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Eddie’s always touched Andrew, as long as he can remember. An arm draped over his shoulder, a hand on the back of his neck, casual bumps and brushes. That has always been part of their relationship. Over the years, of course, Andrew began paying more attention to it, wondering if it remained the same as it always had been or if it meant more, if he was supposed to read into it more as they got older and more comfortable in their bodies, more aware of the touch of another.
Andrew used to think about that only when the touches happened, only in the moment. Now, the wonder plagues him always, moving and breathing with him no matter where he goes, what his proximity to Eddie is.
He thinks it’s become more, since they’ve gotten to college. More lingering, more weight behind it. Sometimes they lie in bed, reading or studying or watching something, and sometimes Andrew starts to drift off, and sometimes he swears he can feel Eddie touching him right before he falls asleep. Eddie’s fingers tracing the veins of his arms, the pattern of the tattoo Eddie gave him. Eddie’s lips, his breath on Andrew’s neck. Eddie’s legs intertwined with his own. Eddie’s hands on his stomach, explorative, curious.
He knows he must be hallucinating it.
Except tonight, they’re lying in bed, doing readings for class; Andrew is completely awake, and Eddie knows . There’s no false pretext of sleep. He felt Eddie drop his book, felt Eddie’s eyes on him as he read his own. He is still absolutely taken aback when Eddie presses his lips to Andrew’s neck. His eyes lose focus on the words, his world going still as he feels Eddie’s lips move on his skin, Eddie’s breath making his hairs stand on end.
“Ed?” he says apprehensively.
Eddie’s response is parting his lips, pressing his tongue to Andrew’s skin. Andrew pulls away unconsciously, leaning forward and just slightly.
“Eddie,” he says again, turning his head to look at him. Eddie’s looking back, and he reaches a hand out, rests it on Andrew’s chin.
“Don’t think about it,” he says. Eddie leans forward, and then he’s kissing Andrew , and Andrew pulls away again.
He looks at Eddie, who’s still watching him, and takes a moment to think. This is Eddie . His Eddie. His best friend. And Andrew thinks he wants this. He thinks about every other touch Eddie has given him, that he’s thought about for days on end wondering if it was supposed to mean anything. He isn’t even sure if this means anything. But he thinks he wants it.
When Eddie sits up, and cradles Andrew’s face in his hands, and kisses him, Andrew doesn’t back away again. He lets it happen; he reciprocates.
Kissing Eddie is as easy as breathing. They already know each other inside and out, so what is this added layer? It’s practically nothing.
It’s practically nothing.
Eddie’s turned, his hand is on Andrew’s shoulder, and he’s pushing Andrew back. Andrew goes willingly, returning to his reading position but leaving the book forgotten. Eddie’s hand moves over his shirt from his shoulder to his chest to his nipple, and Andrew gasps at the contact. Eddie just continues on, as if none of this is out of the ordinary, none of this phases him. His hand eventually finds its way under Andrew’s shirt, but instead of going up like Andrew expects it to, it’s going down, under the band of his sweatpants and boxers, and before he knows it, Eddie’s hand is on his dick .
Andrews breaks the kiss then, pulling back only inches, his eyes wide. Eddie’s hand stills but his grip remains.
Eddie just looks at Andrew, eyebrows raised. Andrew thinks about saying something, but he’s so distracted by where Eddie’s hand is, and by how good it feels to be here with him, doing this with him, and he doesn’t want to ruin it. He doesn’t want to lose this, this rare opportunity he doesn’t know why he’s getting now and may never get again.
Andrew nods. Eddie kisses him again, harder, hungrier. He starts moving his hand on Andrew, and Andrew starts breathing hard, letting out little sounds into Eddie’s mouth.
He feels so vulnerable, more vulnerable than any other time he’s had sex. It’s different with Eddie. He’s known Eddie longer than anyone else, is closer to him than anyone else. Yet, he never thought he would share this side of himself with Eddie. He didn’t think he wanted to, and even when he did, he didn’t think Eddie wanted to.
Eddie’s mouth leaves Andrew’s and Andrew watches as he moves down to mouth at his neck. Andrew leans his head back to give him more room, better access. Eddie bites, and sucks, and Andrew’s hand instinctively grabs onto the back of Eddie’s shirt.
It’s more of that for a while, bruises-to-be left all over Andrew’s neck, his hand moving torturously slow over Andrew, keeping him turned on and hard but not getting him anywhere near the edge that Andrew craves.
Then Eddie is pulling back, crawling down the bed, pulling Andrew’s sweats and boxers down on the way, and Andrew is completely lost to what he’s doing until Eddie’s hand is around the base of his dick and his mouth is approaching the tip and his intent is very clear.
Andrew holds his tongue, and holds his breath as Eddie’s mouth wraps around his dick. It’s so unreal to see him in this position, to see him sucking Andrew off , because of who they are and because of who Eddie is. Eddie, who won’t even let people assume he’s anything other than straight. Eddie, who would never let anyone so much as think he would touch another dick, let alone put it in his mouth.
In the back of his head, Andrew wonders if this will become a secret.
Eddie is good at this, good enough to warrant Andrew wondering if he’s ever done it before, but that thought is ridiculous. He keeps his mouth around the tip and his hand around the base, and Andrew can’t help but drop his head back and let out a drawn-out moan.
“Fuck,” he breathes, and looks down at Eddie.
The sight alone is almost enough for him to forget the pleasure rolling through his body, taken out by the fact that this is Eddie . Almost, but not quite.
Andrew thinks he maybe feels this more because it’s Eddie. This is everything left unsaid under the years of touching, of physical presence and comfort in each other’s lives. This is the line that had been begging to be crossed the entire time, and it’s about to ruin Andrew.
“Eddie,” he says before he can even think about it, “Eddie, stop.”
Eddie does stop, eyes moving up to Andrew’s to give him a curious look.
Andrew takes a moment, eyes closed, to catch his breath before saying, “I was about to come.”
He doesn’t know why, after everything else, he feels shy saying that , but he does. He says it quietly, uncertain.
Eddie smiles up at him. “Come, then.” He puts his mouth back on Andrew, taking almost all of him in one go, and Andrew hisses through his teeth.
Did Eddie… tell him to come in his mouth ?
Jesus.
Andrew’s breathing is fast and hard, his body shaking from the pleasure, heat rising under his skin. He’s fighting the urge to close his legs around Eddie’s head. He’s so, so close.
He doesn’t expect it when he comes, but there’s no way he could stop it. His eyes screw shut, his back arched off the bed, his hand gripping the sheets as hard as he can because he’s afraid to put them on Eddie, afraid to make this something it isn’t.
Eddie keeps going, swallowing around him, drawing out all of his orgasm and not relenting even then. His mouth keeps going until Andrew begs him to stop, way overstimulated.
Eddie sits up when he’s done, licking his lips. Andrew watches in silence, partially unable to comprehend what just happened. They just sit like that, staring at each other, breathing heavily, until they’re not breathing heavily anymore. Andrew’s mind is empty, and it’s going to explode. He can’t figure out why any of this is happening. He isn’t sure he wants to know.
Eddie sits next to Andrew again, leaning back against the wall. Andrew watches him, and Eddie doesn’t meet his gaze this time. Eventually, Andrew moves, leaning over to rest a tentative hand on Eddie’s stomach, touching Eddie as if he’s a cat that could decide to hate Andrew the moment he makes a wrong move. Eddie looks at him after that, but he doesn’t stop it, so Andrew continues on. He presses his face into Eddie’s shoulder, kissing the dip in the skin between his muscles.
“Andrew,” Eddie says quietly, and Andrew fears he’s messed up. He moves his face away, looking up at Eddie. “You don’t have to.”
It’s not a rejection, which Andrew is grateful for, but it’s still confusing. Andrew can’t rationalize Eddie doing that unless he wanted something in return. Even then, he didn’t look as if he expected anything in return. He looked completely content to move on.
“I want to,” Andrew says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.
“Okay,” Eddie says, and Andrew watches his face for another moment to make sure there’s no hesitation. There isn’t.
Instead of going back to exactly what he was doing before, Andrew gets on top of Eddie slowly, straddling him, moving his hand from the center of Eddie’s stomach to his side. His other hand finds it’s way to Eddie’s shoulder, his jaw under Andrew’s thumb. He looks at Eddie, and Eddie looks back, and he still can’t rationalize any of this. It feels obvious to him now, that he’s wanted this for quite some time, but he never thought Eddie would. Despite everything, he’s still not sure Eddie wants this now.
He does, Andrew knows, but not in the same way he wants it.
He kisses Eddie’s neck, returning the favor of hickies, though the ones he leaves could be easily covered by a shirt. He feels Eddie’s hands in his hair, fingertips running gently along his scalp, small knots being pulled out by Eddie’s fingers.
“Andrew,” Eddie says, “let me fuck you.”
Andrew breathes sharply, his lips leaving Eddie’s skin, and a shiver runs down his spine. Let me fuck you. What the fuck has he gotten himself into?
“Okay.”
Eddie flips him effortlessly, and Andrew had never considered being manhandled nor did he think he’d be into it, but it might warrant more thought given how much it turns him on. His back hits the mattress hard, and it knocks the wind out of him.
Eddie sits next to his legs, removing fully Andrew’s clothes he crudely left on before. Andrew’s sweatshirt is still on, and part of him thinks it makes more sense to take it off, but he leaves it.
Andrew watches Eddie as he leans forward, looks around in the drawer next to his bed, can’t find what he’s looking for, and stands. He fishes around some other places, but Andrew doesn’t watch. He looks up at the ceiling, thinking about how he’s lying in Eddie’s bed, half naked, about to be fucked by his best friend.
Eddie returns to the bed with lube, pulling Andrew’s legs open and sitting between them. Eddie pointedly looks between his legs, his gaze slowly trailing upwards until his eyes meet Andrew’s.
“You’re beautiful,” he says. It makes Andrew flush.
He wishes he believed him.
It’s not that he doesn’t think he’s desireable–he does, he knows he’s hot–but that he doesn’t think Eddie means it. Eddie has never called him anything like that, and no matter how much he wishes it were true, he knows Eddie doesn’t see him like that.
It’s this line of thinking that distracts him from Eddie lubing up his fingers, and he only comes back to himself when he feels a finger press inside him . He exhales, the feelilng like nothing else.
“Eddie,” he breathes.
“Relax,” Eddie says.
Andrew looks at Eddie’s face, and Eddie’s watching what he’s doing to Andrew, and it’s too much. Thinking about this happening with Eddie is not helping him relax, so he goes back to looking at the ceiling.
After a while, there’s two fingers, and then three, and at some point Andrew’s closed his eyes. He’s breathing heavily–panting, really–coming undone on Eddie’s fingers. His dick is fully hard again, and he aches for more.
“Eddie,” he says. He begs.
Eddie pulls his fingers out, and Andrew’s back arches, the feeling a great loss.
“Eddie,” he says again.
“Hold on.”
He opens his eyes to Eddie taking off his own pants, and continues watching as he rolls on a condom and pours lube on himself.
“Have you done this before?” Andrew asks quietly. He doesn’t expect a real answer.
“I know what I’m doing,” is what Eddie replies with, and is mostly what Andrew expected.
He can’t imagine Eddie doing this with another man, can hardly imagine it actually happening right now with him. It’s so out of sync with his M.O., it doesn’t make any sense at all. Even as he feels Eddie’s dick ease inside of him, he can hardly make sense of it.
It doesn’t help that he’s out of his mind with the feeling of it, Eddie sinking in slowly but faster than he probably should, until he’s balls deep in Andrew.
Eddie is inside him. Eddie’s dick is inside him.
“Fuck,” he breathes, and it’s more the thought than the feeling.
Then Eddie starts moving, and Andrew again says, “Fuck!” and it’s absolutely an exclamation to do with the feeling. The sweet drag of Eddie on his walls, against his hole. Nothing has ever been inside Andrew, and he couldn’t have anticipated it feeling this good.
“You feel so good,” Eddie says, and he sounds a little breathless, but he still has composure. Part of Andrew wishes he would lose it, just a little. To be affected an equal amount. He knows that would be asking too much.
Andrew lets himself lose it, fucked senseless on Eddie’s cock. He’s not even going particularly fast, but it’s still so good. Andrew is panting, moaning, writhing.
The only thing he won’t say is Eddie’s name.
It feels like a line he can’t cross. It was easier not to say it when Eddie was sucking him off, but now it’s a conscious decision. It would make it too real.
Andrew wants to keep it like this. Like a dream. He’s sure Eddie doesn’t want it more real than that, anyway.
He’s brought out of his thoughts, his eyes rolling back in his head, letting out a loud groan, when Eddie fucking slams into him. He returns to the previous pace immediately.
“Fuck, what was that for?” Andrew asks breathlessly.
“I was losing you,” Eddie says with no further explanation. “Eyes on me.”
Andrew looks at him, and wonders where the hell this is coming from.
The eye contact they make is heavy, almost tangible. Andrew feels like Eddie is looking into him, seeing everything he’s thinking and feeling. He’s scared. He’s scared of Eddie seeing him.
“I’m gonna make you come,” he says, and Andrew stops thinking because Eddie adjusts him in one swift motion and begins hitting that spot inside him that makes him see stars over and over again, demanding and relentless.
One of Eddie’s hands is holding his leg, the other holding his hip, both with a bruising grip, his eyes are dark with lust and his lips fell from a smirk to open, focused. Andrew holds eye contact with him until the last possible second, squeezing his eyes shut as he comes.
He hears Eddie grunt and feels him still as he comes down from his high, and he knows that that’s it. He’s certain this will never happen again.
Eddie withdraws from him, and Andrew closes his eyes as he feels Eddie’s dick slide out. When he opens them again, it’s to Eddie tying up the condom and tossing it in the trash. Andrew watches him pull his boxers on and grab his pants, and realizes he should do the same.
He sits up, a soreness pulsing through his lower back, and finds his own boxers and pants tangled in the sheets. He pulls them on silently, purposefully not looking at Eddie.
Part of Andrew can’t believe what just happened. He wants to believe it, but it doesn’t make sense. He can’t even make himself believe Eddie will mention it at all now that it’s over.
Eddie gets back into bed, his legs next to Andrew, and picks up his book again. Andrew looks at him, incredulous, unsure of what to do. He goes back to where he was before, next to Eddie, reading, though it doesn’t feel right.
Eddie does mention it, but what he says is: “You know we can’t talk about this, right?” and that’s somehow worse.
He can’t figure out why it happened in the first place. He wonders if Eddie will continue to touch him, to make him wonder, now tenfold, what it all means.
He nods, looking up but not at Eddie.
This is something Andrew thinks would be easier to deal with if he could pretend it never happened. If he could forget. But he knows he never will.