Another chapter in the Periwinkle storyline from Jacquelyn. I'd ramble more about how wonderful it is, but I think all would be happier if I just shut up and let y'all get to the story itself. *nods*


by Jacquelyn

Taking in his surroundings, it wasn't very hard for Nicodemus to figure out the room did not belong in his house. If it did, it had been remodeled without his knowledge. Given the current absence of his parents, that left only some sort of reality show as the cause. Except, he didn't remember any cameras and the lack of a host or hostess asking how he liked it meant it wasn't a surprise redecorating. Rooms surely didn't just add themselves to houses overnight.

So, he was in a room located somewhere not in his house. He also knew Ikku's room well enough to know this was not it. Well, who was left?

Ask a silly question . . .

His skin lost a shade as an arm brushed against his bare chest. He watched it move under the sheet until it reached the opposite side. For a moment he feared being tugged closer to the appendage’s source, but nothing happened. Nothing beyond the warm rub of fingers along his ribs. He drew a less than confident breath, and followed the arm's line to an exposed shoulder. Naim.

Waking further, a quick rundown of the previous day helped him remember how it was all Ikku's fault. He could not, however, remember how they ended up together in bed. Naim didn't strike him as the sort to cuddle. So, why were his fingers dancing across slowly healing ribs while his body inched closer? And was that a leg moving over his thigh?

Yes. Yes, it was. Now Naim was pressed against him in full teenage splendor. Nicodemus was trying too hard to not think about -that- area to know if the skin contact was interrupted down.. there. But it was very important that he find out. So, rather than think about -it,- he asked.

"Am I.. nude?"

"If you were?"

"I'm not sure."

"Well, let's find out."

The thin cover was gone before he drew his next breath and cool air drafted across his skin. All of it. He didn't move. Wasn't sure he could, which was frightening in a new way.

He didn't realize he was staring at the ceiling until Naim made a sound close to a laugh. Fingers danced over his abdomen, pausing their downward journey to circle his navel. Nicodemus drew a shuddering breath. The fingers lingered a moment more, playing with the fine hairs before continuing. He willed himself absolutely still, going so far as to hold his breath and suppress the need to blink. His tormentor's fingers stilled again.

The push of a fingernail against his skin forced him to inhale for reasons he didn't want to know. Giving him no time to dwell on it anyway, there was pressure of something that could be a waistband low on his back. Elastic snapped back against his skin to confirm the existence of some sort of underwear. Tension rushed out of his muscles. He finally managed to meet Naim's eyes again, blank features a great blessing to his heightened heart rate. There was the hint of something in those eyes, lounging far behind the apathy, but he wasn't too concerned.


Nicodemus jumped at the unexpected question. Nodding, he swung his legs off the bed and sat up. The details were still fuzzy, but he was starting to remember exactly how they ended up in bed together. His eyes narrowed as images flooded his mind of kisses and heavy petting. Okay, maybe not so much heavy petting. Naim was good at soft hints that left a lot of room for the imagination to fill. Each stroke and caress helped guide the mind to more improper filler.

An orange shirt smacked against his chest, soon followed by a pair of beige pants.

"What are.." he trailed off, already suspecting an answer he wouldn't like.

"I could find you the pink shirt. Or would you rather go down as you are?"

Naim, who had dressed while his companion was distracted, stepped closer. Brushing his knuckles against the unbruised cheek, he turned and walked out the door without sparing any more words. Nicodemus swallowed the lump in his throat and quickly dressed. Feeling silly with the bottom of the pants rolled up, he crept into the hall and followed the sounds and scents of breakfast to the kitchen. The lack of a periwinkle dress or any other evidence of their passing the night before lengthened his strides as confidence returned.

He rounded the corner ready to make a jab at Naim for being domestic and cooking. The words stuck in his throat, leaving his mouth open as he observed a woman by the coffee maker. She seemed a bit distracted, but still turned even as his mouth opened.

"Oh! A person. There's food on the table already. You know Naim? Silly. You must. Dress like him. Oh, your eyes.. That's it!" Then she was gone, brushed past him and bustled down the hall.

Jaw snapping closed, Nicodemus stared blindly after her until he heard the click of a door. Turning back he found Naim already eating. Stunned again into silence, he sat beside the other boy and stared at the plate in front of him.

"The food is meant for you to eat," Naim instructed.

"Was that your mother?"

"If she was?"

"Nevermind," he muttered.

Breakfast was carefully finished in silence. Naim's clothes felt odd. They were near the opposite of uncomfortable. More like, if they weren't so colorful, he wouldn't mind sharing a wardrobe. That in itself should have scared him. His gaze traced an imaginary trail over the table, falling into Naim's lap, and climbing slowly up. Comfortable. Like a favorite shirt.

He couldn't stop the little smile generated by the thought. Naim would make a great favorite shirt. Perfect in all the ways that mattered. Just the right texture, and quietly comforting.

Standing, he took his plate to the sink. When he turned around the object of his thoughts was standing right behind him. He reached around and placed his plate in the sink, too, but his arm stopped at the edge of the counter. Nicodemus blinked innocently up at the taller teen. Inside, he was nearly grinning. Before the other could react, their positions were reversed.

Unfazed, Naim questioned, "You wanted to try a new position?"

"Something like that," he countered.

"You're forgetting."


"I'm taller," somehow he managed to look down at the smaller boy, even leaning back as he was.

"Mm, that's nice."

His lesser height did nothing to deter Nicodemus. Pressing hands against his tormentor's stomach he sought permission in drowning blue eyes. Finding only the usual apathy, he smiled. After all, he wasn't being denied. His fingers spidered down to find the shirt's edge.

This was it. He braced himself and took a steadying breath. Ready.

Oh. Wow.

How could he have not remembered last night this morning? The skin beneath his hands felt right. Just right. He bathed in the feeling, eyes drifting closed as his hands began to wander. Unconsciously, his head dipped forward until finally resting his forehead on Naim's cheek.

He slid up, fingers circling around and playing with nipples before traveling to dance along his spine. He caressed each rib, eventually ending his exploration at the small of his back. He pulled Naim close, a rare content smile gracing his lips. Though tilting his head at an awkward angle just to meet so-blue eyes again revealed nothing new, he knew better. Naim was as happy as he to be in this position.

Comfortably tucking his head against the convenient crook between neck and shoulder, he sighed. It had been too long. As long as Naim was willing to let him stay like this, even if it was only for a little while, he would stand there. Soak it all in, tuck the memory neatly away in his heart, and treasure it for all it was worth.

The End


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