Fics like ripped seams

Stephen can’t quite tell what game Intak is playing at, but it’s messing with his head, causing his heart to race and his stomach to twist and clench. He’s torn. When Stephen looks at Intak, he still sees a teenage boy, just getting ready to leave for class, and not the man standing in front of him, so close their noses could brush if Stephen lifted his head just right. He wets his lips with his tongue, and blinks fast, trying to clear his head. Finally, though, Stephen shrugs, conceding. And that must be enough permission for Intak, because his hand trails up to his own neck, fingers nimble as they pop the top button on his shirt and loosen the knot of the tie that used to be Stephen’s. Intak tilts his head to the side, that infuriating, cocky smile back on his face. “Hard to swallow with the collar so tight,” he says. And then he drops to his knees. OR Intak tries on Stephen's old hand-me-down school uniform. Stephen likes it a little bit too much.

Fics like ripped seams

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