They were kissing.
How had they gotten here? she wondered. It was just another night out with her best friend, a movie, but when he drove her home, right before he dropped her off, somehow he had started kissing her. And it was marvelous, and hot-- tiny, nibbly kisses that sipped from her inexperienced, trembling, mouth -- but she was bewildered. Where had this surge of feeling come from? She loved Eric, he was her best friend, but she wasn't interested in dating him. She'd felt for some time that maybe he wanted more, but she'd been careful to pretend that his hints had sailed straight over her head. She didn't want to hurt him.
So they were out, and he pulled into a parking place, and they had hugged their typical friendly hug -- but as they moved apart, he had frozen, looking at her thoughtfully. As she looked back with a question in her eyes, he firmed with purpose and slowly moved in to kiss her. And she hadn't stopped him.
And now his hands were threaded through her hair, cradling her head as his mouth moved, tenderly kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids, moving back to her mouth, sipping lightly. And incredibly, she was kissing him back, her hands on his chest for balance as he pulled her towards him. He drew a shuddering breath, kissed her temple, and half-breathed into her hair, "Oh, Melly. Why aren't we dating?" He moved his mouth back to hers and renewed his gentle assault.
"It would never work, Eric," she gasped between nibbles. "We know each other too well. We'd drive each other crazy." It was a bit of an excuse, but she herself really only half understood why they wouldn't work; they both had bad home situations, they both needed to escape, but they had both started college in different states. They each needed someone to help them heal, not someone who was damaged the same way and who would anchor them back in the town they were trying to get away from. She didn't know how to voice those fears, so she only had her lame excuse.
Melly was ready. He could tell. She was as aroused as he was, unfurling like a sweet rosebud in his hands, and no matter what she said, she was returning his kisses. Kissing her at all had been a wild impulse, a gamble, but he'd be a fool not to press his advantage. If he let this moment pass, it might never come again. But he had to be careful. In a car, right in front of her house, was DEFINITELY not the place. He fed her a flurry of kisses, got her well and truly off-balance, and suddenly pulled back.
"I guess so. Hey, I really don't want to go home yet. You don't need to be in right now, do you?"
She shook her head, still dazed.
"Good. I have some beer in the trunk. Let's go out to the lake and talk, and look at the stars."
She was watching him, uncertainly. She must know what he wanted -- if he were honest, what he had always wanted. But she still wasn't resisting, not really. Slowly, she nodded. "Okay. That... sounds like a good idea."
He smiled at her, and she suddenly blushed and looked straight forward at the road in front of them. He reached across and took her hand, getting her to look at him. "You're my best friend. I would never do anything to hurt that." She smiled back, finally, and visibly relaxed. He grinned, and put the car into gear. Of course, what he had planned for her could only make their friendship deeper.
Deeper, warmer... ah, hell. He'd better concentrate on driving and save his plans for the lake.
She helped him unload the car, carrying the beer while he grabbed a huge armload of soft fleece blankets. They climbed up on the large gently sloping glacial rock that rose to the edge of the lake, and he spread the blankets one atop the other until they made a comfortable thickness, covering almost all of the upper surface of the rock. He rolled up one final blanket to go under their heads. It was a a familiar routine, one they'd done dozens of times. Usually, they'd just lie on their backs, looking up at the stars through the summer heat haze, and talking through their problems. Tonight, he had different plans.
They started out sitting up, drinking a beer. Eric drank his much faster than usual, but in sips, and as he hoped, Melly unconsciously mirrored him. Excellent. She had a much lower tolerance than he did, and the beer should relax her. He took a moment to study her; she was wearing thin jogging shorts and a cream short-sleeved shirt that gathered at the scooped neckline in a bow. He longed to yank the tie free, pull the shirt down and taste her. It was getting harder and harder to hold back. She tilted her head back and drained the rest of the bottle. His mouth dried as he watched her arch her back, the long line of her throat gleaming in the moonlight, working as she swallowed the last of her beer. His cock jumped in his pants.
After they set their empties aside, they lay back on the blankets and got comfortable. Eric had his left arm behind her, something he did often enough that she didn't place any extra meaning on it. It held them pretty closely together, and she could feel the warmth of him at her side. They looked up at the cloudless night for a while, silently; Melly truly didn't know what to say to him. She still didn't understand why she had responded that way to his kisses.
Finally, still silently, Eric used the arm under her to push at her left shoulder, turning her to face him as he turned as well. Without a word, they surged together into a kiss, starting with the kind of tiny nibbles they had shared in front of her house. He strongly suspected she didn't know any other kind.
Yet.
