guy who's been friends with his coworker for years and he knows he DATES, and... he thinks he's kind of attractive, whatever, but he's not into men so he wouldn't really know, and like.
you know, he uses a cane, and he's a little asthmatic, and he needs READING glassss
and he's kind of a kooky guy anyway - great at his job, and his best friend, but he's skinny and he wears these woollen vests and cardigans and wears a tie every day even though he very much does not need to
and honestly, like, everything they do together is always nerdy
they play boardgames, they see sci-fi flicks sometimes, but he's not into any of the sports that he's into, he doesn't really fit in - or particularly want to - with his other friends, and he doesn't care about pop culture beyond what he's into himself, doesn't club much either
and then his friend is late for work one Monday and comes in with his hair ruffled and his clothes rumpled - his clothes that he's pretty sure he was wearing yesterday
and he chuckles and goes, "what, DnD ran late last night?"
and the guy laughs like, "nah, nah."
and he's like, "well, you know how it is. met a girl, took her home, meant to leave, she wanted to go again, i stay over, I'm gonna go home in the morning, she says, please, one more time...? and here I am in yesterday's clothes."
and he's like. ...????????????????
like it doesn't. compute, exactly. because he loves this guy, they get on so well, they're friends and he's never been bothered by him being the geek that he is when he's fun and he can be a bit of a geek with him too
and he was out for a one-night stand? okay, kind of possible, but... three times? twice in one night? "you know how it is"?
"You do that often?"
"not on work nights." and he winks.
"no, but I mean... where you do you meet them?"
"women? I meet them everywhere. they're not under lock and key, you know - they go where they please, and where they please is sometimes home with me."
"No, I know, but how do you...?"
and he tilts his head, smiling, like he doesn't understand. "how do I what, talk to women?"
and he realises what a pussy this makes him look, and he laughs and waves his hand like, "nah, no offence, but i don't need tips from you."
and they laugh and head back to work but he keeps thinking about it
thinks about it when they stand close together over one of the printers and he can smell what he assumes is that girl's perfume on him, when he scratches his neck and pulls down his collar and he sees lipstick underneath it still
and for the whole week it's all he can think about. he doesn't really get girls? he meets them sometimes in bars but he's never done the whole casual sex thing, has never really had sex at all except fumbling in high school
but April is? with girls? regularly? casually?
girls in the office talk to April and Rice can't exactly believe he never noticed before but they kind of... like him. or they seem to like him, they laugh with him in a way they don't with Rice - they TOUCH him, put their hands on his chest, his arms, even play with his hair.
he catches one of the secretaries by the hand and kisses it as he thanks her for copying something for him, and she laughs and smacks him in the chest and blushes.
it's one of the graphic designers' birthdays and he brings her fucking flowers.
"Not-- you've never, uh, with any of the girls at work, right?"
"hm? no, no, I wouldn't, I don't really date, and not everyone is made for a casual fuck. I wouldn't want to make things awkward."
"but I mean... a lot of 'em would."
April laughs, grins at him, and says, "Sure, maybe, but this is a workplace, hm? Besides, I wouldn't want anybody to think I'm looking at them like they're meat, like I'm not respecting their work. I like to fuck, but not at anyone's expense."
which Rice can barely understand because if he's fucking like he's fucking and it's not with girls from work, who already know him, what?
he's meant to believe April is just picking them up in bars?
and he's out one night and sees a guy in between a woman and a guy, arms around their waists, both of them with their arms around his shoulders, and the guy is holding April's cane for him, and the girl and he are sharing a cigarette
"April," he says, and April looks at him, grins.
"Rice. Anya, Van, this is Arden Rice, he's a coworker of mine."
"Is everyone you work with at handsome as he is? What are you, Arden, six three?"
"Uh, yeah, that's right."
"Those abs real?"
"Ha. Pretty real, yeah."
The guy has his fingers curled in April's hair and the girl's hand is splayed over his side, squeezing his waist. It must be half-resting over his ass.
"Well, excuse us," says April. "The three of us want to get in and out of the cold." He winks.
Rice steps back, laughs to disguise the fact he's internally screaming, and goes straight home.
Two of them. A guy AND a girl. And both of them tall and hot and attractive and charming, and, what, he and the guy are both gonna double team her?
Nah. No, he'd have mentioned it he was gay, even half-gay. It'd make more sense if he was with guys, though - guys had lower standards, right? Guys didn't care so much if guys were short or kinda weird?
The next morning at work, April stays sitting a lot. When he gets up, he actually leans on his cane - he's not using it just for his fatigue like usual. He's kinda... bow-legged.
"How was last night?"
"Mmm, good. Very good. A challenge."
"You, uh, you had to deal with them both at once?"
"Deal with them? You make it sound like a chore. No, Rice, I just strained myself a bit, that's all. Rode hard, got ridden hard. My hips are tired."
"Where'd you meet them?"
"A reading at a bookshop."
"How many-- You do this often, right?"
April laughs, putting his pencil behind his ear and leaning back in his seat, looking up at him. "I'm a bit of a slut, Rice, is that what you want me to tell you? We're not all waiting for marriage."
"I'm not fucking waiting for marriage," Rice snaps at him, angry and indignant for reasons he doesn't quite understand, and April's eyes widen, his expression surprised.
"Hey, no shame in it. Sorry. Just-- I know you don't do what I do."
"I don't know how you do it."
"Well, it's very simple - when two people like each other very much--"
"No, I mean, with your..." Rice gestures vaguely. "You know."
Something's cooled in April's expression. "My... you know."
"Not every girl gets hot for a guy who needs something to help him walk, that's all," says Rice. "I don't mean anything shitty by it, just, I don't get how you can get them all eating out of your hand."
"Mm, well, people's overwhelming revulsion to my disabilities aside, Rice, I'm a tremendous lover, for which I have a reputation. I'm also flirtatious, intelligent, have beautiful hands, a nice face, a lovely voice. Rather a nice cock, too, so the reviews have told me."
Rice swallows, not letting himself glance down at April's crotch, but this means looking at April's face, and he looks-- pissed.
"I didn't mean--"
"Mmm, didn't mean anything by it, you said," says April. "It's not my fault you can't satisfy a woman, Rice, don't blame my cane."
"Hey! I didn't--"
"Go away, would you? I've got actual work to do, and a man grows bored of attending to your ego."
And just like that April had turned around and started sketching again, and Rice goes.
That night he dreams that April bends him over his desk and fucks him until he screams, and then says, "See? See how I leave someone satisfied? Why don't you give it a try?"
And he wakes soaked to his skin with sweat and-- everything else.
It's awkward with April, going forward. It used to be they'd hang in each other's spaces at work a lot and hang out afterwards maybe once or twice a week, often just casually.
This week, April doesn't even look at him, just works in silence.
"Hey," he says at the end of one day. "I, uh. I owe you an apology."
"We're agreed," says April.
Rice stands there, his hands at his sides, and April turns slowly from his monitor, arching an eyebrow as he looks up at him.
"Um," says Rice. "Sorry."
"Quite impressive," says April without tone. "Lacks emotion, sincerity, specificity..."
"I just-- I mean it. I was..."
"Jealous," says April.
"Yeah," says Rice even though it makes his skin feel tight. "Maybe."
"You don't particularly deserve my advice," says April, "but you'd perform a damn sight better if you stopped calling every woman you see a /girl/, let alone treating them like puzzletoys you can unlock with the right combination of commands."
"I don't fucking do that," says Rice, and April responds with a quiet, "Hmph."
He's beginning to power down his unit.
"And I shouldn't have assumed that, um. That your disability stops you from having sex."
"You shouldn't have," agrees April. "Although what you actually assumed was that my disability makes me unattractive, which was something of an insult, but something of an admission on your part, too."
"It's not your... disability."
"Oh, I suppose I should apologise, then," says April dryly as he stands to put on his coat, which Rice automatically helps him on with. "It wasn't my cane or my lungs that you thought would so deter partners from me, it was my appearance and personality."
"You gotta admit, you're not exactly..."
"A jock, hm? Not exactly conventionally attractive? Not the cover of any of your body-building magazines?"
"No," April agrees. "Which is part of why people are so ready to believe I'm capable of making them come."
Rice swallows, not sure what to say that. He thinks of April fucking him over his desk, doesn't even know what anal feels like, except that it can make you come really hard, if you're... into that.
"And you're-- you're into guys."
"They call it bisexuality. It's all the rage."
"So like, you... do you, um, prefer...?"
"Arden," says April, turning to look at him as Rice passes his cane over, although April doesn't lean on it right away, keeps his elbow on the back of his chair. "I don't keep a tally. I fuck whomever I find attractive."
"And you just-- You just go right up to people and...?"
"And flirt," says April. "I do indeed. I make it clear that I enjoy sex, that I have it rather frequently, that I'm a skilled and attentive lover, and that I prefer my encounters friendly and without long-term overtures."
"I don't date much - I have too much in my life to make space for a romantic partner. Have we really never discussed this?"
"Nah," mutters Rice. "So you never fuck the same people twice?"
"I do," says April quietly, but there's something in his face that's new, and Rice doesn't know what it is, even as April leans forward slightly, leaning on his cane. With his free hand, he adjusts the collar of Rice's coat, and it makes him shiver. "Not irregularly, I do."
"I'm sorry," whispers Rice.
April raises his eyebrows, his lips shifting into the slightest of smiles, and he gives a neat inclination of his head. "This time, I find I believe you."
"I don't, um..."
"You're a virgin," says April bluntly.
Rice stares at him.
"No," says Rice. "No, I'm not--"
"I get it," says April, and his tone is cool but his lips are smirking and the way he looks at Rice makes him feel hot and uncertain. "Big rugby player like you, gym shark, jaw like steel. You thought you were marrying down, so to speak."
"Marrying down?" repeats Rice, and April chuckles, moving forward, and Rice runs to keep pace with him, slows to be in line with him.
"You thought you were taking pity on the nerdy guy, hm? You thought you were the alpha between us, or some nonsense like that."
Rice swallows, and April chuckles, rolling his eyes.
"Stop using Reddit, you ingrate," says April. "Calling women girls doesn't help you, but nor does trying to project an imaginary social hierarchy onto all your relationships."
"You been waiting to say this a while?"
"I've been waiting for a time you might be receptive to it," says April pleasantly. "Of the two of us, it was correct that I should be the virgin, hm? You could feel at home with me."
"I already fucking said I was sorry."
"I heard you, I even believed you," says April. "I just imagine there's currently some internal monologue knocking about in that head of yours as to the unfairness of it all."
Maybe. Maybe a little bit. He guesses he should feel more unfair about it - it's just that whenever he starts thinking about April fucking girls... women, he starts thinking about April, just, fucking. April's body, April's skin, April's straining hips.
"Is your dick big?" he blurts out as they get into the lift, and someone glances over as the doors close shut.
"It's a little above average," says April modestly. "It's got a curve to the shaft which I'm told I put to good use."
Rice bites down on his knuckle.
"Why, is yours?"
"Yeah," says Rice reflexively.
"Proportionate, I suppose."
"I guess. It's not like I go around doing dick-measuring contests."
"Hm? What the fuck does hm mean?"
"It means that your insecurity is boring me. It's why we've never discussed sex before."
"I figured from the beginning you'd be like this," says April, shrugging his narrow shoulders. "I like you, Arden. You're a very good friend of mine - I like you immensely. But I'm not interested in therapising you through these issues of yours."
"I haven't got issues," says Rice, and April suddenly twists, shoving him against the elevator wall. He lets out a noise, his whole body flinching, as April leans into his space, his arm over his chest, hand splaying across his shoulder.
"No issues," repeats April. "Look at you, shaking like a leaf because there's an arm on your chest. When's the last time someone so much as hugged you, Arden Rice?"
Fuck. Why's his fucking dick hard?
The lift door opens and April walks out. Rice's whole body feels raw.
The thing is, the last guy that hugged him was probably April, the last time they hung out together. He always looks forward to those hugs, not in a weird way, not in a sexual way, just-- The fact that April hugs him.
He and the guys wrestle, nudge, shoulder, but they don't hug.
He chases after April and trails after him like a lost fucking puppy even as April limps down the street. He shoves in front of April and forces people to clear out of his way as they go down the escalators, through the gates, down to the platform.
Some guy tries to stand in front of April at the line and Rice growls at him, "What, you gonna kick his cane out from under him too?" and leans over him, and he shrinks back and scurries to the back of the platform like the rat he is.
"You really don't need to do that, but I can't pretend I don't enjoy it whenever you do," says April amusedly. "There's just something about the way they crumple like paper."
"Guess I'm an alpha male after all."
"Mmm, if you like," says April. "Be a good boy and take my bag for me, would you?"
"Don't do that," mutters Rice even as he takes his bag, feeling his face go hot. "Don't fucking-- make this out like I'm gay."
"I'm not making anything out," says April, his face unmoving as the train doors open and they both step on; April drops into a seat at the end with a slight wince, and Rice stands up next to him on the end like he always does, hugs the pole and dares anybody else to sit nearby.
"You're always like this with me, that's true," says April. "I do enjoy your chivalrous instincts. You once shoved a man to the floor because he tried to shove in front of me at the bar - I think about that often. But you can't deny that I do tend to call the shots between us."
"It's not like I get off on it," mutters Rice, staring at April's knees.
"No? I do, a bit," says April.
"People find it easy to disrespect a man like me - they back down when they lay eyes on you. They back down faster when they realise you'll take my orders."
"I don't..." Rice starts to say, but April doesn't give it any heed, instead leaning back slightly in his seat, his hands resting on top of his cane between his knees. He does what April says, sure, has for the years they've been friends, but-- it's only right.
He does the stuff that April doesn't ask for - holds doors out for him, carries stuff for him, sometimes snaps at people that get disrespectful or try to push past him, shit like that. And yeah, he does stuff if April asks - gets stuff for him, does what he needs.
There's nothing weird about it. The guy needs the extra help - he gets fatigued, he has spells where he's pale and his breathing's more laboured, and sometimes his knees go weak unexpectedly, especially if he has to stand too long, which he shouldn't ever have to.
Okay. Now he thinks about it, maybe he does go a little hard on it. Fetches stuff April could get himself, whatever, but they're friends. He likes to make sure April's okay - he's a loyal guy. Loyal to April, has to be.
"I need you to make decision now," says April, "because it affects whether we get off in three stops or five. Do you want to talk this through properly now, or do you want to have some drinks and tread gently?"
"What's the difference?"
"We tread gently over a few beers, we can discuss your lack of intimacy with others, your difficulty with women. I can make a few suggestions on approaching them, talking to them. We can talk about what makes you so nervous and uncertain of trying in the first place."
Rice takes this in, keeping the bar on the inside of his elbow and shifting the set of his hand on the strap of April's bag, running his thumb down over it.
April is looking forward, his expression seeming calm, satisfied.
"And the other way?"
"The other way, we get off outside mine, you come into the flat. No alcohol, initially - we'll talk about the cause rather than the effect. How you want to be touched. Why no one touches you. How it feels."
"You think I should do what you do? Sleep around?"
"If you like," says April. "But I don't sleep around because I'm lonely or because I'm starved of touch - my family's very physically affectionate, as are many of my friends, you excluded. I just enjoy sex, and enjoy people."
"So what, I go home with you and you fuck me?" He glances up the carriage as they stop at the next platform, but no one gets on in the doors beside them, and the nearest people are on the other end.
April is glancing up at him, eyebrows raised.
"I wouldn't fuck you tonight, no," he says quietly. "I really don't think that's the best idea. But I wouldn't be opposed to fucking you a little while from now, if you want it."
"Who says I do?"
"Well, my first clue was when you asked how big my cock was in the elevator."
Rice sets his jaw.
"We can talk about that, too," says April. "Get a handle on whether it's an attraction to men, or an attraction to me because we're friends. Or just desperation because you're lonely and starved of affection, and you're crossing those wires with your libido."
"Tonight, when I touch you, it won't be to fuck you."
Rice's mouth is dry. "When you touch me?" he asks.
"Mm," hums April, casually, like it's no big deal. "Hand massage, back massage - your feet, if you'd rather. If that's too much, a shave or a manicure."
Rice can't handle the idea of April touching his feet, or his hands. He can't imagine getting a manicure - can't imagine April helping him shave or do anything to his hair.
April touching his... back...
April's touched his back before. He's put his hand around Rice's shoulder, or he's patted him going past. Sometimes, he'll come over when Rice is working and stand next to his chair and he'll put the hand that's not on his cane on the back of Rice's neck.
He hasn't done it in months, but it drives him mental when he does it - April rests his thumb right in the divot at the base of his hairline where it's a little soft and fleshy, or sometimes he rests his hand right on Rice's shoulder and squeezes and it's... good. Nice.
When he first started, the first time April did it, he kinda didn't know how to handle it, but he let him because-- Well, guy uses a fucking cane. He needed to be able to steady himself, keep upright.
And sometimes, he'd call April over just to look at something. Just so he'd...
"Does that get you off?" asks Rice. "Giving massages?"
"No," says April. "I've received one or two massages that got me off, but I've never particularly taken satisfaction from giving them. Not sexual satisfaction, in any case - I enjoy pleasing a partner, of course."
"Do you want to fuck me?"
"Not as much as I suspect you want me to fuck you," says April, and Rice lunges for him, shoves him back against the train wall, his hand gripping April's thin throat. April doesn't even look surprised. "Mmm, nice hands. Put them away now, behave."
Rice swallows, and he leans back, shaking out his hand and glancing down, but no one is looking their way, is pointedly NOT looking their way because they're two homos on the underground and it's probably obvious to all of them that April is the bear or the topper or whatever.
That he's the guy, and Rice is the girl, even though Rice has a hundred pounds of muscle on him easy and is a head and a half fucking taller.
"There's a good lad," says April coolly, and Rice's dick gives a jerk in his trousers.
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"Last chance for the gentle approach," says April as the train comes to stop at the platform.
Rice stays in his place, his jaw set. He doesn't say anything, and when the train starts moving again, he looks at April's face, the slight curve of his lips.
His eyes have a kind of distance or superiority in them, a wonderful confidence and certainty, and it makes him thrill, makes his skin feel too hot and too tight.
Rice wonders if he has that look with everybody he takes home.
"You put off talking about sex 'cause you thought you thought you'd find me boring."
"I thought you'd be difficult," says April, unashamed, unflinching. "More aggressive - more violent. Less... secure in yourself. I'm actually quite impressed."
Oh, fuuuck, why does THAT make his dick hard? April saying "impressed" like that, with that little tilt of his head and that slight raise of his eyebrows, that pout out of his lips.
"Do you think I'm gay?"
"Mmm, maybe. I had my suspicions when I met you."
"I like girls. I like-- tits."
"Tits are splendid," agrees April in an unbothered, idle tone, tilting his head to one side. "Of course, men can have quite nice ones." He looks up at Rice's chest, at the swell of his pecs under his jumper.
"I've always thought yours had a luscious quality to them," he says, tone still conversational. "They bounce when you pace too vigorously, and in those little thirst traps you post I've always felt your nipples just call out to be bitten and sucked on. Mouthwatering."
Rice can't breathe. All his blood is rushing between his ears and burning his cheeks or rushing be tween his legs and trying to convince his dick that the underground is a great place for an erection.
"What the fuck," he whispers.
"Hm," hums April, and his slight quirk of lips becomes a real smirk. "Funny, isn't it? You know you're a big strong man, all that muscle - and you shave, don't you? Shave your chest, your navel? Landscape everything? But no one says it out loud, outright praises your body."
Rice swallows, gripping the bar so hard he feels like it might bend in his grip.
"You've got a very nice body, Arden. Strong and masculine and tough and all that blah blah blah, but it's quite an enticing body, too. Hot, attractive. Makes a man want to sink right into you."
"Do people fucking-- talk like this to you? How do you..." He rubs hard at his own cheek, and April laughs.
"To me? No, not exactly. But people do flatter me, yes, and I believe all the nice, horny things people say."
"Fuck," mutters Rice.
"That's the idea."
OKAY i lied before but I'm going to bed now i promise I'm so sleepy
They get off on the stop around the corner from April's flat, and Rice takes the keys when April hands them over, holding the outer door for him before they go up in the lift.
He's been in April's flat before, and it's warm, cosy, comfortable.
"Do I have to-- to take my clothes off?"
"Mm, no," says April, using a shoehorn to help him off with his shoes as Rice hangs up his coat for him, then slips off his own. "Not if you're not ready."
Rice doesn't know what ready would look look like, what it would feel like. He opens April's fridge.
"No beer, remember," April orders when his hand twitches. "Anything else you like."
Rice pulls out the milk, and April smiles as he limps through to the other room.
Rice can hear him saying, "Hello, hello! Yes, my beautiful good boy, yes, I love you too, I know, I know. Let's give you some dinner, hm? Unfortunately, you'll be taking it in the bedroom."
God, it's weird to be horny over the way a guy talks to his cat, right?
He sinks down onto the couch, sips at his milk, waits. When April comes back into the living room he sinks down onto the arm of the couch and just puts his hands on his shoulders and he jumps, but April grips him tighter.
"Ah," he grunts. "Ow."
"Good ow or bad ow?" asks April calmly as he digs his thumbs into knots of muscle either side, and Rice grunts, not really able to talk, digging his fingers into his knees. He feels pain and pressure and then-- Relaxing. Unknotting. "Good man," says April, and Rice shudders.
April isn't touching his skin full on, and Rice is almost glad for that because he doesn't think he'd be able to handle it, April's palms and clever fingers directly against his skin - April is already touching him roughly, digging into the muscles, stroking him up and down.
Rice gasps at as he finds a particular stubborn knot of muscle and pushes and rubs at it with both hands, forcing it to untangle, to relax. Against his better judgement, he's leaning into him, trying to get closer to April's hands, and when his cheek touches his knee, he sits up.
"No, no, if that's what you want, come here," says April, splaying on hand on his back and sliding the other up through his hair, messing it up so that Rice had to resist the urge to squirm because no one touches him like that.
Gripping his hair lightly, April pulls him to the side until Rice's cheek is rested on Rice's thigh - he's skinny and it's not extremely plush, but it's warm and it's real and it's April, and the position feels somehow freeing, even if it's embarrassing.
April leans right over him to slide his palms down Rice's back, down his shoulders to his lower back, his hips, then back up. Rice puts his hand on April's knee, shyly, nervously, unsure.
"It's alright, it's my ankles that give me the most trouble. Just be careful."
"Try not to pull on the kneecap, and don't twist my leg, if you would. You can grip my leg if you need to: if it hurts, I'll let you know."
He suddenly goes from using his hands to using his nails to drag down Rice's back, and Rice moans.
It feels good. Through his shirt and his jumper it's almost not enough, sharp but not as sharp as he knows it could be, not as satisfying, and he squeezes the front of April's leg, shoving his face hard into his thigh.
"Oh, you like that, do you? Good, good."
He starts alternating between it, rubbing down his back, his shoulders, pushing and directly massaging him, and then the scramming motions, pressure and slight digging from his nails that make Rice breathless and make him moan.
"So responsive," murmurs April. "You really are gorgeous, aren't you?"
"No, I don't think I will. Sublime body this is, with that handsome face and all, but here, look at you, coming to pieces over this touch. You're simply a dream - a wet dream, at that."
He has to press his lips together because the moan he wants to let out is too embarrassing, his face pressing into April's thigh some more, and April is leaning right over him now, digging and massaging his lower back.
He can feel the warmth of April's body shadowing his, feeling the front of his woollen vest, and whenever April presses gently along his spine he gasps, wriggling, squirming.
April's fingers slide slower, almost between his arsecheeks.
"Shh, shh, don't worry, sweetheart," he says when Rice makes a noise he just couldn't admit to. "Nothing you don't want, nothing you can't handle. I'll not be touching you there tonight."
"You can," says Rice, his voice hoarse.
"Beautiful," April whispers in a ways that makes his cheeks burn and his whole body shudder. "So accommodating, aren't you? So eager, so obedient. No, I told you I wouldn't, and I won't. Another time, and only when you want to."
His hands scratch up Rice's body, and he moans when April keeps it up for a while, digging his nails through where his back feels open and loose and untangled, strangely light and relaxed.
"There's a good man," says April again. "That's it, sweetheart, just relax."
"Fuck, fuck, stop it," gasps Rice, and April's hands pause on his back, just freeze in their place. "No, no. Keep going."
"Stop what? Tell me. No nails, no palms, no fingers? No talking?"
"You called me-- Ungh, please--"
"Sweetheart? You don't like it?"
His dick is so hard he can feel it throbbing, and it's actually uncomfortable, actually feels too compressed in his trousers.
"No, I... I like it. Can I--"
"Take off my...?"
"Anything you want. I can get you a blanket, if you need."
He scrambles up to shove his pants off but keeps his underwear on, gets back over April's thighs so fast he's embarrassed about it but it feels good, especially because he's closer this time, his cheek on the other thigh, so he can feel all of April's legs, his warm body.
"Looking a bit wet there," says April gently, and then, "sweetheart." Rice's hips buck without permission, his whole body on fire, and he gasps out, "I'm sorry."
"You needn't be sorry. I said I wouldn't fuck you, I didn't say you couldn't come. Is this alright?"
April rubs slowly up and down his back, uses his palms and drags then down the backs of his ribs, further down so that Rice arches his back even as he presses his cheek harder into April's lap and grips tightly at his leg, fingers digging into the meat of his calf.
April drags up his shirt and jumper and then digs his fingernails into his skin, scratches halfway up his back as much as his clothes will rise up - it's not hard enough to leave marks, but it's hard enough, different, with April's actual nails on him that he fucking wails.
His hips are bucking and his knees are almost up to his chest, his mouth open as he presses into April's thigh and tries not to bite down in the fucking meat of it, and April just keeps doing it, playing his nails over and around his lower back and he craves it.
He craves it, he fucking needs it, aches for more of it but on his shoulders this time, and he's aware that his eyes are watering and that his cock is fucking soaked with pre- in his boxers like he's a fucking kid, and he's breathing shuddering breaths and can't focus.
"More?" asks April as if he's repeating something, and Rice realises he's repeating him, that he's been moaning the word "More," like it's a prayer.
"My-- Please, Seb, fuck, fuck--"
"You know full well I don't care to be called Seb."
"Sebastian!" Rice moans, and April's laugh is soft and powdery and feels like its covering him all over.
"Oh, you poor thing," he says, his voice sounding warm and easy. "Hips up."
Rice obeys without thinking, and April pulls up his shirt so it's in line with his chest.
It's weird, uncomfortable, and he almost wishes he didn't have it on at all but he doesn't want to pull away for as long as it would take to tear it off, just needs to keep touching April, needs to keep clinging onto him.
April shoves his hands up under his clothes.
Rice is shuddering, can barely even fucking breathing, gasping and stuttering on every exhalation as April's slightly cool hands press bare against his shoulders, and it feels so fucking intimate, feels insane, and then he digs his nails in and Rice sobs.
He's bent up like a fucking pretzel and he knows he's coming and it's humiliating and overwhelming and unbearable and impossible and he never wants it to stop, he's sobbing out real fucking tears like he's a little bitch and arching into the dig of April's nails.
"There, there, you're alright," says April softly, his voice sinking warm through the haze Rice was buried in, his cock wet and sticky in his fucking briefs. "Let-- Ah, Arden, move that hand, would you?"
April's fingers push under Rice's fingers and Rice realises he's been gripping right under his knee, and he suddenly hauls his hand back. "Oh my God, I'm sorry, fuck, I'm sorry, are you okay? Oh, fuck--"
He tries to sit up, but April soothes him, patting his back.
"Calm down, big fella, you didn't hear anything crack, did you? Just a bit too sore there to be gripped on, that's all. Shhh, shhh, there's a good boy, you've done so well."
"I need to-- I need to..."
"A change of underwear wouldn't go amiss, I expect."
Rice swallows, so humiliated he can't stand it, and April laughs, smoothing his palms over Rice's back and then tugging his shirt down, and he smacks his palm over April's back in a way that kind of echoes through his ribs and it's-- It's nice, actually. Surprisingly.
"I don't wear briefs," says April, "but luckily, I do have some boxers in the back of the cupboard that are undoubtedly in your size."
"I have aunts with an unbelievably inaccurate estimate of how big my arse is, it seems. Want a shower?"
When April doesn't say anything, Rice turns in his lap and looks up at April's face, at April's thoughtful, considering expression.
"If you fit," he decides, and gets to his feet, setting his cane aside and leaning on the furniture as he leads the way out of the room.
When April opens the bedroom door, December, his cat, immediately launches himself through the crack in the door and winds his way around Rice's feet, making him laugh breathlessly.
"Hi, December," he says.
April leans on the doorhandle, on a sidetable, then sinks back on the bed as he goes to a chest of drawers and pulls out a pair of PJ pants and a shirt, then digs through the back of a bottom drawer for an oversized t-shirt that looks big enough to fit Rice and a pack of boxers.
"That from an ex-boyfriend?" he demands when he looks at it, sees that it's a Man U t-shirt when April's never watched a game of football in his life, let alone that it's an XL, that it's gonna be a little loose on Rice.
"I'm the sort of slut who keeps and accumulates the clothes of his lovers, yes," says April uncaringly. "Quite the grab bag I have here - I'm sure there's a brassiere that might fit you, perhaps some joggers, even."
He tosses the shirt and the packet of boxers to Rice.
He's been in April's bathroom before, but has never actually opened the frosted glass door that goes into his shower, where he's got a whole little room for it.
"There's a chair," says Rice.
"Yes, I have a disability," says April. "Have I never mentioned it?"
The shower tiles have a rough surface to them, lots of tiny little knobs on them so that instead of being slippery and smooth they have their own traction, and there's bars in it too - one in parallel to the shower, one horizontal at waist height.
There's two hooks for the shower, and as April sits on top of the toilet and starts to remove his clothes, folding them on top of the laundry basket, he says, "Put it on the higher rung, won't you? It'll be too low to hit both of us, otherwise."
Rice picks the shower head off of the lower rung and puts it up higher - it's maybe six feet up up the wall, would still be a little too short for him personally, but weirdly enough, it's still higher on the wall than his at home. He doesn't know if April could even reach it.
The wire shelves are bolted into the walls instead of awkwardly stuck to the tiles with sticky patches like Rice's is, and they're at waist height, easily accessible from the chair.
"Did your bathroom cost a lot?"
"Yes, Arden, yes it did. Thanks for asking."
Rice laughs despite himself, and he pulls his shirt over his head before he awkwardly slips out of his briefs, which are beginning to be uncomfortably sticky rather than just wet.
"Where's the switch for the hot water?"
"Here, next to the toilet, nice and easy to reach."
December shoves through the bathroom door, and April grabs hold of him even as he mrows a vague complaint, tossing him out again. He locks the door the second time, and then comes around the glass.
"Fuck," mutters Rice, staring down at his cock.
It's above average, maybe, but compared with April's surprisingly muscular but incredibly lean frame and his height, which must be 5'3" or 5'4", it seems pretty fucking big, only a little shorter than Rice's, even if it's not as thick.
"You're-- you're, um, you're cut."
"You're so observant, Rice," praises April. "There's a chair in my shower room, I'm circumcised. What will those eagle eyes of yours notice yet?"
April sinks down into the shower chair, and awkwardly leaning around him, Rice turns on the water.
He puts his hand under the water at first, making sure it's running warm enough, and when he leans back and lets the water hit April, April groans tipping his head back, his eyes closing.
It's maybe the most erotic sound he's ever heard, and his dick throbs.
"Scrub yourself down before you touch me," says April, his eyes still closed but somehow knowing it's coming before Rice touches him, and Rice shivers, but stands awkwardly to the side of April's chair, taking some of the spray without blocking it.
"Is it okay?" he asks as he watches April pour some soap out of a glass bottle onto a washcloth - it's a kind of red-pink, and when Rice puts out his palm, April pours some over his fingers. "The water?"
"It's fine," says April, scrubbing the soap over his shoulders.
Rice can't take his eyes off him as he rubs the soap into his chest with his palms, surprised by how much it froths and bubbles a little as he runs it down his belly, his cock.
It's hot, actually, a little hot. Leaves a kind of burning tingle on his-- "Fuck."
"Fuck?" repeats April mildly, leaning forward and scrubbing over his calves and the backs of his knees with the washcloth.
"Um-- I think, I, uh, fuck, ah," he groans, taking his hand away from his cock as his pubes burn. "I'm allergic? To your soap?"
"All-- Oh, fuck."
"It's watermelon and chilli," says April, and grips his waist, pushing him into the spray of the water full on. "It's a tingle soap, Arden - the hot and cold burn is part of the point, I forgot."
"Ah," Rice groans, leaning back into him, and April squeezes him.
"I'm sorry," he says sympathetically, his fingers pressing into the meat of Rice's side, squeezing him as he tries not to squirm or move on his feet, the hot water hitting him and intensifying the tingle rather than just rinsing it away. "It'll only last a little longer."
"Why's it in a glass bottle?" Rice moans.
"I find the squeezey cunts a bit of a fumble," says April, and Rice laughs almost hysterically because his chest is burning and it's also cold and it's not that bad now he knows what it is, because he's never heard April say cunt before.
He's breathing heavy and he doesn't know if it's because of the awful-but-maybe-kinda-good tingle or if it's just from the way that April has positioned him and is holding him in place with the grip on his waist, thumbs digging into the flesh over his arse.
He's keenly aware of how the chair puts April in line with his dick, and then he shivers again, his knees moving, knocking together.
"Good man," says April. "I've got some other soap, I think I've got some floral soothing stuff with camomile, might be a bit better."
"Do you have sex in here?"
"Mmm, people ride me sometimes," says April. "Now and then someone feels very ambitious and has me up against the wall, but that's always murder on my knees. Even on a non-slip surface, I'm not made for shower sex."
He pushes Rice aside again, then goes back to washing himself off, and Rice doesn't use soap initially as he tries to scrub the last of everything sticking to his dick and his pubes, washes between his cheeks.
When he grabs the other bottle - in a normal bottle, this one still with the original labelling on, and in plastic, not glass - he pours a little over his hands again, awkwardly scrubs between his legs, making sure there's no tingle, no heat or cold either.
April drags him around and leans forward in his seat, starts scrubbing down his thighs and his calves and his knees and Rice lets out a noise because it's weird and it tickles and he's not used to it, but April is businesslike and smooth about it.
He washes him down like it's nothing, like he does it all the time, like it's no different to washing his own legs.
"You're gonna, um, Sebastian, I can't--"
"It won't be the first time I've had a half-hard cock in my face, sweetheart, don't you worry about it."
Rice's gulp is audible, and his hands stumble on his own chest, under his own armpits.
"Surprised you don't shave your legs like you do your chest. Very neatly trimmed pubes, though. What did you do, search for what was in fashion as far goes the landscaping?"
"Shut the fuck up," says Rice.
"I'll take that as a yes," says April mildly.
HE isn't that hairy at all - there's a little dusting his back and his chest, curling on his thighs and calves, his pubes, too. There's a narrow line from his navel down to his groin.
Once he's done scrubbing Rice's legs, he rinses his hands off and grabs a different glass bottle full of white soap instead of red soap, and Rice stares at how he massages it into his own hair, through the thick, dark waves of it, all suds between his fingers.
He's massaging his own scalp, almost, it seems like, and Rice swallows again as April sighs, seeming to enjoy it.
"Want me to do yours?"
"Yeah," says Rice. "Um, I mean, may-- can you? Is it...?"
"I can do it," says April. "On the floor, Arden."
His knees buckle a bit automatically, but then he obeys, sinks himself into the gap between the shower wall and the side of April's chair, leans up against its legs as April pours shampoo over his hands and starts to lather it into his hair.
He's using his nails again, scratching and dragging at Rice's scalp, and Rice moans, his hands twitching toward his cock even though he's still not hard, although he thinks maybe it could be if he touched himself, if he concentrated a little.
"I've used too much of this," muses April. "You've not nearly as much hair as I do - perhaps that's why I get so much more attention."
Rice chokes out a noise at that, and April laughs softly, scrubbing and dragging through his hair.
"Beautiful," says April. "Gorgeous thing."
Rice's hands twitch again.
"Too much? Not enough? Want to touch yourself?"
"I'm not stopping you."
He wraps his hand around his cock and gasps, shoving his head back into April's hands, and April responds by full on digging his nails in and making him whine.
"Oh, you're perfect," April murmurs, pressing his fingers into the surprisingly sensitive skin over his ears, behind them, then pushes down his neck, making him moan with his hips stuttering up into his palm. "That's it, there you are. Good man, just like that."
April shoves his head forward with one hand and uses the other to tilt up his chin so that when he rinses the lather out of his hair it doesn't get in his eyes, and Rice jerks into his palm and comes over it and it's obscene, ridiculous.
When he turns, his arse still flat on the tile, he sees that April's big cock is even bigger. It's not all the way hard yet, he doesn't think, but it's halfway there at least, the head a lighter, more pink-tinged brown than Arden's nipples are, more like the inside of his lips.
He swallows, shifting awkwardly on the rough tile under his arse, and he twists to try to-- He doesn't even know. Kiss it? Lick it? Just put his mouth on it?
April grabs him by the jaw and tilts his head up, making him let out a noise.
"Funny," says April coolly, and he stares down at Rice with water running down his hair, his sides, his shoulders. "I don't recall giving you permission to do that."
Rice's breath hitches.
"Rinse off the rest of that before you come out," says April, and pulls himself up.
He leans on a bar on the other wall as he towels himself off, and Rice hurriedly scrubs himself down, feeling embarrassed and out of it and--
When he comes out of the bathroom wearing new boxers and another man's t-shirt, it's to see April in his pyjama bottoms and a red t-shirt of his own, leaning on his kitchen counter and taking his inhaler as he preheats the oven, December purring on top of his foot.
"Did you turn the hot water off?"
"Yeah," says Rice. "The switch, uh, the light's off now."
"Good man," says April between inhalations, then sets his inhaler aside and pours seasoning over the chicken drumsticks he has in a dish. There are chips soaking in water on the side.
"Drain these?" asks Rice.
"Yes, do, that's a lad," says April absentmindedly, and Rice swallows at the way that makes him feel, hot and-- good.
The thing is, April's talked to him like this before, does it all the time.
"Good man," and "That's a lad," and "There's a boy," because that's just how April talks, not just to Rice but to all kinds of guys, especially when people in the office help him carry stuff or move things. He does it with women, too, although not quite as--
Not as much of a turn on?
It's just that he's never noticed it before, never thought about how April talks to him, not that much. He likes it, yeah, he's always liked it - maybe he jumped so much to help him at first because he was so free with praise.
He drains off the chips and after he's done shaking off the moisture, he spreads them out on the kitchen roll April's laid out already, patting them dry.
"You have a fucking chip pan? How old are you? Aren't you scared of fires?"
"They're perfectly safe so long as one attends then properly and keeps them clean, thank you," says April dryly. "And I have a fireblanket in this drawer, plus the extinguisher mounted on that wall there. Want me to point out the smoke alarms for you too?"
April puts the chicken and vegetables in the oven, sets a timer, and he goes to wash up dishes but Rice stops him, starts washing them up himself.
April is smirking whenever Rice glances back at him. "Remember where everything goes?" he asks.
"Uh huh. Yeah."
As April sits down at the dining table, letting December hop up in his lap, Rice washes up his dishes and the two wineglasses, then dries them up, puts them away.
"You're so helpful, Arden," says April warmly. "It's very kind."
April always praises him for washing up his dishes for him, same as he does when Rice offers to take his rubbish out for him or peg up his washing or anything else.
He likes to be helpful. He's grown up doing chores all his life - he always did everything at home.
"How do you feel?" asks April.
"Good," says Rice.
"I expect you do," muses April, scratching December under his chin. "Two orgasms in forty minutes. Not what you're used to, is it?"
"Hm." April chuckles softly.
"I-- Sorry? About, um. About not asking for permission."
April smirks at him, running his hand back through his still-damp hair. "Quite alright," he says mildly. "I just don't want to fuck you tonight, that's all. Best we give you time to see if you want it."
"I want it," blurts out Rice. "I can be good, I'm pretty sure I can take it, or, or take-- I mean, I guess you want to pitch and that's fine, I can, I've never done it before but--"
"Ch-ch-ch," says April sharply. "Hush, now. Not tonight, I'm firm about that."
"But if I want it, what's the problem?"
"The problem is that you're touch-drunk and eager for more," says April. "After dinner, I was thinking we might watch a film or something, and you can stay over, if you like."
"Okay," says Rice.
It's no big deal. They've done this before, so--
"You can sit next to me, or between my legs," says April. "Lie in my lap, if you like - even sit in my lap, so long as you don't put too much pressure on my knees, I rather like a man in my lap."
"And you can sleep in my bed, so long as sharing with me and December won't trouble you overmuch."
"Sleep... in your bed?"
"But not fuck?"
"No, not fuck. You can touch me as much as you like, but it's not a precursor to sex, Arden, it's... affection."
Rice swallows, not sure what to say to that as he puts the wineglasses away, stacks up the plates.
"Touch-drunk," he says.
"Not a clinical term, I grant you," says April. "You're not used to being touched, and suddenly I'm touching you all over."
"So you can't untangle your desire from that," says April plainly. "If you were starving, Arden, and I, a stranger, fed you, you'd no doubt feel very positively toward me - it wouldn't mean I was truly your friend."
"What if I thought about you fucking me before?" he asks, not able to make eye contact as he stumbles over it. "What if I was already thinking about it?"
"I wouldn't be surprised," says April. "We're still not fucking tonight."
"I can't sit in your lap," he says. "I'm not a fucking girl."
"None of us are fucking girls," agrees April. "Although I fail to see what that has to do with the price of milk."
"Men don't sit in each other's laps."
"Yes, they do."
"Not men like me!"
April huffs out a laugh.
"I've had men bigger and scarier than you in my lap," says April pleasantly. "I've fucked them, too - bent them over, spanked their arses, played with their tits, made them sob, made them beg for me to let them come. In short, I've made men more masculine than you my bitch."
Rice can't really breathe. He feels burning all over in a way that's not arousal, exactly, and is almost like the fucking soap again - he feels humiliated and put on the spot and oversensitive all over.
"But the point of tonight isn't to humiliate you or to dominate you."
"Well, I'm dominating you a bit, but I can't help it, you submit so beautifully, and with such enthusiasm. I don't do it to emasculate you - you're just so very lovely when you're taking orders."
The burning intensifies.
He feels like someone's pointing one of those stage spotlights on him, one of those ones that's so powerful the light feels hot.
"See? Just look at you, you're a vision. Anyway, the point of being in my lap is the physicality contact."
"Why can't you sit in my lap?"
"There's no reason I can't," says April pleasantly. "So long as I can sit in it at the right angle, I'm sure we can both be comfortable. Would you like that, sweetheart? For me to sit in your lap?"
Rice tries to imagine it but it doesn't really happen - he thinks of earlier when he was lying with his head on April's thighs, how warm his lap was, surprisingly comfy even though the muscle in it was hard. The fabric of his pyjama pants looks soft and fleecey.
"No need to make a decision right away," says April, getting up and coming in, setting the chip pan on before washing his hands.
He brushes past Rice in the kitchen, touches him so easily, casually. He's small, compared to Rice, so fucking little.
How come Rice feels so tiny beside him? Why is now the smallest he's ever felt?
"Do you watch porn?" asks April.
"Huh? No. No, that shit is... Nasty, dirty. It's too loud."
"You don't have headphones?"
"I can't stand it. The way people moan, make so much noise."
"What do you think about, then? When you touch yourself?"
"I don't know," mutters Rice, swallowing and getting out of the way as he watches April season the chips. "Tits."
"Tits," April agrees. "Touching them, sucking on them, having them?"
"The fuck? No!"
"Mashing your face into them? Being surrounded by them, overwhelmed by them?"
"Uh-- Yeah. I guess." Yeah, yeah, burying his face between them, feeling a girl on top of him, her arms wrapped around his head, keeping him close, pulled in. "How the fuck did you know?"
"Oh, sluttery makes me a terribly good judge of character," says April. "An amateur I may be, but I'm an ardent student of human behaviour, you know. I take in a wide variety of subjects. Wooden spoon."
Rice passes one over.
After the eat, Rice automatically washes up, and he's aware of April sitting down on the sofa, aware of the way December is sitting up on the back of the sofa, curling in against April's neck.
When he goes over, he glances at the TV, glances at April.
April just glances at him, expression not revealing anything, and with his heart pounding in his chest he drops on his side on the sofa, scrambles to lay his head in April's lap, rest his cheek on his thigh.
"Look at you," murmurs April. "Beautiful boy. Yes, December, you too."
He nudges noses with the cat, smiling, and tosses a blanket from the back of the sofa over Rice, puts one of his hands on top of Rice's head, idly playing with his hair, and with the other he gently rubs his back in smooth circles.
It's good. Perfect. Rice almost thinks he could die here, and he'd go out satisfied forever.
"Good boy," murmurs April. "Oh, you are just... irresistible. How could anyone not want to keep you forever?"
"There, there. Nice and calm, relax. Good lad."
At some point, December realises that Rice's neck is bigger and even more accessible in this moment than April's, and he drops to cram himself between April's belly and the back of Rice's head, his furry little chin flat against Rice's neck like he's a scarf.
"Oh, look, he fits," says April good-humouredly, and plays his thumb over December's cheek at the same time he idly plays his fingers through Rice's hair, and Rice closes his eyes, can't stand it.
It's already nice, impossibly cosy, feeling April's heartbeat through his thigh and feeling how warm he is, the blanket thrown over him, April's hand rubbing circles or lightly scratching lines up and down his back, but December too, purring up a storm against his neck?
It's a kind of paradise, and he sinks deep into some warm, peaceful place of relaxation he's never been before as April flips through the channels and settles on some sci-fi horror thing that keeps making him jump and then laugh out loud at his own reaction.
This annoys December, and after twenty minutes or so he bails and goes to sleep in his tree, but Rice grins at it, every time he feels the sudden flinch underneath him, or when April suddenly digs his fingers into his back.
"Doesn't it get to you?" he asks.
"The jump scares? No, not really. Sometimes, I guess, but they have to be unexpected."
"Pah!" says April, and Rice laughs. He's dragging his nails slowly down and then slowly up the line ot his spine in a way that makes Rice's eyes cross.
They go to bed fucking early, before it's even ten, and Rice wants to complain but April's bed is comfortable and because he's been just lying there getting stroked like a fucking puppy, he's actually tired.
December purrs next to his head and even though they don't spoon or anything, April's facing him as he sleeps, snoring, his knees touching Rice's, their feet entangled.
Rice sleeps better than he can believe.
Rice wakes up early, and he wakes up slowly, blearily, realising his body is fucking wrapped around someone else's and his cock is hard in his boxers, rubbing up against the plump heat of someone's arse.
He comes to slowly, reality sinking in hot and soothing, like bathwater.
This is Sebastian April in his arms. It's Sebastian April's flat belly that Rice's hand is splayed over, shoved up under his shirt, Sebastian April who's still snoring, mouth ajar, April's plump arse than Rice is rubbing up against.
His hips are just kind of moving on their own, a gentle rock forward, and he grunts at the pressure even as he slowly extricates himself, feeling over-excited, embarrassed, so horny.
The blankets have been kicked off, and April's PJs have ridden down halfway down his arse.
Rice's mouth fucking waters, seeing it - it's no bigger than the rest of him, but it's probably the only place on April's body where there's some real fucking fat, two perfect little globes, tiny fucking handfuls that Rice hovers his hands over, amazed at the difference in size.
He puts his hands on April's bare skin, thrills, can't believe that he's doing this, touching his arse where the waistband comes down and shows the top of his crack, the swell there.
Holding his breath, he pushes April's cheeks apart, and stares at his hole.
It's-- Fuck, but it's small, which makes sense, just like the rest of him, a duskier brown than the light tan of the skin around it, looks-- tight. Rice can't even imagine how tight.
April is still snoring, and Rice slowly grips at the waistband of his trousers.
He doesn't wake up, keeps breathing at the same rhythm, and Rice wonders if he'll wake up as Rice fully pushes down his PJs, just so he can see April's whole arse, just so he can see it.
Put his hands on it, feel how fucking small it is, squeeze it, feel the give.
April hums, the sound low, throaty-- pleasured. Rice swallows, and he just, he just wants to try it. Just wants to rest himself there, it's not like he wants to fuck into him or try to, even, he just wants to see what it would feel like, his cock between April's cheeks.
He shifts closer, dragging down his borrowed boxers so that they're under his balls, his cock sticking out, already ready with the fucking morning, and he parts April's cheeks again, sliding himself between them.
It's so hot he can't stand it, the pressure of April's arsecheeks either side of his cock, the heat of his body, the slight moisture of his skin from sweating in the night, and when Rice releases his grip on April's cheeks and lets them tighten in around them, he moans.
There's wetness at the tip of his cock, and he has to bite back a whimper as he slowly rocks his hips forward, into that warm channel between April's buttocks, and he doesn't push in but the head of his cock nudges against April's hole and he whimpers despite himself.
He tries to be quiet, tries not to gasp, not to moan, keeps holding his fucking breath as he rocks himself between April's cheeks, feels him, feels how warm he is and how tight it feels and how wet and slippery it gets - if this is just his cheeks, what's the inside like?
He feels dizzy just imagining it, the hot, tight, velvety grip of April's ass around his cock, so much tighter than anything he's ever felt, so much better than his fist, and his cock gives a jerk, splutters wetly. He could come like this, he thinks.
"Arden," says April dryly, no longer snoring, sounding very sleepy but definitely awake and actually quite stern, and he moans. "Care to explain to me what you're doing?"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, fuck, I'm sorry, you're so fucking-- Fuck, I need it, please, please--"
His hips are stuttering between April's cheeks, and there's wet, slick noises whenever his hips jerk because Rice's own cock has slicked the way, and when the head of it accidentally nudges April's hole, prods against the muscle, April's breathless laugh has a moan to it.
"Oh, fuck, can I?" whines Rice, hearing how pathetic he sounds and somehow unable to care, his head spinning, empty of anything except how April's cheeks feel to his cock, April's body, April's hole. "Can I, can I, please? Please, I'm sorry, fuck, I want it so badly, Sebastian--"
"Oh, do you?" asks April mockingly, and it's excruciatingly hot, makes his skin burn. "Do you want it, Arden?"
Rice clenches his teeth, wants to be angry, wants to point out exactly who has the power between them except he knows it's April and the entire world is just... HIM.
His cock is slick and making wet, desperate noises as he grinds it between April's cheeks, prods against his hole, nudges against the rim and feels it give a little and April moans.
"Just-- Can I just try the tip?" begs Rice. "Please, just the head? I just want to--"
April does something, clenches or moves his hips or something, and everything goes tight and Rice grabs at him harder, tightly grips at his middle, shoves harder against his arse.
"Does that feel good, sweetheart?" asks April breathlessly. "Are you enjoying my arse?"
"Ye-yeah," Rice moans, breaths hiccoughing and desperate, hips moving of their own accord now, every nudge against April's perfect little hole and its promised vicegrip sending thrums and thrills of pleasure around his head, the rest of his cock slickly enveloped.
"Yeah?" asks April. "Yes, you're going to come, just like that, fucking between my cheeks because you just couldn't stand to wait, because you just needed it? Try to cram just the tip in, paint my insides white?"
His head is fucking spinning. "Yeah," he chokes out. "Yea--"
April moves so fucking fast he can't even register it, and the grip around the base of his cock actually fucking HURTS, his balls tightening up and then suddenly made to back the fuck down, and he groans out a wordless protest, confused, disoriented, ruined.
April is staring up at him, his lips smiling but his eyes fucking hard as he keeps that horrible grip around the base of his prick, and Rice tries to move, tries to lean away and gets a sharp smack on the thigh for his trouble, making him jump and whine.
"Sebastian," he says desperately, "Sebastian, I was about to--"
"I know precisely what you were about to do, and indeed what you were doing," says April coolly. "Selfish little prick you were being too - where's your manners, hm? I don't recall allowing you the privilege."
"No just," says April, and finally lets cock go. "If either of us is to use the other as a fucktoy, Arden, I can assure you it won't be this way around. It you were anybody else, I'd be putting a belt to your arse right about now."
Rice's cock jumps at that for reasons he can't quite define even though the idea of being belted fucking terrifies him - maybe BECAUSE the idea terrifies him? - and he watches powerlessly as April gets up.
"I'm sorry," he moans. "I'm sorry, I'm--"
"Quite forgiven," says April, and he does look more amused than angry. "But for your punishment, you won't be coming this morning. Cold water when you shower - if you try to touch yourself before we go, I'll know."
His gaze lands on Rice's, and Rice feels like he's been shocked.
He believes him. Right to his core, he believes him.
"You don't get to decide that," he says, and April arches one eyebrow.
"Oh, someone's feeling brave this morning," he says softly, and Rice shudders at the way that tone affects him.
As he swallows, April says, "Put it this way - if you get yourself off this morning, that's the last time your cock and I will ever come into contact. You will neither fuck me nor be fucked by me."
Rice's breath catches in his throat.
"Mm. That's what I thought."
It's the slowest day at work he's ever had.
It's fucking painful is what it is, drives him absolutely crazy to try to sit at his PC and check over code for graphics while April is sitting at his desk with one pencil behind his ear and another tapping his lips as he works.
He moves back and forth in his seat, rocking one way and then the other as he goes between his sketchbook and whatever he's working on in CAD, his lips loosely pressed together.
"Hey, Arden," whispers one of the receptionists, and Arden glances up at her.
"Uh, you and Sebastian, um, Mr April," she says, and Arden tries not to laugh. No one ever calls HIM Mr, and he and April are technically the same rank. "You're friends, right?"
"Uh huh. Why, you want to get him something for his birthday?"
"Oh, ha, no, um, is he... is he single?"
How old is she, twenty-five, twenty-seven? Younger than they are, but not SUPER young.
"Listen," he says, "April's kinda a stickler. Guy doesn't go out with anyone from work."
"Oh," she says, blushes, nods.
When she leaves, April says, "Aren't you the heartbreaker."
"Eavesdropper. How the fuck do you hear from all the way over there?"
"A side-effect of being a runt with a cane is one becomes preternaturally able to make out people's whispering about one."
"Liar," says April, but he's smirking.
"Can I, uh-- can I come around to yours tonight? Again?"
"If you like," says April.
"And we can fuck?"
April turns in his chair, turns to look at him. "I can hear you whisper," he says. "EVERYONE can hear you yell."
"I'm not fucking yelling."
"You're projecting your voice," April replies mildly. "People can and will hear you."
Rice bites the inside of his lip, and April smiles at him, tilting his head, the expression indulgent.
"Will you?" he asks.
"I should tell you no," murmurs April, standing to his feet and coming over, one hand on his cane, the other sliding to rest in the back of Rice's neck, thumb resting at the small of it. Rice itches to lean his face into April's side, bury his face against the wool he's wearing.
"I should tell you no," April repeats, "tell you to take a few days to think it through, but this morning you rather teased me. All I've been able to think of is folding you up and fucking you until I have you sobbing."
Rice's mouth is dry, and he stares helplessly up at April's face. April pats the side of his cheek.
"Go home first," he says smoothly. "Get a change of clothes, scrub that arse of yours, and then, yes, come to mine, and I'll show you what makes me so... popular."
He arrives at April's door with takeaway Chinese, and they sit on the sofa to eat - April leans back against the arms of the sofa and throws his legs over Rice's lap, and Rice thrills at it, thrills and feels insane over it, over the weight of his calves, his feet.
How is it that if feels so intimate and so overwhelming when it's as casual as this, April eating wontons and idly watching Stargate, his feet a warm and comfortable weight?
"Have you been with a lot of virgins?"
"A few, here and there," says April. "More than I'm explicitly aware of, I'm sure - I don't tend to conduct an experience survey before I go along with anybody."
Rice chews on a spring roll, and asks, "What if I'm not gay?"
"What if you're not?"
"I mean-- What if you're right, and I'm not actually attracted to you." He's trying not to think about April's legs, because thinking about April's legs ultimately means thinking about his middle, which means thinking about his cock.
"Well, you won't die for having had sex with me," says April. "If you find you don't want to have sex again, we simply won't. If you don't enjoy anal, we simply won't have anal sex again. If you don't like anything at all, you can tell me, and we won't do it again."
"And if I want to fuck women? Just-- just women?"
"You can fuck women," says April. "I've never stopped you from fucking women before. I'm willing to go out with you and be your wingman, so to speak."
"And fuck a woman together?"
April's gaze shifts from Teal'c on the TV to Rice, stares at him for a second, and then he laughs, low and chuckling and unspeakable in a way that goes right to Rice's cock.
"Let's walk before we can run, shall we?"
"What would you know about running?"
"I've seen it on TV."
He doesn't know when it happens, but it's sometime after they finish eating that April goes from his feet being in Rice's lap to his whole body, sitting with his legs to the side and his arse on Rice's thigh, and his lips are on Rice's.
"Mm, no, close your mouth a bit."
Rice tries to do it, tries to close his mouth more as they keep going, lips smacking against one another in a way that makes his mouth tingle, makes his face feel hot.
"There you are, good boy," murmurs April. "Tilt your head a bit more... There."
April is touching him through his pants, sliding the heel of his hand over his cock through them, squeezing his cock through the fabric as he keeps coaching him through kisses, nips at his lower lip and makes Rice gasp out a noise.
"So sensitive," April purrs, drags his teeth over Rice's lower lip and then traces over it with his tongue, and Rice whines despite himself, making April laugh, squeeze his cock tighter. "I'm not one for kissing, but you're rather fun."
"You don't like kissing?"
"Mm, not on the mouth, not particularly," says April, and he starts trailing kisses up Rice's jaw, nips at his neck, under his ear, and Rice moans, rolling his hips up and into him. "You like it, don't you?"
"Ye-yeah, ah, more, please--"
"Please, he says," purrs April, letting go of Rice's cock to start unbuttoning his shirt. "So polite, such an eager thing, aren't you? I could have you so well-trained..."
"Yeah, yeah, please--"
"Mm, we'll see," April murmurs. "Let's to bed."
Rice lifts him clean off the ground and April lets out sharp sound of surprise, laughing and squirming in Rice's arms as they move down the corridor and into the other room, almost tosses April on the bed because he's so desperate to scramble out of his clothes.
He falls back on the bed once his clothes are off, and April is on top of him, crowding him back against the pillows stacked by the headboard, sinking into them - and then April's mouth closes around once of his nipples and he yells.
April doesn't let up.
No one's ever done this before, not to him, not to any man he's ever seen, and Rice lets out a sharp noise, gripping at the blankets underneath them as he leans back into them, and April sucks hard, laves his tongue around the tip of his nipple then gets it between his teeth.
He squeaks, the noise fucking humiliating and way too goddamn high, and April doesn't even bite down that hard, just holds his nipple between his teeth and tugs on it, worries it a little, so that his while fucking tit throbs and feels hot and sensitive.
When he lowers his mouth again, over the actual meat of his pec, he really does fucking bite, and Rice chokes out a noise and arches off the bed as he feels April's teeth dig in, then catch again as he sucks a fucking hickey into place.
Before he starts on the other one, he leans back, puts his lips into an O, and blows cool air over his pec where it's hot and swollen with blood and wet with spit, and it's so cold he feels his nipple stiffen like that, making him whine.
"Fuck, fuck, Sebastian--"
"Gorgeous, these little tits of yours," April pronounces like he's complimenting the body of a fine wine. "I begin to understand the appeal you find in someone's breasts, sweetheart."
His cock is hard and leaking, and it jerks when April latches onto the other side.
He never knew his nipples could be so sensitive, that there could be so much radiating heat and sensation coming out from his chest, how April could worship his chest so utterly and leave him feeling dazed and oversensitive, pecs throbbing.
"Don't?" April asks, looks up at Rice's face, his mouth still in line with his chest, breath hot against the wet skin. There are bruises and bite marks blossoming on them, teeth imprints and hickeys surrounding them in a cascade of stars.
"Don't stop," he whispers.
April sucks hard, pulling at his other nipple with his fingers, twisting in a way that makes sparks fly up his spine, his cock jerking between them.
"Quite gorgeous," says April, sitting back on his knees, and he weighs Rice's pecs in his palms, cupping them from underneath.
He feels dizzy in the aftermath of it - he hasn't come, doesn't think he could from this, but he feels dizzy and just a little fuzzy, his chest throbbing with overlapping sensations.
April smiles at him as he kneels between his legs, and uncaps a bottle of lube.
It's not as cold as he expects, warmed by his fingers, and he heaves in a hitching lungful of air as April slides a finger into him, warm and weird and-- and good.
"Never had a prostate exam?"
"It doesn't normally feel like that," Rice grunts, and April laughs.
"Once you're aroused, your prostate swells too," he says mildly. "All this, around here..." He rubs with his finger, not hard, but smoothly and in a way that makes him groan, his cock bouncing as he clenches down. "All that blood flow sensitises the area."
"So if I had a boner to go to the doctor it wouldn't feel as bad?"
"For you, or your doctor?" asks April, and slides a second finger into him. He's not as tight as he expected he might be - this is... good. Easy. "Let me know if there's any burning or discomfort, alright?"
"Isn't that normal?"
"Sure, but it's not to everybody's taste," murmurs April, and he makes some kind of circle motion around his rim that makes him stretch but it's easy, satisfying, good. "You can tap out at any time, alright?"
"Now?" asks Rice. "You gonna-- Now? Please?"
April laughs, slides a third finger in. "No burning?"
"Stretching," says Rice. "Mmm, pressure, fullness. It feels weird, but it's nice, it's good."
"Good lad," murmurs April. "There's a boy." He laughs as Rice's cock jerks.
April puts on a condom, and Rice stares at it as he slides it on, so easy, well-practised.
He pushes Rice's knees apart, pushes them up a bit, toward his shoulders, folds him up, and then he's sinking into him and it's so much bigger than fingers, thicker all the way around.
He blinks rapidly, trying to accustom to it, tipping his hips up and into April's cock as he sinks into him, inch by inch, and fuck, fuck, that upward curve really is something, so he can feel it pressing up against him from the inside.
When April bottoms out, he actually feels kind of dizzy and overwhelmed and it's not hot, exactly, not in itself really sexy, doesn't feel like he's about to come from it yet, it's just--
Nice? Satisfying? Comforting, almost?
"Good man," murmurs April, and Rice shudders.
April starts to rock his hips forward and into him, slowly at first without pulling back too much, just leaning back a bit and then sinking in again, and all the sensation is where he's most sensitive, at his rim, over his prostate, his cock tight between their bellies.
He's breathing heavily, he's aware, letting out funny little moans he can't exactly stop even as April leans in, slides his fingers up through Rice's hair, the other hand splaying on his chest, and he drags his nails over where before he was biting and sucking, and Rice chokes.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, and then he's kissing Rice again even though April says he doesn't like it, doesn't care for it - he's doing this for Rice? For the way he reacts, for the way he can't help but moan at the touch and pressure of his lips, his tongue?
It's not what he expected.
He thought it'd be like a hand around his cock, thought it'd be just like that, but it's not the same kind of pleasure - it's less direct but somehow more intense.
"Like it? Don't like it?"
"Like it. Like it."
"Good," says April, and then pulls him slightly forward, dropping him back onto the pillows, and suddenly he's fucking him hard, fast, shoving his knees right up to his shoulders as he pistons into him. "Good boy, you sweet boy, that's it, just take it."
Rice can't help the noises that come out of him, the jump and pulse of his fucking cock, the clench of his arse as April pulls right back and then slams into him again.
He arches up and into him, and April bites him, bites his fucking throat.
This is different, more intense, makes something build in him from the inside, pulls and drags within him, and at this angle his cock is tightly pressed between their bellies, slick and sliding over his fucking stomach, and his hips keep jerking without his say-so.
"Need a hand?"
"Yeah, yeah, please--"
April's teeth drag over the base of his throat at the same time his hand closes around Rice's cock, and Rice cries out as he comes, and April--
"Oh, fuck," he whines, and April laughs.
"Yeah, sweetheart, that's the idea."
April's hips don't even fucking slow down in their movements, just keep up at the same punishing rhythm like he's trying to milk every last drop out of Rice's cock, and between their bellies it's a slick mess of sweat and come.
Rice's eyes are watering.
April shifts his position, shoves his knees in harder and Rice can't believe it, didn't know he could be folded up like this, like a fucking pretzel, and if doesn't hurt, just feels good, feels good and kind of painful and so overwhelming he might die.
April doesn't stop until he's fucking sobbing with it, just like he fucking promised, and Rice stares up at him through the haze of tears and come and overwhelming everything, sees the grin on April's face, the satisfaction in his eyes.
When April comes back from him, Rice slowly unfolds and lies dead on the bed like he's a puppet with his strings cut, and he stares at April's arse as he ties off the condom and drops it in the bin, rubbing over his own knees, his hips.
"Ah," he says, not able to get anything else out.
"I... Ah. Yeah."
"You and I are agreed on that point."
Rice lies back on the bed as April stretches, sighs, and says, "I've wanted to do that for years."
Rice stares at April's back as he sits on the edge of the bed, doing exercises where he pulls up his knee, moves his leg, tilts it.
"What?" he asks, and April glances back at him, smiles.
"I wouldn't have," he says softly. "But I wanted to since I laid eyes on, naturally."
"We could have done this years ago?"
"Mm, no, I doubt it," says April mildly. "But I'm terribly happy to do it now. How are you feeling as far goes attraction to men?"
"Very positively. Can I be the topper next?"
"Toppers are for ice cream and mattresses, sweetheart, you want to be the top. Also, yes, if you can get it up again. Wet wipes in the drawer, pass them over."
He wipes himself down at the same time as April does himself.
"You-- You found me hot?"
"Are you insane, Arden? You're six and three of muscle and smiles, anyone in their right mind wants to fuck you or be fucked by you. You're just too repressed to pick up on anyone's signals, that's all."
Rice says quietly, "I'm-- I'm really not good at people touching me. Not women or men."
"I know," murmurs April, and squeezes his foot. "You'll easer into it."
"Can I try you?"
"I already said yes."
"Not that. Your, uh, your back. Try a massage?"
April glances at him, his lips twitching. For years, he said. For years, what, he's been thinking about Rice? About fucking him, about sleeping with him, touching him?
"Yes, alright," says April. "I'd like that."
"Have you ever been in love?" Rice asks, and April opens his mouth, closes it. His cheeks turn slightly darker, and then he laughs.
"Shut up, Arden," he says, and grabs for his cane. "What do you say to a beer?"
Rice swallows, feels warm and... good.
"Sure," he says, smiling slightly, and he stares after April as he goes out into the corridor.
December slips past him, hopping up on the bed, and Rice hurriedly pulls his boxers back on before December can hurt him by getting in his lap.
"Hey, December," he whispers as December immediately hops on top of his thighs, claws out, but he manfully tries not to flinch. "I think your daddy loves me."
"I heard that," comes April's retort, and Rice laughs as he leans in and butts heads with the cat.
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