Page 60 of Speak in Fever
"It is now," Rath says, then loses his train of thought entirely when Percy leans closer, close enough that Rath can feel his breath on his lips.
"This is exactly what I'm talking about," Percy murmurs, but he's not pulling away. If anything, he's pressing closer, his body pinning Rath against the wall in a way that makes Rath's breath catch. "We can't keep looking at each other like this."
But even as he says it, Percy's mouth finds the curve of Rath's neck, and Rath has to bite back a sound that would definitely carry beyond this room. Percy's lips are warm and slightly chapped, familiar in the best way, and when he finds that sensitive spot just below Rath's ear, Rath's hands come up to clutch at Percy's shoulders.
They're both breathing hard now, and the sound is amplified in the small space of the video room, echoing around them. Percy's hands slide down from the wall to Rath's thighs, and suddenly Rath is being lifted, pressed more firmly against the door, his legs coming up instinctively to wrap around Percy's waist.
It's desperate and probably inadvisable and everything they've been trying not to do in public spaces, but Rath can't bring himself to care when Percy is solid and warm against him, when he can feel the evidence of Percy's want pressed against him, when Percy's making those quiet sounds that mean he's losing the careful control he works so hard to maintain.
"Percy," Rath breathes, not sure if it's a warning or encouragement.
They’re both panting. It sounds so loud in the small space of the video room, echoing around them and so, so clear. He can feel Percy, hard and hot. It’s so much. It’s almost too much. He feels dizzy with it.
“Can we change places?” Rath asks, breathless, while Percy nips at his collarbone.
Percy pulls back and lowers him back onto the floor. “Whatever you want.”
He’s never done this. He’s never done it, but it’s what he wants the most. His mouth is watering.
Percy’s back is straight where he’s pressed up against the door, up to his full height. Rath has to look up at him, and the front of their bodies press together when Rath closes the small gap between them.
“Um,” he says, and Percy looks at him so patiently, eyes clear and soft and warm, and it’s Percy, it’s just Percy, he knows him and he trusts him more than anyone in this world, and that’s the thought that gives him the courage to keep speaking. “I want to blow you.”
Percy chokes. “Rath—”
“And I’ve never done it before,” he interrupts, a little hysterical with it, because he’s imagined this a million times in his bed, in his shower, and it’s happening now, in real life. “I won’t be any good. But I really, really fucking want to.”
“Fuck, Rath, you can do anything you want—”
And that’s really all Rath needs to hear.
He goes straight to his knees on the linoleum floor, thankful for the flexibility of practice shorts. Percy’s looking down at him with dark eyes, pupils dilating in the bright lights, mouth wide open at the sight in front of him, and Rath has to press the heel of his hand into the bulge in his pants, to relieve himself just a touch.
“Rath,” Percy says again, and his voice is so raw, so low, that it sends tingles down Rath’s spine.
Rath knows his hands are shaking as he pulls Percy’s shorts down, and it takes him longer than it should to get them down around his legs. Percy’s looking down at him like he’s hungry for it, and Rath’s wanted this for so long that he feels like his mind is in overdrive with it.
“God, I’ve wanted to—” Rath gasps, voice breathy, “You have no idea.”
Percy makes a high pitched noise above him, like maybe he does have an idea, and it almost immediately turns into something more strained and urgent when Rath just—reaches right in and pulls his cock out.
Rath’s thought about this a lot. It’s a little fucked up how much he’s thought about it, honestly—he should maybe feel a little bad about it—but now that he’s here, now that it’s real, he’s never going to survive on just thinking about it again.
Because Percy is making these quiet little noises above him, and Rath’s got his hand around his cock, and it’s hot and hard and flushed and a little wet at the tip, and—and he’s got no idea what the fuck to do.
He’s not going to panic, because if Percy sees it in his eyes and tucks himself back into his pants and says they can always do this another time, Rath might die about it.
He wants it so bad.
He takes a few breaths to calm himself and then gives a few experimental tugs, and nearly comes just from the noises Percy starts to make.
Rath moves a little closer, his mouth only inches away. His heart is racing so hard that Percy can probably hear it, but whenever he looks up, he’s hit with that same thought from earlier: This is Percy. He trusts him. “Can you—I don’t know how to…”
Percy rests a hand in his hair, gentle and soothing. “Spit in your hand. Make me wet.”
He feels filthy. His knees are already aching and whenever he brings his hand back to Percy’s cock, he grips him tighter, watching with wide eyes as every movement makes him wetter. There’s a soft bang, and when Rath looks up, Percy’s got hishead thrown against the door, looking up at the ceiling like he’s already about to start losing it.
“Percy–” Rath starts.
