No additional warnings for this scene.
"We have to." Andrew said it and shrugged. He and Nicholas were sitting in the kitchen, drinking beer for lunch. Nicholas always argued about it and Andrew always reminded him that there was no rule in the regs stating that you cannot drink beer for lunch on your day off, and Nicholas always lost the argument. In any case, Nicholas was following Andrew's lead – at the flat, only ever at the flat – more and more to the point that Andrew was beginning to feel like a fucking den mother to his bitches.
"No."
"Nick, fuck, we have to. He's seen us, he knows what we're doing an' it's killing him." Andrew rolled his eyes in frustration: with Nick, with Andy, with the whole damn problem.
"I'm sorry about that but…no."
"You want a fuckin' doctor's note?" Andrew taunted.
"As a matter of fact, yes, I do."
"Oh for fuck's sake!"
"If violating Andy is so important to you, do it yourself. I will not."
"Nick, your dick is fucking smaller." Andrew said it, holding his hands up in the air, indicating defeat. It was not a taunt, it was true, and they both knew it. "He needs it. He needs to try, at least try. I'll hurt him. You can't even take me sometimes, when we been at it."
Nicholas snarled himself this time, while blushing.
"You ever seen him watchin' us?" Andrew asked, leaning back, beer in hand, already knowing the answer.
"No." Nicholas sighed and leaned forward. "I thought he did not watch us. He makes a point of slamming the door to his room every time."
"He sneaks in like a kid at Christmas, just to look. Thinks he's all sneaky-creepy but I know he's there." Andrew wiggled his hands at 'sneaky-creepy' and Nicholas almost giggled. "He watches, and it kills him. He thinks we don't…" Andrew stopped before he said it and drank out of his beer.
"Thinks we don't want to, with him."
"Yeah." It was close enough to what he was thinking, and it was easier to agree. "I can't." Andrew grabbed his package, indicating size. "That leaves you."
Nicholas smacked the table with one hand. "YOU were the one who was there! YOU know what he went through! How can you even suggest this?"
Andrew glared at him, genuinely angry. "I fuckin' care for him more than you, you goddamn cunt."
"You love him, you homophobic moron."
Andrew crossed his arms and tried to think of a suitable way to beat the crap out of Nicholas without damaging the furniture.
"You love him, and you are fucking both of us. Get over it."
"I ain't fuckin' Andy." Andrew growled.
"But you want ME too? No."
"Someone needs too, and that's all there is too it. I'll get the damn doctor's prescription. How about 'Andy Cartwright is okay to ass fuck, Signed, Dr. Dickhead'. Good enough?"
"Would you stop being childish!"
"Stop being stupid! It needs to get done!"
"No."
"Danny."
Nicholas bounced up out of the chair and went for him, but he was a lightweight and one beer was enough to slow him down to harmless, at least by Andrew's scale of things. Andrew flicked him aside and he fell down in an unsteady heap.
"Fuck."
"'At's what you get for drinking yer lunch." Andrew smirked.
"You were joking about Danny."
"Yeah, sure, Nick. But only if you do it."
"Fuck!"
"Yeah, that's the spirit. Tonight?"
Andy came home exhausted but got dinner on quickly. Andrew kept giving Nicholas weighted looks, and Nicholas wished that Andrew would just go out to the pub or something.
"Why don't you go out to the pub or something?" He asked, sitting at his usual place in the kitchen, as Andrew stood by the back door watching Andy cook. Nicholas did not understand why Andrew enjoyed watching Andy cook. It was more like Andrew did not care what Andy was doing, as long as he was within his line of vision.
Andy stopped and looked back and forth between them. "Wot the fuhk you two on about?"
Andrew pursed his lips and looked guilty as hell. Nicholas sighed. "Andy, we…we were talking earlier. About you."
"'Bout me? So?"
"Andrew feels that one of us should try. For your sake."
Andy just stared at him, confused, and Andrew snorted.
"What Miss Angel is trying to say, it's time you got fucked."
Nicholas groaned in frustration and glared at Andrew.
Andy looked back and forth between them, the wooden stirring spoon held tightly in his hand. "Fuck me?"
Nicholas got up and held Andy by the shoulders. "Only if you want. You asked me once, and I said no. I won't say no this time."
Andy stepped backwards out of Nicholas reach. "He blackmailed you, did he?"
"What? No!"
Andrew looked even more guilty behind them.
"Yeahhh, he did." Andy turned on Andrew. "Fuckin' threaten him with Danny? 'Cause Nick wouldn' be offerin' this on his own."
Nicholas could not answer, because it was true, and Andrew did not answer for apparently the same reason.
Andy flushed, furious, and Nicholas honestly did not blame him.
"Now Andy, calm down…" Andrew stood up and walked towards Andy carefully.
"I'm fine! You think I'll melt down again over this? Fuck you!" Andy threw the spoon at Andrew, who did not even have time to deflect it. "And fuck you, Nick!"
"What are we supposed to do, Andy? You want one of us to do this to you and now, when we – I – will do it, you're angry?" Nicholas was getting mad himself. "No, I don't want to; yes, Andrew threatened me; and I think you can figure out why we agreed that it should be me and not him. I know who you'd prefer. But you have me. Or nothing."
"Then I guess I got nothin'." Andy snarled and stopped long enough to turn off the stove and put the milk back in the fridge before he left, clearly not trusting the other two to do so. They just stared, speechless, at him. When the front door slammed, Nicholas turned to Andrew.
"You and your brilliant ideas, Andrew."
"Shut it, Arsewipe."
Nicholas sighed and sat down. "Do we know where he went?"
Andrew looked thoughtful, then confused, as he sat down across from Nichols. "Not Doris, not in this mood…damn, no. I got no fuckin' clue where he went."
They just stared at each other across the table, in the kitchen, with dinner half cooked on the stove.
Andrew looked around. Danny's flat was clean but cluttered, and the only part of it that looked lived in was the couch.
Danny shrugged, looking with him. "Not much, but 'ome. Have a seat." Danny waved him towards the couch and Andy went and sat down. "We can watch a movie?" Danny suggested as he put up his jacket.
"Yeah."
"Good thing you caught me out the office, Andy. Tomorrow's my day off an' I was goin' to the pub."
"Nicholas weren't there."
Danny stopped, surprised.
"You ain't too sneaky about spyin' on 'im." Andy shrugged.
"Oh." Danny looked around, trying to change the subject. "Well…here you are then. So…Andy, why are you here? No offense but not like we're close mates."
"And I'm fucking Nick."
Danny rolled his eyes. "Yeah. That too, now that you mention it."
"Coulda' left me on the street."
"Not after you asked me to help you. That woulda' been rude."
"You're…a good bloke, Danny."
Danny looked uncomfortable at that and went to busy himself in the kitchen. "Want a beer? How about some snacks? I could cook up…oh, there you are." Danny stood with all the kitchen cabinet doors open as Andy walked in. He stepped back as Andy looked authoritatively through the shelves and pulled stuff out.
"Nick bought that, long time ago…." Danny pointed at the jar of olive oil in Andy's hand.
"Still good. Would you sit down?" Andy pointed at the small dinette set in the corner.
"Oh. Okay. You going to cook, then?"
"Yeah."
"Nick don't like it when I watch him cook. You sure?"
Andy stopped dead and looked at him. He had never seen Nicholas cook, outside of bachelor meals, and did not even know that he could. Or that he would. "Nick cooks for you?"
"Sure. Nice meals. He likes all that fancy stuff, though, organic this and that and vegetables and lots of basil. And rice…"
"Brown rice. It's crap. Won't let me use anything else." Andy turned back around, armed with this new and very, very interesting intelligence.
"Won't…let…you?" Danny sounded confused, and Andy realized that there was a lot going on that Danny simply did not know. He decided to let it go, for now.
Danny sat on the couch eating the great, non-organic, no-veggies, multi-cheese pasta meal that Andy made for them. They were watching Rio Bravo, which was actually one of Danny's father's favorite movies and something like a comfort zone for Danny. He knew it so well it could run on forever and he'd barely register it.
"Andy, why are you here? I mean, great food, but, kind of weird for you to ask my help. And how am I helping you?"
"I'm pissed off with them."
"Them?"
Andy was startled, and took a moment to answer. "Andrew can be an ass. Nick is just…fuhkin' up."
"Oh he does that really well." Danny agreed. "So you and Nicholas…er…breaking up?"
"No."
"Oh."
"Sorry."
"No, no, s'okay…I mean…Andy: why are you here?"
"I needed some place to go. Just to get away from them."
"Them?"
Andy finally snorted in exasperation. "I'm doin' both of them, okay? Can we not talk about that?"
Danny nodded, not very surprised, except that he never took Andrew that way. Ever. "And they don't mind…sharin'?" Danny asked tentatively, knowing full well that Nicholas did not mind, but not at all sure that Andrew would happy with something like that.
Andy studied him for a long second. "No."
"So you just wanted a place to get away?"
"Someplace neither cunt will think too look."
Danny got it. The last place on earth Nicholas would look for anything, right now, was Danny's flat. They sat together in silence after that and watched the movie for a while. Andy eventually got up and cleared the dishes away, and put up the leftovers, and turned out the light in the kitchen before walking back in. Danny paused the movie when he got up, so sat ready with the remote.
"Ready?"
"You stopped?"
"Sure. Didn't want you to miss any of it. Always stop the movie when Nick cleans up…" Danny trailed off and looked back at the TV, obviously upset and missing Nicholas.
Andy looked at him, then sat down…on the floor, between his legs.
"Er…Andy…wot you doin'?"
"Sitting."
"On the floor?"
"You gonna keep bitchin' or start the movie?"
Danny hit the play button, but stared at the man between his legs. Eventually Andy twisted sideways and wrapped an arm over Danny's leg, and rested his head on that arm, leaning into the couch and into Danny. It was oddly comfortable, and comforting, and Danny reached out and began petting his hair, running his fingers through it and playing with the curly strands as he watched the movie. If a man could purr, Danny thought that Andy was, and that pleased Danny somehow in a strange way.
He remembered manhandling Andy and he suspected this was all a part of what Andy liked, being on the floor and cooking and all that. This was exactly that, he realized: Andy was resting within the sphere of Danny, within his protection, and needing nothing more than his attention. Danny loved it, and suddenly wished only that it was Nicholas instead.
Andy did not really understand why he asked Danny to take him in for the night. If anything, there should be bad blood between them – if Nicholas was a woman, there certainly would be. But Danny did not seem to lay any of that at Andy's feet, and took him in, and let him cook for him and sit next to him and played with his hair. It was damnably domestic and not much of what he got from either Andrew or Nicholas. Danny was clearly ignorant of what was going on between those two, and Andy decided on the spot that Danny would never find out from him…unless he asked, because he also decided on the spot that he would never be like Nicholas: He could not ever, for any reason, lie to Danny.
"So, okay, turn around." Danny tapped him on the head, and Andy did exactly what he was told, sitting with his legs drawn up. Danny shifted his feet out so that they rested on either side of his hips, and Andy thought he would die of pleasure. Danny got what neither Andrew nor Nicholas did: that it was about being next to them, held by them, protected by them, less than about the orders. It was about knowing that the person giving the orders needed him.
"So what happened with Nick, Andy? Why you here?"
Andy was not going to lie, but he needed to know if Danny understood what he was asking. "It's tough, Danny. You sure you want to hear this, then?"
Danny shrugged. "Nicholas fucked up? I can handle that by now."
"No, not just that. Me."
Danny looked down at him, then leaned forward and put one hand on his neck, rubbing his skin with his thumb. "I don't know what you been through, Andy. I don't got to know, okay? But what you need to say, you can say to me."
If Andrew was not the center of his universe, he would have fallen in love with Danny right then. As it was, he held that feeling back, and simply told Danny what was going on…leaving out Andrew's involvement completely. A sin of omission, but a merciful one, in this case.
If Danny was rattled by the story of Nicholas' offer, he did not show it. Instead he leaned back and inspected Andy critically.
"But ain't that what you want?"
"Yes…no…I ain't no charity case."
"Oh." Danny looked thoughtful. "You want 'im to want you, like that. Not just do it because he thinks he needs to."
Andy blinked. He never came to that conclusion on his own, but upon hearing, knew it was right. "Yeah, Danny, that's it."
"Sounds like Nick." Danny grinned. And
y smiled back and then looked away nervously, because in that grin, Andy saw…something.
"But he blew it…as usual…so now you got no one. Not…Andrew?" Danny asked tentatively.
"He's…uh…" Andy motioned with his hands as to size, and Danny just about died laughing.
"No!"
Andy nodded.
"Gods I don' blame you there, Andy. Ow."
Andy nodded, giggling like a school girl. He forgot for a while that Danny was actually Nick's bottom, and knew something of girth and length issues. Then he stopped, realizing that what he was thinking for most of the evening was that Danny was Nick's top. Now he was confused.
"Andy, if it is that important to you, just let Nick do it. You'll get to better stuff later."
"Ain't you fuhkin' in love with 'im? And you tellin' me that?"
Danny leaned back and studied his hands. "I love him, sure, Andy. But he ain't mine now, yeah? I love him…I'm…jealous of you. But that don't change nothin'."
They sat quietly for a few moments.
"You."
"Me? What?"
"You." Andy laid a hand on the upper part of Danny's thigh, and felt Danny twitch in understanding.
"No."
"Danny…"
"No, Andy, you listen. You are with Nicholas, okay? And, er, Andrew too. So I ain't goin' be a part of you, er, cheating on them."
Andy was almost relieved to hear that as an answer. "It's not like that, with those too. We aren't datin', for fuck's sake. I can do who I want."
"I seen the way Andrew looks at you these days, Andy. I didn't know it gone quite, er, that far, but I'm sayin' I think he feels that it is like dating." Danny scooted uncomfortably, but Andy did not let go of his leg.
"That's between him and me, then."
"Erhm…no." Danny squirmed some more and Andy finally removed his hand. He clasped his hands together and looked up at the ceiling.
"Danny, I ain't lettin' either one of 'em do it. Not this first time. I don' know…Christ, Danny, I don't even know if I can."
Danny looked at him, surprised. "So it's still about them, then? You don't want to disappoint them by not being…able?"
Surprised at the sudden insight, Andy nodded.
"What do you want, though, Andy? Don't you count for anything?" Danny asked it honestly and sincerely and Andy tried not to break down as he shook his head.
"I nearly got Andrew killed. Safi did what she did to get at him, not me. She hated him, she was toyin' with him. Everything was to get at him…and she did. He's different now; you don't see it much, but I see it, every day. I don't remember half of what she did, but he remembers everything. It 'bout killed 'im, maybe it did kill some part of 'im, and it was my fault." Andy sniffed, trying to collect himself, before he looked at Danny again. "I asked Nick to do this before. He said no, and….I lost it, just went out of my head."
"The broken mirror?"
"Yeah, that. And…I know, I knew, that you and Nick and Liz broke up over me. So when he said no it felt like there was no way I could make it up to anyone. I just could not deal with what I put everyone through, and what happened to Andrew because of me. Do I count? Do I fucking count? No. Not ever." He finished off angrily.
Danny sat and listened, quietly, and not arguing as Nicholas or Andrew would – and did – every time Andy said anything like this, which was not often. Instead Danny listened and just looked at him, absorbing his words.
Finally Danny leaned forward and put Andy's face in his hands, and drew him into a kiss. Danny tasted sweet and his kiss was not the fierce passion of Nicholas, or the gentle warmth of Andrew: it was firm and solid and loving. He stopped and whispered into Andy's ear.
"You count, always. You count. Okay?"
Andy nodded and Danny moved back to his kiss, which Andy did not want to end. He brought his hands up to hold onto Danny's large, heavy arms. They felt like an anchor to him then, as opposed to the lithe and darting bodies of 'them.' Danny broke off again and moved back to his ear.
"'Ey, lets take this to the bedroom, yeah?"
Danny had some idea what he was doing. He almost never topped in his life, but he always liked the idea, and he knew from the reverse what it took and how to do it. He was, honestly, terrified of doing this to Andy, for fear of hurting him. But he knew he was not any bigger than Nicholas and if Andy thought he could take him, then he could take Danny…or no one.
He pulled Andy next to him and kissed him as they undressed. He had seen Andy naked before and appreciated him that way, and Andy had at least seen most of Danny before, so there was a certain comfort level there when they got started. It quickly dissipated as they kept going, as the kisses became deeper and more exploratory, and as Danny drifted his hand down Andy's body. It was not that Andy was acting shy, but rather, reserved, as if he needed to hold back, or he was waiting on Danny to do something. Danny was not quite used to taking the full lead on matters and there were awkward moments when they both paused, waiting on the other, although soon Danny managed to pick up the momentum between them.
Danny decided that the best way to calm Andy down was to get him off. He kept it to a simple hand job, holding Andy next to him so tightly that he felt the tip of Andy's cock pressing into his abdomen. Andy pressed against him, crying out, whining and making beautiful noises that Danny hoped to remember forever.
"C'mon, love, come for me…" Danny whispered, and Andy did, crying out, pushing his cock into Danny's hand with aggressive thrusts. Danny kissed him and then rolled them over. He gently guided Andy onto his stomach, and Andy, knowing what was next, pulled up his knees and propped his head on his arms.
Danny pulled the lube out before they even started, keeping it close by, to avoid awkwardness later. Now that 'later' was here, he went to lube up his hand and then stopped, looking down over Andy. They kept one low light on, for convenience, and now it's faint glow spread out over Andy's corrupted back. The scars were unimaginable, crossing over each other in horrible patterns, slick and ghostly white against Andy's skin.
"God, Andy, I never seen it before…ohmygod…" Danny spoke softly in wonderment, and ran his hands delicately over Andrew's back. As he looked, he saw that the scars kept going down off his back to his arms, and over his ass, and down his legs. It was as if the front and the back side of Andy were two different skins, one beautiful and pale and soft with a slight, dark fuzz to it; the other horrible and cruel and scarred. It was simply the most dreadful thing that Danny ever thought to see in his life.
Andy sat back on his heels and looked over his shoulder. "Three hundred and twenty two stitches…but I tol' you, I don't remember much of it."
"I never saw you like that. I got there after the ambulance took you off."
"That bitch ruin most of me." Andy said, and his voice cracked, emotion and anger and fear to spare.
Danny wrapped his arms around Andy, pulling their bodies together, and held his face against the ruined skin. "You're alive, Andy. What else, all this, don't matter. Andrew loves you and…maybe Nicholas does to. And you're here and all of you is beautiful, Andy, and whatever we do, you're going to stay with me until the sun goes down tomorrow."
Andy showed up late the next evening, to Andrew's near hysterical relief. Before Nicholas could even say anything, Andrew was smothering Andy in his arms, kissing his neck and face, apologizing and swearing that Andy was the most important thing in his world and please, god, please, don't ever leave like that again. Nicholas just stared, mouth agape, at the protestations coming from Andrew's mouth.
Andy smiled and pushed him off. He then looked at both of them in turn.
"I'm good." He smiled, genuinely happy, but Nicholas thought he looked utterly exhausted as well. As if he just ran a marathon or…
"Andy…who?" Nicholas got it before Andrew did.
"Who what?" Andrew looked back and forth between them, and they saw his entire demeanor change when understanding finally hit. He looked devastated and furious in the next moment, but unwilling to attack Andy as he clearly wanted to do. Nicholas raised his hands.
"Not me, Andrew, I was…here." He blushed.
Andy snickered. "I don't care how much you two fuck. Not anymore. I'll get mine."
Andrew was shaking with rage. "Andy…WHO?" He turned and pointed at him.
"Whoever I want. We ain't married." Andy said it sternly, but otherwise seemed totally unconcerned about Andrew's fury.
"And you are okay?" Nicholas asked, bypassing Andrew.
"I'm great. If you want to find out laaaaterrrrr." Andy smiled, somewhat alluringly, and acting a bit silly as if he were punch-drunk with fatigue. Nicholas grinned, happy for him, and entirely willing to find out later.
Andrew picked up a chair and smashed it against the wall.
Andrew was furious at himself, but would not admit that to them. It should have been him, and he knew it, and he was cowardly about it the whole time. He hoped to use Nicholas as his errand boy and only ended up driving Andy into someone else's bed. Someone.
It was true that they were not married and in Andrew's mind, it was not even like dating. He knew that there was an open door policy in this, he just never expected Andy to take it. Andy was his, and he was willing to share with Nicholas because, in some strange way, Nicholas was there first and went through a lot with the both of them to get here. To think of Andy with anyone else, though, was simply wrong. Wrong in every way.
After he smashed the chair he went to his own room, slamming and even locking the door on them. He stayed there all night even when he heard the noises he knew meant that Nicholas was up into Andy, fucking him, and enjoying it. Nicholas did the same thing before Andy was damaged by Safi, when Andy lived with him for a while. It was something those two shared and clearly enjoyed. Andrew, though, did not know anything of the kind with Andy, becoming his lover long after the damage was done. He never expected to, in all honesty, and so it was with surprise and self-recrimination that he realized that he wanted to, desperately, but was now goddamn fucking third in line.
He laid on his bed and steamed, and the next day pretended that nothing was wrong, life was good, and he was utterly content.
He refused to touch Andy. At all.
"You drove him off, so you can't punish him for it." Nicholas lectured at him as he was getting dressed. Andrew was on the couch, where he had taken to sleeping again when Nicholas was there. When Nicholas was not there, he slept in his own room.
"Fuck off, Nick."
Nicholas tucked his shirt in. "You're not being fair."
"You my fuhkin' dad now? Need me to call him so you two can 'discuss'?"
"He came back. It obviously was not someone important to him."
"I don't care who it was."
"Oh for FUCK'S SAKE, you don't think I'm buying that, do you? You are insane with jealousy. You're just mad because you know it should have been you and you were too cowardly to try." Nicholas put on his jacket.
Andrew shook in anger, but Nicholas called him out right on all of it, and he could not bring himself to fight. Nicholas moved closer and leaned over the couch, talking quietly.
"If you love him, if you really love him as I think you do, you will not keep hurting him like this with your own self-recriminations." Nicholas stood up, gave him a stern look, and left for work.
Cursing Nicholas for being the pushy, self-righteous prick that he was, Andrew marched back to the bedroom and woke Andy up by barging in.
"Wot?" Andy blinked at him. He looked clean and still somewhat damp from the shower he took with Nicholas earlier. "Oh you here now?"
"Who?" Andrew said, standing at the foot of the bed. Andy sat up and pulled the sheets around him as if warding off the cold.
"That's my business."
"You let 'im?"
"Yes, you fuckwad, 'course I did."
They only stared at each other for a moment before Andrew climbed over the footboard and grabbed Andy by the shoulders. He was shaking in rage and jealousy and instinctively knew he was dangerous, but he also knew that he could never, ever hurt Andy. So he was not exactly sure of what he wanted to do until he did it, pulling Andy into deep, tangled kiss that reminded them both of only one thing: the cellar where they thought they were going to die. It was the same life-giving breath flowing through them in that kiss, and it was electrical. Andrew straddled Andy, the sheets between them, and sat down on his lap, moving his arms under Andy's so as to pull him up into his mouth. He ran one hand gently over the scars on Andy's back and they both groaned in reaction.
It was not that they never kissed, or never touched; they had been lovers for almost a year now and there was very little skin they did not share. But Andrew knew he held back, not physically but emotionally. He always had, his whole life, and did not expect to change. Some of his own scars were deep and he simply did not trust people that much. Fucking was something else, personal and emotional of course but it did not have to include revealing your soul if you did not want it to, and he never did. In the cellar, though, when he thought Andy was as good as dead and that he was going to die too, he allowed Andy in to his broken sanity, and let Andy, the bloodied and dying one, get him off, and he never felt so open or raw or devastated as in the moment when he came and felt Andy go still in his arms. He honestly believed Andy was dead then, and howled in grief and rage while clinging to the fleshly bounds of the only person he could ever honestly say he loved. It was the fury of loss that possessed him then, and it was nearly the same now. He was terrified, flat out in fear of his life, of losing Andy; to death or another lover did not matter. It was the idea that Andy might one day simply be gone which obsessed him.
That was the kiss he gave Andy now, and Andy knew it.
He used his legs to brace them as he leaned them back onto the bed, never breaking the kiss for an instant. He laid down on top of Andy, the sheets still between them but not providing much barrier to their hard-ons. Andrew was still straddling Andy, using his body as a shield against everything in the world that might take him away. He held and caressed Andy's face as their tongues moved in familiar territory but to a new rhythm.
Eventually Andrew pulled the sheets away and they ground against each other, kissing and gasping. Andrew drug his mouth away but could not look at Andy, instead pressing his face into his neck.
"Fuck, Andy…I'm sorry…"
"Shut it." Andy forced his face back up and they shared a brief, dark glance before pushing each other back into the kiss.
Andrew finally moved his legs between Andy's and pulled his knees in to draw Andy up. He broke off the kiss and laid his head next to Andy and Andy wrapped his arms around him. "I'm going to hurt you, mate…it won't be easy." He was still worried, even now, and was willing to stop if Andy was scared.
"Jus' fuckin' do it already." Andy answered, and kissed his ear, making him gasp in surprise and pleasure as Andy's tongue glided over and inside.
Even with the lube, it was not easy. They went very slowly but Andrew was thick and long and it nearly broke Andy, who refused to stop even then, crying in pain, his hands shaking. They were both lathered like racehorses by the time Andrew was fully sheathed, and panting, and exhausted, and the sex had not even started yet. Andrew held himself in, not moving, letting Andy's muscles relax and calm down, feeling them clinch and unclench around his cock, which was a delightful kind of torture. Finally he felt safe pulling out and moving back in, and after the first few thrusts Andy's back arched in response and he groaned in very painful pleasure.
He looked down at Andy and knew that he had him, completely, in a way he never did or could before. It was not enough.
"What you want, then?" He asked, running one hand over Andy's cock, willing to offer anything that would turn Andy on.
Andy shook his head. "Don' need nothin'. Got all I want, watchin' you." He smiled, and there was truth to what he said, Andrew knew. But it still was not enough.
"Fuck'all, mate, this isn't about me. It's us." He steadied himself with his legs, pushing his cock deeper into Andy, and brought both hands up to hold his face, delicately, longingly, running a thumb over his lips.
Andy looked at him, impassioned and heated, but his eyes were lucid and focused on Andrew. "Say it."
Andrew shook his head, confused, but kept Andy's face in his hands. "Wot?"
"Fuck it you know…" Andy closed his eyes used his legs to push Andrew deeper into him, whining at the pain.
Andrew nodded and moved his hands to grab the upper part of Andy's arm, almost to the shoulder, and Andy shifted to match the hold on Andrew. Their arms were laced together as one pushed down and the other supported and Andrew rolled his back to move his hips, slowly pushing and pulling himself in and out of Andy. Slowly. He never came like this during sex, usually throwing himself into it and crashing through to an orgasm fast and pounding. This was different, and it was something he did to himself very rarely, to drag out the sensation of coming. He moved very slowly and went very deep and concentrated very hard on the sensation, which was overwhelming in this case because it was not his own hand rubbing him, he was inside Andy. It was the first time he did it this way with any lover and it was exquisite. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, tightening his grip on Andy's arms to the point he knew there would be bruises later, and rhythmically kept at his slow, ponderous fucking. Going like this he knew it would be long time before he came, and he relished it, nodding to himself in pure pleasure.
Andy held up under the duress, and knew it was different, and trusted Andrew in it. Andrew's speed finally picked up as he reached the point of losing control, but not much, and he was sliding in and out of Andy in long, pressured motions as he felt the sensation start and began gasping for breath. He had to be here to do this, he could not have done it earlier, or in any other way, or at any other time, and he thought it might be the only time it would ever happen anyway:
"God fuckon, mate…I love you…don't ever fuckin' leave…I love you…yesssss…" He said the last through clinched teeth. His hips shuddered and he just barely bucked against Andy as he came.
Andy knew the door was closed. Whatever or whoever Andrew might do – and he might, Andy understood that much – Andy could not. Nicholas was a given, and something in the manner between those two indicated (to him at least) that things were moving in a more serious direction there, despite Nicholas' pining for Danny. And Danny himself… Andy kept their secret as a warm, safe place in his heart, cherished and remembered. Nonetheless, Andy belonged to Andrew now, and maybe they were not married and maybe it was not dating but it was certainly total and complete ownership.
Andy was never happier in his life than he was now.
Characters: Andrew Wainwright, Andy Cartwright, Danny Butterman, Nicholas Angel
Narrative mode: third-limited