Chris leaned down slowly, gently wrapping the shirt around Sky's head, tying it behind with care, adjusting it until it covered his eyes completely.
Sky lay beneath him, breathing shallow. Blind. Waiting.
Chris touched his cheek, just a brush.
Was this how Sky felt when he was looking down at him earlier?
"You look... ridiculously hot like this," Chris whispered.
Sky swallowed. "Don't get cocky."
Chris smiled. "Too late."
Chris didn't try to pull off Sky's shirt right away.
Maybe it was the anticipation.
Maybe it was that maddening, desperate joy that he was finally allowed to look—really look—at what he'd been dying to see.
Instead, he reached down and gently took Sky's hand.
Sky flinched, just slightly, surprised. But Chris didn't let go.
He guided Sky's hand slowly to his chest, warm skin meeting curious fingers. Chris pressed Sky's palm flat against him, right over his heart.
