#50 for kurt kelly? (And ram sweeny)
Sorry this took so long! I’ve been procrastinating.
Warnings: Language, angst, homophobia, hints at smut, basically my normal Kurt/Ram stuff.
But it was too late.
What the fuck?
“Stay the night.” He said, his words falling out of his warm mouth onto my bare skin. It wasn’t the best idea, I knew that much, but I also knew that I never wanted him to stop tracing circles on my back. “Our dads are out again. Why not?”
“If I stay, we’re going to fuck again.” I roll over onto my back, keeping our bodies away from each other before I give back in. My eyes met his, melting into swirls of bright blue. Ram never believed me when I told him he was beautiful. Whenever I said it, my dad’s voice overpowered every bone in my body, telling me I was a pansie, a fag, and a disgrace to the Kelly name. I had to stop calling him beautiful. It’s hard for him to appreciate a compliment when the person giving it to him starts to cry. “And I told you, we have to resist this.”
Ram sighed, pulling his white t-shirt back over his head. I rested a hand on his arm to stop him. I wanted to watch his chest heave up and down as he breathed for just a few more moments. “Why? There’s nothing wrong with us. Your dad is wrong, our dads are wrong.”
“No, this is wrong!” I sat up, shaking in his cozy blue sheets. “Can’t you see that? I can’t stay the night, because-”
“How can it be wrong, if it feels so damn right?” Ram shouted back at me. I had never seen him so angry. Fire ignited in his eyes as sweat beaded on his forehead. He never yelled at me before. “I am alive when I am with you, and I am myself. I’ve never been allowed to be myself before, can’t you grant me that? A Friday night taste of what it means to be Ram Sweeney?” His exterior softened, and that was when I realized he wasn’t angry. He was hurt. I never saw him hurt before. And I never wanted to again.
“I’ll stay.” I said quietly, watching him retreat back from a beast to a beauty. “Just to sleep. It’s late, and I’ve had a beer so I can’t drive home.” This was shit, because my tolerance was at least six beers before I had a buzz. But it was an excuse for me to stay in bed with my lover, if I wasn’t too afraid to call him that.
He swallowed, leaning on his side to look at me. “What are you so afraid of?”
I flattened my lips into a line, as a smile almost creeped out. This happened when I was laughing at myself. For being such a goddamn pansy. “Falling in love.”