Jock Next Bed (BL)
Chapter 222: A dangerous sleepover

Chapter 222: A dangerous sleepover

"What is wrong?" Sky asked.

"Nothing. It’s cool," Chris whispered. "Cool cool cool. Totally chill."

Sky smiled faintly into the dark. "Shut up and sleep, Chris."

Chris turned slightly onto his side, voice drowsy now. "Night, Sky."

Sky hesitated, then muttered, "Night, Mr. C."

Chris chuckled under his breath.

And then they went quiet.

Still.

Too aware.

Of the warmth between them.

Of how close they were without touching.

Of the silence that held just enough space for a heartbeat.

Chris’s breathing slowed, but Sky could tell he wasn’t asleep. Not yet. Neither of them were.

A few moments passed. And then, in a barely-there voice, Chris asked, "Are you cold?"

Sky blinked at the ceiling. "The room isn’t cold."

"Right," Chris said quickly. "I just meant... in case you need more blanket or something."

A pause.

A longer beat.

Then Sky’s voice, almost reluctant: "Are you cold?"

Chris didn’t answer.

He shifted instead, rolling toward Sky slowly until they were face-to-face in the soft moonlight. His eyes were shadowed, half-lidded and unreadable, but the heat in them was unmistakable.

"I’m actually quite hot," Chris murmured.

"Literally or figuratively?" Sky’s voice was quiet, dry—but a little breathless too.

Chris grinned in the dark. "You tell me."

Sky groaned, the sound raw and frustrated. "I warned you not to flirt with me."

He tried to pull away, but Chris’s hand was already there—gentle but unyielding. His fingertips brushed Sky’s jaw, a delicate touch that sent a shiver through him, then guided him back, holding him there. Close.

Chris’s thumb dragged lightly across Sky’s cheekbone, the touch soft, reverent, like he was savoring every inch of him.

"You always say that," Chris whispered, his voice low and thick with something that felt dangerously close to desire, "but you never really want me to stop."

Sky’s breath hitched. He couldn’t argue. The truth of Chris’s words hung heavy in the air.

Then Chris leaned in, his mouth brushing Sky’s in a whisper of a kiss—no pressure, just a tantalizing warmth, a blatant invitation.

And something inside Sky fractured. His carefully constructed resolve shattered into a million pieces.

The wanting, the need that he’d been trying to suppress, surged to the surface with brutal force.

Chris pulled back a fraction, a question in his eyes, perhaps expecting a playful retort, a denial. But he didn’t get one.

In the next heartbeat, Sky moved with a speed and certainty that surprised them both. He surged forward, pushing Chris back against the pillows in one fluid motion, straddling him before Chris could fully register the shift.

Chris landed with a startled "oof," his breath leaving him in a rush. His eyes widened, pupils blown, as he stared up at Sky looming above him, his own hands instinctively gripping the sheets as if anchoring himself to reality.

"Whoa—" Chris began, his voice laced with shock and a hint of something else... excitement? But Sky was already there, his gaze intense, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.

This was familiar. Too familiar.

"You kissed me," Sky said, voice low. A statement. Almost accusatory.

Chris blinked, still trying to process the lightning-fast turn of events. "And...?"

Hadn’t they kissed a thousand times before?

A raw vulnerability flickered across Sky’s face, quickly replaced by a fierce determination. "Chris... I don’t... I don’t like it when you tease me like this." His fingers suddenly tangled in Chris’s hair, fisting tightly, pulling at the roots enough to cause permanent hair loss. Chris gasped, a sharp intake of breath.

Chris’s chest tightened at the sincerity in Sky’s voice, but there was also something in the way Sky’s eyes flickered—something raw, unfiltered.

"I’m... sorry," Sky murmured, voice rough. He looked like he didn’t want to do this, but at the same time, hell be damned. Chris of course, wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for flipping him or for what he wanted to do next, but Chris was too stunned to respond.

Sky leaned down, his movements slow, deliberate, a stark contrast to his earlier swiftness. He kissed Chris again.

This time, there was no gentleness. It was a raw, desperate claiming, a breathless collision of need and frustration.

Chris made a small noise in the back of his throat, his hands instinctively rising to Sky’s hips, gripping him hard, grounding himself in the chaos of it all.

And worse—Chris could feel it.

Sky’s hard-on pressing fiercely against him, hot and insistent through layers of fabric. And okay, his own was definitely pressing back into Sky, but that wasn’t the problem. That was not the goddamn problem!

His mind was spinning, unable to process what the hell was happening or how Sky was suddenly ON TOP OF HIM!

Okay... no way in hell. His mother would kill him. What the actual fuck was going on?

He tried to pull back, tried to murmur Sky’s name between the wild, forceful kisses. His hand pushed weakly at Sky’s shoulder, but Sky caught it—fast. Firm. He pinned Chris’s wrist down, and then the other, shoving both above Chris’s head into the pillows with terrifying ease.

At least his hand was out of his hair.

"Be quiet," Sky commanded, his voice rough against Chris’s lips. He pulled back just enough to look down at him, his eyes blazing, and then he bit Chris’s lower lip. Hard enough to draw a gasp, a sharp sting that jolted through Chris.

He was losing. He had completely underestimated this boy.

All this time, he thought if it ever came to this, he could flip Sky easily, take control, tease him until he begged. But no. Sky wasn’t just strong—he was unrelenting.

And Chris... Chris’s own willpower had fucking left the building.

"Breathe," Sky said suddenly, pulling back, his voice softer now. He didn’t release Chris’s wrists.

Chris hadn’t realized he wasn’t breathing. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, wide-eyed, lips wet and swollen, face burning.

Sky didn’t let go. He just looked at him from above—eyes glassy, lips parted and kiss-bruised, his breath stuttering slightly, his hair a total mess.

And then—God help him—he smiled.

Slow. Crooked. Dangerous.

"You look stunning when you’re helpless." Sky whispered with an actual smile like a psychopath.

What.

The.

Fuck.