Friday Night — After the Netflix Event
It was supposed to be a chill night.
They'd just finished a big Netflix panel downtown.
Marcus and Devonte sat through two hours of cameras flashing, fake ass smiles, fake ass handshakes.
By the time they left, both were drained as hell.
"You tryna hit a party?" Devonte asked, tossing his hoodie in the backseat.
Marcus shook his head.
"Nah. Ion wanna be around people tonight."
Devonte looked over at him for a long second.
"Aight. Bet."
---
Back at the Crib
They ordered wings.
Devonte pulled up the bottle of Henny he been hiding in the pantry for a "special occasion."
"Tonight special enough?" he grinned.
Marcus smirked.
"Nigga every night special when you got food and liquor."
Devonte cracked the seal.
They poured up heavy.
Music blasting low — some old Bryson Tiller, some Summer Walker, some Rod Wave.
Dark in the room except for the flashing TV.
And somewhere between the third shot and the second chicken wing...
Everything shifted.
---
It Started Small
They were talking shit about celebrities on TV.
Marcus said something dumb.
Devonte laughed too hard and grabbed Marcus's wrist without thinking.
Held it.
Marcus looked down at their hands...
And then up at Devonte.
Neither pulled away.
The silence stretched out.
Hot.
Breathless.
Devonte's thumb brushed across Marcus's knuckles.
Slow.
Like he didn't even realize he was doing it.
Marcus felt like his whole damn body lit up.
No thoughts.
Just heat.
Just him.
---
Then...The First Move
Marcus leaned in first.
Barely.
Not even on purpose.
Just...gravity pulling him toward Devonte like he ain't had a choice.
Devonte met him halfway.
Foreheads bumped.
Breath mixing.
Eyes half-lidded.
Still no kiss.
Just tension vibrating like a live wire between them.
"You sure?" Devonte whispered.
Voice low.
Raspy.
Marcus nodded.
Didn't trust himself to talk without sounding desperate.
---
The First Kiss
Soft.
So soft it made Marcus's chest hurt.
Like Devonte was scared to break him.
A slow press of lips — warm, tender, unsure.
Then deeper.
More urgent.
Devonte cupped the back of Marcus's neck, fingers digging in just a lil bit, grounding him there.
Marcus gasped into his mouth.
Devonte groaned low in his throat and took that as permission.
Opened Marcus's mouth with his tongue — slow, tasting him, learning him.
It wasn't sweet no more.
It was messy.
Hungry.
Months of tension finally spilling out all at once.
---
They Didn't Stop
Marcus ended up straddling Devonte's lap without even thinking about it.
Hands tangled in his locs.
Devonte gripping his thighs like he owned them.
Breathing getting louder.
Faster.
Marcus grinding down on him through their jeans, both of them swearing under their breath between kisses.
"Fuck," Devonte muttered against his neck.
"You feel so good, baby," Marcus gasped, nails scraping down Devonte's arms.
---
Clothes Started Coming Off
Devonte peeled Marcus's hoodie up and over, tossing it somewhere.
Marcus yanked Devonte's shirt off, hands roaming over the hard muscle underneath like he couldn't believe it was real.
Devonte was solid everywhere.
Hot to the touch.
Marcus kissed down his jaw, his neck, his collarbone, biting just enough to make Devonte hiss and grab his ass harder.
---
The Bed Was A Blur
Somehow they stumbled into Marcus's room, still attacking each other's mouths, tripping over sneakers and shirts.
Marcus fell back onto the bed, dragging Devonte down with him.
They kissed and rolled and tugged and swore, every second getting sloppier, hotter, needier.
Marcus pulled at Devonte's belt.
Devonte kissed down his chest, mouthing over his nipple till Marcus gasped and arched up.
"Shit—Devonte—"
First time he said his name like that.
Broke something open between them.
Devonte groaned and kissed lower.
Lower.
Hands everywhere.
Mouth everywhere.
Until Marcus was bare under him, panting, trembling, desperate.
---
First Time
Devonte took his time.
Slow strokes.
Kisses between every move.
Checking in without words — just eyes, just touch.
They moved together, clumsy and perfect and too much.
Marcus clutched Devonte like he was scared to let go.
Devonte whispered in his ear:
"You mine, baby. You always been mine."
Marcus broke apart underneath him, choking out his name, digging his nails down Devonte's back as they rocked together harder, deeper.
---
After
They collapsed into each other, sweaty, breathless, hearts pounding outta sync.
No talking for a long time.
Just hands stroking skin.
Breathing syncing up.
Marcus buried his face in Devonte's neck, feeling too much all at once.
Safe.
Seen.
Loved.
Devonte kissed the top of his head and held him closer.
"Ain't no goin back now," Devonte said hoarse.
Marcus smiled against his skin.
"I ain't tryna go back."