Dorian lets out a small grunt as he’s pinned to the bed in defeat, laughter bubbling up from his chest as Cullen grins back at him, no doubt some sharp comment on his tongue at having bested Dorian and “Maybe now we could please focus on getting this homework done?”
But in the aftermath with their heaving chests and giddy smiles, none of that is said, and Dorian can’t help but note the way a touch of those blond curls hang over Cullen’s head, loosened from their gel during their roughhousing. His eyes follow them down to Cullen’s lips, parted and red and admittedly a bit raw from all the nervous gnawing his friend does while deep in thought. A pink tongue slips out to wet them, and it brings Dorian’s gaze up to Cullen’s eyes; honey brown and doe-like almost with their worried innocence– a strained tension between sweetness and something perhaps darker. But it only makes them all the more captivating to observe.
Cullen’s gaze flickers up to meet Dorian’s and the silence is palpable between them now, the pretenses of whatever this started under have melted away now, revealing a none too shallow pool of pure and almost painful want.
Dorian hears Cullen swallow, those doe eyes slipping down and then back up, hooded and hungry. Dorian sucks in a small breath when Cullen lowers his body onto his, revealing his obvious erection as they press together. Against all logic, against all the voices screaming at him to roll away, to shove him off and run because it’s “wrong” and “shameful” and “unnatural,” Dorian’s hips push back up, seeking more.
And once Cullen’s lips are on his, eager but pliant, there’s really no going back from there.