Description
Rome nodded, realizing they’d somehow inched close enough to touch. “Hmm,” he murmured, suddenly admiring the soft, buttery brown hair atop Hugo’s sweet, pretty head. “I’d settle for something small.”
“Yeah?” Hugo’s voice was a soft, low croak. “Like what?”
“Like running my fingers through your hair, for starters.”
“Oh.” Hugo froze, narrow hip casually leaned against the same counter where Rome stood. “Oh. Wow. That… fuck, Rome, that… would be…”
“Hot?” Rome murmured, hand trembling as he gently reached out to do just that. “Yeah, Hugo, I think so.”
Hugo nodded and stood, perfectly still, waiting for the mere millisecond or two it took for Rome’s hand to reach his head. His fingertips gently brushed the feathery wisps of Hugo’s hair, soft and fluttering beneath his light touch. Rome could hardly believe this was happening. Here, now, in the middle of the day, without so much as a buzz to spur him along. Instead, he was flying on mere instinct, the thirst and hunger Hugo had talked about burning hot and hard deep within him.
Hugo let out a soft, almost primal moan, his eyelids fluttering as Rome’s fingers slid deeper into his medium-length curls. The feeling was slow, exotic, downright erotic, so new and unexpected after the way Hugo’s homecoming had started less than an hour before.
Rome thought Hugo might lean into the caress, turn it into something inevitably more, but instead, he sagged gently beneath it, as if on sensory overload. Rome knew the feeling, finding it hard to stand himself. Despite his instincts to grab a lock of hair and drag Hugo in for a long, deep kiss, he went the opposite direction, fingertips just gently glancing across his scalp before he pulled his shaky hand away.
“Your turn,” Rome croaked as Hugo quietly opened his half-lidded eyes.
“Mmm, yes please.” Hugo nodded toward the chair beside him. “But you’re too tall, you’ll have to sit for me to rub that pretty stubble of yours.”
“Your wish,” Rome sighed, not just sinking but downright oozing into the chair at his feet.
Hugo stood behind him, gripping the back of his chair as Rome squirmed into place. Warm breath spilled across the top of his head, moments before trembling fingers crept across his crown. Rome gripped the armrests tightly, unprepared for the magnitude of Hugo’s warm, gentle touch and how it might ricochet through every cell of his suddenly squirming body.
“So stubbly,” Hugo narrated, palming Rome’s dome with a warm, doughy hand as his fingers stretched out like spider legs. “Is the rest of you… like this?” Hugo asked, smoothing his hand around Rome’s scalp as if tracing every trace of stubble.
Rome’s voice was pure honey, to match the syrupy sensation as he practically oozed down into his chair. “You’ll just have to find out some time, I suppose.”
“How about now?” Hugo murmured, teasing his hand away as he turned and sank, gently, onto the butcher block in front of Rome.
Rome wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea. After all, the whole running his fingers through Hugo’s hair thing had been mere foreplay in the first place, no matter how divine it felt at the time. Still, he was used to playing a little harder to get. “What, right now?”
Hugo nodded, eyes wide and alive and richly hazel in the warm light bathing the small kitchenette. “We don’t have to do anything,” he lied, through his teeth. Or, at least, Rome hoped he was lying. “I just want to see what you look like… down there.”