User: jenish (posted by fizzyblogic) Date: 2007-11-11 14:16 Subject: Or, What You Will [5/7] Security: Public

Or, What You Will
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“Oh my God, this smells so good,” Brittany inhaled when Nick served up. Kim took a bite and her eyes rolled back; she gave him a thumbs up, chewing with enthusiasm. Nick ducked his head and tried not to blush, sneaking a look at Tyson, who was just putting his fork into his mouth.

Tyson emitted a small groaning sound. Nick hoped his laces would hold up at least until dinner was over. “Please,” Tyson said when he had swallowed, his voice shades of a moan but definitely different from his seductive tone, “stay. Just – you’re wearing lace-up pants so uh, I guess you’re planning to, but please. Stay.”

“Should we … leave you two alone?” Brittany grinned at them. Nick was definitely blushing now.

“I am not leaving this food.” Kim pointed her fork at Brittany. “They can fuck on the floor if they want, I am eating this.”

“Yeah, but,” Brittany sidled closer and tugged on Kim’s earlobe with her teeth, “if we took it to the bedroom, we could eat it there in privacy. And I,” she added, voice dropping so it was obviously meant to be heard just by Kim, and Nick tried not to hear it but the sound reached him anyway, “don’t mind eating it cold.”

Kim grabbed her plate. “See you later,” she said, almost tripping over her crutches. Brittany took the plate out of her hand, and led her out of the room.

“Wow.” Nick swallowed, piling up his fork and dumping the food back onto the plate, nervous. “That uh. Wow.”

“Brittany’s evil,” Tyson informed him. “You know, Kim used to be this innocent cute little Texan girl. I sort of corrupted her, but Brit … well, I guess with our combined forces, she had no hope.”

“No hope of survival,” Nick agreed a little faintly. He was suddenly very aware of being alone with Tyson. The sexual tension that had hung around the table at the Thai restaurant had aggressively bared its teeth at him, but this time the tension gave him a sheepish smile and tilted its head at where Tyson was taking another bite.

“You gonna eat?” Tyson was watching him. “I hear your food’s an aphrodisiac.” He gave him a smile that was wearing a headband with horns stuck to it, a red barbeque fork hanging off its back by a string. Nick put his piled-up fork into his mouth and chewed.

“Hey yeah, this isn’t bad,” he appraised. Tyson laughed a little and shook his head into his food.

“You can relax, by the way,” he added. “I’m not going to – I want to do this right, you know? Let’s just, let’s have dinner.”

Nick hadn’t realised he was slightly hunched up. He let go of the tension and instantly felt a whole lot better. He took a sip from his wine glass; the bottle on the table was one of his Cabernet Sauvignons, he noticed. “Sorry. I guess I just, I mean – I’m a little nervous,” he admitted, the words scrambling to come out before he could stop them. “You were kind of intense, before.”

“Was I?” Tyson looked thoughtful as he swallowed a mouthful of wine.

“Yeah, you kind of – it was a little like you were acting, actually.” Nick cleared his throat, wishing he could dig himself out of this conversational hole.

“Oh.” Tyson was still looking thoughtful, and Nick decided not to say anything and just hope the silence would eventually close this avenue of discussion so another could open up. He had almost finished his glass of wine before Tyson spoke again. “I haven’t dated before,” he said, sounding like he was working up to something. Nick listened, keeping his eyes on Tyson’s while he spoke except to dip them at his plate every now and then as he ate. “I guess it’s different when you’re dating, to just picking somebody up.”

He said it like a stopping point, so Nick came in with, “It is, yeah.” He paused, and then ventured, “Why haven’t you dated? If it’s – if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind. I guess just, when I started out modelling there were suddenly all these guys, and they were pretty but pretty doesn’t last long. So we’d screw, and it was fun, and then we’d both move on. It kind of just … became habit, I guess.” Tyson shrugged. “I’m not all that interested, beyond that, not until – uh.” He blushed slightly and looked at his rapidly-emptying plate. “Not until you.”

“Oh.” Nick ate some more, for something to do with his hands.

“What about you? I mean, you’re – why aren’t you dating some awesome dude? You’re pretty fucking hot, you know,” he appended. Nick almost choked.

“I’m – ” He saw the look on Tyson’s face and stopped the protest in its tracks. Holy shit, he really meant that. This fucking gorgeous dude thinks I’m hot. “Uh. I uh, hold on. What’s my name again?” He gave him a slightly wry smile, thinking Tyson might laugh, but instead he just moved closer.

“Your name is Nick,” he murmured, voice low but entirely different from the seduction act of before. This didn’t feel like a voice he was putting on; it was Tyson, just huskier. Nick shifted in his seat. “And for some crazy reason, you’re not dating anyone. Except that I kind of hope you’re uh, dating me. Or – or will be. I’m Tyson,” he added as Nick opened his mouth to speak, “and I’m going to be kissing you now.”

Nick might have said something, if he felt like his throat was working, but Tyson caught his open mouth before he could start. So he kissed him back, and Tyson tasted fucking good, and his skin felt nice where Nick was inching his fingertips under Tyson’s shirt. Tyson shivered at the contact, and Nick pressed closer, splaying both palms on Tyson’s sides. Tyson groaned slightly into his mouth.

“That,” he breathed, air puffing across Nick’s cheek, “yeah. Keep uh, keep doing that.”

“’Kay,” Nick stuttered. Tyson’s hands were resting on his hips, and he was finding it hard to concentrate. Tyson kissed him again, hungrier, exploring with his tongue, and Nick moaned, moving his hands up a little. Tyson shivered again.

“Can we,” he exhaled, a hitch in it, “I don’t want to – rush you or anything but can we forget about the rest of dinner, or eat it later, or – fuck,” he hissed as Nick’s hand made contact with a nipple. Nick circled it with a fingertip. “Fuck, Nick, you’re wearing lace-up pants,” Tyson repeated desperately.

“This stuff tastes good cold,” Nick said, by way of an answer. Tyson pulled him up quickly and made to grasp for his arm, but changed the movement in the middle and took his hand instead. Nick smiled at him, and Tyson smiled back.

Tyson’s bedroom was large, airy, with a nice view, and it looked like a stuff bomb had gone off in it. He darted around, picking up clothes and depositing them on a chair, shuffling magazines onto the top of a stack of boxes, as Nick looked around and tried to keep his expression neutral. “Sorry about the mess,” Tyson apologised quickly. “I wasn’t expecting you to show up tonight, or I – uh, well I didn’t want to clean and then you not come, y’know?”

Nick stopped him as he rushed past. “Your sheets are clean, right?” he asked, though not without confidence as to what the answer would be. Tyson nodded. “Then leave the rest.”

“Okay.” Tyson put a few books back onto the shelves, piled in every which way, and took Nick’s hand again. He sat him down on the bed and leaned in, his mouth a millimetre away when Nick suddenly said,

“Socks.”

“What?”

Nick undid his shoes quickly. “Now’s a good time to get the socks off, right?” Tyson watched him remove his shoes and socks and sit back again.

“Are you doing a very weird striptease?” he asked, half his mouth curving up in a smile. It was really fucking cute.

“No, I just … don’t want to end up a naked dude in socks. You know?” Tyson had opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped, as though he’d suddenly lost concentration. “D’I lose you somewhere?”

“Uh. The naked part.” Tyson rested one hand on Nick’s hip again. “That can be an actual thing that happens now, right, not just something I keep picturing?”

Nick blushed a little. “Yeah.” He was surprised to hear how rough his voice sounded, like it had stepped in nut husks. He yanked Tyson’s shirt over his head and ran the pad of his thumb over a nipple. Tyson sucked his breath in, and then he leaned in again and kissed him, hard and hungry. Nick moaned as he was gently tipped back, settling against the pillows, Tyson undoing the buttons on his shirt one at a time. He dipped his head down to follow them, kissing Nick’s chest in a downward progression until he got to the last button and licked a long stripe up Nick’s stomach.

Nick squirmed. Tyson grinned up at him and then dipped his head again, wriggling further down the bed so his head was level with Nick’s waist; and then he leaned in and took the end of one of the laces on Nick’s jeans between his teeth and pulled.

Nick owned two pairs of lace-up pants. He presumed their function was convenience – no zips to get stuck or buttons to fiddle with – but now, he thought that maybe they had another use. That of melting his brain as he watched Tyson undoing them in seconds with his teeth. He mutely lifted his hips as Tyson tugged on them, pulling them all the way off and throwing them into a corner of the room. He looked up at Nick from a proximity to his knee, and Nick looked back, breathing hard.

“You’re not wearing,” Tyson mouthed, barely a sound coming out, “any underwear.”

“Yeah, I – I know.”

Tyson pressed his mouth to the skin just above Nick’s knee. He pressed kisses up the inside of his thigh until he got half way up, when he pressed the flat of his tongue to the skin and licked up the rest of the way. Nick whimpered. Tyson did the same with the other thigh, kisses half way and then a lick right up to where leg met hip. Nick squirmed again as Tyson’s tongue made a slow, agonising progress inwards from his hip. Tyson flicked his tongue out at the shaft of Nick’s cock, three times, just so the tip touched it, and Nick hissed each time. Then Tyson settled his mouth onto the tip and moved down, wrapping a hand around the base, and Nick closed his eyes.

It took an enormous effort not to come right then. Tyson’s mouth was hot and wet, his fingers were pressing and stroking a little at the base, and it had been two fucking years since Nick had last had a blowjob. But he managed, somehow, to hold on as Tyson sucked, as he did something pretty amazing with his tongue, as he scraped oh so lightly and oh so fucking perfectly with his teeth. His free hand cupped Nick’s knee, and Nick was suddenly aware of the sensation of it there, skin contact, and tingled.

Tyson sucked harder and Nick couldn’t hold out much longer. He grasped at the sheets and groaned, “Fuck, fuck, Ty, I’m not gonna la–” but Tyson fucking hummed, or maybe he moaned; all Nick knew was there were vibrations and he just couldn’t hold off any more, so he came, arching off the bed and groaning loudly.

Tyson let his cock out of his mouth with a slight wet sound as Nick lowered himself back onto the sheets. Tyson swallowed, keeping his eyes on Nick’s, pupils blown to fuck, panting a little. “Holy fucking shit,” he murmured, crawling up Nick’s body. “That was so fucking hot, oh God.”

Nick just reached for him, pulled him closer and kissed him. He tasted himself on Tyson’s tongue, and gently rolled him over onto his back. “Here,” he breathed, unzipping Tyson’s jeans as quickly as he could, “lift.”

Tyson obediently lifted his hips, and Nick got rid of his jeans and underwear for him. Nick stroked his palms over Tyson’s thighs; Tyson writhed. “Fuck,” he exhaled, squirming and looking at the ceiling.

“Now, I’m not good at all that teasing shit you did,” Nick informed him, hands moving up, “or at least, not right after orgasm.” Something about the way he said it, or possibly the word itself, made Tyson moan softly, his face a desperate plea. “But shit, I figure you don’t need it,” Nick breathed. He sank his mouth down onto Tyson’s cock as he went to speak, and whatever words Tyson would have said ended up a jumbled sound that escaped all at once. Nick wrapped one hand around the base of Tyson’s cock and then, shifting into a more comfortable position and hoping neither of his arms would protest too much, he stroked Tyson’s balls with a fingertip, slowly working back in tiny circles.

Tyson was already breathing hard and whimpering, but when Nick eased one finger into his ass, slowly, carefully, Tyson hissed and bucked off the mattress. Nick had to pull his mouth off to avoid gagging, but when Tyson had settled back he sucked again, earning a moan and a whimpered, “Fucking hell, Nick, fuck.” He thrust the finger in further, searching – he knew he’d found the right spot when Tyson suddenly arched, groaning and shaking. He came two seconds later, moaning, “Fuck Nick fuck Nick Nick fuck.”

Nick concentrated on swallowing for a minute, careful not to choke or make a face. His shirt was still on, though open, so he pulled it off and tossed it in the direction of the chair.

Tyson stared at him. “You got tattoos,” he said, breathing not quite returned to normal yet. Nick glanced down at his own arms.

“Oh – yeah, my Electric Mayhem. The uh, the Muppet band, you know? And that one’s Queen,” he indicated the other arm, “and,” he turned around, “that one’s a Bon Jovi tour shirt, the other’s a Def Leppard album cover.” He flopped back onto the pillows next to Tyson. “You got any?”

“Can’t,” he sighed, his voice the picture of envy. “I mean, I guess I could some day, but it needs too much make-up for shooting and shit, my agent said it’d be best not to.” He reached over and traced the bus on the Muppets tattoo. “These are so hot, dude.”

“Yeah?” Nick thought they just looked kind of nerdy, in a way he was totally okay with being; but hey, if Tyson thought they were hot, he wasn’t going to argue.

“Yeah,” Tyson insisted, shifting until he could reach to trace the patterns with his tongue. It felt good.

“Well that’s new,” he muttered, as the tip of Tyson’s tongue traced and traced. Tyson looked up at him.

“Uh. I like tattoos,” he said, sheepish. Nick shrugged.

“It’s okay, it just – haven’t met someone who liked ’em before.” He decided he liked that Tyson liked them.

“They’re hot,” Tyson murmured, moving his mouth over Nick’s shoulder, “and you just got like, eight thousand times hotter for having them.” He paused. “Muppets, though?”

Nick shifted. “I like the Muppets, ain’t nothin’ wrong with it. They are quality entertainers, my friend. Especially the Electric Mayhem.”

“Who’s your favourite?” Tyson’s legs were slowly tangling with Nick’s, and they were just settling together, skin to skin. It was pleasant.

“Dr Teeth. Who’s yours? I mean, if you have one.”

Tyson shrugged. “Never really thought about it. I guess maybe Gonzo.”

“Yeah, Gonzo’s pretty badass. I do wonder about the chickens, though.”

Tyson looked up at him from his shoulder. “Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“You are so fucking cute. I thought you should know that.”

Nick tried not to blush. “If you say so.”

“I do say so.” Tyson poked him in the arm and then draped it across his chest. “You wanna go finish dinner now?”

“Okay. I’m pretty hungry,” he admitted. Tyson offered him a pair of sweatpants, so he decided to put them on and forego a shirt. Tyson did the same.

“So how long have you known Robyn?” he asked, when they were back at the table and partaking of cold leftovers. Which did, as Nick had suspected they would, taste rather good. “You know about me and Kim, so. What about your girl?”

“She’s pretty much like a second sister,” Nick explained around a mouthful. “We grew up together in Oklahoma –”

“Oh yeah, I recognise the accent. I was born there.”

“No way! Huh.”

“Yeah, m’dad’s one of those weird Oklahoma boys who got out. There aren’t many of them.” Tyson grinned at him.

“Me and Rob did too,” Nick said, cleaning up the last of the food on his plate. “And Mike, but he wanted to go back. Guess he won’t now, but. I don’t know, maybe.”

“Who’s Mike?” Tyson sipped his wine, looking politely interested. Nick took a deep breath.

“My ex. We uh, we moved out here together. Robyn let me live at her place after Mike left me for my yoga teacher.”

Tyson winced. “Oh, ouch.”

“Yeah, and I teach the guy’s kid now. Well – nephew, but Chris is like, his legal guardian, so.”

“Oh. That … must be awkward.” He said it tentatively, as though afraid of opening a can of worms.

Nick shrugged. “It’s a little weird, I guess, but we’re all friendly and shit. We couldn’t be friends, I don’t think, but. Yeah. It’s okay.”

“How serious were you and Mike?”

“Uh. Well. Pretty serious, I guess. That was the only time I’ve been in love, so – yeah. Pretty serious. We lived together and shit.”

Tyson seemed to be getting smaller. “Oh,” he said, quiet. “Sorry, I mean – for bringing it up.”

“No, it’s okay, it was a couple years ago. I’m good.” Nick poked his arm to get him to look up, and then gave him a smile. Tyson gave an awkward one back. “Besides, I got this new boyfriend now, and I like him a whole lot.” The smile on Nick’s side widened, but Tyson’s just wavered. “Hey,” Nick leaned closer, bumping their shoulders together, “I mean you, doofus.”

“I know.” After a beat, Tyson brightened. “You wanna go make out on the couch?”

Nick laughed. “Okay.” He took the plates into the kitchen, where he almost bumped right into Brittany, who was rummaging in the fridge.

“Oh hi,” she said, pulling the shirt she was wearing over her bare legs as much as she could. “Tyson,” she called as Nick shot her a smile and sidled past to put the plates in the dishwasher, “I’m taking the whipped cream, okay?”

“Saucy minx,” Tyson called back. “What if we wanted trifle?”

“Tough cookies,” Brittany called, grinning at Nick. “We’ll try to keep it down,” she said, and skipped out of the room.

Nick stuck his head into the living room. “Do you want some dessert?”

Tyson just patted the seat cushion next to him. “I was kind of hoping to have some Wheeler for it,” he grinned, and Nick felt his cheeks crack into a spontaneous matching grin as he crossed the room.

“Is that so?” he mused, making as if to sit on the couch but at the last moment swerving and draping himself over Tyson’s lap. “Whoops,” he almost batted his eyelashes. “Must have slipped.”

Tyson laughed, hands automatically going to hold him up, waist and back. “You’re smooth, Nicky. Smooth with a capital smoo.”

“Hell yeah I am,” Nick murmured, his mouth inches from Tyson’s. He leaned forwards and caught Tyson’s smile with his own. He tasted like good wine and good food and the faint tang of recent sex, and something just perfectly Tysonish. Nick explored his mouth, slow, lazy movements, as Tyson’s fingertips ran up and down his spine. The touches made him shiver and whimper into Tyson’s mouth, which in turn made Tyson groan in little snatches of sound, shifting against Nick’s thigh. He could feel Tyson getting hard again, and ran his hands up and down Tyson’s chest, paying particular attention to every patch of skin that made Tyson shiver when touched.

“Do you want to,” Tyson breathed, an indeterminable amount of time later, “go back to bed?” He caught Nick’s mouth again before he could answer, kissing him hungrily, and Nick groaned. He was hard again now, from the touches and the warmth and Tyson’s tongue and the tiny sounds he was making.

“Yes,” Nick exhaled, and it sounded like pleading. “Fuck yes.”

They brushed their teeth in turn, and Nick took off the sweatpants and got into bed while Tyson was in the bathroom. He felt unaccountably nervous; they’d already had sex, sort of, and they’d seen each other naked, so all the usual insecurities didn’t apply. Although, a tiny voice at the back of Nick’s head piped up, he has had an awful lot of sex in his time. With a lot of probably promiscuous models and actors and crew folk, so how’s a high school teacher from the Midwest going to measure up?

Nick swallowed, and gave a slightly awkward wave when Tyson came back. He just dropped his pants, got into the bed, and Nick said, “Hi.”

“Hey there sugar,” Tyson winked, sidling up. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Uh. Yeah, fancy.” Nick hoped he wouldn’t keep play-acting. He’d been fine before, so Nick just reached out and touched Tyson’s hip, splaying his palm there. Tyson angled into the touch.

“Mm. Feels nice,” Tyson murmured, inching his mouth closer.

“Yeah?” Nick’s breath quickened the closer Tyson got. “How about if I …” He moved the hand, splaying it this time on Tyson’s stomach. Tyson hissed his breath between his teeth.

“That, yeah. Feels great.” His eyes were sliding closed, and Nick kind of just wanted to watch, because holy fucking shit it was hot when Tyson’s head tipped back like that. Nick pressed a kiss to his neck, and Tyson shivered. “Fuck, fuck yes.”

“And what about if I …” Nick rolled them gently over and settled on top, to an accompaniment of appreciative groans from Tyson. Their bodies connected, legs and chests and pelvises, and both hissed and arched their necks as their cocks pressed together.

“Fuck,” Tyson whispered, “fuck, the lube’s in the drawer, there are condoms there too, please Nick, fuck me.” He squirmed, and Nick was entirely incapable of movement and thought for a good four seconds. Then he dived for the drawer, extracted the items in question, and dropped the lube into Tyson’s outstretched hand. He unwrapped a condom and rolled it on while Tyson got himself prepared; Nick made to take the lube from him, but Tyson shook his head and did something with his hand. His neck arched, and Nick couldn’t resist licking a line up it. Tyson groaned against his tongue.

“That is so fucking hot,” Nick murmured, watching as Tyson finished preparing himself. He slathered lube onto both palms and wrapped them around Nick’s cock, pulling gently. Nick bucked into the touch and dropped his head to bite just slightly at Tyson’s shoulder. Tyson whimpered and capped the lube.

“Okay,” he said, “I’m ready, you’re ready, please, Nick, please, fuck me now.” He spread his thighs and Nick tried hard to remember how his limbs worked and what he was supposed to do, because most of his brain was occupied with producing a long and unintelligible sound that he really hoped was not emitting from any part of his body. He heard himself groan faintly and was relieved to realise that was all that had made it.

He eased into Tyson, going slowly at first but faster when Tyson angled his hips up to meet him. He wasn’t particularly tight, and squeezed around Nick when he was buried entirely; Nick panted, and slowly began dragging his cock out again.

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck, please,” Tyson muttered, his voice half a whisper and kind of broken, and the sound made the structure of most of Nick’s brain cave in. The higher functions were definitely gone; the rest of it alternated between trying to assess the damage and telling him to just keep going and oh, yeah, go faster and harder, because that seemed like a good idea.

Tyson squirmed and bucked, and Nick concluded that it had been a very good idea indeed. He waited for more good ideas to occur, until a small voice whispered, He’s not touching himself, you should probably be the one doing that, right? Nick looked down and noticed that Tyson’s cock was, indeed, being criminally overlooked, so he grasped it in one hand, the other steadying him against the bed and Tyson’s body, and began jerking him off with rough strokes.

Tyson emitted a whining sound from somewhere in his throat. “Nick, fuck, Nicky,” he panted, thrusting upwards with his hips, his neck arching back until Nick had no other choice but to lick it, though it was difficult to reach and jerk him off and keep a good, hard, fast rhythm going. Tyson writhed all the more at Nick’s efforts. “Shit, fuck, Nick,” he moaned, arching his entire back, and Nick thrust in as hard as he could, as deep as was possible, and Tyson arched so hard he almost folded in two. “Fuck,” he yelped, “fuck, fuckfuckfuck Nick,” and then he came, bursting all over Nick’s fingers.

Nick kept his hand on Tyson’s stomach, sticky, and leaned down to lick at the skin under his ear. Tyson whimpered listlessly, and he squeezed around Nick’s cock again, and Nick’s mouth opened as he came and he just groaned, “Ty, fuck.”

Neither of them moved for a minute, getting their breath back. Nick didn’t want to pull out just yet, and Tyson didn’t seem to want him to either. “Oh fuck yes,” Tyson breathed at last. “I’ve kind of been desperate for you to do that since I saw you in the Thai place.”

“Really?”

Tyson nudged their noses together. He was smiling, almost glowingly content. “Yeah.”

Nick wrestled for eighteen seconds with the urge to say So how did I compare, to all these guys you’ve slept with? He couldn’t stop himself asking, “Was it okay?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tyson squinted at him, their faces too close for him to focus properly. “It was fucking awesome.”

Nick felt better at that, so he said, “Oh. Good.” He still didn’t pull out, though.

“You wanna, uh. We could sleep?” Tyson suggested after a minute of silence.

“Oh – yeah. Right.” Reluctantly, Nick pulled out. He disposed of the condom, and then he lay back down. Tyson was on his side, so Nick curled around and slung one arm over his waist.

“Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

Nick paused. “Spooning. Do you – is this not okay, is it – what do you usually do?”

“No, no, this is okay, it – this is spooning?” Tyson was silent for a second, and Nick wished he could see his face. “Huh. No wonder they said it was nice.” He nestled against Nick’s chest, which Nick took as a good sign.

“Who’s they?” he couldn’t help asking. “Have you really not spooned before?”

“Well, it’s not really a – no, not really. And ‘they’ are people who’ve been in relationships. I saw most of my friends go through shitty ones and figured it’s only worth the hassle for someone pretty darn amazing. You know?”

Nick thought about that for a second. “And – and you think I’m pretty darn amazing?”

Tyson looked over his shoulder at him and smiled. “I’m dating you, aren’t I?”

Nick felt a little like he’d been flooded with something warm. “Yeah, yeah you are.” He kissed Tyson’s shoulder and they settled to sleep. Nick drifted off with Tyson’s voice repeating someone pretty darn amazing and been desperate for you to do that since I saw you at the Thai place in his head.

The next thing he knew, light was trying to get in through the curtains but not quite making it, he was in an unfamiliar bed, and something wet and warm was sucking gently at his cock.

He woke up pretty fast, stopping just short of sitting up. He looked down, and saw Tyson looking back at him – and then the whole of the day before sidled back in and waved. His face burst into a grin and he dropped his head back on the pillow as Tyson’s sucks became harder. He tried not to arch his hips up too much, and reached to run a hand through Tyson’s hair.

Tyson hummed and smiled around his cock. Nick groaned. Tyson sucked harder, pressing and flicking with his tongue, scraping just very lightly with his teeth, and holy fucking shit he gave the best head Nick had ever had in his life. He came a minute later, just after Tyson gave three short sharp sucks and two long, languid ones. He crawled up the length of Nick’s body, swallowing as he went, and pressed a kiss to his clavicle. “G’morning,” he beamed. “I gotta work, but I didn’t want to just leave a note or something.”

Nick groaned and yanked him closer for a kiss. “How long you got before you have to get up?”

“I already am up,” Tyson said into his mouth, and that was when Nick realised there was cloth against his skin. “But I guess I have a few minutes before I have to leave.”

“What time is it?” Nick squinted over at the clock, and then looked back at Tyson. “Your hours are seriously fucked up, dude.”

“I gotta be in makeup in forty minutes,” Tyson murmured, licking up Nick’s neck. “You gonna help me not have a boner all day at work, or what?”

Nick rolled him over onto his back. “What time do you get home tonight?” he asked, unzipping Tyson’s pants. Tyson helped.

“Past midnight, probably,” he sighed. “You sell your fucking soul when you shoot a movie, I swear.”

“Oh. Well, when are you free again?” Nick had got his pants and underwear down past his knees and was just contemplating Tyson’s cock. His mouth watered. “Because I really want to fuck you again sometime soon, okay?” And he sank his mouth down.

“Fuck,” Tyson hissed, bucking. “I think – uh, I think the next time I have any time off is um. Fuck,” he exhaled in a rush, as Nick flicked with his tongue. “Is um, I have no fucking clue, fuck Nick.” He bucked up, and Nick held his hips down.

Tyson squirmed. Nick groaned, knowing the sound would go through him; Tyson squirmed even more, breathing hard and whimpering back in his throat. Nick twisted the hand that he’d put back around the base, the other still holding Tyson down, and Tyson let out a wordless moan and came.

“Shit,” Tyson said after he’d got his breath back, “I have to go to work and not think about that. Or about you fucking me again, or – shit, if I don’t want a boner, I have to not think about you period.”

Nick blushed. “Oh fuck dude, same here. Luckily, I wear long shirts to school.”

Tyson glanced over at the clock and winced. “I really have to go,” he sighed, pulling his pants back up. “I’ll call you about when I’m free again, okay?” He reached over and kissed Nick, a lingering promise. Nick kissed back.

Tyson gave him one last look from the doorway, biting his lip and looking like he was trying to imprint the shape of a naked Nick between his sheets onto his eyelids. Then he was gone.

Nick stretched out and looked at the clock again. He had a half hour before he should get up and shower, if he wanted to head home before school.

He curled up, the pillow smelling like Tyson, and smiled.

* * *

For the next few weeks, Kim barely saw Tyson. When he came home from shooting, he crashed into bed, and he had to be in makeup again early the next (although it was usually early the same) morning. They left notes for each other on the fridge door, stuck there with large magnets to cover most of the writing; Brittany knew not to look, or at least to pretend that she hadn’t.

The first one was left the morning after Nick stayed over, and it read, Thank you for setting us up, I owe you big time. Nick’s fantastic in bed. Hope you’re feeling good today, T x and she had left one for him that night saying, You’re welcome hon, I’m just glad it worked out. When’s your next time off? K x

His answering note read Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaa what’s time off? T x so she checked the schedule pinned up in the hall and realised that it was entirely full for six weeks. She wrote, You gonna see Nick? He wrote back, Not for a while, but I call him whenever they’re setting up and they don’t need me. Kim wished she could hug him.

Her first art therapy class was a few days after her walking cast came off. Brittany had to work that night, but she called before Kim left to say good luck. They’d spent the past few days at Brittany’s place, mostly so she could do laundry and remind her roomies that she was, in fact, alive. Kim had gone back to her apartment, checking that Mr Whiskers was okay (Nick had been in to feed him, and left a couple of notes in the kitchen – they were for Tyson, so she tucked them onto his pillow, figuring he probably hadn’t seen them) and got dressed for the class.

It turned out to be a lot of fun. She ended up sitting next to a guy who’d lost his memory in a head injury (sustained by a basketball, of all things), who took her under his wing and got her caught up with the last few weeks’ classes that she’d missed. Most of the other students there had either been sent by doctors or heard about the classes at the community centre. She and Ronnie the memory loss guy spent most of the class talking to a set of twins, one of whom was there because she thought it’d be a good way of getting over her boyfriend dumping her, and the other of whom was just there to support his sister. She went home after it humming, and made dinner while waiting for Brittany to get there, singing Beach Boys songs to Mr Whiskers.

It took another four classes before she realised that it was indeed fun, but she didn’t really want to teach it. She kept going to the class, though, because she got to hang out with Ronnie and Julia and Ricky for an hour every week, painting or sculpting or making collages, and she nearly always sang on the way home.

She got back from her fifth art class and found Tyson looking through the kitchen cupboards. “They let us out early tonight,” he told her, reaching up for a jar of pesto sauce, “so I’m going over to Nick’s. Is that okay?”

She hadn’t seen him for a while, so she hugged him around the waist. “Alright. But you’ll talk to me soon, right? I miss my boy.”

“Aw honey, I miss you too.” Tyson dropped his arms to return the hug. “Hey, how’s art therapy and shit going?”

She let the air out of her cheeks. “Okay. It’s fun, you know, I’m making some friends there, but it’s … not really what I want to do. I still don’t know that.”

“But you’re not freaking out about it any more, right?” Tyson sounded slightly worried. She squeezed him a little.

“No, not any more.”

“Well, good. You don’t have to know just yet.”

She squeezed him again. “Yeah. You know what I do know, though?” She couldn’t keep the grin from spreading over her jaw, so she hid it in his side.

“What?” he asked, twisting to look at her. She grinned up at him from his shoulder. “What, what, what is it?”

“I’m going to ask Brittany to move in,” she announced.

Tyson whooped, grabbed her, and spun her around. She laughed, a bursting out of pure joy. “That’s amazing, oh dude, that’s awesome,” he cried.

A voice from the doorway said, “She doesn’t know what I’ll say yet.”

Kim looked up. “Brit – I didn’t know you were home, I –”

“I just got in,” she said, coming closer. Tyson tightened his grip imperceptibly, but then let her go. Brittany walked up to her, took her hand, and said, “I don’t know what took you so long, I’ve been waiting for you to ask for like, months now. Of course I will.”

Kim pulled her closer. “Good,” she breathed, and kissed her, feeling her whole chest turning to bubbles and air.

“Awww.” Tyson was smiling at them when they broke apart again.

“Oh shush,” Brittany rolled her eyes. “I’ll be back in a minute, I just gotta get these work clothes off,” she said to Kim, butterflying a kiss on her nose.

“You two are adorable,” Tyson informed her when Brittany had left the room. Kim couldn’t stop smiling. “Dude, what happened to us?” he continued, looking at the jars of sauce in his hands. “You’re moving in with your girlfriend, I’ve got myself a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, how’s that going? Have you seen him lately?”

“A few weekend nights. He stays up, I go over, y’know? God I’m tired. Sometimes we just sit together on the couch and watch movies, and I fall asleep in like, a half hour. Or I’ll get there and it’s a miracle I didn’t crash on the way, so he just lets me sleep. I don’t think it’s all that thrilling for him.” He sounded subdued. She moved closer again and put an arm back around him.

“You’ve got two minutes to tell me what’s up,” she said, “or I’m getting Brit to help.”

“You heartless bitch. Why do we always have to talk about our feelings?” he sighed. “Knew I should have had a dude for a best friend.”

She thumped him on the arm. “Asshole. Just answer the fucking question. What’s up with you and Nick?”

Tyson glared at her for a minute, but finally relented. “Alright, okay. But I’m only telling you so you don’t get Brittany involved. That woman could get Russian spies to tell their secrets.” He exhaled, leaning against the counter and not looking her in the eye. “It’s just, I’m so fucking busy, you know? And I call him, and the couple times I’ve gone over and not fallen asleep right away the sex is awesome, but it’s just – he’s used to more than this. He’s – he’s been in love before, you know? I don’t even know how to be a good fucking boyfriend.”

She watched what she could see of his face. “It bothers you, the Mike thing, doesn’t it?” Tyson tried not to show it, but he winced slightly. She thumped him on the arm again.

“Ow, you bitch.” He rubbed the offended arm. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You’re thinking about how you measure up to this big ex of his,” she shook her head, “like it was some huge romance, this be-all and end-all crap. Don’t be so intimidated, he’s not going to be comparing – and if he is, then, he’s with you and he’s over Mike, so get the fuck over it and just do what you’re doing. You are being a good boyfriend, you ass.”

“Did you get that out of your woman books, or does it just come naturally with oestrogen?”

“Little of both. Am I right?”

“No,” he said, though he sounded resigned. “I’m going over to see my boyfriend before I turn into a fucking girl, okay? Have fun with Brit.”

“Go have awesome sex,” she called after him as he left.

“You too,” he called, just as Brittany came back. She sidled up to Kim and wrapped both arms around her from behind, chin resting on her shoulder.

“I think that’s a good idea, don’t you?” she murmured, kissing Kim’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Kim breathed in reply, shivering slightly at the contact. “Yeah.”



[cont.]

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