Hi, I don't know if you're taking prompts but I just read your scene about Andrew being there in Baltimore and it was amazing so I wanted to ask you to write something about Andreil + neck kisses, because I feel like this is a Very Important plot point that was not fully explored. Like maybe Andrew coming to terms with the fact that it's actually his favorite thing, and not knowing how to ask for it? Ugh I just finished rereading the series and I can't get enough of these stupid boys 🦊
(Thank you so muuuuch, and also I totally agree tbh)
He hates the way Neil always pauses to kiss at the hinge of his jaw on the way to his neck. It’s like a check point, the sweet press of a power button, and Neil doesn’t even seem to realize he’s doing it. He kisses with his whole face too, dragging down over Andrew’s bottom lip and chin and throat with his eyes closed, like he’s too in love with the experience to even look.
It’s killing Andrew. It’s stoppering the air in his lungs and giving him stomach ache with how bad he wants it. You like it. I like that you like it.
Andrew hates that he likes it, the vulnerability of that bared neck. It feels like a mistake every time he does it, but it also kind of feels like he’s taken the first shots of the night and he can’t stop, like the more he drinks the thirstier he gets. Neil is such a mistake, but he’s so so easy to make.
Kissing — like this, with the covers pushed down and Andrew on his side with his hand up Neil’s shirt — feels inevitable. He can’t stop pushing up Neil’s springy cowlicks and Neil can’t stop fumbling down to Andrew’s neck and sucking. It’s so humid and nervy-tense between them, like it’s never been, like Neil is singlehandedly dangling Andrew off of a rooftop.
Neil passes his tongue over that root of Andrew’s jaw and Andrew makes a noise so low that it sounds wounded. He just barely keeps his hands from forcing Neil closer, chasing that moment where Neil can’t help himself, circulating between mouth and face and neck before Andrew directs his attention elsewhere. He just wants to stay in that circuit with his hands open and his head tilted back.
Andrew’s fist must go too tight in Neil’s hair because he pulls back frowning, lips red.
“Sorry,” Neil says. “Carried away.” He looks troubled by this, like he’s not used to being carried away by things that aren’t arguments.
“No,” Andrew starts, and then stalls out. His hand is still in Neil’s hair. He doesn’t know how to ask for this; doesn’t even know if he wants to.
“No?” Neil repeats. “Okay.” He leans back and off of Andrew, passing one hand through his own hair and undoing Andrew’s work messing it up.
“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Andrew says, and the way he’s exposed is too much — shirt pushed up in the tousle to pull Neil on top, hard and marked up.
“In my experience, no means stop,” Neil says evenly.
It’s exactly what he wants to hear, he realizes suddenly. Neil finds this humiliating way of giving Andrew what he wants without looking like he’s considered it at all.