Archive of Our Own ^beta

Neil, having been a stranger to sex and all considerations of it nearly his whole life, had not thought it was strange that he and Andrew had yet to perform the act.

Regardless of the length of time they’d been engaged in their not-Nothing, not-a-Relationship thing, Neil just assumed it wasn’t in the cards. Andrew was his person and it didn’t seem like something he’d ever be ready for.

That was fine with Neil.

It wasn’t a dealbreaker for him the way it would be to others.

Neil had never been willing to take anything more than Andrew was willing to give and Andrew had already given him plenty. Keys. Four solid walls. Home.

Not to mention the fact that kisses from Andrew alone were enough to send his head spinning, kaleidoscopic sunbursts flaring up behind closed eyelids.

And the simple sensation of Andrew’s warm, calloused hands dipping indecently below his belt line?

It was enough for Neil.

Andrew was enough.

So when Andrew eventually brought it up, it was apropos of absolutely nothing.

It was just another Wednesday afternoon. No birds had been singing in the sky and the clouds hadn't parted to reveal an especially luminous sun.

They were in the dorms. Neil, spread out working on some homework. Andrew, sitting by the window smoking. Nothing out of the ordinary for an ordinary day.

But Andrew was on his third cigarette and that alone should have teased something inside of Neil's brain.

There was a sharp inhale, and then Andrew disrupted their peaceful silence with the following announcement:

“Neil. I want to have sex with you.”

Neil had been so deeply entrenched in his calculus assignment, nose nearly pressed against the pages of his textbook that he missed the way each word was delivered crisply, deliberately so. Hell, he almost missed the monumental declaration entirely.

The distinct lack of another deep inhalation of smoke had him pulling up short. Had Andrew stopped breathing?

Neil blinked and had to rewind the last few moments to process the words he’d just heard.

“Oh. Now? I mean, I’ve almost got the answer to this differential I’ve been trying to solve for the past forty-five minutes but um—”

“Not what we usually do. I want to fuck you.”

Oh, Neil thought.

“Oh.” Neil said, flushed and stuttering, “Um. Well. I don’t—I haven’t, uh—”

“Relax, idiot.” There was a concerted effort made to resist an eye roll.

This was a topic that required a bit of… delicacy.

Tact.

Not that either of them had any clue about what those two words meant.

Andrew tried anyway.

“Obviously not now. But. Eventually.”

Eloquently, Neil stuttered again, “Oh, uh. Okay, um—”

Andrew stopped Neil’s mumbling with a pointed glare.

“I do not expect an answer right now, either. Idiot,” he repeated for good measure. Tactfully.

“Okay.”

“Just think about it.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

Andrew let out a long-suffering sigh, unable to resist the eye roll this time around. “Go back to your precious differentials then.”

Neil hid a grin and, as always, did as he was told.

Anxiety about his inexperience had started to eat him up in the days following Andrew’s announcement.

Which prompted Neil to blurt inelegantly to an otherwise comfortable silence:

“I’ve never done it before.”

Andrew lifted a single eyebrow in response.

They hadn’t been speaking, just sitting and smoking on their rooftop hideout.

“Sex. Penetrative sex.” Neil clarified, the delivery of his words as awkward as he felt, spoken at no later than eight in the morning.

“I know.”

A beat passed.

In a quieter voice, Andrew said, “Me neither.”

And just like that, fear and apprehension and awkwardness melted out of Neil’s mind, replaced by something else instead, something that was difficult to think about, which made it all the more important.

Andrew wanted Neil.

Even after everything, Andrew still wanted Neil.

Andrew had asked Neil to think about sex so he tried…

…And immediately failed.

Sex being such a foreign and faraway concept to him, his brain kept short circuiting around a hundred little questions about what sex even was before he could pin it down.

So he decided to approach the problem like a scientist.

Science, after all, was a close cousin to mathematics, both ruled by systems and organization, tools to break down complex issues into smaller, easier to process components.

The Scientific Method was needed.

Step One: Make an Observation.

Andrew wants to have sex with me.

Step Two: Ask a Question. Or a few.

Do I want to have sex with Andrew? What would sex with Andrew feel like? How do I know if I want to have sex with Andrew if I haven’t ever wanted to have sex with someone else previously? What even constitutes sex? Hand stuff? Mouth stuff? Dick stuff, for sure. Butt stuff, one hundred percent—

But we’ve done the hand and mouth and even some dick stuff already so haven’t we already had sex?

Do I still constitute as a virgin?

I sure as hell feel like a virgin.

Step Three: Conduct Research. Lots of it.

Neil started the experiment the way most people did—by watching porn.

He had no clue where to begin so he dove right into the first video he saw. Logically, he reasoned that anything tagged as ‘currently most popular’ must be good. In fact, thirty nine thousand other people seemed to think so.

Neil watched about a minute and a half clip of a muscular man railing a much younger guy with as much force as he could muster and decided he couldn’t distinguish pleasurable moans from pained ones. It left him feeling more than vaguely discomfited and so he briskly snapped his laptop shut.

Neil looked down at his lap, to where his dick hadn’t even twitched.

No, actually it had twitched, only to somehow shrivel up even more in disinterest.

It made him want to give up.

Except his research hadn’t been thorough enough to answer the questions that had come up in his thought experiment and he still needed more information to determine if penetrative sex was something that interested him.

Bravely, he pushed onward.

It took a lot of trial and error before he found a video he could stomach.

He chose one marketed as sensual and erotic instead of one using a mash up of various vulgar and degrading terms and it lead him to a video where the actors shared a slight resemblance to him and Andrew.

If he squinted a bit, he could almost imagine it was the two of them kissing on the black leather couch instead of the onscreen actors, hands fisted in each other’s clothing, mouths desperate against one another.

He watched with rapt attention as the redhead peppered kisses along the blond’s thick neck, slowly unbuttoning his shirt to reveal inches of pale skin until the inches became miles leading to stiff-tipped nipples.

The blond was breathing slow, measured breaths, the way Andrew did when he tried to hide his reactions. But he was also beginning to let out soft moans of encouragement, something Neil had never heard Andrew do.

Neil’s heart skipped a precious beat and then swiftly restarted at the thought of Andrew making those same sweet sounds for him.

The redhead in the video continued undressing the other man. That’s when Neil noticed that the blonde’s nipples were more than just naturally stiff.

The peaks were gleaming—piercings, he realized.

His curiosity was certainly piqued by this irregularity but it was momentarily forgotten once the blond returned his partner’s gesture and then promptly fell to his knees and swallowed a mouthful of cock.

As Neil watched the wet and sloppy but enthusiastic blowjob, he was aware that heat was starting to wash over his body, face flushing at the memory of Andrew doing this to him. The blond ran his tongue under the head of the redhead’s cock, and Neil recalled with perfect clarity the exact sensation that had just elicited a loud moan onscreen.

The redhead pulled his partner up to kiss him deeply, plunging his tongue into the other’s mouth before they switched places.

Neil couldn’t help but imagine being on his knees instead, putting his mouth to Andrew and pulling him deep into the wet heat of his throat, taking it all the way back. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, indulging in the vision of it for a second as his dick began to respond. He was sporting a half-chub, watching as his doppelgänger gagged and kept coming back for more, desperate, like he couldn’t get enough of the blond’s cock.

The blond, however, seemed satisfied with the attention and pulled out. Letting his cock slap the other man against the cheek, he left a trail of spit in place of where his cock dragged. He laid back on the couch and pulled his partner up across his chest to straddle him.

Neil assumed the blond was going to suck the redhead’s dick again but gaped a little when the blonde settled his mouth a little further back instead.

The redhead moaned and shifted his hands back, gripping his ass on either side, holding his own cheeks open so that Neil could see a wet, pink tongue dip over and over inside his hole.

When the blond slipped two fingers inside to widen the hole for his tongue, Neil had to press a hand to his dick, which was now fully, and unmercifully, rock hard.

He hadn’t ever thought of this act, instinctively assuming no one would want to put their mouth to that particular body part. The redhead onscreen was quickly disproving this hypothesis by way of rocking his hips back and forth against his partner’s tongue, making these high-pitched keening noises each time there was contact.

Neil was absolutely mesmerized.

Both of them were clearly enjoying themselves and it made sense that if one of them was about to take a whole dick up the ass, this was a great way to prepare for it. His research taught him that this act was called rimming.

Neil filed that thought away to investigate later as the video cut suddenly to the redhead being bent over the arm of the couch with one of the blond’s hands on his hip and the other on the back of his neck. The blond kicked his partner’s legs apart, forcing them into an even wider stance.

Moving a hand from the redhead’s hip to grip an ass cheek and spread him open, the blond spit into his other hand and brought it down to fist his own dick, once, twice, and then notched himself against the redhead’s hole.

Neil watched with rapt attention as the hole resisted entry, futilely trying to contract despite being opened up with several fingers and a skillful tongue. The blond was unrelenting, fucking into the redhead with one hard, deep thrust and the redhead went to his tiptoes as he was entered. They both let out deep grunts as the blond inched even closer, slowly bottoming out and staying deep within the redhead as they both adjusted to the stretch.

Neil’s thoughts kept slipping to Andrew.

He was hard enough to warrant touching himself at this point but couldn’t look away from the redhead’s enraptured face as the man behind him began to pull out and drive back in, less concerned about speed than power. His eyes were closed but his mouth was open in a silent scream, expression full of bliss.

The shot then panned from the redhead’s face to his ass to capture the slow grind each time the blond pushed into his slick hole. It seemed as if he was angling for something specific.

Then, the redhead arched his back a bit and, judging by the filthy moan he let out, it appeared that the spot had been found.

“Oh, oh, oh! Yes! Right there, right there, right—” breaking off as the other man increased his force and fucked him with brutal thrusts aimed at that spot.

Neil was suddenly very appreciative of the noise-cancelling headphones Matt had given him for Christmas last year.

The sound of the redhead’s moans were reverberating around in his skull, amplifying the sparks inside him.

Perspiration was beading on both of the lover’s chests and backs on screen, and Neil was pulled into a memory of Andrew post-game with his helmet tossed to the side, hair drenched with sweat and rivulets of it running down his face. Neil remembered following the path of one particular droplet with his eyes, dripping down from Andrew’s jawline to his neck, into the collar of his uniform.

Now, all he could think about was following that same path with his tongue, burning up from the inside out.

He was so hot, he’d be concerned he was actually ablaze if it wasn’t for the lack of smoke.

He couldn’t ever remember having this sort of reaction to any form of pornography in past experience.

He supposed the resemblance of the actors to the two of them went a long way, allowing him to connect with the fantasy the pornographic video was selling and it was successful enough to bypass the usual roadblocks his mind had set up for thoughts related to sex.

Each time the blond fucked his hips into the redhead, Neil felt the force of it ghosting against the back of his own thighs.

The redhead would moan and Neil would feel one bubbling up in his own throat.

And when the blond reached a hand out and fisted it into red hair, Neil felt the tips of his own scalp tingling.

The blond twisted his partner’s head back into a deep kiss and wrapped his unoccupied hand around the redhead’s waist to jerk off his flushed and bouncing cock. The redhead came with a long drawn out moan that had the blond’s hips stuttering. Soon after, the blond pulled out and with a few quick, vicious strokes he splashed cum across the other man’s back.

Neil was thankful he had changed into loose track shorts before getting into bed because he was painfully hard and frozen in place, watching the video until the very end, witnessing the pair close the filthy scene with a tender kiss.

Afterwards, he shut his eyes and thought about everything he’d seen, the faces in his mind instantly morphing into more familiar features. He pushed his hand into his shorts to take care of himself, but found that his dick had flagged, no longer standing at even half-mast. The urgency he’d just felt had inexplicably bled out of him.

But the thoughts of Andrew, the imagined sounds and tastes of him, had not.

Neil sighed, deleted his browser history, and resigned himself to an ice cold shower to erase all incriminating evidence of his first thought experiment.

But a hypothesis was beginning to form.

Before he had explicitly been given permission to think about engaging in sexual acts with Andrew, Neil generally reserved those thoughts for when the acts were actually occurring, similar to a live play-by-play.

Afterwards, it was as if a switch had flipped in his brain.

It seemed like his thought experiment had been successful. The first had led to others, slippery slopes and falling dominos, some which were starting to materialize at ill-fated times.

Take for example: Exy practice.

Neil had always been mesmerized by Andrew playing Exy. After all, they were his two favorite things combined in one convenient setting.

He loved Andrew’s sheer competence — what he lacked in enthusiasm he made up for tenfold in pure skill.

It used to both frustrate and impress him every time Andrew was able to defend his goal with nothing but a simple flick of his wrist, a fly swatter to a gnat.

But something else, something new had been added to Neil’s inner turbulence.

Lust.

Pure, blinding, white-hot lust.

What started as a simmer at the beginning of practice was bubbling up inside of him now, urgent, powerful and threatening to boil over.

The novelty of the feeling was jarring and its effect on Neil’s performance was noticeable.

It had him fumbling every pass, tripping over his own two feet to catch another glimpse of Andrew. After the fifth time, Kevin threw his stick down the field with a long and inventive curse, calling for a water break.

Neil jogged off to the sidelines to rehydrate, his eyes glued to hands pulling a helmet off a blond head, teeth tugging gloves off broad, beautiful fingers, those same fingers running through sweat-drenched hair.

In that moment, he could not take his eyes off Andrew even if he tried. They were locked onto Andrew’s body, catching each twist of his lithe muscles, each drop of sweat, each heave of his chest.

Absolutely enthralling.

“Earth to Neil!”

The moment shattered.

Kevin was shrieking at a pitch nearly unintelligible to humans but unfortunately, still intelligible to Neil.

“What the hell, Josten, I’ve been trying to get your attention for five whole minutes now.”

Five whole minutes without my attention on him. How ever will Kevin survive, Neil thought.

A finger was shoved briskly into Neil’s face, a finger he desperately wanted to snap but didn’t because he was civilized even if Kevin wasn’t. 

“What’s going on with you? Your eyes are all glazed over and you’ve been staring down the field at absolutely nothing. Are you getting sick? You better not be.”

To Kevin’s perspective, nothing of note was happening across the field.

Everyone had scattered after the scrimmage to avoid getting criticized by the incredible Mr. Day.

“Incredible Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass if you asked me,” Nicky had mumbled while walking off the field.

To Neil’s perspective, however, there was a whole lot of something going on—namely, a certain blond stretching some kinks out of his shoulders in the goal box. The motion had pushed Andrew’s uniform sleeves further up his biceps to reveal the problematic muscles to Neil’s hungry eyes.

He found that his mouth was still quite dry even after he’d drained a whole bottle of some liquid he couldn’t recall the taste of, perhaps it was water. It could have been vodka. Hell, it could have been french onion soup for all he knew in that moment.

He did register that he was panting, just a little.

Maybe that was exasperating the sandpaper feeling in his throat.

“I’m fine,” Neil eventually managed to croak out.

Kevin’s face pulled into his trademark frown.

“We’ve got a game next week and we really can’t afford to be down any player, least of all you.”

“I said I’m fine,” Neil said, tersely.

The Frown™ deepened.

“You know no one trusts you when you say that. I’m just saying, stop being so selfish and take care of your health. If you’re sick, you’ll get everyone sick. So. Don’t get sick.”

“Jesus, Kevin, shut the fuck up, I’m—” Neil had started to say before all the breath choked out of his lungs entirely.

Andrew had braced himself against the goal posts to stretch his back out and simultaneously dipped into lunges to stretch his thighs and calves. Every visible muscle in his body was straining, every inch taut and God, was it a lot of muscles. Thick, broad shoulders led to a strong, sinuous back arching into a nice, round ass.

At least, Neil assumed it qualified as a nice ass. Not that he had other previous opinions to compare to but yeah, it was a really nice fucking ass.

Neil flushed to be caught in the act of honest-to-God ogling.

The emotional soup inside him was boiling over, he couldn’t be expected to contain it. He thought that maybe a little bit of steam was actually coming out of his ears.

Allison followed his line of sight and snickered at what she found. “Relax, Day. I don’t think our boy’s coming down with the coronavirus, he’s just a little thirsty, isn’t he?”

Neil glared at the shrewd grin she was wearing but it lacked the punch he meant to throw, namely due to the fact that his face was firetruck red. It didn’t take long for Kevin to catch up and he let out another string of colorful curses.

“Oh, for the love of—Minyard! No, not you, Grumpy, I’m talking to Stabby over there—Andrew! Cut that shit out! You’re giving Josten a fucking heart attack over here!”

For all the tact Kevin seemed to have with complete strangers, he reserved absolutely zero percent of it for his actual friends.

Asshole.

Heads were whipping up and down the field to see what the commotion was all about and Neil’s desperate need morphed into deep mortification so rapidly he thought he would spontaneously combust from the force of it.

Still, he schooled his face into a look that wouldn’t telegraph his currently murderous intentions towards their team captain.

“Aww, Neil, you feeling a little blue down there, buddy?” Matt giggled.

“Jonesing for a little afternoon delight?” Dan cackled.

Neil did not laugh at their obvious and uncreative innuendos.

Neither did Kevin.

“It’s not funny, we’ve got to focus on the match next week. Exy is much more important than this little sexual awakening Josten’s having right now.”

All the dick jokes flying around were clearly too much for Nicky to resist and he couldn’t help himself from blurting, “I don't think those are the kind of balls Neil wants to be handling at the moment!”

“Fucking gross, Nicky,” Aaron spat out with revulsion and when Nicky’s grin quickly turned into a grimace, he corrected himself with an eyeroll. “Not the homo part, the Andrew’s-related-to-us part, dumbass.”

“Yeah, it felt gross even as I was saying it but if I let that stop me, I’d never get the chance to say half the things I do,” Nicky admitted, an unrepentant grin plastered onto his face.

“I wish you would let it stop you,” Neil quipped, shoulders shrugged up to his ears from all the attention his previously non-existent sex life was currently receiving due to his inability to—how was it Allison had referred to it—thirst quietly.

“And I wish you’d all stop wasting my time!” Wymack, the godsend, suddenly appeared to interrupt. “Get back to your positions and if I hear one more thing about Josten’s sex life I do not want to know—”

“—I’m signing you all up for a marathon,” everyone immediately chorused back to him.

He was stunned into silence for one hilarious moment, his eyebrow twitch just as predictable as his threat. Then, he crossed his arms and nodded.

“Well, what the hell are you all waiting for then?”

Everyone scrambled back to their places and Neil was silently grateful for the distraction.

He tilted his chin up to cast one last discreet glance at Andrew before shoving his helmet on when he locked onto eyes that were already staring at him.

To an outside observer, Andrew’s stance would scream indifference but Neil noticed that his head was cocked slightly to the side. His gaze curious. Considering. Penetrating. Like he was peering straight into the heart of Neil’s need.

With eyes still locked onto Neil’s, Andrew slowly dragged his jersey up to wipe sweat off his brow, exposing both his Adonis belt and happy trail in one go.

All the blood in Neil’s body immediately rushed south.

It had been a calculated assault on Neil’s brain cells which had, at the moment, dwindled down to exactly two.

Asshole.

They were still at practice for Christ’s sake and their uniforms didn’t exactly provide enough coverage to hide his present condition.

Neil took an obvious deep breath to recenter himself, attempted to muster up even a single iota of control and desperately tried to focus on Exy while Andrew glared holes into the side of his face with enough heat to melt steel beams for the rest of practice.

Thoughts of Andrew were slowly taking up all the real estate in Neil’s previously Exy-oriented brain.

His face was on all the billboards, giant, obvious, and neon-lit but also lurking around every hidden nook and cranny, creeping into every waking moment Neil lived through.

He had toned down the staring at practice to avoid another public discussion of his newly minted sexual appetite but the thoughts were harder to tamp down when he was alone, even more so when was alone with Andrew.

Something had changed.

He could feel the shift inside himself like it was a physical thing, this ache, this yearning that wore Andrew’s face and name. It felt like hunger and the only thing that could satiate his starvation was more Andrew.

Stolen glimpses of him while driving, while smoking, even while chewing his food. Nothing about the looking was new, except that he was feeling something… more as he looked. Something that made the cells beneath his skin itch.

Andrew noticed of course, and did nothing to curb Neil’s desire. Fed the blaze, instead, with his own fervent glares.

They were a powder keg one match away from an explosion but for once, Neil felt content to indulge in his impulses wherever they struck.

Neil sat in his anatomy class, counted thirty three bones stacked on top of one another and thought about touching Andrew from the top of his spine to as low as he would allow it. Thought about all times Andrew put a hand on his neck, gripped the back, pressed against his carotid. Thought about all the times he felt safe in that firm grip, thought about all the times he feared that grip had the opportunity squeeze too far, too hard, but didn’t, thought about how far they’d both come to be at a place where sex like this could be on the table.

In Spanish, he was tasked with writing a poem from the perspective of a main character in a novel they were studying. 

A love poem.

He mentally gagged at the thought, then spent twenty minutes convincing himself that suicide via a thousand paper cuts was out of the question.

Andrew would just resurrect him, murder him for real, and probably wouldn’t even weep over his grave. Probably.

So instead of killing himself, he spent another ten minutes forced to be self aware and groaning internally about his quarter of a teaspoon capacity for emotional depth.

Finally, he allowed his mind to wander, trying not to think too hard about the concept of love lest it escape from his cupped palms like a firefly.

There, that sounded pretty poetic.

He thought of the rare but ever growing examples of love he’d witnessed in his life. A secret language of quiet touches, unspoken yet powerful enough to still violence and rage. Arms folded carefully around the body of another, not a cage but a shelter.

He thought about being tirelessly put back together again by his family, not by blood but by choice. Being claimed. Being known. Being remembered.

Neil thought about leaning on someone, about crashing up against them, about that person not breaking a sweat. About Atlas, unburdened by the weight of a star-filled sky, steadily holding up the weight of the scarred mess of humanity.

An unstoppable force meeting an immovable man.

And then he wrote:

Que tengas dulces sueños, cariño,

Duerme, y no te preocupes por la noche

Bajaría las estrellas del cielo para ti

Sostengo sus llamas en mis manos

Llámalas mi corazón

For a moment, all he could do was stare at the words that he’d inked out.

The words themselves were familiar.

The sentiment behind them less so.

It felt like they had spilled out of him, water rushing through the cracks of a broken dam, slowly, then all at once.

He blinked. Forcefully crumpled up the entire piece of paper, regardless that the torrent only flooded a small corner of it. Stewed in his discomfort for another moment, imagining a lonely boat pulled into the rapids rushing over the edge of a waterfall and eventually smashing open against the hidden bedrock.

Then, cautiously, he opened the paper back up, gently rubbing out all the creases.

The sheet was permanently marred but the contents remained true.

Neil tore off the corner with the poem inked onto it, folded it down to a square, as small as he could get it and tucked it into his pocket. To be kept safe or to be incinerated, he’d decide later.

His grade in Spanish was high enough to forfeit this assignment.

A love poem, he scoffed internally.

Unwarranted act of torture.

By calculus, his train of thought had been sufficiently derailed.

He tried his best to focus on derivatives, integrals, and limits but ended up counting the seconds until he could be in Andrew’s gravity again, every ounce in him screaming need, need, need.

It terrified him.

Suddenly, he understood why Mary tried her damned hardest to keep him away from girls, beat it out of him with her bare fists until he wasn’t sure he could ever see another person in that light.

Neil didn’t want to need. It was dangerous.

Yet it existed inside him all the same.

He found that he didn’t want to be afraid, not of it nor Andrew.

The more thinking Neil did about sex, the more the hypothesis crystallized—he really, actually did want to do it. Very much so.

Maybe never with anyone other than Andrew, and even then, maybe not all the time but he definitely wanted to do it once.

After all, no experiment could truly be trusted until the hypothesis was tested and proven.

He thought of the rapids again, the edge of the cliff, followed the tug in his core pushing him to jump.

He let himself freefall.

“Cat got your tongue, Josten?”

“Hmm? What?”

“You are staring.”

“Oh, I was just thinking.”

“Congratulations. I did not know you were capable of it.”

“Can I give you a massage?” Neil asked.

That pulled Andrew up short.

“Where?”

“Wherever you’d let me. But I was thinking—”

“—So I had heard—”

“—your shoulders,” he finished with a crooked smile on his face.

Andrew considered the request in that serious way of his. Then he nodded.

“That would be acceptable.”

Neil’s eyes widened slightly. He didn’t think Andrew would concede so easily but he wouldn’t do Andrew the disservice of second guessing his yes.

Neil trusted Andrew to know his own boundaries just as Andrew trusted him to know when to keep going or when to stop and ask.

Neil went to grab a bottle of lightly scented lotion and then turned back to Andrew, lifting the hem of his own shirt in an unspoken suggestion.

He watched as Andrew removed his shirt with carefully practiced disinterest but Neil noticed the tension in the set of his back, in the way his muscles bunched up while looking at the bed.

“We don’t have to do it with you laying down,” Neil offered.

Andrew fixed him with a flat look for aptly guessing what the issue was.

“Then how.”

“I think you’d have to—you know what, here, just let me—” Neil realized it would just be easier to demonstrate. He climbed onto the bed and sat with his back to the headboard, legs opened invitingly. “Sit with your back towards me.”

Andrew looked at the space between Neil’s legs, then at his face, mouth unsmiling but eyes alive with something close to warmth.

“You have been thinking about this.”

“You asked me to,” Neil shrugged.

Andrew scoffed. “Pretty sure I asked you to think about taking a dick up your ass, not about a shoulder rub.”

Neil affected a look of feigned confusion and said, “Well, I am just a simple virgin so correct me if I'm wrong, but I think in some countries this is known as foreplay?”

Andrew stared back, blankly, refusing to deign that horrendously awful joke with a response.

Neil was unbothered.

With a grin and suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows he said, “We’ll see. Who knows what might happen.” Then, with all traces of mirth wiped from his face he asked, “Do you trust me?”

Andrew rolled his eyes at the solemn shift in tone but when he met Neil’s gaze, they were softer than before.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” he responded and climbed into the space Neil had reserved for him.

Neil grinned at the back of Andrew’s neck, feeling some emotion rush through his chest.

“I want to make you feel good,” Neil admitted softly, reverently.

“Should have asked to suck my dick then.”

“One track mind,” Neil snorted. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes. Shoulders only.”

Neil nodded and was vindicated to find his observation had been spot on. Andrew’s shoulders were bunched up so tight Neil would be surprised if he could move his neck at all.

He started gently, pressing the pads of his thumbs to the knots he found and worked his way to a firm knead.

Five minutes passed like this, then ten, then twenty until he felt Andrew’s shoulders droop down, ever so slowly, from his ears to a more level resting place until they were completely lax.

Neil felt inexplicably proud—of himself for coming up with this clever little idea and of Andrew, for trusting him enough to relax with Neil’s hands so close to his back in places he couldn’t see.

Neil closed his eyes and let the sound of Andrew’s soft breathing wash over him as he worked.

Nothing existed in the space between those slow, languorous breaths.

Not their violent pasts, not Exy, not even time.

Just this quiet, hard earned trust.

Just the steady inhale and exhale of breath that let Neil know Andrew’s heart was still beating in his chest, alive and in his arms.

Andrew sighed, a soft sound. It felt like the sweetest satisfaction Neil had ever known, that little concession.

Suddenly, he could see a whole lifetime like this.

Andrew on the same team as him in the pro-leagues, working towards caring about something by means of putting all of his physical energy into it. Andrew coming home to him, sore and tired. Andrew undressing in front of him and allowing him to perform this small act of service. Andrew letting Neil make him feel good, taking pain away instead of inflicting it.

It was intoxicating, the way Andrew’s body relaxed at his touch. If he didn’t know any better, he’d even go so far as to tease Andrew for melting into it. He could imagine opening his eyes to find a small puddle topped with a pile of blond hair in his lap.

The thought was overwhelmingly ridiculous and nearly ripped a giggle from his throat. He opened his eyes just to check.

Nope.

Warm and solid flesh still sat before him.

“Can I?” Neil asked, hovering his hands over Andrew’s arms. The blond simply nodded his acquiescence and leaned back against Neil’s chest, aligning their faces closer to each other.

He could feel Andrew’s eyes on him.

Neil turned to meet his gaze and was pleased with what he saw. Andrew looked sleepy, content, loose, languid, gorgeous. A mood so rare Neil was probably the only one privileged enough to recognize it.

He started a little when it hit him that he was, in fact, the sole reason for this stolen moment of peace. That he had found something he alone could do for Andrew without asking for a single thing in return. Giving with an open hand and a cheerful heart.

That realization made him heady, body suffusing with that same unfamiliar emotion once again. He channeled that feeling into his hands and watched as Andrew bit his lip against the sudden change of pressure.

“Good?”

Another nod conceded. His expression hadn’t changed but his chest was slightly heaving.

Neil massaged Andrew’s biceps one by one, taking his time, making sure he tamed each resistant knot back to softened flesh, working his way down to Andrew’s beautiful, calloused hands. He gently kneaded those as well, pressing a tender kiss into the center of each palm as he finished.

Neil wasn’t quite ready to take his hands off Andrew yet so he reached out towards his chest and offered, “Here?”

Andrew nodded again so he let his hands drift up and down the toned torso in front of him, going no lower than just above the navel. Teasing Andrew’s nipples with a graze he asked, “What’s your opinion on piercings?”

Andrew froze.

If Neil hadn’t had his hand pressed so close to so much skin he would have missed the way the blond’s heartbeat skipped a single beat.

“They are not objectionable. Why do you ask?”

Andrew felt Neil’s shrug more than he saw it.

“Just curious. I can’t begin to understand why people would pierce the most sensitive parts of their bodies just for the aesthetic.”

It sounded like Allison had taught Neil a new word and he was trying to work it into his vocabulary.

“Many things are beyond your understanding, Josten.” Andrew quipped. He let a beat pass and offered, “Some people find the sensation enjoyable.”

“Like. They get off on it?”

Andrew hummed and suppressed a shiver. Neil had spoken directly into his ear, soft breath brushing against the side of his face.

“Huh. Have you ever thought of getting any?”

“Perhaps. Are you finished fondling me?”

“Oh, yeah. Thank you. That was nice.”

Andrew huffed out a breath at the genuine response. It nearly sounded like a laugh.

“It was not terrible.” Andrew confessed and then immediately followed with, “Your technique could use some improvement.”

Despite Andrew’s complaint, Neil could see his posture had relaxed entirely, his movements more lazy and slow and felt that pride from earlier rush through him again. He thought he hid his self-satisfaction well but Andrew took one look at him and shoved his smug face away.

He wiped a grin off his face but the peaceful contentment lingered long after night settled around them, crickets chirping as the earth traded out the sun for the moon.

It was late but Neil was brimming with so much energy.

It felt like it would burst out of his pores if he didn’t do something about it. He tossed over on his side to look at his bed partner.

These days, he and Andrew could occasionally share. He was still careful enough to leave a gap between their sleeping bodies though it was steadily closing over time due to Classified Reasons that both parties refused to admit or acknowledge out loud.

The moonlight streaming through their curtains made the sleeping blond glow in an otherworldly fashion, all translucent skin, mercurial hair. Neil wriggled around a little to see if he could bring Andrew back to Earth, feeling untethered and discomfited by the thought that he could drift away completely.

He knew Andrew wasn’t sleeping, only faking it when he heard the imposter release a deep sigh.

“Andrew?” he whispered, volume mindful of Kevin sleeping on the other side of the room but disturbing the stillness of the night either way.

Andrew didn’t bother cracking open an eyelid. “Hm?”

“I think I want to have sex with you, too.”

“Hm.”

Neil waited with bated breath for a longer response to his confession that was not forthcoming.

He squirmed again, knocking his toes against Andrew’s ankles. “What?”

“You think you do?”

“No, I—I know I do.”

The stutter didn’t do his credibility any favors.

“Hm.”

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Hm.”

“Andrew, I’m sure.” A beat passed. Then, with conviction Neil said, “I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Go the fuck to sleep, Josten.”

“Okay.”

Neil didn’t know what he was expecting after his late-night confession but it wasn’t for things to continue like business as usual.

Andrew hadn’t made any passes at him or accosted him in some dark hallway or even taken advantage of any of the numerous times they were left alone in their suite.

If Neil were any other person he would have started to develop a complex about it but as it was, he figured Andrew had a reason for waiting.

Maybe he was being given a grace period, time to change his mind, to go back on his word but he had no intentions of doing such a thing.

Neil was relentlessly aroused, for the first time in years—maybe for the first time ever. Felt himself wanting to do something about it. Tried it, even, but his brain had refused to relay the message to his body—he’d shoved his hand down his pants more times in the past week alone than he’d had in the past year but had been met with a wet noodle, a limp fish, soft serve.

It exasperated him to no end. His body was having no trouble telegraphing its desires around Andrew, even worse, around Andrew and other people but when he would leave the room to do something about it, the fire was instantly extinguished, snuffed out like someone had thrown an ice cold bucket of water on the flames.

It was agony.

It was inevitable that Andrew would find him like this: pants rucked down around his knees and punishing his soft dick with harsh, miserable pulls.

Neil’s eyes had been closed, unaware that he was being watched until Andrew cleared his throat pointedly.

Neil’s eye’s cracked wide open but he was frozen, unable to move a muscle. He hadn’t even heard the door, all-consumed with his task. “Andrew. I—”

“Shut up.” Andrew’s glare was sharp, daring Neil to speak.

Neil could barely breathe.

“You did not lock the door.”

Neil flushed. He hadn’t realized. “It’s just—I’ve been—I can’t—”

“Shut up. Yes or no?”

Neil lifted an eyebrow at his contradictory words.

“Speak.”

“Yes,” Neil sighed with relief. “Of course, yes.”

“Do not get too excited.”

Andrew locked the door and pulled up a chair to the side of the bunk.

“What are you doing?”

“Watching.”

Neil blanched at that. He wasn’t hard, had barely been sporting a chub before Andrew walked in.

Andrew raised a questioning eyebrow at the expression on Neil’s face. “Yes or no, Neil?”

“Yes, but—” Neil started and then immediately stopped. This time, Andrew just stared at him, let him gather his thoughts. “I haven’t been—I can’t do it. Alone. I can’t get… hard.”

Verbalizing the situation made him wilt even further, if that was even possible.

Andrew continued staring. The boredom in his gaze settled something inside Neil the way it always did. No expectations, no judgment.

“I am going to kiss you,” he announced.

Neil’s answering whisper of, “Yes,” was swallowed up in Andrew’s mouth.

Andrew kissed him slow, but deep. With hard pressure but soft lips. Wet tongue and sharp nips. Licked deep into his mouth until he forgot what was bothering him.

Then, Andrew pulled away. Leaned back in his chair. Tossed an arm over the back of it and crossed one leg over the other. Dragged his eyes over Neil’s prone form. He settled his lazy gaze on Neil’s dick, which had decided suddenly to firm up under all the attention. Then he nodded like he had come to a decision.

“Put your thumb in your mouth,” Andrew ordered. Indifferently, like he had better things to do.

Neil did as he was told, confused, feeling strange at first but trusting Andrew anyway.

“Suck on it.”

It didn’t exactly feel the same as when Andrew did it to him but it did ignite a closed circuit of pleasure, faint but growing stronger the longer they locked gazes.

“Bring it down to your nipple—no. Slower. Start at your collarbone, run your nails down your chest until you reach it.”

Neil was going out of his mind.

Andrew never spoke this much when they had sex. Usually his mouth was too busy. Neil’s cock was getting heavier, thinking about how Andrew was going to talk him through this, how Andrew was going to teach him how to touch himself.

“Drag your thumb back and forth. Nice and easy.”

Andrew’s icy, indifferent gaze was quickly thawing as Neil proved his obedience. He could tell that Andrew was enjoying himself, that he liked ordering Neil around.

“Now do the other one. Pinch down. Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” Neil gasped.

It felt unbelievably good, better because it was Andrew telling him what to do, because he was expected to speak.

“Do it harder.”

Neil moaned. This was so much easier with instruction. He would have never thought to touch his own nipples, as if it was against some unspoken rule. Andrew was so smart, so smart.

“Yes?”

“God, yes,” Neil sighed, desperately.

“Scrape your fingertips down to your cock. Use your nails. Slow. Just like earlier.”

Neil bit his lip at the vulgarity of it all, Andrew’s crass choice of words, being watched, liking it.

When he finally got to the base, Andrew told him to stop.

“Show me how you touch yourself.”

Neil gaped at Andrew cluelessly. Couldn’t he see that that was exactly Neil’s issue? That he touched himself so rarely he didn’t have any clever tricks up his sleeve or even a simple routine to follow?

He felt like Andrew had just casually asked him to invent time travel but Andrew said nothing further. Just stared at him, placid and unmoved until he put his hand around himself and started stroking, quick and self-conscious again.

Andrew glared at him. “Does that feel good.”

Neil shrugged a shoulder. “Not like you.”

Andrew pierced him with an indecipherable look. Then said, “Lick your hand. Get it nice and wet. Now try again. And if I have to remind you to go slow one more time, I will leave you here like this.”

Neil swallowed so quickly on nothing that he almost choked. He waited a beat for his heart to restart and followed the orders he’d been given, feeling hot and aroused as his wet palm met his dick. He tried again, dragging his hand down at half the speed he had been going earlier and it felt good, so good.

Andrew tapped out a beat for him to follow with two fingers on his knee.

He was speechless. He couldn’t tell if it was the speed or just Andrew’s words that made all the difference but suddenly he was rock hard in his grip, head spinning at the speed in which all his blood rushed down south. The temptation to speed up egged him on but he remembered his orders and followed them diligently.

Up, down, up, down, at the sluggish, teasing pace of a ticking clock.

“Talk.”

“Andrew,” Neil breathed. It was all he could manage, the only thought in his head along with hot, wet, good, so good, so fucking good.

“Mm,” Andrew hummed in response. He had leaned forward for a better view and could see exactly when Neil’s tip started gushing.

Neil was slightly lifting his hips to meet his fist now, couldn’t help himself, still going at the maddening pace Andrew had set. And then Andrew spoke again.

“Bring your other hand to your nipple. Pinch it. As hard as it feels good.”

Neil moaned, he was being loud now and he knew it but he couldn’t stop. Andrew’s words were going to his head again. “Andrew, fuck, it’s not enough. It’s just not as good as you, pl—I need—”

“Shut up. Scoot forward,” he demanded, and quickly got in the bed, sat against the headboard so that his chest was pressed to Neil’s back, the same position they’d been in when Neil had given him a massage. “Keep going.”

Cradled between Andrew’s legs, this position made it feel much more intimate.

Andrew pinched one of Neil’s nipples to remind him of his task.

He bit his lip and took over again, pinching his left nipple hard with his unoccupied hand, kept going until the pressure was almost too much, hips still fucking into his fist on every downstroke.

“Give me your hand. No, keep pinching your nipple. The one stroking your cock,” Andrew demanded and then spit right into it when Neil complied.

That, above all else, made his eyes roll into the back of his head.

It was just so… obscene, so lewd, so fucking sexy and he didn’t currently have the brain cells to figure out why.

“Now grip your cock tighter. Twist up before you get to the tip, right underneath the head. Do it.”

It could have been a figment of his imagination but Andrew sounded a little winded too, like he was the one whose brains were spilling out of his ears, like it was his cock leaking like a faucet.

“Fuck,” Neil whined, a low and uninterrupted sound. “Andrew. Andrew, that feels so good, fuck.”

When he felt lips graze against his pulse point in response, he shuddered, releasing a gut-punched moan.

He was jacking himself off in Andrew’s lap and the thought made his head rush, all sound blocked out except for the soft smack of Andrew’s lips mouthing unhurried down his neck, his breath coming out in pants, the slide of his own wet hand slicking himself up.

“Give me your other hand,” Andrew said and spit in that one, too. “Double fist your cock. Tightly. Fuck. Twist your hands in opposite directions. That’s it. Now, pick up speed. Not too quickly. Build up to it, yeah, yes, just like that.”

Neil’s thrusts were getting faster and faster. Every time he settled back down, he felt the outline of Andrew’s cock against his bare ass, the feel of it pressed up against him was maddening, reminding him of what had prompted all of this insatiable desire to begin with.

Andrew brought both his hands to the inside of Neil’s thighs, pressing them down and open and he choked on his own spit, the frenzied pace of his fists stuttering.

He knew Andrew would take care of him so he let his legs spread even further, felt Andrew puff a breath out against his neck. Neil could tell he wasn’t the only one enjoying himself. He guessed that the view from the perch on his neck was pretty spectacular.

He was smug for all of about five seconds when Andrew spoke up again with a new, filthy demand.

“Play with your balls.”

Neil bit his lip at that one, hands slowing. Shyly, he admitted, “I don’t know how. It usually doesn’t feel good.”

“Listen to me. Try it. If you don’t like it then stop. Roll them around in your hand, as tight as the grip on your cock and keep stroking yourself.”

Neil obeyed, taking one hand off his cock and doing exactly what Andrew told him to do. He squirmed in Andrew’s lap. It felt good but not better than any of the other things Andrew had been teaching him.

“Now pull down on them a little.”

At that, he had to bite back a groan. It did feel good, incredible, fucking superb.

Andrew tugged an earlobe between his teeth and said, “Again.”

Neil was amazed that he could possibly feel this good, that Andrew was barely touching him and that he could feel this fucking good, he was dumbfounded, he was overwhelmed, he was—

“Again.”

Neil was sobbing, eyes wide open yet seeing nothing at all, waves after waves of pleasure overcoming him, the slick slide of his hand around his cock, the sensitive tip, and—

“Keep going.”

He wasn’t aware that Andrew had this power. Even after he’d had his cock deep down Andrew’s throat, he never could have guessed Andrew could take him apart with his words alone and—

“Press your finger up against the back of your balls—”

Neil was crying out before Andrew even finished his instruction.

He wasn’t sure how exactly Andrew knew that spot would cause this great of a reaction, how x plus y equaled z, but he wasn’t doing a whole lot of thinking at the moment either. He had stopped stroking himself, hips thrusting in the air uselessly, unable to think of anything else except Andrew, Andrew, Andrew on an endless loop.

“I’m right here.”

Oops, maybe he’d actually been chanting it out loud the whole time and he would be embarrassed about that except Andrew had just wrapped his left hand around Neil, finally.

Neil was keening again, words and thoughts escaping him once more.

Andrew wrapped his fist on top of Neil’s in a vise-grip, moving them in time with one another, setting a punishing pace. Their entwined hands pumped once, twice more, and then Neil was falling over that cliff, unable to tell where his eyeballs or toenails or where his anything were.

The hunger that had built up inside of him crested into one tall wave that finally broke and he didn’t have the strength in him to fight it anymore, went limp and boneless like he was playing dead as he emptied himself between their fists.

Neil’s brain was slow to restart, everything moving like molasses inside himself. Sticky and satisfied. Andrew let Neil rest against his chest until everything stopped swirling like a melted Dalí painting.

Eventually Andrew said, “I have to do everything around here.”

“Yeah? You don’t sound too upset about it.”

“Shut up. I hate you. And lock the goddamn door next time. If you let Kevin see you like this, I will end you both.”

Neil’s chuckle was belly-deep, full and happy the way people who have just had mind-blowing orgasms sound, and Andrew shoved him off the bed.

“Andrew! I’m sorry, next time I will—”

He was still laughing when Andrew shut himself in the bathroom with a firm click of the door locking behind him.

When Neil entered their suite on Friday, the first thing he heard was something that shouldn’t sound like music but did—mechanical, clicking noises computerized sounds tinkling in the air, accompanying the breathy voice of a female singer.

He opened the door to their room and was instantly swallowed up in the din, locking eyes with Andrew who was lounging on the bed, arm tossed behind his head.

The moment stretched through him like taffy.

Whether it was due to the music or the penetrating gaze upon him, Neil felt himself being pulled toward the blonde, honeyed legs and limbs moving through quicksand, eyes only for Andrew.

Andrew lifted an eyebrow and Neil felt himself nod in response, a whole conversation was had with only their bodies, one which continued into a kiss.

Their lips met once, twice, and then Neil immediately lost count, lost himself in the feel of Andrew’s mouth alone.

He knew some of these kisses—hot, fierce, teeth sometimes clacking from the urgent need to be close, close, closer. There were some new ones too—these were soft, teasing, tasting kisses that kept the heat simmering until it all boiled over again.

They kissed until their lips were raw with it, until they both needed a second to wipe the evidence off their chins. They pulled away, breathless and flushed.

Andrew’s hands had mussed up Neil’s hair in that endearing way that made always made him want to press another kiss to Neil’s lips. An urge he usually swallowed because they’d never stop kissing otherwise but one he chose to indulge today.

When he pulled away again, he set his eyes on Neil’s.

“Columbia. Tomorrow.”

Spoken like a sentence but held the weight of a question.

Neil allowed himself a moment to consider the heft of it, then locked eyes with Andrew and said definitively, “Yes.”

Andrew’s cheek twitched the slightest bit. If Neil’s eyes hadn’t been glued to that face he would have missed it entirely. The only movement to betray Andrew’s cool confidence.

Neil sighed and let every muscle in his body relax into it. “Tomorrow.”

Andrew allowed himself to indulge in a brief pass through Neil’s mop of hair one last time and got up.

“Pack a weekend bag,” he tossed over his shoulder and left the dorm.

It was Saturday morning.

Andrew had told him to be ready to leave Palmetto by 10:00 a.m. on the dot. The clock on Neil’s nightstand now read 9:30 but he was panicking about what exactly to pack.

He didn’t care about the way he dressed one way or another but he knew Andrew did at least sometimes. He couldn’t decide if this was one of those times.

Another fifteen minutes passed before Andrew found him standing in front of his dresser, his usual choice of clothing in one hand, his Eden’s clothing in the other.

“Problem?”

Neil could feel himself start to blush. “I don’t know what to wear.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Not like it will matter. We are not going to Eden’s,” he said pointedly.

Neil let out a breath, relieved, but flushed even further when he processed the first half of what Andrew had said.

Andrew ignored him but stepped closer to the dresser and began yanking out clothes at random.

Except. It wasn’t random. Neil realized belatedly that Andrew was selectively choosing his softest shirts and comfiest sweatpants.

Cozy clothing.

The thought settled his nerves.

Suddenly, his bag was packed and they were in the Maserati heading out of town. They drove comfortably without speaking all the way to Columbia, Andrew’s electronic music rattling around them. For once, Neil let himself get lost in the sounds instead of complaining about the ear-splitting volume.

Eventually, Andrew pulled into a big box store before they made it to the house, grabbing enough food for it to become clear that they would be staying in this weekend rather than eating out. Then he turned the shopping cart down an aisle Neil had never stepped foot in—Aisle 42.

Sexual Wellness.

Neil watched with interest as Andrew deliberated over a pack of condoms, choosing a small box and tossing them in the cart not-too gently where it bounced softly against the milk, then butter, and then hit the bottom.

He was ready to wheel the cart out of Aisle 42 and briskly push it all the way back to the Maserati, never mind self-checkout when he noticed Andrew was still standing in front of all the products with two different bottles in his hands. He was diligently reading the backs of each one. Once he finished, he held them up for Neil to read as well.

Neil read the words Anal Lubricant brightly printed on both bottles and flushed hard.

In all of his thought experiments, he hadn’t actually extended his scientific method to research the mechanics.

Obviously Andrew had.

He had known exactly which products to grab. Neil was both flustered and grateful all in one.

Andrew’s expression was passive when he looked at Neil’s face and asked, “Preference?”

Neil couldn’t trust his voice not to crack like a prepubescent teen so he simply shook his head, clueless and feeling embarrassed about it.

“Having a change of heart?” Andrew asked flatly.

Neil quickly shook his head in response. “No, no. I just. I didn’t know, I didn’t think about—” all of this, he indicated with a wave of his hand.

Andrew raised one eyebrow.

Neil had no idea why the Foxes thought Andrew was so empty and expressionless.

That eyebrow was savage and pitiless. If it could speak it would have called Neil a dumbass.

Andrew said, “I was under the impression you had given this a lot of thought.”

Neil shifted on his feet awkwardly.

“I have. But not about this. I was more preoccupied with… other… things…” he finished lamely.

Now, the look in Andrew’s eyes was nearly amused. “Oh, really.”

Neil bit his lip and nodded, pulling his collar away from heated skin, rolling his neck in the process.

It was suddenly hot, too hot, with Andrew’s eyes on him, all over him. It was an indecent kind of look and they were in public for Christ’s sake. 

Andrew held him there for an endless moment, oblivious and uncaring to the world around them. Finally, he hummed and tossed both bottles into the cart with just as much care as he had given the condoms and pushed the cart to self-checkout.

The short ride to the house was silent, the air between them so charged it was practically a wildfire hazard. Neil thought that if he was brave enough to shift his gaze towards Andrew, he would be sure to combust, incinerating Andrew, the Maserati, and everything within a two-mile radius.

They stayed in this electric little bubble as they went through the routine of making the house habitable for the weekend, putting the groceries away, dancing in each others orbit, never more than an arms width apart.

With just one bag left on the counter and nothing left to occupy their hands, Andrew locked sights on Neil and stole his breath away once more.

“Come here,” he said with a beckoning hand.

Neil drifted over like he was a puppet on a string.

Andrew held a hand over Neil’s scarred cheek. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Neil breathed into Andrew’s mouth and then a tongue was being fed deliciously into his mouth.

A wicked thought occurred to Neil, sudden and imperative, one that he promptly acted on.

Rather than meeting Andrew’s tongue with his own, he wrapped his lips around the tip instead.

Andrew let out a short, surprised moan. Pulled back. Looked Neil in the face with suspicion. Fed him his tongue again. When Neil repeated the action, Andrew pulled away.

“Who taught you that?”

“No one? Do you like it? It sounded like you did.”

“Shut up,” Andrew said, but gently shoved back into Neil’s mouth and he had to bite back a smile, otherwise he couldn’t keep doing what was causing Andrew to make those guttural sounds like they were being involuntarily pulled straight from his throat.

This is what he loved most about sex with Andrew.

He learned something new about the blond every single time and he hoarded every single memory the way he hoarded his keys.

Andrew likes neck kisses. Andrew likes to tell him what to do. Andrew likes it when he’s loud. Andrew likes it when Neil sucks on his tongue. Andrew likes it best when he can watch Neil come apart.

Neil pulled away for breath and opened his eyes quick enough to see that Andrew had chased his lips and had to catch himself.

“Shower.”

Neil thought he was being ordered to go fuck off for a minute while Andrew fought to regain composure but a second set of footsteps followed him all the way to the bathroom.

Neil turned around with a questioning look.

“You need to clean yourself,” Andrew stated flatly but did not move from the doorway. “Or. I could.”

Neil had just calmed down enough to gather his wits but that little offer burned everything out of his mind.

He held out his hand. When Andrew took it, Neil turned his palm up and planted a kiss in the center. “I trust you.”

Andrew said nothing but his posture shifted, shoulders and eyes softening almost imperceptibly. Neil kissed his cheek and began to undress.

He started the shower up and stepped inside, giving Andrew a moment to himself, allowing water on the verge of being too warm wash over him and relishing the heat.

His eyes were closed but he could tell the moment Andrew stepped in behind him, the temperature ratcheting up a notch, oxygen being siphoned from the room.

“Neil,” he said, announcing himself anyway.

“Yes.”

And then there was a hand on his hip and another lightly trailing up his chest. Soft lips met his spine and traced a line of fire from one shoulder to the other.

He heard the sound of a bottle uncapping and reached for his own shampoo when Andrew stopped him, lathering up Neil’s hair himself.

Neil smiled at the memory this called to mind, when Andrew had washed him after Baltimore with as much care and consideration as he knew how to give at that time.

Now, his hands were more gentle, unhurried and sweet. Neil melted and let Andrew work, massaging the suds into his scalp and tugging him back under the spray of the water.

He turned around and gave Andrew a soft little smile. “Your turn?”

Andrew wordlessly maneuvered so that they could switch spots but turned so he could stay facing Neil rather than giving him his full naked back.

“Close your eyes,” Neil whispered and set to work on lathering up Andrew’s delicate, blond strands.

He was pleased to see that Andrew was as relaxed as he’d been the day Neil had given him a shoulder rub. He cradled the back of Andrew’s skull and dipped him backwards into the stream of water until all the shampoo washed out and then pulled him in for a kiss, tender and slow.

He pulled away and grabbed the body wash, something light and cucumber scented and poured some out onto a loofah for Andrew.

Neil knew this shower was a warm up exercise for Andrew, to allow him to adjust to being naked in front of Neil and all the skin-on-skin contact but he didn’t feel like it was necessary to overload every moment with it.

They washed up separately and then Andrew gripped Neil’s chin in his hand.

“One last thing. Still yes?”

Neil nodded.

“This will be easier if you turn around. Bend and brace yourself against the wall.”

Neil sucked in a breath at the order, reminded of his little show a few weeks back and how eager he had been to follow instructions.

“I am going to open you up with my fingers.”

Fuck. He knew it was for practical purposes but hearing it explicitly spelled out sent fire blazing back through his veins.

“Okay,” he managed to breathe in response.

Andrew angled the spray of the water, now lukewarm, so that it was running down Neil’s back and then ever so slowly entered him.

It was strange at first, to say the least. The sensation of a finger in his ass didn’t do much for Neil at first thought, but the careful way in which Andrew had begun to move was causing him to go a little slack-jawed.

He started with a single digit, slowly dragging it in, then out, then in, then back out again. It felt a bit strange, his body resisting that point of entry but as Neil relaxed, he realized he liked it.

At the very least, Neil’s dick, which was starting to grow heavy in response, liked it very much, his stomach contracting each time Andrew entered him. Andrew neither sped up, nor slowed down, going at this infernal speed that was just on the edge of not enough.

He arched his back and Andrew stopped, for a fraction of a second. Then, immediately returned with two fingers pressing into Neil. He bit his lip hard against the pressure, water cascading down his back, dripping down Andrew’s fingers and consequently, inside of Neil when the fingers scissored him open.

Andrew chose that moment to stop. Neil could feel the gaze upon his face, even though his own eyes were screwed shut.

“Yes or no?”

Neil couldn’t speak, teeth biting firmly into his bottom lip.

He nodded instead.

And then those two fingers were moving inside of him, sliding in and out, back at that same infernal pace as before only now, every so often Andrew would scissor them in and out.

Neil realized his hips were moving on their own accord, and then he realized, he really liked this, really wanted more. More of Andrew inside of him. As much as he had been thinking about Andrew and about sex, and about sex with Andrew, nothing could have prepared him for how much want had grown inside of him.

Each time he hit a peak, the want inside of him grew, like there was no ceiling, no sky, no limit. It was almost too much. Feeling uncontainable.

It would have been terrifying, except that it wasn’t. Because it was Andrew at his back and Andrew was right there with him, all around him. His skin, his scent, his sturdy presence. Neil couldn’t understand how he could feel so vulnerable and yet so safe all at the same time.

If this is how Neil felt with just two of Andrew’s fingers inside him, he couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to feel Andrew’s cock. At that thought, a sound clawed its way out of his throat, just as uncontainable as anything else he was feeling in that moment.

Andrew didn’t even have to ask when the third finger came along. Neil was already nodding, over and over again.

It was so much.

He was so open.

And of course, this was the goal. To loosen Neil up, to get him comfortable with being entered over and over again. Although that was certainly happening with one part of his body, the rest of him was winding up so tight.

He needed something but he didn’t know what.

“Andrew.”

The fingers inside of him stilled.

He realized distantly that his cock was harder than it had ever been in his life. Andrew noticed it, too. Reached his other hand languidly around Neil’s body and gave him one long, firm tug.

“Andrew.”

“Enough.”

And just like that, Andrew withdrew from him entirely, shutting the water off.

Neil bit his lip again, eyes closed, propping his back against the shower tiles and clenched around nothing. Needing everything.

Andrew had gotten out, quickly drying himself off and wrapping himself into a towel.

And then he was back, tugging on Neil’s wrist to get him to stand upright. Neil made a move, as if to get out of the shower but his legs were useless. Andrew stopped him, and began toweling him off. Quickly, as he’d done to himself, but not as roughly.

His eyes were disinterested, but his touch betrayed him, moving with care over Neil’s scarred chest, down to his groin, his ass, down every inch of him until only the bottoms of his feet were still wet.

Then, Andrew threw the towel at him and walked out.

Neil huffed out a laugh and hung up the towel instead of wrapping himself up in it. For once, he didn’t feel uncomfortable with his own nudity.

Andrew’s mission had succeeded. Neil felt loose, free. Uncontainable.

He followed Andrew into the bedroom, marveling at how at-home he felt in his own skin, as if he had needed Andrew to teach him what that felt like instead of learning it on his own during his nineteen years.

Andrew was standing in the middle of the room, backed turned towards him. Looking around, looking for something.

For a moment, Neil allowed himself a moment to just stand and admire the blonde. Andrew hadn’t dried himself as well as he had Neil and there were droplets of water pooling at the base of his neck, slowly gliding down his muscled back and eventually dripping into the towel that was draped loosely around his waist. Neil could still make out the shape of Andrew’s ass under the towel and his desire, which had not had sufficient time to abate, flared up again in the pit of his stomach.

Neil dragged his eyes back up to Andrew’s face and saw that he was watching him. They locked into a heated staring contest, until Andrew’s gaze grew into pointed glare.

“Oh, the bag with all the—stuff. I’ll go get it,” Neil said and did as Andrew’s glare told him to do.

When he returned to the bedroom, music was playing softly in the background, the same artist from yesterday.

Andrew’s towel was on the carpet.

Heathen, Neil thought.

And then he blinked.

Andrew had dropped his towel on the carpet, and still had not put on a single scrap of clothing.

He was lounging on the bed in all his naked glory, muscles locked with tension but a look of resolute determination in his eyes. It was a challenging look, but whether it was directed at Neil or at Andrew himself, Neil had no clue.

“Andrew,” Neil started before he knew where he wanted the sentence to end, desperately keeping his eyes locked on Andrew’s face. Afraid to look without permission, let alone touch.

He could sense it more than see it. This tactic was working for Andrew, allowing him to slowly loosen his muscles and sink into the bed rather than perch upon it as stiff as marble.

When he was good and ready, Andrew spoke.

“You can look.”

For a moment, Neil was wonderstruck. His brain had been trained so carefully against stealing unwanted looks but now that he was given license to do so, he didn’t even know where to start.

So he started where he always did whenever he stared at Andrew, drifting his gaze upon his light blonde hair, down the side of his tight jaw, then over to his pink lips, back up again to his eyes.

“Yes or no?” Neil asked.

“Yes.”

Only then did Neil allow his hungry eyes to really look at Andrew. All of Andrew.

He really did look like he was sculpted out of marble. Like he would have made the perfect anatomical study for sculptors to immortalize his form.

Years of playing Exy and sparring with Renee, built on top of whatever else he’d gotten into in juvie had carved into his pale skin, broadening his chest while whittling down his waist. His pecs were topped with nipples as pink as his lips and his abs were dusted with fuzzy hair, somehow lighter than the strands on his head. Neil had the inexplicable desire to thread his fingers down that happy trail which lead right to the base of—Oh.

Frankly. It was a gorgeous cock.

Not that Neil had anything to compare it to other than his own, but if someone were to ask Neil to picture a gorgeous cock, Andrew’s would be it.

It wasn’t a monster like some Neil had seen while doing his pornographic research (which, honestly he never really understood the desire to be destroyed by a ten inch dick anyway, especially now considering that three normal sized fingers were enough to drive him insane).

It wasn’t all the way hard, but Neil could tell that once it was, his girth alone would be more than enough, more than three fingers in full circumference.

Neil stared and Neil wanted.

His brain conjured up visions of skin against skin, slick, hot, deep, full.

His eyes snapped back to Andrew’s, and in them he found heat that matched his own. The defiant look had melted into a molten one.

It appeared, perhaps, that somewhere along the way, Andrew began to enjoy being studied by Neil.

Neil couldn’t take the distance anymore. Want was rapidly devolving into need, and Neil needed skin on skin, but his feet were glued to where he stood.

Andrew shifted on the bed, making a Neil-shaped space available.

“Come here,” he commanded and finally, he was able to move.

They lay on the bed facing each other for a moment, letting the electronic notes of the song wash over them. The sound was growing on him. It felt like they were underwater, just the two of them alone together in the deep, blue sea.

Andrew reached a hand up to cup Neil’s cheek, thumb brushing over his scar in one quick there-and-gone motion.

It was enough to take Neil’s breath away and he never had a chance to regain it because Andrew was right there, chasing air away with another kiss.

Patience was gone.

Everything leading up to this moment had been slow, measured, composed but now, there was nothing in their kiss that spoke of control. Teeth clacked, red lips were bitten raw, and it felt like a competition, like they were fighting to see which of them could get more of the other inside of themselves.

A hand slipped between them and onto Neil’s chest, gentle motions glancing over the scars they found there, finding his nipple.

The pinch there was not gentle at all.

Neil bucked and retaliated with a pinch of his own and Andrew let out a soft groan.

Neil chased that groan into Andrew’s mouth, latching on his tongue and sucked another, louder one out of him. 

Somewhere along the way, their legs got twisted up amongst each other and Neil’s cock was suddenly pressed up against Andrew’s thigh and he couldn’t have even attempted to stop himself from grinding into the slick skin he found there, possibly should have even felt ashamed at the way he was humping Andrew’s solid thighs but all reason had fled his mind because Andrew’s fingers were back against his hole, this time wet with what Neil assumed was one of the lubes they had bought.

He had to assume because his eyes were screwed shut again and he hadn’t even noticed how or when Andrew had been able to acquire the lube because Neil was sure he had dropped it somewhere but it didn’t even really matter because the finger was rubbing against him, teasing him rather than entering him immediately and it was causing sparks to light up behind his eyelids.

Andrew had squirted an ungodly amount of lube on his fingers and was working it around Neil’s hole, toying with it, every so often dipping just the tip of his finger inside without going all the way in and Neil was gone. He wanted so badly to beg for more but he bit his tongue instead, letting moans scrape their way out of his throat.

Neil had turned to lay completely onto his back, legs spread open wide, trying to communicate with his body what his words couldn’t.

He needed Andrew inside of him.

Andrew was propped up on his side, head resting against a palm propped up by the hand not playing with Neil’s asshole, watching his cock bounce as he bucked his hips trying to get Andrew where he wanted him.

He did not relent on his teasing until Neil was good and lathered with what had to be the entire bottle of lube for how wet he was feeling between his thighs, except when Andrew finally entered him, he was once again coated and the finger slipped in with more ease and less resistance than it had in the shower.

Neil was greedy now—one finger was no longer enough.

He wanted more, and then he realized he was begging for more, out loud, one long, fast mantra of “More, more, more, Andrew, more.”

Andrew skipped past two and went straight to three fingers.

He was clearly done fucking around, and Neil had a silly fleeting thought that that was a funny sentiment, because Andrew had to stop fucking around to start fucking him good and well, the way he’d been wanting for fucking months.

It felt so good, so fucking good, so much fucking better than it had in the shower, and again, there was no filter between Neil’s thoughts and his mouth because he could hear them pouring out but he was afraid to stop. He needed Andrew to know exactly how he was feeling because actually, he was afraid that Andrew would be the one to stop, to go back to teasing his rim or even worse, inexplicably remove himself from the situation altogether.

Andrew did no such thing.

In fact, Neil’s words were causing him to drive his fingers in much harder, much faster than they had been before and Neil felt like he was just on the edge of fucking exploding but he couldn’t quite get there.

“Andrew,” Neil breathed to call the blonde’s eyes back up to him from where they were staring intently at three slick fingers fucking in and out of him and Andrew complied. “I want you.”

Andrew stilled his fingers finally, studied Neil for a long moment, and then nodded.

Neil started to flip onto his stomach but Andrew pushed him down firmly with a flat palm to his chest.

Instead, Andrew dropped down flat on his back, fluffed a few pillows up behind his own head, and splayed his legs out while looking directly at Neil.

Neil flushed from his roots to his neck.

Andrew wanted him to get on top.

Andrew wanted to watch Neil fuck himself down onto his cock.

Neil lifted himself up, which took much more effort than ever before due to how his legs had suddenly turned to jelly and slowly dragged one of his legs over Andrew’s hips to get into a straddle.

Andrew kept his eyes on him while reaching over to grab a condom which he dropped on his own chest without making any moves to actually put it on.

Neil looked down at the little gold square packet. He bit his lip and looked up again at Andrew. Didn’t know if it would be right to ask for what he wanted, didn’t know if he could.

Andrew lifted one perfect eyebrow.

What?

Neil opened his mouth and then shut it again. Bit the inside of his cheek before finally admitting, “I want to feel you.”

Andrew’s one perfect eyebrow did not drop back down into place.

So?

“I don’t know if that’s okay.” Neil dropped his gaze. “I haven’t been with, y’know. Anyone else.”

That got an eye roll that said, I know that. “I have been tested. Recently. So if that is what you want,” he shrugged. “It’s messy, though. After.”

Neil looked back up, shy now, even after everything. “Messy would be good. I think.”

Andrew scoffed quietly. Your choice, the scoff said.

Neil smiled back.

The lube reappeared and the tube was not empty as Neil had thought. Andrew squirted more onto his dick, stroking it back to full hardness and Neil pulled himself up to get in alignment.

He opened his mouth to ask the question, but Andrew was the one who spoke.

“Yes or no?”

The fact that Andrew beat him to it filled him with such feeling, that Andrew was still worrying over his yeses and nos when he felt like he was the one who had been begging for it ever since Andrew asked him to think about sex, when Andrew was the one with the hang ups.

Neil had to kiss him.

When he pulled away, his answer was one empathic, “Yes.”

Andrew gripped Neil’s hips, thumbs sitting comfortably inside the slight hollows of his bones. And then he guided Neil into sitting, dragging him all the way down until he was fully bottomed out and there was not even a centimeter of space between them, watching Neil’s face the entire time.

Neil, whose head was thrown back exposing the column of his golden neck.

Neil, whose mouth was opened in a small oh that made no sound.

Neil, who looked like he was in absolute fucking Heaven.

And he was.

Andrew had done such a good job of opening him up. All that slow teasing that drove Neil towards a wild, impatient desire had paid off. He wouldn’t say it hadn’t hurt because Andrew’s girth was considerable. But he really only felt a twinge of pain when the head popped all the way in. After that, it was almost easy to slip all the way down, skin on skin.

Neil felt incredible. Nothing he had seen in all the cheap pornos he watched compared to this feeling. Nothing could ever compare to this ever again.

Then, Andrew thrusted back into him, once, hard.

Neil’s mind slipped quietly away from him.

Andrew bucked into him again and Neil took the hint, pushing himself to his knees and dropping down again, and again, and again, until he was fully bouncing on Andrew’s cock.

Neil could hear himself moaning, loudly, and if he had any presence of mind he would have been worried about the absolute racket he was creating but as it was, Neil’s thoughts were consumed entirely by Andrew.

Andrew, whose grip on his hips became tight and punishing once the bouncing began.

Andrew, whose jaw was gritted tight against letting out any sound.

Andrew, who was dripping in sweat, and sex, and fucking absolutely gorgeous.

Neil heard himself say that last bit out loud and there was no ounce of shame or embarrassment in it. Andrew said nothing but he fucked into Neil harder as a response.

Andrew in bed was almost exactly like Andrew on the field. Sharp. Laser focused. Unrelenting.

Thinking about this comparison drove Neil fucking wild, and he had to get his mouth on Andrew’s. Dropping down so that he could get to Andrew’s face to do that meant their pace had to slow considerably, but what they sacrificed in speed they gained in depth. Andrew was grinding himself deep inside Neil at this angle, deeper than he’d been able to go before and it was, for lack of a better word, delicious.

Neil had to taste Andrew, had to taste his tongue, his spit, his sweat. Stopped kissing him only to lean down and lick a long line from collarbone to ear which caused Andrew’s hips to stutter.

“I am going to cum.”

Neil’s brain short-circuited and then quickly restarted and then he was chasing Andrew’s mouth again.

In between searing kisses he said, “Cum. Inside. I want you.”

And for once, Andrew did exactly as Neil told him to with no argument.

Andrew had kept his eyes on Neil the entire time they had been fucking, but he shut his eyes as he lost himself in the sensation of Neil’s warm, tight heat, letting only a soft exhale escape once the last of his cum pumped out.

Andrew was relaxed for about the length of 5 breaths before he pulled out and smoothly flipped Neil onto his back, staring down his hard, leaking cock.

Neil was almost surprised to see the sight of it, as if having one deep inside of him made him forget entirely about his own.

Andrew clearly had not forgotten.

He spit on Neil’s dick, which caused his brain to short-circuit again, and then took it down his throat in one smooth motion.

Neil choked on nothing as he watched Andrew bob up and down and Oh my God, Andrew’s fingers were back inside of him while sucking him off. Neil lasted exactly 15 seconds before he came, which was an absolute shame because he wanted this moment to last exactly one whole lifetime.

If he had to pick a moment to die in, it would be this moment, this absolutely perfect moment in his life where this absolutely perfect man was doing so many things perfectly to him.

But then he would have missed Andrew pulling off and swallowing all of him down once he finished spilling his brains out by way of his dick.

He also sucked one hard, huge bruise into the back of Neil’s thighs, a little below his asscheek before laying back down, self satisfied at the state he left Neil in.

Neil was glad to be alive.

He was even gladder when he had the bright idea to stick a finger inside himself and lick a bit of Andrew’s cum off his own finger, which caused Andrew’s cheeks to pink up and his eyes to narrow.

“Gross,” was all he said before getting up and leaving the room.

Neil was pleased as punch because he was pretty sure Andrew meant the exact opposite of what he said.

When Andrew returned, it was with a glass of water, which he handed to Neil, and a wet towel, which he used to clean Neil off, as carefully as he had in the shower before.

He ended up throwing that towel right on top of the other one he had unceremoniously tossed on the carpet, which earned one judgmental eyebrow from Neil.

Andrew’s response was to flick him off, and then drag Neil over to lay on his chest and then they both promptly drifted off into one long nap.

After all that tenderness, Neil was awakened with a slight and swift kick to his ass.

“Rude.”

“Go make breakfast.”

“It’s five in the afternoon.”

“Pancakes. Eggs. Bacon.”

“Hashbrowns?”

“Hashbrowns.”

And so Neil went, with amusement and fondness while Andrew burrowed deeper into the sheets, grumpy, cute, satiated, all at once.

Andrew eventually got dressed to have breakfast at five thirty in the afternoon with Neil.

Only, he realized he had accidentally pulled on Neil's jeans instead of his own when he dug into what he thought was his pocket, looking for his lighter.

Instead, he found a piece of paper which had been obsessively folded into a tight and perfect little square.

Andrew returned the curious scrap paper to Neil's (now his) jean pocket for further investigation.

But first. Pancakes. Eggs. Bacon. Hashbrowns. 

Neil was doing lunges to stretch and warm up, shorts rising up his thighs as he switched from one leg to the next when a choked noise directly behind him startled him almost into falling over.

“Wait a second—what! Is that—Neil! Is that a hickey on the back of your thigh? Did you guys have sex?” Nicky shouted and everyone erupted into a cacophony of sound.

“Fuck you, Nicky, I didn’t fucking want to hear that!”

“C’est scandaleux!”

“I’m not the one sporting the largest bruise ever that close to my asscheek for all the world to see!”

“For fucks sake, Nicky!”

“Hey, congrats on the sex!”

“Stop talking about sex and ass on Kevin’s field, it’s sacrilegious! And he’s a virgin!”

“I most certainly am not—”

“Took you fucks long enough!”

“—have you know I’ve had lots of sex—”

“If you all don’t shut the fuck up, I swear to God—”

Neil flushed, a bit angry at first and a whole lot embarrassed to be caught out but then his gaze wandered over to Andrew, who looked unfazed by this invasion of privacy for once.

Andrew, as a matter of fact, looked entirely too cool, calm, and collected.

Unsurprised, one could even assume.

Neil’s eyes narrowed at the blonde, a thought clicking into place.

Fucker.

He had intentionally left that hickey behind, in a spot on Neil’s body he knew would go forgotten as out of sight out of mind, but not high enough up that it would stay fully concealed by clothing.

Neil might have had something to say about being expressly marked in a way that publicly announced Andrew’s claim on him, as if it weren’t already clear to anyone who had the power of eyesight, but then he reconsidered.

Andrew wanted everyone to know who Neil belonged to.

Andrew, who was full of strength, resilience, and immovability, who lived his entire life pre-Neil in self-inflicted isolation to the point where he was almost completely removed from all humanity.

That Andrew was the same Andrew who carefully took him apart and put him back together and made life make more sense to him than it ever had before.

Neil’s heart did a funny little thing then—it stuttered.

Maybe it was all the yearning that had ripped him open roughly at the seams. Unspooled all his atoms. Rearranged them all slightly to the left, leaving behind a space more tender and soft, more willing to be seen as tender and soft.

After all his consideration, Neil found that he was quite alright with that.