Summary: Written at 3am, after reading too much fanfic.
Everytime he thinks about it, Greg promises himself this time he'll go slow. He'll take his time, explore Nick. He'll use his lips to map every part of Nick's body, learn every secret his skin has to offer and leave a trembling body beneith him. He'll memorize the taste of Nick on his tongue, know each moan and indrawn breath's meaning.
It never happens.
They kick the door shut behind them, hands too busy stripping shirts off, unbuttoning jeans and skimming over skin to bother with civilized things like doorknobs. Mouths and tongues are frantic, devouring. There is a nip of teeth, the mumbled apology and pressgrind to make up for it.
On the bed before they even realize, proud to have held off long enough to actually make it there this time. Quick quip and groanlaugh in response before hands on his cock make speech impossible. Arching into the feel and a not at all girly whimper when it ceases for the split second it takes to shift position. Knee bent up and pressed into the mattress and nothing now but need and heat and yes, there's love lurking somewhere among begging for more and trying to hold on.
His eyes roll up and his spine liquifies and there's no better feeling in the world. Nick follows, Greg's name on his lips, before he collapses beside him, arm stretched across his chest, heavy and warm. Lips pressed to his jaw and exhaustion overcoming them both as he curls into the body beside him.
Next time, he promises himself as sleeps tugs at him. Next time he'll go slow.