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His head is nestled awkwardly on Eddie’s right shoulder, propped up by a bony joint and his ear alone, and his neck is aching something awful, yet he’s simultaneously too comfortable to move. Eddie’s tracing his fingertips over Steve’s own right shoulder, his bicep, connecting moles that aren’t showing right now—somehow memorized by times where his shirt was peeled off, probably sometime in the late summer under an unforgiving sun, ready to sink into a pool he’s recently learned to not fear. And something is full inside him.
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Love Confessions During a...Date?For the Spicy Six-Ber Month Challenge!
My prompt is Fireplace!