080 - Why?
Pairing: AJ/Brian
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,453
A/N: You'll be treated with all the amazing cliches of A-Rok fic here: angst, sex, broken!AJ. I totally wrote this last year, and with my lack of writing, together with people posting their unfinished works, I figured, why not? Because seriously - I was never going to post this.
AJ comes swaying through the entrance of their place, and Brian doesn’t notice right away.
He’s never been sure what causes his boyfriend to get home in the wee hours on certain nights and not others, and thus far, he’s managed to invent Alex’s excuses for him. It’s easier than asking why.
He peeks up to see that AJ’s bent over and about to be captured by the refrigerator door.
“..the hell is the milk?”
Brian shifts against the sofa. “Don’t have any.”
“When did that happen?”
“When I finished it two hours ago.”
A sigh escapes his mouth, and he grabs Brian’s enormous bottle of tea, shoving it into the air above him. Sometimes, he feels invisible.
“I’m drinking this.”
Brian’s not looking. “Ok.”
And when AJ‘s busy quenching his thirst, Brian‘s noticing.
“Don’t I get a kiss?”
AJ looks at him, after another hefty gulp of his drink.
Facing the counter again, he watches the clock. Gaze moving back to the bottle, he picks up and twists back the cap. “Nah. I’ll fuck you when we go to bed.”
Brian’s unsure if his grin is genuine, but he forms one anyway. AJ moves to find an open pack of cigarettes.
“Wanna talk?” He waves the rolled object in the air.
Brian drops a crumpled magazine against the sofa. “Not tonight.” AJ nods, grabbing his jacket.
Yet when he begins to walk out the door, Brian’s watching him. He’s not invisible anymore.
“Why were you out?”, he asks.
Hitting the door post, AJ strains his neck. Eyes trapped within thick black-rimmed glasses, ensnared further from Brian’s gaze by his angle, and surely on purpose.
“AJ.”
The problem is that in the end, he can’t avoid Brian completely. Turning around, he’s hesitant, and he tosses his cigs on the divider. Plopping himself down onto a dining room chair across from the man, he sniffs.
“Seriously, give it”, Brian says.
AJ pauses.
“Brian, I’m fucked up.”
Brian doesn’t say anything for a while. AJ messes around, searching for comfort and eventually pulling off his shirt in a swift movement. He sits back lazily.
“You’re too good for me, Angel.”
Brian stares. He gets up and moves a chair to sit directly next to him.
“I don‘t know why you call me that”, he says.
“Because you are, and I‘m a frickin’ asshole who doesn‘t deserve shit.”
Brian looks down.
“What did you do tonight?”
Immediately, AJ looks to the side.
Brian waits. He‘s always waited.
“I lost a bet. Lost the fuckin’ SUV.”
Swallowing at the news, Brian’s not surprised. But it doesn’t keep him from asking a “Why? Why, AJ?”, anyway.
AJ‘s never known how to answer those two words together, or any question that starts with a “why”. He can do who, what, where, when; they‘re much simpler.
“Why, Brian? Because I’m always gonna be addicted to something. I‘m…stuck.”
There’s a silent moment, and Brian‘s hand is on his thigh, which he doesn’t exactly remember how or when that happened. Brian‘s talking, too, but he’s not sure how much longer he can keep listening. He believes Brian might‘ve said, “This ain‘t new. You can stop at any time.” The same words he’s heard by more people than merely his lover.
But he can‘t stop, can’t. Just as much as Brian can’t keep from nuzzling his face against his. And all he can tell right at that moment is how cold Brian‘s nose is.
His sigh is deep. “I’m so messed up Rok, you don’t even know the half of it”, he says.
Brian can feel warmth in AJ’s cheek.
“It‘s ok”, Brian coos.
It’s ok.
AJ’s mouth finds Brian’s.
“I am” rolls into Brian’s wanting lips, the answer to everything. His eyes prick from a sob he‘s holding back, so obviously.
Brian holds his face and moves carefully from his chair to AJ’s, straddling one of his legs. When AJ opens to him again, he leans in. “It’s ok”, Brian murmurs.
Without a warning, AJ latches onto his pants and pulls them down from the back inwards. Brian groans a burning mix of refusal and approval, too hard to tell which.
“So fucked up”, he speaks, his breath hot and damp against Brian’s face. His hands roam, and Brian moans at the feeling of AJ‘s fingers entering him, and the aroused sounds he makes as they kiss. It’s quick and nearly uncalled for, but AJ’s always been ready for this.
Brian eventually stands back up to remove the rest of his clothes, knowing full well that he’s incited it, but unable to find a reason for or against, no asking why. It’s just what they do.
He exhales heavily into their naked touch as he brings himself down, and his hand regains AJ’s shoulder to focus away from the hurt. AJ’s eyes are moist like his.
Their lips meet once more. AJ’s gentle and assuring against Brian’s shy mouth, and it’s almost a lie. He is twice bonded to the man before him, but not ready to break; he’s never been ready.
When he finds a rhythm to their movement, and pressure enough to make Brian’s hips react instinctively in the opposite direction, Brian’s legs already begin to fall from his own mindful restraint, a hand gripping the chair backrest. AJ’s also trying with lost luck to keep his feet upon the bottom poles below.
His free hand flutters about Brian‘s agile body, eventually finding support around Brian’s jaw line; thumb pressed delicately below his bottom lip so he can observe every reaction. Those same lips are still slick from AJ‘s kisses, glistening alongside tender touches from the man’s now smooth hands, and even then AJ cannot see.
They are wordless, and spooned into one another. AJ is pushed deep into the rear of the chair, and his skin pressed and almost molded into the wooden bars, the burden of Brian riding him more than existent. He knows it will leave him sore into the morning, though he doesn’t care. He’s never cared.
Brian’s panting rises in slow, and he begins to breathe-whimper over and over into the uneven beginnings of AJ‘s beard, striving for intimate contact. AJ’s nostrils flare as he breathes, the helpless sounds Brian makes and the heat of him sending him closer to climax. One foot has left the post completely, and his body angles, knees bent freely in the air as he grinds, losing himself to the edge.
Suddenly he feels Brian jump, and the man freezes so that he almost seems weightless. AJ’s hand appears glued upon the sweaty nape of Brian’s blond waves, and their kiss is full as Brian lets go.
AJ brings his hand to the wet on Brian’s stomach, then touches the man’s face in pure need. They’re in motion, and he carefully spreads it about Brian’s cheek, skimming over to the man’s open lips. Eyes half-laden in desire, Brian hums gently against his fingertips.
For AJ, everything stops from there. Brian observes him, a hand upon a curve of muscle on his arm, and the man’s release is barely a sensation within him. He waits until AJ has relaxed to kiss him, and their lips meet, Brian rubbing a thumb over his cheek this time.
When they pull away, AJ’s finding those uneasy thoughts again, if only because he is able to collect the scattered traces in his mind. He looks at Brian and awkwardly takes the man‘s hand into his.
Brian’s been together the entire time and doesn‘t cease watching AJ. Though right then he is focused on the meeting of their hands, settled restfully between their chests. His curls push into AJ‘s forehead before AJ has sought appropriate words.
It’s barely much, very little before AJ’s whisper breaks their silence. “Why do you treat me so good?”
At such questioning, Brian turns away. He knows AJ has contradicted himself, and this time, he’s surprised.
Brian’s part-pain, part-pleasure slowly becomes an ache, a throbbing somewhere. Somewhere he can’t reach to relieve. When AJ begins to shake into him, he’s finding that he can’t swallow, can‘t feel, and he moves so that their faces nestle, so he can breathe again. His lips brush against AJ’s ear, and he closes his eyes.
“Why, Brian?” trembles into the bow of Brian’s neck, and then AJ‘s mouth presses rigid against his shoulder, stifling a cry.
Brian can’t handle this. He hopes right then to disappear than see how AJ has shattered. As the grown man clings helplessly to him, stroking AJ’s hair and choking back his own tears, he loathes to admit that he’s found an answer. An answer he’d rather not give, but one he shares even so.
“Because, I‘m fucked up, too.”
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,453
A/N: You'll be treated with all the amazing cliches of A-Rok fic here: angst, sex, broken!AJ. I totally wrote this last year, and with my lack of writing, together with people posting their unfinished works, I figured, why not? Because seriously - I was never going to post this.
AJ comes swaying through the entrance of their place, and Brian doesn’t notice right away.
He’s never been sure what causes his boyfriend to get home in the wee hours on certain nights and not others, and thus far, he’s managed to invent Alex’s excuses for him. It’s easier than asking why.
He peeks up to see that AJ’s bent over and about to be captured by the refrigerator door.
“..the hell is the milk?”
Brian shifts against the sofa. “Don’t have any.”
“When did that happen?”
“When I finished it two hours ago.”
A sigh escapes his mouth, and he grabs Brian’s enormous bottle of tea, shoving it into the air above him. Sometimes, he feels invisible.
“I’m drinking this.”
Brian’s not looking. “Ok.”
And when AJ‘s busy quenching his thirst, Brian‘s noticing.
“Don’t I get a kiss?”
AJ looks at him, after another hefty gulp of his drink.
Facing the counter again, he watches the clock. Gaze moving back to the bottle, he picks up and twists back the cap. “Nah. I’ll fuck you when we go to bed.”
Brian’s unsure if his grin is genuine, but he forms one anyway. AJ moves to find an open pack of cigarettes.
“Wanna talk?” He waves the rolled object in the air.
Brian drops a crumpled magazine against the sofa. “Not tonight.” AJ nods, grabbing his jacket.
Yet when he begins to walk out the door, Brian’s watching him. He’s not invisible anymore.
“Why were you out?”, he asks.
Hitting the door post, AJ strains his neck. Eyes trapped within thick black-rimmed glasses, ensnared further from Brian’s gaze by his angle, and surely on purpose.
“AJ.”
The problem is that in the end, he can’t avoid Brian completely. Turning around, he’s hesitant, and he tosses his cigs on the divider. Plopping himself down onto a dining room chair across from the man, he sniffs.
“Seriously, give it”, Brian says.
AJ pauses.
“Brian, I’m fucked up.”
Brian doesn’t say anything for a while. AJ messes around, searching for comfort and eventually pulling off his shirt in a swift movement. He sits back lazily.
“You’re too good for me, Angel.”
Brian stares. He gets up and moves a chair to sit directly next to him.
“I don‘t know why you call me that”, he says.
“Because you are, and I‘m a frickin’ asshole who doesn‘t deserve shit.”
Brian looks down.
“What did you do tonight?”
Immediately, AJ looks to the side.
Brian waits. He‘s always waited.
“I lost a bet. Lost the fuckin’ SUV.”
Swallowing at the news, Brian’s not surprised. But it doesn’t keep him from asking a “Why? Why, AJ?”, anyway.
AJ‘s never known how to answer those two words together, or any question that starts with a “why”. He can do who, what, where, when; they‘re much simpler.
“Why, Brian? Because I’m always gonna be addicted to something. I‘m…stuck.”
There’s a silent moment, and Brian‘s hand is on his thigh, which he doesn’t exactly remember how or when that happened. Brian‘s talking, too, but he’s not sure how much longer he can keep listening. He believes Brian might‘ve said, “This ain‘t new. You can stop at any time.” The same words he’s heard by more people than merely his lover.
But he can‘t stop, can’t. Just as much as Brian can’t keep from nuzzling his face against his. And all he can tell right at that moment is how cold Brian‘s nose is.
His sigh is deep. “I’m so messed up Rok, you don’t even know the half of it”, he says.
Brian can feel warmth in AJ’s cheek.
“It‘s ok”, Brian coos.
It’s ok.
AJ’s mouth finds Brian’s.
“I am” rolls into Brian’s wanting lips, the answer to everything. His eyes prick from a sob he‘s holding back, so obviously.
Brian holds his face and moves carefully from his chair to AJ’s, straddling one of his legs. When AJ opens to him again, he leans in. “It’s ok”, Brian murmurs.
Without a warning, AJ latches onto his pants and pulls them down from the back inwards. Brian groans a burning mix of refusal and approval, too hard to tell which.
“So fucked up”, he speaks, his breath hot and damp against Brian’s face. His hands roam, and Brian moans at the feeling of AJ‘s fingers entering him, and the aroused sounds he makes as they kiss. It’s quick and nearly uncalled for, but AJ’s always been ready for this.
Brian eventually stands back up to remove the rest of his clothes, knowing full well that he’s incited it, but unable to find a reason for or against, no asking why. It’s just what they do.
He exhales heavily into their naked touch as he brings himself down, and his hand regains AJ’s shoulder to focus away from the hurt. AJ’s eyes are moist like his.
Their lips meet once more. AJ’s gentle and assuring against Brian’s shy mouth, and it’s almost a lie. He is twice bonded to the man before him, but not ready to break; he’s never been ready.
When he finds a rhythm to their movement, and pressure enough to make Brian’s hips react instinctively in the opposite direction, Brian’s legs already begin to fall from his own mindful restraint, a hand gripping the chair backrest. AJ’s also trying with lost luck to keep his feet upon the bottom poles below.
His free hand flutters about Brian‘s agile body, eventually finding support around Brian’s jaw line; thumb pressed delicately below his bottom lip so he can observe every reaction. Those same lips are still slick from AJ‘s kisses, glistening alongside tender touches from the man’s now smooth hands, and even then AJ cannot see.
They are wordless, and spooned into one another. AJ is pushed deep into the rear of the chair, and his skin pressed and almost molded into the wooden bars, the burden of Brian riding him more than existent. He knows it will leave him sore into the morning, though he doesn’t care. He’s never cared.
Brian’s panting rises in slow, and he begins to breathe-whimper over and over into the uneven beginnings of AJ‘s beard, striving for intimate contact. AJ’s nostrils flare as he breathes, the helpless sounds Brian makes and the heat of him sending him closer to climax. One foot has left the post completely, and his body angles, knees bent freely in the air as he grinds, losing himself to the edge.
Suddenly he feels Brian jump, and the man freezes so that he almost seems weightless. AJ’s hand appears glued upon the sweaty nape of Brian’s blond waves, and their kiss is full as Brian lets go.
AJ brings his hand to the wet on Brian’s stomach, then touches the man’s face in pure need. They’re in motion, and he carefully spreads it about Brian’s cheek, skimming over to the man’s open lips. Eyes half-laden in desire, Brian hums gently against his fingertips.
For AJ, everything stops from there. Brian observes him, a hand upon a curve of muscle on his arm, and the man’s release is barely a sensation within him. He waits until AJ has relaxed to kiss him, and their lips meet, Brian rubbing a thumb over his cheek this time.
When they pull away, AJ’s finding those uneasy thoughts again, if only because he is able to collect the scattered traces in his mind. He looks at Brian and awkwardly takes the man‘s hand into his.
Brian’s been together the entire time and doesn‘t cease watching AJ. Though right then he is focused on the meeting of their hands, settled restfully between their chests. His curls push into AJ‘s forehead before AJ has sought appropriate words.
It’s barely much, very little before AJ’s whisper breaks their silence. “Why do you treat me so good?”
At such questioning, Brian turns away. He knows AJ has contradicted himself, and this time, he’s surprised.
Brian’s part-pain, part-pleasure slowly becomes an ache, a throbbing somewhere. Somewhere he can’t reach to relieve. When AJ begins to shake into him, he’s finding that he can’t swallow, can‘t feel, and he moves so that their faces nestle, so he can breathe again. His lips brush against AJ’s ear, and he closes his eyes.
“Why, Brian?” trembles into the bow of Brian’s neck, and then AJ‘s mouth presses rigid against his shoulder, stifling a cry.
Brian can’t handle this. He hopes right then to disappear than see how AJ has shattered. As the grown man clings helplessly to him, stroking AJ’s hair and choking back his own tears, he loathes to admit that he’s found an answer. An answer he’d rather not give, but one he shares even so.
“Because, I‘m fucked up, too.”