The bedframe creaked when Xavier shoved him back. Alvin laughed, a sharp, breathless sound, but his eyes darkened as Xavier climbed over him. His hands were everywhere—palming Alvin's ribs, dragging down his sides—like he needed proof in the shape of him.
"You're thinking too much," Alvin murmured, tilting his head to expose his throat. A challenge. A dare. The familiar cocky smirk was there, but his fingers trembled when they curled around Xavier's wrist.
Xavier didn't answer. He bit down.
Alvin arched under him with a gasp, the sound dissolving into a laugh halfway through. "Fuck—you're—" His words cut off when Xavier kissed him, deep and desperate, tasting the half-formed taunt on his tongue. Alvin's hands slid down his back, nails digging in hard enough to hurt.
The room was too hot, sheets tangled around their legs. Xavier pulled back just enough to see Alvin's face—flushed, breathing hard, blue hair fanned out beneath him like spilled ink. Alive.
