Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/89097.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Stargate_Atlantis_RPF
  Relationship:
      Joe_Flanigan/David_Hewlett
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-05-22 Words: 7116
****** Rumpus ******
by Tex
Summary
     One fateful spring break, at the family estate in NY, Joe and his dad
     receive visitors from Canada
Notes
     My most heartfelt thanks go to my beta, Ms. X, whose name I've
     promised never to reveal. She's the one who said, "Where's the
     eyeliner?"
Rumpus [ruhm-puhs]
–noun, plural -pus·es.
1. a noisy or violent disturbance; commotion; uproar: There was a terrible
rumpus going on upstairs.
 
PART ONE
Joe throws himself down into the big wing chair, his mouth set sullenly. "I
don't even know this guy. Why do I have to do it?"
"You're here; he's here. What else do you suggest? It's not like you have any
plans."
The back of Joe's neck gets hot at the remark. It's a familiar argument, Joe's
lack of drive, his lack of a plan. "It's spring break, Dad. That's break, as in
sleeping late and doing nothing, as in not entertaining some Canadian kid who
doesn't know anything but hockey."
His father looks up and stops shoving papers into his briefcase. "That's
enough. His father is an old acquaintance and this is the only time he was able
to get away. They should be here any time now and you'll show this – whatever
his name is around and be polite. You two will have the Rumpus House all to
yourselves. How bad can it be?"
Joe doesn't answer. He knows he can't get out of it. After six months of dorm
life and the lack of privacy that entails, he was looking forward to having
some time to himself but now --
The sound of a car engine sends his father striding out of the room but Joe
stays put, kicking the toe of his Adidas at the edge of the coffee table.
Great, just fucking great, Joe grouses to himself. He gets six days here and
four of them are going to be taken up with some weirdo from Canada.
His father's big, booming voice calls out a greeting that echoes in the foyer
and Joe mutters a few profanities under his breath as he resentfully gets to
his feet.
He takes his time getting to the foyer, wistfully thinking about how he'd
planned to spend his time here – sleeping past noon; eating in front of the TV
in his boxers; a swim in the pool and tennis whenever he felt like it. That's
all down the toilet now.
I swear, Joe tells himself, if this loser says "Eh" just once, I'm going to put
my fist down his throat.
"Well, what do you know? It's my son, the late Joe Flanigan."
Joe fights the need to roll his eyes and plasters on a smile as he nears their
guests. He sees the older guy first, dressed in a suit and tie. His dad
introduces him as Dr. Hewlett and Joe shakes his hand.
"This is my son, David," the doctor says, and while Joe is still registering
the doctor's British accent, another hand is thrust out toward him. Joe takes
it and gets his first look at the owner.
He's a little shorter than Joe, maybe a little younger and on the skinny side.
His mouth almost looks too wide for his face when he's smiling, though it's
really more of a sneer. But beneath a fringe of blond curls, the look in the
kid's bright blue eyes is one that Joe recognizes. It's the look that says, "I
don't want to be here, either".
"Hey," Hewlett says and Joe says, "Hey" back and their fathers disappear into
the study, leaving them in the foyer drenched in awkward silence.
Joe crosses his arms over his chest, his face getting hot while the kid looks
him up and down. Joe's never felt more like a preppy, dressed in his white
tennis shirt and baggy khakis. Hewlett's wearing a leather wristband with
square metal studs on it and a belt to match and there's a ragged hole in the
knee of his jeans. But before Joe can tell him to back off, Hewlett speaks.
"Do you have a cigarette?" Hewlett asks, making the request sound like a
challenge.
Joe blinks, sees the glint of three gold studs in his left ear and looks at
Hewlett with new interest. "Follow me."
~*~*~*~
Joe takes him behind the gardener's cottage, his usual spot for grabbing a
smoke, and they drop into the cool grass, recently cut from the first mow of
the season.
"So," Hewlett starts, taking a deep draw off a Pall Mall from Joe's secret
stash, "who's the Big Cheese?"
Joe nearly chokes when he inhales. He doesn't enjoy smoking much but he's not
about to tell Hewlett that. "Huh?" he growls.
"I was just wondering," he says, uncurling his jean clad legs out in front of
him and crossing them at the ankles, "what did the Flanigans do that got them
all this?"
Joe narrows his eyes. "Work hard," he says flatly, daring Hewlett to say
anything more. He's proud of his family and he isn't about to let some punk
Canadian say anything against them.
"Hey, don't get your hackles up, I was just asking."
"My hackles," Joe mutters mockingly, shaking his head. "Where are you from,
anyway?"
The look Hewlett gives him is full of contempt. "Toronto. It's in Ontario, what
we north of the border call a province. Here, I believe you call them states."
Joe takes a moment to consider slapping him upside the head. But suddenly, he
gets it – Hewlett is trying a little too hard, and his sneer is far too dorky
to be a threat in the least.
Joe grins, and then rests back on one elbow laughing, watching Hewlett's
expression fall into confusion.
"Smart ass," Joe snorts, gasping for breath and Hewlett – David – gives in to a
wide, sheepish smile.
~*~*~*~
They get his bags from the main house and carry them over to the Rumpus House.
"What the hell is a Rumpus?" David says when Joe pushes the door open.
"Not a clue," Joe says, leading the way inside. "It's been called that since I
can remember." Behind him, the sound of luggage being dropped hard on the wood
floor startles Joe and he turns to see David, his head back, making a slow 360
just inside the door.
"What's with you?"
"What the fuck is with all the dead animals?"
Joe laughs. There's been very little change in the décor of the house since his
dad was Joe's age and the walls are littered with the stuffed and glass-eyed
victims of two generations of Flanigan sportsmen. Deer, elk, several ducks and
a dozen hapless fish looked down on them from various heights around the large
open space.
"Don't they let you guys hunt and fish in Canada?" Joe asks, wondering if it
was just the late afternoon light that made David's face look paler.
"Not so you'd notice," David answers distractedly, reaching down without
looking for the handles of his suitcases again, his gaze never leaving the
shiny body of the marlin that hangs above the door. "Please tell me we're not
sleeping in here because these things are seriously creeping me out."
"No, don't worry, Elmer Fudd, I won't let the wabbits get you. Come on, we're
upstairs."
"Oh, Jesus, there are stuffed bunnies, too?"
~*~*~*~
They spend most of the day in front of the TV. David has a commentary to go
with every episode, special and commercial and after a while, Joe wonders why
it doesn't piss him off more. He decides it's kind of nice to be able to listen
and not be expected to talk back. It's relaxing.
David's smart, too -- Joe figures this out when, after he asks David about his
school, he answers with some convoluted argument about how the education system
is designed to suppress individuality and how useless it is once you learn to
read.It's all bullshit, of course but there's something about the flow of
words, the cadence of his speech that tells Joe that he's no dummy.
When it starts to get dark, Joe decides to get the last of his homework out of
the way and he grabs his backpack where he dropped it the day he arrived from
California."I need to finish something for school. I'll be upstairs at the
computer."
Engrossed in a repeat of The A-Team, David waves him off. Luckily, he doesn't
have much left to do. His paper on Alexander the Great is finished for the most
part; he just has to edit and shove in another 100 words. It's all on a floppy
he brought from school and Joe is making good progress when he leans over to
grab his notebook off the floor and his elbow hits the keyboard and –Joe
settles back in his seat and his heart drops. The monitor is blank.His paper is
gone.
"No." Joe starts punching keys frantically, panic growing with every breath.
"No, no, no, no." Nothing is working, not even bringing his fist down on the
top of the CPU. "Goddammit Mother Fucker, no, you stupid bitch."
David comes running up the stairs and into the room. "What the hell are you
doing up here?"
Joe gets up out of his chair so fast it goes crashing over backward. "My paper,
my fucking 3000 word paper on fucking Alexander the Great with fucking
footnotes is fucking gone."
"Okay, there's no need to panic," David says with a calm that makes Joe want to
strangle him. "What did you do?" He picks up the chair and sits down in front
of the keyboard.
"I don't know what I did, you prick, what better reason to panic?" Joe starts
to grab at his books and papers with unsteady hands. "You know, fuck it, I'm
not doing this over, I'll just take the F."
"There you go."
"What?" Joe looks over at the monitor and his paper is back, little white
cursor blinking happily once again. "Wh – what did you do?"
David grins up at him. "It was nothing. Computers are kind of my thing.
Actually, it was a common mistake. You just – "
Joe tunes out the explanation and stares at David, a totally inappropriate
warmth curling in the pit of his stomach.
~*~*~*~
The first night, David is in bed by midnight and he doesn't wake up until past
one the next day. Joe is out on the putting green adjacent to the Rumpus House
when David comes staggering out, barefoot and with a pretty spectacular bed
head.
"God, Flanigan, could you be more of a cliché?" David says, squinting against
the bright spring sunlight, his voice sleep-rough, hands in the pockets of the
same ripped jeans he'd worn yesterday.
In the midst of lining up a putt, Joe answers absently, "Fuck you."
"I mean, are you sure your nickname isn't Biff or Scooter?"
Joe executes a perfect wrist-and-hand swing and the ball moves so smoothly
toward the cup that it practically flows. Joe grins happily so when he looks at
David, his words lose most of their bite."You go to a private school; your dad
is a doctor. You aren't a member of the working class yourself so knock that
shit off." Joe pushes his sunglasses higher on his nose and bends down to pick
up another ball. "It's getting old."
"Huh. I wish I had a good comeback for that."
"As a fellow member of the idle rich, you are required to learn to play golf.
C'mere; I'll give you a few pointers."
Joe's a little surprised when David moves toward him. He's less surprised by
what David mutters under his breath.
"If my friends at home find out about this, I'm a dead man."
Joe hands him a putter with a grin. "I'll never tell. Now. First, address the
ball."
~*~*~*~
"Okay, Flanigan, I've made a decision." David's talking the second his mouth is
out of the water.
After an uncomfortable dinner with their fathers, Joe suggests a swim in the
heated pool and David jumps at the chance.He shakes his head like a dog,
slinging water droplets everywhere and Joe grins at him while hanging on to the
diving board from underneath. Steam is rising from the water and curling around
them like a warm veil.
"Yeah, and what's that, I'm afraid to ask?"
"I'm moving in. Just get used to the idea because this is too much. It's like
bath water in here! I love it!"
David's eyes look really blue reflected by the pool lights. For just a second,
his stomach flips and Joe's smile fades a little because whoa, what was that?
But before he can freak out, David lunges at him and they both go underwater.
~*~*~*~
The L-shaped room upstairs is called the dormitory and it's outfitted with six
twin beds and three chests of drawers. After his shower, Joe claims his usual
spot – under the big window so the breeze can get to him – and David takes the
next one over.
It's April in New York, so it's too cold to keep the window open all the way,
but it's not the temperature that has Joe shivering beneath the covers. He
listens to David warble a surprisingly decent rendition of "Rock the Casbah" in
the shower and wonders what the hell is going on.
A couple of times, while they were horsing around in the pool, Joe's cock got
half-hard. In the shower, it got all the way hard the second he touched
himself. Joe had pushed his cock through the tight grip of his hand twice,
three times, his whole body taut with the need to come, before he stopped
himself. Sure, he was always horny lately but was he jerking off because he was
just horny or was it because of David? Because David had touched him and it had
felt good?
To be on the safe side, Joe didn't jerk off at all, but now, he's lying here
with a hard-on that could punch through plaster and he can't touch himself now,
even if he wanted to. So he shivers and turns from side to side, restless and
confused. He closes his eyes but he keeps getting a picture of David's wide,
slanty mouth, smiling and scowling and moving a mile a minute.
Joe just doesn't get it. David's the kind of guy that would get beat up a lot
at Joe's school – he's way too into drama club and he talks too much and he has
earrings. Within a couple of hours of knowing him, David told Joe that when he
goes out with his friends, they put on eyeliner, for fuck's sake. It sounds
pretty queer to Joe but at the same time, David talks about girls in the same
way that Joe and his friends do.
Joe has never met anybody like David Hewlett. And while he's lying there, hot
and turned on, it occurs to Joe that in a couple of days, he's never going to
see David again, so if Joe were to decide to just jump him, no one would ever
have to know. He's actually considering it when he realizes what he's doing and
his stomach starts to churn sourly.
What the fuck am I doing? Joe asks himself, grinding his teeth together. I'm
not a fucking fag. And he's pretty sure David isn't, either. It pisses Joe off,
because he knew, he just knew as soon as his dad told him that they were having
guests that it was going to mess up all his plans. He just had no idea how
messed up things were going to get.
The water turns off in the bathroom and a few minutes later, David comes in,
dressed in boxers and a tee shirt that was probably once blue but now is slate
grey. Joe uncurls a little because the bastard comes over and sits on his bed,
one knee bent so that Joe can see the fine, blond hair on his leg.
"Hey, you going to sleep already?" David asks, still scrubbing a towel against
his hair, leaving a cap of pale curls in its wake.
Joe shivers and turns over, away from David. "Yeah, do you mind? I'm tired."
"Oh. Sure. I – um, I think I'll go downstairs and watch a little TV."
"Yeah. Whatever. 'Night," Joe mutters, anything to get him out quickly.
"Goodnight, Joe." Joe starts to relax when David's hand comes to rest on Joe's
shoulder. His fingers tighten briefly and then, he's gone, turning out the
light and closing the door behind him. Joe wraps his arms his waist and groans
softly, fighting the urge to turn over and hump the mattress.
God. He is so totally screwed.
===============================================================================
PART TWO
David reaches down and points the head of his cock into Clarisse Bennet's hot,
wet pussy and with one jerk of his hips, he's in. He pants against the side of
her face for a couple of seconds, not daring to move because Christ, fuck, it
feels so good that he's going to come if either of them so much as twitch.
She's tight, it's like a pulsing velvet vise in there and she wraps her legs
around his waist, pulling him in further.
He's making all sorts of embarrassing noises and he hitches his hips just a
little, just a tiny test thrust to see if he's going to last more than five
seconds. It works, but Clarisse starts to squirm underneath him, whispering in
his ear in a soft, deep voice to come on, it's okay, do it and David can't wait
any longer.
 
He strokes in and out, slow and steady, burying his cock to the hilt, as far as
he can go and then, sliding out again until only the head is still encased in
that slick heat. Two, three times, he keeps going, toes pushing into the
mattress as he works to get deeper.
Clarisse grabs his head and kisses him hard, her tongue sliding into his mouth
and David loses the rhythm for a second, distracted because she's really,
really good at this. She's got the most amazingly curvy lips and they're soft
and warm and she tastes like, hmm, corn chips.
David feels the approach of his orgasm, up the back of his legs to the base of
his spine and oh wow, this is so cool, David thinks, lifting his head to look
down into hazel eyes. No, wait; Clarisse's eyes are blue –
David keeps moving, he can't stop, no power on earth is going to stop him now,
but it's Joe Flanigan's lean, smooth body that arches up against him and Joe's
pouty red mouth that smiles back him. "Fuck yeah, that's it," Joe says in a
sexy growl and David gasps and comes.
He wakes up during the first long pulse of his orgasm but he's not fully aware
of what's happening until he's shaking and panting and sticky all over. As soon
as he remembers where he is, David's eyes fly open and he raises his head to
see if Joe witnessed the whole of his wet dream. When he sees the bed empty,
David breathes a shuddering sigh of relief and staggers off to the bathroom to
clean himself up.
David's mostly recovered when he goes downstairs. That is, until he sees Joe
slouching on the couch, wearing just a pair of faded jeans. He's not much
bigger than David but Joe's skin is a pale California gold, nothing like his
own washed-out complexion.
He's noticed that Joe is a good-looking guy; he has that kind of boy-pretty
that even other boys can't pretend they don't notice. David had hated him as
soon as his dad told him they were going to New York and David hated him the
minute Joe walked up to him with his preppy clothes and his floppy hair.
But Joe had seen right through his bullshit and had called him on it and after
that, David couldn't help but see Joe was a nice guy, too. He didn't take
himself or his wealthy family too seriously and David had to respect that.
But liking Joe and noticing his good looks shouldn't translate to wet dreams
about fucking Joe's brains out because David knows he's straight and he's
almost sure Joe is, too. Despite that, David feels his cock twitch in his jeans
and he has to shove his hands in his pockets to hide the evidence of his
perversion.
Joe looks up and smiles at him. "Hey. It's about time. I just put some Dukes of
Hazzard in the VCR."
"Oh. Great," David says as he flops down on the couch beside Joe. "I love Daisy
Duke's tits."
"Hell, yeah. If I could only get a piece of that ass, I would die a happy man."
"I hear you."
~*~*~*~
They eat lunch on the terrace of the main house. Joe picks up the phone and
tells somebody they want club sandwiches and chips and drinks and by the time
they walk over, everything is ready, with linen napkins and real plates and a
vase of flowers on the table.
"Shit," David mutters when they sit down, not sure where to look – at the
amazing spread on the table or at the long, rolling lawn and the fringe of huge
trees that insulates them from civilization.
"What?"
"I feel like this is The Philadelphia Story and I'm Jimmy Stewart."
"If you say so."
"Haven't you ever seen The Philadelphia Story?" David frowns at Joe's blank
look. "Katharine Hepburn? Cary Grant?"
Joe shrugs and puts his napkin in his lap. "I don't really like old movies."
"You'd rather watch football, I suppose." David regrets the nastiness in his
voice as soon as the words are out. He's been on edge since he got up and a
late morning fight with his dad hadn't helped.
But his short temper has nothing to do with that and everything to do with Joe
Flanigan. David's getting kind of desperate, though, because it's been hours
since he had that dream and he can't stop thinking about it.
That and Joe's stupid laugh and his floppy hair and the way he carelessly
pushes it out of his sleepy, hazel eyes twenty times a day and his girly mouth
–
"Yeah. So?" Joe shoots back, his eyes narrow behind the curtain of hair.
David puts a couple of chips in his mouth. "So nothing," he replies with
casualness he is in no way feeling and they eat in silence.
Once they are done, a maid magically appears to clear their places and leave a
plate of cookies. Once she's gone, Joe says, "I heard you and your dad going at
it a while ago. What was that all about?"
David feels a flush of embarrassed anger go through him. "What, you were
eavesdropping?"
Joe glares back at him. "Will you back the fuck off? I was upstairs, okay? The
walls are pretty thin. I didn't mean t – oh, just forget it. It's not my
business." Joe stands up, grabs a couple of cookies and disappears into the
main house, slamming the door behind him.
David sits there, his heart pounding, feeling more out of sync than ever.
~*~*~*~
He goes back to the guesthouse – Rumpus House is stupid and David refuses to
call it that, even in his head – and flops down on the couch. The TV is on but
David can't concentrate on that.They're going home tomorrow and David is
surprised by the conflicting feelings that snarl inside him when he thinks
about it. He misses his friends; he even misses his little sisters. He hadn't
wanted to come to New York and he and his dad had argued viciously about it,
but David feels a pang of regret that he won't ever see Joe again.
David knows how it works – if he and Joe ever did meet up again, it would
likely be awkward and weird. And if they were with their own friends, they'd
each have to pretend like they'd never met, to keep their reps intact, like
their own fucked up version of "Grease". At least that would make David Danny
Zuko.
But it would hurt, David realizes, to see Joe's lazy smile and not be able to
return it. Vincenzo and Andre would think he had gone over to the dark side if
he showed up at a party with Joe. Joe just wouldn't fit in, any more than David
fits in here.
Joe doesn't show up for hours, long enough for David to fall into a light doze
on the couch. He sits up as soon as the door shuts and meets Joe's wary
gaze."I'm dropping out of school after the end of the term," David admits
quietly. "That's what this trip was all about."
Joe's lips press together in a grim line and he comes over to the couch. He
sits on the opposite end from David, facing straight ahead and just waits until
David's ready. And David starts to talk.
"He's horrified, of course. It's just not done, you know? I mean, he was pretty
shocked by the earrings and the acting and he's not too wild about my friends,
but this school thing?" David laughs and he's embarrassed when the sound comes
out a little broken. "Oh, man, he really hates this."
"So coming here? This was supposed to convince you to stay in school?" Joe
turns his head and gives David a small, mocking smile and David returns it,
finding kinship in the collective lameness of their fathers.
"Yeah. Can you believe he thought it would work?"
"Unfortunately, yeah, I can." Joe chuckles softly.
"What?"
Joe grins at him. "My dad has been using you as an example to me."
David laughs. "Really? Let me guess – don't let this happen to you."
"Oh, no. Even though he doesn't approve of quitting school and he sure as hell
doesn't think acting is a real profession, at least you know what you want to
do. You have goals and drive and focus. Me?" Joe shakes his head. "I don't know
what I'm going to do tomorrow."
David lets his head fall against the back of the sofa. "Fuck."
"Yeah." They sit there for a little while, until Joe gets to his feet. "Come
on. Let's get out of here."
David follows Joe outside and he assumes that they are going to the main house
or maybe for a drive, but Joe just keeps walking. The grounds are extensive and
he and Joe walk for what feels like miles, across long stretches of grass and
around and through clumps of huge trees. It's so quiet and bucolic that it's
easy to forget they're still in town.
He's not sure what they're doing, whether Joe has a destination in mind or he
just wants to move. The sun is barely above the trees now, and David can't help
but glance over at Joe now and again. They're leaving tomorrow, David keeps
reminding himself, and he won't ever see Joe again.
Every so often his hand brushes against Joe's and that's all it takes to make
David so hard that he has to alter his stride. This is stupid, coming out here,
being alone with Joe. But even knowing it, David follows.
All at once, David sees a flash of movement in the corner of his eye and before
he can react, Joe has him by the arms and slams him up against the rough bulk
of a two hundred year old tree. It almost knocks the wind out of David and then
it's the sight of Joe's flushed, angry face that wreaks havoc on his
respiratory system.
"What the fuck's the matter with you?" Joe growls, close enough to his face
that David can almost taste the soda on his breath.
David swallows. "W-what -- I don't know w--"
"You keep looking at me." Joe is almost panting. "Every time I look at you,
you're looking at me."
David lifted his chin, desperate to get out of this. "Well, so why do you keep
looking at me?"
Joe shoves at him again, but keeps his fingers tight around David's biceps.
"I'm not a fag."
"Neither am I," David shoots back, feeling a flush of anger of his own. Anger,
or maybe it was guilt because christ, this isn't fair. Joe is fucking beautiful
and why should David notice that another boy is beautiful when he never did
before?
He wants to push forward, into Joe's hip, wants contact with another body like
he wants to keep living. David draws in a breath that snags on the singular
scent that is Joe - sweat and soap and old money and recklessness - and David
melts a little, gives in a little, leans a little --
Nothing moves for a moment, it feels like the world freezes. Joe's gaze – hot,
pissed off – shifts down, to David's mouth and then back up again, need and
indecision sizzling in those brown-green depths and when those pouty lips part,
David can't stop himself.
He grabs Joe's head with both hands and presses his mouth against his and it's
as soft and warm as David has imagined, better than that dream he had because
he can taste Joe, can feel his heart pounding against his own, David can feel
everything –
For the first few seconds, Joe doesn't react but then, he's making a soft sound
into David's mouth and they're kissing, really kissing, with groans and tongues
and slick heat that's better than any wet dream that David's ever had.
Joe presses into David and David squeaks a little when he realizes that Joe is
just as hard as he is and apparently just as desperate. Joe slides his hands
down David's side to his ass and squeezes and grinds against him and David
thinks the top of his head is going to come off, it feels so fucking good.
The friction against his dick is just right, it's perfect and when Joe presses
his face into the side of David's neck, panting and grunting and rocking his
hips against him, David arches against Joe and comes so hard his vision goes
white for a moment.
He's still processing the whole I just lost my virginity to a guy thing when
Joe goes still and taut against him. David holds him until Joe relaxes and
leans boneless and heavy into him and they stay like that, pressed together and
struggling to breathe normally again.
David's not sure what to expect when Joe finally moves. He slowly lifts his
head off David's shoulder and fixes a soft, satisfied gaze on him.
"We shouldn't have done that," Joe whispers and David swallows nervously.
"Yeah, probably not."
Before the last word is out of his mouth, Joe's kissing him again, slow and
dirty and wet and David can only groan and hold on.
~*~*~*~
They practically run back to the guesthouse and once the door slams, they
pounce on each other. David pulls at Joe's shirttails and Joe goes to work on
David's zipper, shoving his hand into David's boxers before they even reach the
stairs. He wants to tell Joe to stop but it's hard to do with Joe's tongue in
his mouth.
He hasn't had a lot of experience but David's sure that nobody kisses as good
as Joe does. David sucks on Joe's tongue and Joe makes such a dirty sound that
David is practically climbing Joe, he's so desperate for skin-on-skin contact.
"What the hell?" Joe says, groping David's ass and pushing him up the stairs
with such urgency that David nearly stumbles."We're getting naked this time,
asshole," David says over his shoulder, taking the stairs two at a time. "And
don't try to get out of it."
David literally falls into bed, because his pants are around his ankles and he
can't get them off without taking off his boots first and that just delays
getting Joe on top of him. Joe follows him down, still pushing his jeans and
boxers past his hips and they both freeze the second their cocks brush against
each other.
"Oh, God," David groans, "That's – "
"Yeah," Joe breathes and they move with a frenzied kind of grace until they
come all over each other again in an embarrassingly short period of time.
David looks up into Joe's sweaty, red face and thinks he's never seen anything
so beautiful. Somehow, it's a little more awkward this time, with their skin
glued together by their come and the smell of sex around them but with Joe
breathing his air, David's not feeling much like complaining.
"I wonder how many times we can come before morning," Joe says thoughtfully and
David relaxes and grins.
"And your dad thinks you don't have goals." Joe lets go of David long enough to
whap him upside the head.
~*~*~*~
There's one more command dinner performance with their fathers, during which
Mr. Flanigan makes David an offer of a summer job with one of Anheuser-Busch's
Canadian distributors, with the possibility of something more permanent after
he finishes school.
David almost loses it when he hears Joe snort discreetly on the other side of
the dining table, but he politely declines the offer without further
explanation. David's dad tries to draw Joe out about his plans post-high
school, but Joe smiles and shrugs through the interrogation and David wants to
leap over the table and kiss him for it. Long before dessert is served, both
men give up and Joe and David are gracious in victory. Smug, but gracious.
~*~*~*~
"Come on, David."
"Are you sure about this?"
Joe's lying face down on the bed, his cock hard and leaking on the sheets. He's
shaking and sweaty and he wants this. After seventeen years of not being
committed to much of anything, Joe is committing to this with everything he's
got.
Even so, there's a tremor in his voice that he can't hide. "Oh, fuck, don't try
and talk me out of it now. We're here; let's do this."
David leans over him, brushing his mouth over Joe's ear, his cheek, touching
his hair with a tenderness that nearly breaks Joe. "It's just – I don't want to
hurt you."
Joe tries to laugh and doesn't quite make it. "This from the guy that pushed me
out of bed."
"Hey, I was trying to be inventive." He can sense David behind him, feel the
mattress jiggle, hear the wet sound of David coating his cock with the Vaseline
Joe found in the bathroom. The next thing he feels is David's fingers, sliding
between his cheeks and pressing against a place that nobody has been before and
Joe goes still, even while David seems to be coming apart. Over his shoulder,
David takes in an unsteady breath.
"Oh, God, Joe," he whispers, "I've never – you say the word and I'll stop,
okay? Just say it –"
"Just shut up and do it."
"All right." David's panting now. They both are. "I'll try to be quick."
"Don't worry about quick. Just do it right."
It takes a while but when David pushes just inside, Joe bites his lip to keep
from asking him to stop. It hurts and it feels weird and in those first
moments, Joe has serious doubts. But David keeps touching him, rubbing his back
and groping his ass and for once, Joe sees the benefit in the fact that David
loves to talk.
"Fuck, Joe, this is fucking amazing," David says, and his voice is that kind of
desperate that Joe's familiar with, the kind that comes with wanting something
you can't name, can't describe or even see. "Are you okay? Tell me you're okay,
ah, Jesus, should I stop?"
Joe concentrates on the sound of David's voice and the pain starts to back off
a little. Joe wants to tell David to keep going but the sensory overload is so
intense that he can't do anything but lie there and shake.
Somehow, David understands, David's a fucking genius and he starts to move,
gaining ground by the tiniest increments and Joe can feel his body stretch. It
scares him a little, the way he's splayed out, the way his body is just
accepting this when his head is still a little unsure –
And then, David shifts his hips and the most intense pleasure he's ever felt
explodes inside Joe and he cries out, all his earlier restraint gone in that
perfect moment.
"Oh, God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," David babbles.
"No, no, keep going, don't you fucking stop," Joe tells him, almost laughing at
David's panic, at everything that's happened over the last four days, and
everything that's changed forever.
Beneath him, his cock is getting hard again, and once the head of David's cock
has stroked over that spot a few more times, Joe is writhing and working his
hand between his belly and the mattress to jerk himself off.
It still doesn't feel great, having a guy's dick in his ass, but adrenaline has
Joe flying. Fuck me, Fuck me. The words become a litany in his head and he
wishes he could tell David he wants to turn over and watch him while he does
it, that he wants to come all over David while he fucks him.
But Joe can't talk, can barely move. When David comes, his mouth is open
against the back of Joe's neck, his moist breath on Joe's skin, muttering
something that Joe can't make out. Joe hisses when David eases out of him and
he nearly sobs in relief when David finally jerks him off.
When it's over, they cling together, kissing through a hot haze of exhaustion
and awe and bone-deep bliss.
~*~*~*~
They don't sleep together, because someone might walk in on them. But Joe
doesn't want to fall asleep; he doesn't want this to end yet. And there's one
other thing he wants, something that's been on his mind for hours. This time,
it's he who keeps talking while David falls silent in the dark.
His bed has never felt so empty and finally, in the middle of the night, Joe
crawls into bed with David.David shifts around and puts an arm over Joe's
waist, pulling him in tight, so that they're pressed together from chest to
toes. Joe rubs David's back with slow, long strokes and David squirms closer,
his eyes still closed.
"Joe," David whispers sleepily, "what's wrong?"
Joe licks his lips. Does he really have the nerve to do this? He decides that
he does. "If I asked you to do something, would you do it?"
David opens his eyes. "Depends. What are you asking?"
Joe hesitates, then gets to his feet, pulling David with him. "Come on."He
pulls David into the bathroom and Joe flips on the light, causing them both to
squint until their eyes adjust to the florescent glare. Joe moves in front of
David and rummages around in the vanity drawer. He turns around and his hand is
unsteady when he puts the eyeliner in David's hand.
"Put it on," Joe says with rough need in his voice. David's blue eyes widen for
a second before he takes it out of Joe's hand.He nods.
"Okay."
Joe stands behind him, his hands resting lightly on David's hips, as David
leans over the sink, looking in the mirror and carefully painting dark lines
around his eyes. Joe can't take his eyes off him. It's not so much the eyeliner
as it's David in the eyeliner and when he's done, Joe takes David by the
shoulders and turns him around.
Then, as tenderly as he knows how, Joe holds David's face in his hands and
kisses him until they're both shaking and dizzy.
They go back to David's bed and in the morning Joe's got eyeliner smeared on
his face and David has a bite mark on his shoulder. It's the only way they know
how to say goodbye.
~*~*~*~
Joe and David lean against the side of the car, a good two feet separating
them, while their dads say goodbye behind them."I wish you could see the dumb
grin on your face," David says with a dumb grin of his own. "You look like a
fucking idiot."
"That's a good one, coming from you, asshole," Joe says without a trace of
hostility. For a moment, Joe's eyes turn hot and dark with memories. "It's been
real, Hewlett," Joe says roughly.
"Yeah, I hear that," David replies, his blue eyes looking suspiciously shiny.
"I guess – um, I guess we shouldn't write?" Joe watches David's Adam's Apple
move when he swallows hard. "That's probably not a good idea, eh?"
Joe would swallow, too, except his throat is suddenly too tight to allow even
that. "I guess not," he answers unhappily and tries for a casual grin. "But
hey, I'll see you again, right? Up on the big screen?"
David smiles at him, the too-wide, dorky smile that Joe knows so well by now
and Joe's eyes start to burn. He starts to raise his hand, wanting to touch
David and give himself just one more sense memory but David's dad comes up to
them and Joe shakes his hand instead.
His pulse is so loud in his ears that Joe can't really follow the final
goodbyes. He doesn't know whether he should look at David or start the charade
now, the one where he acts like the past four days never happened. Making the
decision to freak out later, Joe reaches into his pants pocket just before
David gets into the car. "Hey, don't forget these."
David looks at him, then at the Ray-Bans before taking them out of Joe's hand,
his fingertips barely brushing Joe's palm.
"Where did you get those?" David's father asks.
David slips the glasses on, with a grin that isn't directed at Joe but Joe
devours it hungrily just the same. "These? I've had these forever," David tells
his father as he gets into the backseat.
Joe's dad gives him a look when the Hewletts drive away. "Weren't those your
glasses?"
Joe shakes his head. "No," he replies strongly, "they belong to David."
A couple of days later, Joe's dad takes him to the airport for his flight back
to California. Joe makes the usual promises to behave, study hard, blah, blah,
blah. He's glad when they announce boarding.
Joe can hardly sit still once he's strapped in. They taxi forever and he keeps
jiggling his leg, earning a glare from the older lady sitting next to him in
first class. Joe gives her his best smile and she relaxes a little after that.
The second that the fasten seat belt light goes off, Joe is out of his seat. He
makes a beeline for the bathroom, just ahead of another guy.
When he comes out, Joe's wearing one of David's gold studs in his newly pierced
ear.
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