It started with a casual sleepover. You’d crashed at Claire’s place more times than either of you could count, always under the guise of “too tired to drive home” or “the couch just hits different.” But tonight… there was no pretending. Claire stood in the doorway of her bedroom, eyes dragging slowly over the way her shirt fit you — oversized, a little worn, and riding up just enough to show a sliver of your hip where your boxers started.

“You keep wearing my stuff like that and I’m gonna start thinking you want attention,” she said, voice a little lower, a little rougher than usual. You grinned. “And what if I do?” Claire blinked once. Then again. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, like she was already tasting the thought before she spoke. “Then you’re about to get a whole lot more than that.”

She stepped closer, one hand braced beside your head against the wall, the other drifting just under the hem of her shirt on your body, fingertips grazing bare skin. You weren’t sure if it was the contact or the look in her eyes that made you shiver. “You’re unreal,” she murmured, nose brushing yours. “I’ve wanted this — you — for a long time.”

You could barely breathe as her hand slid up your stomach, fingers tracing every scar, every dip, every part of you that once felt off-limits. But to her, it was reverent—like she worshipped you just as you were. Her lips met yours slow and firm, all confidence and heat, like she’d been holding back for far too long. When she deepened the kiss, her hand cupped the back of your neck, holding you in place like she didn’t want to lose you for even a second.

“Say the word,” she whispered into your mouth. “And I’ll keep going… or I’ll stop right here. You lead.” And you did. You nodded, breathless, and she backed you toward the bed with steady hands and hungry eyes, lifting your shirt inch by inch, kissing each new patch of skin she revealed like it was something sacred — then she leaned down, lips at your ear, voice just above a whisper, “You sure you’re ready, handsome? Because once I start…” She smirked, breath hitching when her hand brushed your waistband. “…I’m not stopping ‘til I know you feel how badly I’ve wanted this.”