Merry Christmas, perverts.
Love
Author: Mushroom
Merry Christmas, perverts.
Rating: R
I think I could fall madly in bed with you. ~Author Unknown
Torin woke up with the extremely irritating sensation of sleeping on one side for too long; he was already at the edge of the bed, clutching at the mattress while trying his best not to fall off ungracefully. His neck was aching either because his pillow was missing or because it was planted with numerous bite marks. The scent of perspiration and sex lingered in the air, joined by the disturbing fragrance of an abandoned sock.
He tried to roll over to his left, but was stabbed at the hip. Stifling a yelp, he fished for the culprit (“Goddamn phone”) and in his exasperation he threw it at a random direction. Torin heard it land on something that seemed fragile and winced.
“The fuck are you doing, Torin?” The man sleeping beside him mumbled lazily, hugging the stolen pillow that was meant to cradle his lover’s head.
Torin rubbed his temples. “You left stuff lying around. Again.” He reached for his cushion, but the other man’s grip was strong. “That’s MINE, you utter twat-fuck, what’s that smell?”
“We just had explosive sex last night, as you might have noticed.”
“Not that smell,” He sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. “I-it’s…wait, it smells like…a ranch.”
Winter, his bed partner, buried his face even deeper under the sheets. There was evidence of a blush on his face. Incriminating evidence.
Torin sat up, sniffed for a second time, and instantly grimaced. “OH MY GOD! Y-you…ugh. What a way to start my day.” He flopped back down, covered his nose with the blanket, and struggled with words to express the revolting air that entered his nostrils. “This is just so sickening…god, it smells like shit in here, I mean literally, coupled with the smell of a dead rat or something equally disturbing…what the hell did you eat for dinner, anyway?! Honestly, the nerve of you to…to release air while I’m still around! You could’ve…I don’t know, left the room or something!”
“Will you just drop it?!” Winter shot back crossly, glowering at him. “It’s perfectly normal to fart. Everyone farts. You fart. Even Jesus probably farted at least once a week in his life-“
“That’s not the point. You could’ve at least WARNED me, so I could’ve prepared myself. Like, I could’ve kicked you out earlier.” Torin made a sudden barfing noise. The stench overwhelmed his senses, so he wrinkled his nose and waved his hands in an attempt to make it go away.
Winter huffed, resembling a brat with a tantrum. “I can’t predict the coming of bad air, honey. And indigestion.”
“Then fucking head to the bathroom and do your thing there!”
“The bathroom’s outside our room!” Winter whimpered pathetically, writhing under the blanket.
Torin groaned exasperatedly. “Oh for god’s sake, you’ve been whining since yesterday! You’re always like this! You’re always such a slob, such a lazy dickhead, and I always have to clean up your mess afterwards-god, am I your MOTHER?!”
They continued to bicker and shout, now wide awake, insulting each other’s habits and shooting off comments regarding the unpleasant scent that started the whole fiasco. In his rage, Winter stepped out of the bed and folded his arms. “I can’t stand your nagging! We’re not married, you know…I think. Well, at least not technically!” He looked confused for a moment, then regained his anger. “You don’t have the right to do this to me! THIS IS MY ROOM! MY ROOM, Y’ HEAR?!”
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?!” Torin demanded when Winter made a violent motion towards the door.
“I’m going to the bathroom to take a shit, since it pleases you so much!”
“You should’ve done that hours ago!”
Winter stormed out, stark naked and angry. Torin threw a pillow at the door, only to hear it land on something that sounded quite fragile again.
Five minutes already passed when Winter returned, his head clearer, and he jumped on the bed and embraced the other man ruefully. Torin sighed.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” He said mournfully. “And on the first time we had sex, too. I just lost my virginity AND my respect for you.”
“You better get used to the smell, then. We’ll be living together forever, remember?”
Torin did not know why he kissed Winter wildly at the crack of dawn, even when he knew that they both probably reeked of morning breath. Something must have forced him to do it.
“By the way, you just broke the fancy plate you brought home from Italy. I almost stepped on the shards a while ago--those things are dangerous!”
Torin groaned. Forever just seemed so long.
***
When Torin met Winter after years of parting-they were former classmates, for your information-he wore expensive eyeglasses, a stylish white polo and slacks, and smoked a cigarette. Winter definitely looked like a professional artist with his bright smile and short, light blonde hair. That time Torin was so embarrassed; he just arrived from a muddy game of soccer (his team won, but that wasn't the point). His brown hair was disheveled and his clothes looked so filthy compared to the designer clothing worn by such an immaculate-looking gentleman.
It's all a lie, Torin realized. As soon as Winter walked out of the bedroom he sat on the couch and channel-surfed idly, munching on the contents of a bag of pretzels. Torin rolled his eyes every time Winter chuckled; bits and pieces of pretzels spurted from his mouth and settled on different locations inside the living room.
“You’re so disgusting.” Torin whispered softly; so soft that only he could hear himself. Surprisingly, he sounded affectionate, until he noticed the state of the carpet, which looked like it had seen better days. Then he was pissed off beyond reason.
“Get your fat arse off the couch.” He ordered, slamming his mug on the coffee table.
Winter appeared very engrossed in the show he was watching. Incensed, Torin sat down beside him and groaned upon discovering Winter’s current fascination: cute, furry animals frolicking in African lands.
Winter was practically salivating while his eyes feasted on bear cubs and bob cats and wide-eyed rodents. He would watch The National Geographic all day if he had the opportunity. Unfortunately for him, this habit annoyed Torin for no reason at all. He just hated it whenever Winter cheered on monkeys swinging from tree to tree, finally giving out a big whoop when the monkeys landed on the ground safely. It was just so weird.
Besides, Torin wanted to watch the news, which was more important and respectable for an adult.
“I said get off,” He poked Winter on the shoulder, aggressively this time. “You really find this appealing?”
“Just a sec, love.” Winter was always the romantic one, even in times of heated arguments. “Whoa, just check out those lions-they’re really fast, huh? Wonder what I’d do when faced with one?” The beasts were hunting for prey in the screen, and when one lion gave out a particularly deep growl, Winter was so delighted that he clapped his hands.
And the other boy was promptly ignored.
Torin considered blackmailing him by telling the whole world of his odd interests, but he decided against it since Winter was fully aware that Torin was a hopeless crybaby who bawled when Jack froze to death in Titanic.
Come to think of it, both men seemed perfect on the outside; gorgeous, athletic, friendly, until they met each other and fell. First impressions did not last; Torin was scandalized at moments when Winter revealed his true nature, but still he did not want to leave him. ‘Why’ was always the question.
It was sad to share the television with someone, especially if you’re used to your privacy. Now that they were living together in the same flat, they shared everything; food, clothes, space, moments. It felt surreal, as they were very private men. They rarely showed themselves to others, only in certain circumstances…like when they hang out together outside their apartment, for instance. It was difficult to pretend in each other’s presence, so they often nicked a kiss or two when they thought that nobody was looking. Of course, the others in turn pretended they weren’t looking for their sake. It made things easier that way.
Winter raised his foot and rested it on the coffee table with a thud. His toes stuck out from the hole in his worn-out sock. Even more annoyed than ever, Torin kicked Winter’s legs away and reached for the remote control.
“He-HEY!” The blonde shouted as soon as the prowling lions were replaced by an ecstatic audience and a comedy host with stringy hair.
“It’s The Morning Show.” Torin explained when Winter glared at him contemptuously. “I have to, you know, watch the news. It’s important to know what’s happening, the current events. Because, uh, there is life outside animal fornication. See?” He pointed at the screen. “A store was just held up last night, and it’s close to our neighborhood.”
“But…b-but…THE LION CUB FINALLY CAPTURED THE WILDEBEAST.” Winter said in an urgent tone, eyes wide and glistening. “He actually captured it himself. It is the world’s greatest moment, when a youngling discovers the power within him.”
Torin shook his head in disbelief. “Oh look, somebody just died on Parker Street. Somebody was stabbed to death.” He stressed on the last word somberly. “Isn’t that just three blocks away?”
“Hate you.” Winter rested his chin on his palm, blatantly infuriated, and he occasionally grunted whenever a government official spoke up on the screen. The remote control slipped from Torin’s hand while he absorbed the early news; Winter snatched it hastily and crowed at his success; he even started his own dance of sorts. Torin was miffed.
And the lions started roaring. Again.
“I was watching the NEWS!!!” Torin yelled, and Winter responded by sticking out his tongue decorated with crumbs. “You have dozens of tapes with donkeys humping and all that, why don’t you just buy yourself a DVD, geez!”
The two fought over various channels, and had to compromise by sitting back and making fun of a daytime Mexican soap opera. Torin instinctively brushed away the crumbs on Winter’s lips, and then they sat and grinned at each other for a good five minutes, only to be interrupted by a dramatic wail from one of the teenage protagonists.
Torin was extremely touchy over his things, and would’ve killed if someone messed with them, but he permitted Winter to sip noisily on his coffee. It was just like kissing, and something more.
And when Winter burped long and loud, like a bellow echoing in a cavern, Torin only flinched a bit.
***
It was cold that night, so Winter huddled close to the lamp beside the couch. Throw pillows were not enough to keep him warm, and he did not dare steal blankets in the bedroom because Torin had folded them oh-so-neatly moments ago. The blonde was too sleepy to instigate another shouting match.
Instead he wrapped his arms around himself and sulked. Sulking was something he clearly enjoyed doing, but he hid it well in front of people.
That night, he was feeling too bitter to bother.
As soon as Torin came marching in the door, clad in a yet another dirty soccer outfit, Winter looked up and gave him his trademark pout.
“I’m cold.” He whispered.
Torin replied in a deadpan. “So am I. Funny, really, what the winter season brings.”
“Let us make ourselves warm, darling.” Winter decided to ignore the sarcastic comment and stretched out his arms towards his lover. He wiggled his eyebrows in what he hoped seemed seductive.
“Uh, no.” Torin marched towards the kitchen and inspected the refrigerator for snacks. “Hmmm, we’ve got nothing to eat. We should shop for groceries tomorrow.”
“But I’m still cold. And it’s Christmas. I need warmth.”
“Shut the fuck up, Winter. I’m in a bad mood.” He pulled out a bag of chips from one of the cabinets and sat beside the blonde, munching and sneezing at the same time.
Winter remained undeterred by his lover’s aloofness. “Cold outside?” He crawled towards the soccer player and rested his head on his shoulder.
“Obviously.”
Their conversations were always like this; brief and straight to the point, never winding, never detailed. Winter curled his arms around Torin’s waist and inhaled slowly. Torin was sweaty and oily and his fingers were smudged with grease, but Winter found it extraordinarily sexy when his lover was haggard and bad-tempered. Anger exemplified his stunning features. It was definitely unusual to be in the state of arousal while Torin unleashed his wrath with mud and grass on his unkempt hair (maybe because he was so tidy most of the time), but it did not stop him from acting upon his desire.
Winter searched for Torin’s lips and it was found, and they moved their heads from side to side, trying to find a comfortable position while their lips remained locked. Arms still around the brunette’s firm waist, Winter’s tongue dug deeper into his lover's mouth and he felt fingers snake through his sandy hair, gripping almost painfully.
The heavy weight of wet lips brought a moan from Winter’s throat, followed by a burbled cry from his partner, and they quickly separated.
Torin rubbed his chin. “Ouch,” he said simply, and Winter realized that he hadn’t shaved that morning. He cursed himself.
Then a playful smirk. “Still feeling cold?”
The artist nodded eagerly, again creeping forward. He could already feel the deep breath from Torin’s mouth to his own, and felt an exhilarating rush spread throughout his entire body. He leaned forward, closing his eyes, waiting for the touch of lips…
All of a sudden he was pinned down on the couch, smothered by a humongous jacket. He pushed it away, dazed, and saw Torin smirking back at him, heading towards their room.
“Use a jacket then, you big loon. I’m heading off to bed.”
“B-but, Torin, hon-“
He was answered by the slamming of the door.
Now he was really pissed. Winter covered himself with the jacket and lamented over the loss of sexual contact. He would’ve appreciated an embrace and an undisputed night of lovemaking, but the jacket smelled like Torin, and it was close enough.
***
Torin dominated the household and required nothing but his partner’s cooperation. But in bed, Winter was the one with the raging appetite.
It seemed like it was sweltering hot that night, even if the air was light and cool. Sweat beads rolled down from Winter’s brow and dropped on Torin’s supple skin. Their bodies glistened as they moved together, rhythmically, sensually, while they gasped and shouted and clutched at the sheets. Torin’s hands were positioned at his sides; fingers entwined with Winter’s. Winter found himself plunging deep into Torin, wanting more and more of the pressure and the feeling of his hardness trapped against eager, moist skin.
“Heh, so I’m guessing that I’m not as cold as my name implies.” Winter managed to choke out, and he sniggered at his own joke.
His partner cringed and bit his lip to stop himself from whimpering. “T-That was just--ugh--lame. Really, really lame.”
“But it’s true-“
“Oh, just stop talking. You’re not good at it.”
“Yes, because I’m good at this…”
Torin cried in rapture when Winter bit and licked at the skin between his neck and shoulders. He threw his head backward and moaned, and Winter reveled at the sight of his abandon. Desire mixed with amazement brought him to press his lips against Torin’s, letting their tongues loose and explore each other as saliva ran down their chins. Ironically, Torin absolutely hated it when Winter drooled on the pillows, but this was welcomed.
Torin was breathing impassionedly, reduced to babbling.
“Torin?” It was a question, whether he should continue. Torin’s face was twisted in pain and pleasure and he was panting deafeningly; it was hard to tell which feeling conquered.
Winter couldn’t wait for a proper reply; his partner was pushing upward and breathing heavily, and he was aching for release. “Okay, if you won’t say anything, then I’ll…”
The blonde positioned himself over Torin again, thrusting forward, groaning against his skin. Torin’s hands and legs were moving wildly now as he sobbed in intense satisfaction; everything seemed to lose substance as their bodies crashed together, the whole world was gone, they were the only ones there, the whole universe became Winter, and there was light shining at the corners of his tightly-closed eyes…
Winter growled deeply himself as he worked, ears delighting at the music his lover was making. He was nearing release now, so he closed his eyes and waited for the exhilarating feeling to come.
Instead, he heard a moan that was far from erotic.
Torin was gasping in agony now, and he was smacking his forehead while he chanted: “Stupid, stupid…oh I’m so stupid…fucking stupid…”
“W-wha?” Winter stopped (which was difficult, seeing that he was painfully erect), and looked at him in disbelief.
Torin laughed openly. “I forgot to turn the lights off in the living room and the porch. So that’s why the light has been bothering me…anyway, I better go and take care of things first.”
He gently pushed Winter away and moved his feet toward the floor, until he noticed that Winter’s hold on his arm was still rough on him. He shot him a dirty look, but Winter was far more upset. He had the I’m Actually Being Serious Look, which seldom appeared in his face.
“Wait a goddamn minute. You don’t just leave casually while we’re having sex. That’s illogical.” Winter said, slowly and angrily. His eyes were dangerously narrowed.
Torin pushed his hands off, annoyed. “What the hell is your problem? You know I can’t stand it when the lights are left open! Just leave me alone.” He made another move towards the door, and this time Winter loosened his grip.
The soccer player paused. Winter usually pushed the fight further until they wore themselves out, but at that moment his head was bowed and he was also very quiet. Winter never gave up easily, not even once. Something unpleasant lurked in Torin's stomach, something like...guilt.
After a weighty pause, the blonde looked up with hurt eyes.
“Do you even think about me while we do it?”
His voice was so soft, so broken, that Torin just had to laugh.
The brunette left the room, still chuckling, and switched the lights off. Making sure that everything was in order, he returned. Winter was still moping, but Torin boldly crawled towards him and planted a long, languorous kiss on his cheek.
“Do you still want to continue?” Torin whispered, kissing other parts of his body. “I can tell that you still want to do me.” Winter squirmed.
“You haven’t answered my question.” He said flatly.
“Don’t be such a drama queen, Winter. I think about you all the time, every second. How couldn’t I, when you’re so annoying?”
“Look who’s talking! You cried like hell when we watched Armageddon.”
“You know I hate it when people die,” Torin waved his hand dismissively. “But the thing is, you’re always in my mind.”
“You think about me even when you’re away?”
“Yes, yes, especially when I’m worried about the state of our living room while I’m gone, you disorganized bastard.”
“When we have sex, then. Do you think about me?”
“Especially when we have sex.”
Winter still seemed doubtful, so Torin moved over him and rested his cheek on his chest. “I really wanted to focus on you and what we were doing, believe me. But the light bothered me a lot. I wanted to feel at ease, to take care of everything else beforehand, just so that we can have fun all we want with no worries.”
“So…everything’s okay now? Everything’s in perfect order?”
Torin nodded, smiling.
Winter shifted a little, then he was above Torin again, and they looked at each other steadily before spending the rest of the evening making hot, breathtaking love. Torin thought, I don’t deserve this happiness, I don’t deserve this at all, and Winter felt the same way.
***
Winter and Torin were once again snuggled close to each other, wrapped with a warm woolen blanket. They drank hot cocoa to relieve themselves from the exceedingly cool weather, and the steam rising from their mugs felt absolutely wonderful.
In front of them was the television, displaying another Mexican drama. They fought over the remote control a while ago; Torin almost throttled his lover to death and Winter seriously considered filing for divorce (“We’re married! I think…well, at least technically!), but they managed to calm down and settle for another compromise, which was to view the soaps in place of their favorite shows.
The heroine and her boyfriend were glued on the lips, uttering their sappy lines in between exaggerated kisses. Winter looked on interestedly, possibly even more attentive than usual. Torin felt sick.
A good thirty minutes were filled with backbiting, scheming, sex and curly chest hair. Soon the credits rolled and the theme blared in stereo surround. Winter placed his mug down, satisfied, and burped. Twice.
“Will you please, just please stop doing that. It’s a bad habit.”
“Sorry.” He muttered apologetically, then began swinging his legs.
“And don’t move your legs, either.”
“What-even that?!”
“Yes, even that.”
“Prick.” Winter scowled and slouched further down the sofa, trying his best not to move his restless legs. They sat in sweet silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s company, when Winter started moving his limbs again.
A groan. “You’re such a pain in the butt!”
Winter smiled naughtily. “Literally, or figuratively?”
“Both.” Torin cuddled closer to Winter and sighed. “God, I’m so glad that we’re not like them. Those soap opera people, I mean. It just doesn’t fit us, the lovey-dovey thing.”
“Right. Fighting suits us better. Besides, this is more comfortable.” The blonde man agreed, and he kissed his lover’s forehead.
“What’s this, anyway?” Torin teased, prodding him at the ribs.
Winter shrugged, too lazy to think.
***
END
***
Author: Mushroom
Merry Christmas, perverts.
Rating: R
I think I could fall madly in bed with you. ~Author Unknown
Torin woke up with the extremely irritating sensation of sleeping on one side for too long; he was already at the edge of the bed, clutching at the mattress while trying his best not to fall off ungracefully. His neck was aching either because his pillow was missing or because it was planted with numerous bite marks. The scent of perspiration and sex lingered in the air, joined by the disturbing fragrance of an abandoned sock.
He tried to roll over to his left, but was stabbed at the hip. Stifling a yelp, he fished for the culprit (“Goddamn phone”) and in his exasperation he threw it at a random direction. Torin heard it land on something that seemed fragile and winced.
“The fuck are you doing, Torin?” The man sleeping beside him mumbled lazily, hugging the stolen pillow that was meant to cradle his lover’s head.
Torin rubbed his temples. “You left stuff lying around. Again.” He reached for his cushion, but the other man’s grip was strong. “That’s MINE, you utter twat-fuck, what’s that smell?”
“We just had explosive sex last night, as you might have noticed.”
“Not that smell,” He sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. “I-it’s…wait, it smells like…a ranch.”
Winter, his bed partner, buried his face even deeper under the sheets. There was evidence of a blush on his face. Incriminating evidence.
Torin sat up, sniffed for a second time, and instantly grimaced. “OH MY GOD! Y-you…ugh. What a way to start my day.” He flopped back down, covered his nose with the blanket, and struggled with words to express the revolting air that entered his nostrils. “This is just so sickening…god, it smells like shit in here, I mean literally, coupled with the smell of a dead rat or something equally disturbing…what the hell did you eat for dinner, anyway?! Honestly, the nerve of you to…to release air while I’m still around! You could’ve…I don’t know, left the room or something!”
“Will you just drop it?!” Winter shot back crossly, glowering at him. “It’s perfectly normal to fart. Everyone farts. You fart. Even Jesus probably farted at least once a week in his life-“
“That’s not the point. You could’ve at least WARNED me, so I could’ve prepared myself. Like, I could’ve kicked you out earlier.” Torin made a sudden barfing noise. The stench overwhelmed his senses, so he wrinkled his nose and waved his hands in an attempt to make it go away.
Winter huffed, resembling a brat with a tantrum. “I can’t predict the coming of bad air, honey. And indigestion.”
“Then fucking head to the bathroom and do your thing there!”
“The bathroom’s outside our room!” Winter whimpered pathetically, writhing under the blanket.
Torin groaned exasperatedly. “Oh for god’s sake, you’ve been whining since yesterday! You’re always like this! You’re always such a slob, such a lazy dickhead, and I always have to clean up your mess afterwards-god, am I your MOTHER?!”
They continued to bicker and shout, now wide awake, insulting each other’s habits and shooting off comments regarding the unpleasant scent that started the whole fiasco. In his rage, Winter stepped out of the bed and folded his arms. “I can’t stand your nagging! We’re not married, you know…I think. Well, at least not technically!” He looked confused for a moment, then regained his anger. “You don’t have the right to do this to me! THIS IS MY ROOM! MY ROOM, Y’ HEAR?!”
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?!” Torin demanded when Winter made a violent motion towards the door.
“I’m going to the bathroom to take a shit, since it pleases you so much!”
“You should’ve done that hours ago!”
Winter stormed out, stark naked and angry. Torin threw a pillow at the door, only to hear it land on something that sounded quite fragile again.
Five minutes already passed when Winter returned, his head clearer, and he jumped on the bed and embraced the other man ruefully. Torin sighed.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” He said mournfully. “And on the first time we had sex, too. I just lost my virginity AND my respect for you.”
“You better get used to the smell, then. We’ll be living together forever, remember?”
Torin did not know why he kissed Winter wildly at the crack of dawn, even when he knew that they both probably reeked of morning breath. Something must have forced him to do it.
“By the way, you just broke the fancy plate you brought home from Italy. I almost stepped on the shards a while ago--those things are dangerous!”
Torin groaned. Forever just seemed so long.
***
When Torin met Winter after years of parting-they were former classmates, for your information-he wore expensive eyeglasses, a stylish white polo and slacks, and smoked a cigarette. Winter definitely looked like a professional artist with his bright smile and short, light blonde hair. That time Torin was so embarrassed; he just arrived from a muddy game of soccer (his team won, but that wasn't the point). His brown hair was disheveled and his clothes looked so filthy compared to the designer clothing worn by such an immaculate-looking gentleman.
It's all a lie, Torin realized. As soon as Winter walked out of the bedroom he sat on the couch and channel-surfed idly, munching on the contents of a bag of pretzels. Torin rolled his eyes every time Winter chuckled; bits and pieces of pretzels spurted from his mouth and settled on different locations inside the living room.
“You’re so disgusting.” Torin whispered softly; so soft that only he could hear himself. Surprisingly, he sounded affectionate, until he noticed the state of the carpet, which looked like it had seen better days. Then he was pissed off beyond reason.
“Get your fat arse off the couch.” He ordered, slamming his mug on the coffee table.
Winter appeared very engrossed in the show he was watching. Incensed, Torin sat down beside him and groaned upon discovering Winter’s current fascination: cute, furry animals frolicking in African lands.
Winter was practically salivating while his eyes feasted on bear cubs and bob cats and wide-eyed rodents. He would watch The National Geographic all day if he had the opportunity. Unfortunately for him, this habit annoyed Torin for no reason at all. He just hated it whenever Winter cheered on monkeys swinging from tree to tree, finally giving out a big whoop when the monkeys landed on the ground safely. It was just so weird.
Besides, Torin wanted to watch the news, which was more important and respectable for an adult.
“I said get off,” He poked Winter on the shoulder, aggressively this time. “You really find this appealing?”
“Just a sec, love.” Winter was always the romantic one, even in times of heated arguments. “Whoa, just check out those lions-they’re really fast, huh? Wonder what I’d do when faced with one?” The beasts were hunting for prey in the screen, and when one lion gave out a particularly deep growl, Winter was so delighted that he clapped his hands.
And the other boy was promptly ignored.
Torin considered blackmailing him by telling the whole world of his odd interests, but he decided against it since Winter was fully aware that Torin was a hopeless crybaby who bawled when Jack froze to death in Titanic.
Come to think of it, both men seemed perfect on the outside; gorgeous, athletic, friendly, until they met each other and fell. First impressions did not last; Torin was scandalized at moments when Winter revealed his true nature, but still he did not want to leave him. ‘Why’ was always the question.
It was sad to share the television with someone, especially if you’re used to your privacy. Now that they were living together in the same flat, they shared everything; food, clothes, space, moments. It felt surreal, as they were very private men. They rarely showed themselves to others, only in certain circumstances…like when they hang out together outside their apartment, for instance. It was difficult to pretend in each other’s presence, so they often nicked a kiss or two when they thought that nobody was looking. Of course, the others in turn pretended they weren’t looking for their sake. It made things easier that way.
Winter raised his foot and rested it on the coffee table with a thud. His toes stuck out from the hole in his worn-out sock. Even more annoyed than ever, Torin kicked Winter’s legs away and reached for the remote control.
“He-HEY!” The blonde shouted as soon as the prowling lions were replaced by an ecstatic audience and a comedy host with stringy hair.
“It’s The Morning Show.” Torin explained when Winter glared at him contemptuously. “I have to, you know, watch the news. It’s important to know what’s happening, the current events. Because, uh, there is life outside animal fornication. See?” He pointed at the screen. “A store was just held up last night, and it’s close to our neighborhood.”
“But…b-but…THE LION CUB FINALLY CAPTURED THE WILDEBEAST.” Winter said in an urgent tone, eyes wide and glistening. “He actually captured it himself. It is the world’s greatest moment, when a youngling discovers the power within him.”
Torin shook his head in disbelief. “Oh look, somebody just died on Parker Street. Somebody was stabbed to death.” He stressed on the last word somberly. “Isn’t that just three blocks away?”
“Hate you.” Winter rested his chin on his palm, blatantly infuriated, and he occasionally grunted whenever a government official spoke up on the screen. The remote control slipped from Torin’s hand while he absorbed the early news; Winter snatched it hastily and crowed at his success; he even started his own dance of sorts. Torin was miffed.
And the lions started roaring. Again.
“I was watching the NEWS!!!” Torin yelled, and Winter responded by sticking out his tongue decorated with crumbs. “You have dozens of tapes with donkeys humping and all that, why don’t you just buy yourself a DVD, geez!”
The two fought over various channels, and had to compromise by sitting back and making fun of a daytime Mexican soap opera. Torin instinctively brushed away the crumbs on Winter’s lips, and then they sat and grinned at each other for a good five minutes, only to be interrupted by a dramatic wail from one of the teenage protagonists.
Torin was extremely touchy over his things, and would’ve killed if someone messed with them, but he permitted Winter to sip noisily on his coffee. It was just like kissing, and something more.
And when Winter burped long and loud, like a bellow echoing in a cavern, Torin only flinched a bit.
***
It was cold that night, so Winter huddled close to the lamp beside the couch. Throw pillows were not enough to keep him warm, and he did not dare steal blankets in the bedroom because Torin had folded them oh-so-neatly moments ago. The blonde was too sleepy to instigate another shouting match.
Instead he wrapped his arms around himself and sulked. Sulking was something he clearly enjoyed doing, but he hid it well in front of people.
That night, he was feeling too bitter to bother.
As soon as Torin came marching in the door, clad in a yet another dirty soccer outfit, Winter looked up and gave him his trademark pout.
“I’m cold.” He whispered.
Torin replied in a deadpan. “So am I. Funny, really, what the winter season brings.”
“Let us make ourselves warm, darling.” Winter decided to ignore the sarcastic comment and stretched out his arms towards his lover. He wiggled his eyebrows in what he hoped seemed seductive.
“Uh, no.” Torin marched towards the kitchen and inspected the refrigerator for snacks. “Hmmm, we’ve got nothing to eat. We should shop for groceries tomorrow.”
“But I’m still cold. And it’s Christmas. I need warmth.”
“Shut the fuck up, Winter. I’m in a bad mood.” He pulled out a bag of chips from one of the cabinets and sat beside the blonde, munching and sneezing at the same time.
Winter remained undeterred by his lover’s aloofness. “Cold outside?” He crawled towards the soccer player and rested his head on his shoulder.
“Obviously.”
Their conversations were always like this; brief and straight to the point, never winding, never detailed. Winter curled his arms around Torin’s waist and inhaled slowly. Torin was sweaty and oily and his fingers were smudged with grease, but Winter found it extraordinarily sexy when his lover was haggard and bad-tempered. Anger exemplified his stunning features. It was definitely unusual to be in the state of arousal while Torin unleashed his wrath with mud and grass on his unkempt hair (maybe because he was so tidy most of the time), but it did not stop him from acting upon his desire.
Winter searched for Torin’s lips and it was found, and they moved their heads from side to side, trying to find a comfortable position while their lips remained locked. Arms still around the brunette’s firm waist, Winter’s tongue dug deeper into his lover's mouth and he felt fingers snake through his sandy hair, gripping almost painfully.
The heavy weight of wet lips brought a moan from Winter’s throat, followed by a burbled cry from his partner, and they quickly separated.
Torin rubbed his chin. “Ouch,” he said simply, and Winter realized that he hadn’t shaved that morning. He cursed himself.
Then a playful smirk. “Still feeling cold?”
The artist nodded eagerly, again creeping forward. He could already feel the deep breath from Torin’s mouth to his own, and felt an exhilarating rush spread throughout his entire body. He leaned forward, closing his eyes, waiting for the touch of lips…
All of a sudden he was pinned down on the couch, smothered by a humongous jacket. He pushed it away, dazed, and saw Torin smirking back at him, heading towards their room.
“Use a jacket then, you big loon. I’m heading off to bed.”
“B-but, Torin, hon-“
He was answered by the slamming of the door.
Now he was really pissed. Winter covered himself with the jacket and lamented over the loss of sexual contact. He would’ve appreciated an embrace and an undisputed night of lovemaking, but the jacket smelled like Torin, and it was close enough.
***
Torin dominated the household and required nothing but his partner’s cooperation. But in bed, Winter was the one with the raging appetite.
It seemed like it was sweltering hot that night, even if the air was light and cool. Sweat beads rolled down from Winter’s brow and dropped on Torin’s supple skin. Their bodies glistened as they moved together, rhythmically, sensually, while they gasped and shouted and clutched at the sheets. Torin’s hands were positioned at his sides; fingers entwined with Winter’s. Winter found himself plunging deep into Torin, wanting more and more of the pressure and the feeling of his hardness trapped against eager, moist skin.
“Heh, so I’m guessing that I’m not as cold as my name implies.” Winter managed to choke out, and he sniggered at his own joke.
His partner cringed and bit his lip to stop himself from whimpering. “T-That was just--ugh--lame. Really, really lame.”
“But it’s true-“
“Oh, just stop talking. You’re not good at it.”
“Yes, because I’m good at this…”
Torin cried in rapture when Winter bit and licked at the skin between his neck and shoulders. He threw his head backward and moaned, and Winter reveled at the sight of his abandon. Desire mixed with amazement brought him to press his lips against Torin’s, letting their tongues loose and explore each other as saliva ran down their chins. Ironically, Torin absolutely hated it when Winter drooled on the pillows, but this was welcomed.
Torin was breathing impassionedly, reduced to babbling.
“Torin?” It was a question, whether he should continue. Torin’s face was twisted in pain and pleasure and he was panting deafeningly; it was hard to tell which feeling conquered.
Winter couldn’t wait for a proper reply; his partner was pushing upward and breathing heavily, and he was aching for release. “Okay, if you won’t say anything, then I’ll…”
The blonde positioned himself over Torin again, thrusting forward, groaning against his skin. Torin’s hands and legs were moving wildly now as he sobbed in intense satisfaction; everything seemed to lose substance as their bodies crashed together, the whole world was gone, they were the only ones there, the whole universe became Winter, and there was light shining at the corners of his tightly-closed eyes…
Winter growled deeply himself as he worked, ears delighting at the music his lover was making. He was nearing release now, so he closed his eyes and waited for the exhilarating feeling to come.
Instead, he heard a moan that was far from erotic.
Torin was gasping in agony now, and he was smacking his forehead while he chanted: “Stupid, stupid…oh I’m so stupid…fucking stupid…”
“W-wha?” Winter stopped (which was difficult, seeing that he was painfully erect), and looked at him in disbelief.
Torin laughed openly. “I forgot to turn the lights off in the living room and the porch. So that’s why the light has been bothering me…anyway, I better go and take care of things first.”
He gently pushed Winter away and moved his feet toward the floor, until he noticed that Winter’s hold on his arm was still rough on him. He shot him a dirty look, but Winter was far more upset. He had the I’m Actually Being Serious Look, which seldom appeared in his face.
“Wait a goddamn minute. You don’t just leave casually while we’re having sex. That’s illogical.” Winter said, slowly and angrily. His eyes were dangerously narrowed.
Torin pushed his hands off, annoyed. “What the hell is your problem? You know I can’t stand it when the lights are left open! Just leave me alone.” He made another move towards the door, and this time Winter loosened his grip.
The soccer player paused. Winter usually pushed the fight further until they wore themselves out, but at that moment his head was bowed and he was also very quiet. Winter never gave up easily, not even once. Something unpleasant lurked in Torin's stomach, something like...guilt.
After a weighty pause, the blonde looked up with hurt eyes.
“Do you even think about me while we do it?”
His voice was so soft, so broken, that Torin just had to laugh.
The brunette left the room, still chuckling, and switched the lights off. Making sure that everything was in order, he returned. Winter was still moping, but Torin boldly crawled towards him and planted a long, languorous kiss on his cheek.
“Do you still want to continue?” Torin whispered, kissing other parts of his body. “I can tell that you still want to do me.” Winter squirmed.
“You haven’t answered my question.” He said flatly.
“Don’t be such a drama queen, Winter. I think about you all the time, every second. How couldn’t I, when you’re so annoying?”
“Look who’s talking! You cried like hell when we watched Armageddon.”
“You know I hate it when people die,” Torin waved his hand dismissively. “But the thing is, you’re always in my mind.”
“You think about me even when you’re away?”
“Yes, yes, especially when I’m worried about the state of our living room while I’m gone, you disorganized bastard.”
“When we have sex, then. Do you think about me?”
“Especially when we have sex.”
Winter still seemed doubtful, so Torin moved over him and rested his cheek on his chest. “I really wanted to focus on you and what we were doing, believe me. But the light bothered me a lot. I wanted to feel at ease, to take care of everything else beforehand, just so that we can have fun all we want with no worries.”
“So…everything’s okay now? Everything’s in perfect order?”
Torin nodded, smiling.
Winter shifted a little, then he was above Torin again, and they looked at each other steadily before spending the rest of the evening making hot, breathtaking love. Torin thought, I don’t deserve this happiness, I don’t deserve this at all, and Winter felt the same way.
***
Winter and Torin were once again snuggled close to each other, wrapped with a warm woolen blanket. They drank hot cocoa to relieve themselves from the exceedingly cool weather, and the steam rising from their mugs felt absolutely wonderful.
In front of them was the television, displaying another Mexican drama. They fought over the remote control a while ago; Torin almost throttled his lover to death and Winter seriously considered filing for divorce (“We’re married! I think…well, at least technically!), but they managed to calm down and settle for another compromise, which was to view the soaps in place of their favorite shows.
The heroine and her boyfriend were glued on the lips, uttering their sappy lines in between exaggerated kisses. Winter looked on interestedly, possibly even more attentive than usual. Torin felt sick.
A good thirty minutes were filled with backbiting, scheming, sex and curly chest hair. Soon the credits rolled and the theme blared in stereo surround. Winter placed his mug down, satisfied, and burped. Twice.
“Will you please, just please stop doing that. It’s a bad habit.”
“Sorry.” He muttered apologetically, then began swinging his legs.
“And don’t move your legs, either.”
“What-even that?!”
“Yes, even that.”
“Prick.” Winter scowled and slouched further down the sofa, trying his best not to move his restless legs. They sat in sweet silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s company, when Winter started moving his limbs again.
A groan. “You’re such a pain in the butt!”
Winter smiled naughtily. “Literally, or figuratively?”
“Both.” Torin cuddled closer to Winter and sighed. “God, I’m so glad that we’re not like them. Those soap opera people, I mean. It just doesn’t fit us, the lovey-dovey thing.”
“Right. Fighting suits us better. Besides, this is more comfortable.” The blonde man agreed, and he kissed his lover’s forehead.
“What’s this, anyway?” Torin teased, prodding him at the ribs.
Winter shrugged, too lazy to think.
***
END
***