? Oh, right, I was drinking rum with Vincent…
I must have passed out, and I guess he did too.
It’s so dark in here that I can’t even begin to guess what time it is.
I pat my pockets in search of my phone. Damn it.
I must have left it on the ship this afternoon.
That’s funny, I didn’t even realize I didn’t have it with me all day.
Well, it doesn’t really matter how late it is, I need to wake Vincent up—our fathers are probably going berserk by now.
Well, then again, they most likely aren’t, I’m sure they assume we’re out with girls, and they’re probably surrounded by women at Pudgy’s.
I lean my head in to wake Vincent and poke his shoulder. “Hey, wake up.” He’s moving a bit. “Come on now.” I tug on his hand.
“Unnh…Sivan. Stop. I’m tired. No more questions. Fuck off.”
“What? Did you just tell me to fuck off?” I move in closer and whisper in his ear, “That’s not very nice, you little bastard. You’re completely passed out and you say this to me.”
The back of Vincent’s hand is rubbing my face slowly. “Fuuuck,” he mumbles.
“What are you doing, you drunkard? Don’t touch my face.” I take his hand off my cheek and move it onto his lap, but he’s not letting go of my hand.
“Sivan, let’s go. Not you. I need to find girls…
” he mutters while his eyes remain closed.
I have no idea what he’s going on about, so I stand and try to rouse him once more.
“Vincent, come on. You said you wanted to go, so let’s go.
” Shit, he’s still not moving, he’s just leaning against the crates with his eyes closed.
Should I sit here with him until he wakes up?
No, I don’t want to stay in the storage room all night.
“Vincent, come on. Let’s go,” I say firmly while shaking his shoulder.
“Take me to my bunk. I’m tired. I don’t feel like fucking,” he groans, holding his arms out.
“Pfffttt! Hahaha! You don’t feel like fucking?
Who’s offering?” Listen to him, refusing to bed someone.
“Alright, on your feet,” I say as I pull both his hands up.
He stands, but barely. “Ah, damn it. Do I have to pick you up now? This is ridiculous. You know that? You are a ridiculous person. Look at you, the captain’s son, completely passed out.
” I swing his left arm around my neck and try to stand him fully upright.
He nearly falls but grabs a hold of my shirt with his free hand, while his head drops against my chest. “Alright, fine, I’ll carry you.
God, no one better see this… My reputation, Vincent. ”
I lift him princess style, then grab our hats and coats off the barrel. He’s still completely passed out. “Hey,” I whisper, while I slide the door open with my hand and foot. “Hey, you little bastard, do you want to wake up? I don’t want anyone to see me carrying you into your room like this.”
But he doesn’t move at all, he’s just passed out in my arms.
“Alright,” I sigh as we head down the narrow walkway toward his room, which luckily is right down the hall. I hope we don’t run into Harlow again. Man, she pisses me off. I wish she’d find someone else to fixate on.
We reach Vincent’s room quickly, and with a glance over my shoulder to be sure no one is watching, I grab the handle, wincing while I open it.
Part of me was worried this might be the wrong room, but thankfully it isn’t.
Stepping carefully inside, I somehow bump Vincent’s head lightly into the door. “Whoops, sorry.”
“Shit, what’d you hit me for?” he asks with his eyes closed.
“Shhh. I didn’t hit you.”
Ugh, it smells like disgusting perfume in here.
Why is it so strong? He’s been with me for hours, how is her perfume still lingering in the air like this?
I drop our hats and coats on the floor and carry him to his bed, gently placing him down.
His arms are locked around my neck, and my face is close to his, as his head reaches the pillow.
“Hey,” I whisper. “Let go of my neck.” He’s sleeping so soundly, yet his grip is so tight.
How is that even possible? Looking down at him, his lips wet and slightly parted, I’m reminded of what Ersin said earlier, He’s actually kind of beautiful…
Maybe I think he is too… I’m inches away from his mouth, and I—I feel like I want to—
“Sssivan,” he breathes out.
The taste of rum brushes against my lips and suddenly…
I feel thirsty. I—want to kiss him. I swallow hard, eyes wide, staring at his sleeping face.
What is happening to me? Why am I thinking these things?
If I just unlatch his hands from my neck, I can escape these feelings.
Vincent’s grip tightens, and he pulls my face closer.
“Vincent, what? What are you…?” Before I say another word, our lips are overlapping, and we’re kissing.
Our tongues are softly moving against one another, and nothing has ever tasted sweeter.
It’s warm and wet, and I want more. The softest of whimpers escapes him, and my eyes shoot open at the realization that I’m kissing my best friend.
What the hell am I doing? This is Vincent!
This isn’t some girl. I can’t do this—I’m not gay.
Wait—he’s not gay either. But we’re still kissing, with his hands locked around my neck.
He pulls me in even tighter, grasping frantically at my hair, kissing me deeper.
Shit, this is the hottest kiss I’ve ever had, and I don’t want to stop.
Desperate to feel more of him—to feel more of this—I climb atop him, and our kiss becomes ravenous.
With him between my legs and my arms on either side of his head, I pull back, looking down at him.
His eyes open, and for a moment we’re just staring at each other, panting.
I want him. I need him.
I don’t know who moved in first, but our mouths crash together again, while our hands begin to undress the other. No words are spoken, only hot warm breaths, and the sound of our clothes leaving our bodies.
He rubs down my chest stopping on my waist, gripping me, pulling me closer, until our naked bodies are pressed together, and I’m lying fully atop him.
His body is hard and warm beneath mine, our dicks are touching, and I’ve never felt something like this before—I’ve never even thought of doing something like this. But I don’t want to stop. I don’t need to think about what’s happening. In this moment, it just feels right.
I must be drunk. No…I didn’t drink that much. Maybe Vincent is, though. Wait, I can’t do this if he’s drunk. I pull my mouth back and stop the kiss, resting my forehead against his, our breaths still heavy. “Hey,” I breathe out. “How much rum did you drink?”
Vincent immediately pulls my mouth back in, holding my face. He traces my lips with his tongue then teases my tongue with his for just a moment. “Sivan. I’m not drunk,” he whispers.
“I’m not drunk, either,” I growl, taking his rum-soaked lips back into mine.
He reaches down, and a breathy moan escapes his mouth when he touches my cock.
I’ve never allowed another man to touch me there.
Until this moment, I’m sure I would have likely thrown someone overboard for trying such a thing.
But, right now, I’m trying very hard not to grunt at the overwhelming pleasure that’s coursing through my body as his strong hands rub me.
Our mouths remain locked, and our kiss is hot, deep, and wet.
I can barely breathe, and at this point, I don’t want to.
If breathing makes me leave this moment, then I never want to breathe again.
“I…I’m not sure if this is really okay…” I say. God, I sound like such a coward.