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They stared at each other. When Sky spoke again, his voice was softer.

"Yet you lied to ," he said, his eyes dark and unreadable. "And... ignored ."

"I was busy," Chris said softly, his anger montarily eclipsed by a wave of sothing akin to regret. He wanted to explain further that he didn’t have his phone. And that he tried to reach Sky a couple of tis, but it didn’t connect. But he didn’t go into details yet. "And... I didn’t an to lie to you."

Silence descended again, thick and heavy.

"I know," Sky whispered, the fight seemingly draining out of him.

Chris’s voice lowered, becoming thick with a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself. "I missed you." He reached out a hand, his fingers hovering hesitantly near Sky’s face.

Sky didn’t reply, his gaze fixed down on Chris’s chest.

Chris’s tone deepened, each word deliberate and weighted. "I missed you." His hand finally made contact, brushing Sky’s cheek gently.

"I’ll try not to murder you," Sky said, his voice surprisingly even despite the tremor in his hands.

"I said I missed you." Chris’s thumb brushed softly against Sky’s skin.

"But if you dare call ’Sato’ again, I may murder you." Sky’s eyes flickered up to et Chris’s, a flicker of sothing dark in their depths.

Chris realized he called him Sato twice during their argunt just now. But didn’t everyone else call him Sato?

He was special, after all. He knew it.

"Sky, I missed you—"

Sky cut him off with a sharp glare, turning his head away. "Chris. I don’t like—"

"Shut up and say you missed too," Chris demanded, gently but firmly turning Sky’s face back towards him.

"I don’t." The denial was weak, unconvincing.

Chris leaned in closer, his voice a soft but dangerous murmur. "You flew across the country for ."

"I needed a vacation." The excuse was flimsy, and they both knew it.

"Yeah, right." Chris’s other hand trailed from Sky’s hair down to his neck, his thumb brushing against the frantic pulse point there.

Sky didn’t move, his breath catching in his throat.

Neither did Chris.

They just stood there, their bodies close but not touching, breathing each other in, the air thick with unspoken words and a potent, undeniable attraction.

And neither of them said what mattered most:

That whatever this volatile, possessive, obsessive, magnetic connection was between them, it wasn’t going to disappear anyti soon.

Sky’s hand dropped from Chris hair. Maybe he didn’t even realize what he was doing, but he was brushing it back in place. The look in his eyes could be translated to guilt. Like he felt bad for doing that.

Chris watched him carefully, his hand remained on Sky’s neck, his thumb continuing its slow, deliberate caress, each brush. He saw the goosebumps which rose on Sky’s skin whenever he brushed.

Neither spoke.

There was no witty retort, no cutting remark, no explosive burst of anger. Just that charged silence, that palpable tension, that shared, undeniable knowing.

Sky’s gaze flickered down to Chris’s lips for a fleeting second – a barely perceptible movent – but Chris saw it. He always did.

He shifted his weight, moving forward just a fraction, not enough to make contact, not yet. His fingers tightened subtly around the back of Sky’s neck.

Sky didn’t retreat.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t even blink.

Chris tilted his head, leaning in, and for a brief mont, Sky’s jaw clenched, a primal tension tightening his features as if he might bite instead of kiss. But then, it happened.

Their lips t.

Sky initiated the kiss, a sudden, impulsive press of his mouth against Chris’s, but he pulled back almost imdiately, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

His gaze t Chris, who paused and watched him, raising a brow as though asking why he pulled back. Sky said no words.

"You okay?" Chris asked, voice hoarse.

"No," Sky muttered.

"Do you wanna punch ?"

"I don’t want to hurt you."

Chris cracked the faintest smile. "That’s lovely."

"I’m sorry for grabbing your hair earlier." Sky whispered. He looked genuinely guilty.

Chris did not hesitate. He closed the small gap between them, his own lips finding Sky’s again, this ti with more intent. It wasn’t a wild, desperate kiss. It wasn’t driven by the raw hunger they both knew they were capable of. It was tentative, almost hesitant, a silent exploration of sothing fragile and dangerous that had been simring beneath the surface for far too long.

Chris exhaled through his nose, his hand still wrapped around the back of Sky’s neck. He didn’t push. He didn’t deepen the kiss. It was soft. Careful. Almost stupidly careful for two people with fire in their veins and jealousy running like gasoline.

Sky’s other hand slid up, gripping Chris’s waist and pulling him even closer. That startled Chris who let out an undignified squeal and pulled back from the kiss at once.

Sky, dazed, looked at Chris in confusion.

Chris looked like he was about to laugh—not mockingly, just overwheld. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes darting everywhere but at Sky. He rubbed his face slowly like he needed a mont to reboot.

"Don’t... grab my waist like that," he mumbled, trying to pry Sky’s hand off him with a weak tug.

Sky didn’t let go.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice low. Too calm. His thumb slipped just beneath the hem of Chris’s shirt again, brushing warm skin. Deliberate. Possessive.

"Wait—wait—wait," Chris stamred, a nervous laugh bubbling out. "Your hands are cold!"

That was a lie. They both knew it.

Sky imdiately pulled back, his expression tightening. "Sorry," he said quickly, almost too quickly. "I shouldn’t have... touched you like that."

"No—no," Chris said, stepping back just a little, shaking his head. "That’s not it. It’s not that." He dragged a hand through his hair. "It was just... weird. Not bad. Just... different."

Sky blinked. "Different?" His voice was low, cautious.

Chris turned around and let his gaze set on the table. "Would you like so proper al instead?"

But Sky wasn’t letting it go. He grabbed his hand, pulling him to the bed. He made Chris sit down and placed his hands on Chris’s shoulders, looking down at him while Chris looked up at him, a bit stunned.

Sky was becoming very... rough.

"Different how?" Sky asked again. And the look in his eyes told Chris he was not letting this go until he got the answer he needed.

You are reading Jock Next Bed (BL) Chapter 205: Different how? on novel69. Use the chapter navigation above or below to continue reading the latest translated chapters.
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