Peaches 'N Cream

3. First

JOSEPH'S HANDS SNAKED UNDER HIS THIGHS, LIFTING HIM UP, AND LET JERICHO'S LEGS WRAP AROUND HIS WAIST TO PULL THEIR BODIES CLOSER.

He pressed his back flat against the wall, sucking softly on his tongue and dragging a hand up his body. Leaving no part of Jericho's mouth unexplored and tasting him like it was something he wanted to save for later.

They'd been at it for a while now; several times throughout the duration of the party. Scouring the enormous house for dark hallways or empty rooms while trying to keep their wandering hands off each other.

They were failing miserably. It was the alcohol dulling his senses and the green inferno in Joseph's eyes, making him dizzy and compliant. Usually, he would've stayed the hell away, but tonight it was different.

Whenever they so much as made eye contact, he could tell that Joseph wanted absolutely nothing else but to put his hands on him. He was lovesick and drunk enough to give the other whatever the hell he demanded.

He carded his fingers through short golden locks as the other boy nipped his jaw and down the side of his neck torturously slow. Leaving violet constellations on the skin—the sounds exiting Jericho's throat low and needy.

"Mm? You want me?"

The blond squeezed his throat and growled in between kisses.

"How bad?"

Another incoherent noise escaped him. His heart hammered in his chest, and he could feel Joseph's arousal swelling against the underside of his thigh when he yanked his head back and kissed him, panting a mantra of 'need you's' into his mouth.

"Jericho..."

"..."

"Jericho. Jericho!?"

Jericho shot up out of bed, waking up to his mom's softly accented voice yelling at him to get his ass downstairs, it was the first day of school and it just had to begin with a dream about Joseph. Except, it wasn't entirely a dream, more like an over-exaggeration of a memory, and he needed to get a shower immediately.

He groaned as he walked toward the bathroom, peach-colored towel over his shoulder. The fluorescent white light flickered on, and he made sure the cold water was cranked up before stripping and getting in.

Standing under the icy spray, he made sure that his hair didn't get too wet, and quickly soaped up, rinsed off, and got out before he started to lose feeling in his toes.

He brushed his chattering teeth and washed his face almost at the same time. Using water, his detangler brush and with the help of God and Shea butter, he was able to pull it up into a big ponytail.

Locking what Joseph said about wearing it out more often in the back of his mind because unless he would help maintain it throughout the day, (he probably would) he'd just have to deal. Next, he rushed to his room, dried off, and got dressed.

Moisturizing his face and body, jamming his legs into a pair of socks and cargo pants, yanking on a black turtleneck, and pulling on a cable-knit pullover, he was downstairs in probably record time. Grabbing his khaki backpack, he slipped on his Black and white 1's, and said bye to his mom before she could chastise him some more.

Breakfast is for losers, which usually includes him, but he was running late today, so yeah, the statement still stands. He had to catch the school bus because he only works during the summer and he didn't have enough saved for a car yet.

So, he jogged down the few blocks it took to get to the stop and waited. Being the only one there had its ups and downs, like not knowing if he missed it or not because nobody else waited with him.