fic: Hug Me, Brotha
Title: Hug Me, Brotha
Author: stttmsbwa
Rating: Light R
Summary: Snippets into the life of Drake and Josh.
A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to everyone! I hope you all enjoy!
Josh’s backpack hit the floor with a soft FWUMP when he threw it against the ground. Face screwed up in anger, Josh paced around the room and tried his best not to cry.
Drake walked into the room, saw Josh and sighed heavily. He shook his head and rolled his eyes, walking over to his bed and throwing his backpack onto the comforter.
Josh continued to pace, every so often shooting pointed glares in Drake’s direction.
Turning to face Josh, Drake crossed his arms and waited for the distraught boy to look him in the eye.
“Josh,” Drake said forcefully. “I’m sorry.”
Stopping to stare Drake down, Josh waited before slowly allowing a smile to break. Nodding softly, Josh opened his arms.
“Hug me, brotha?”
Drake rolled his eyes again, but smiled softly in return. He opened his arms, too.
--
When Josh trudged up the steps and into the bedroom, he immediately ripped off his red vest and flung it onto the floor. Popcorn butter covered his head and most of his right arm, and all Josh wanted to do was clean it all off - right away.
As he began to strip off his clothing, a high pitched yelp made Josh jump and glance in the direction of Drake’s bed.
A blonde girl sat on Drake’s lap, shirt halfway off and face flushed. She pulled out of Drake’s embrace and yanked her shirt down, quickly gathering her purse and what was left of her dignity. Drake watched her hurriedly leave, words unable to come out of his mouth.
Face contorted with rage, Drake turned to Josh and glared.
“Josh!”
Already flustered from the surprise of finding an almost topless girl straddling his stepbrother on said stepbrother’s bed, Josh stammered.
“I-I’m sorry.”
Drake groaned and fell backwards onto his bed. Biting his lip, Josh tried his best to smile as sweetly as possible.
“Hug me, brotha?”
All Josh got, though, was a CD case thrown at his buttered head.
--
Pacing the floor nervously, Drake held one hand to his forehead and the other around his cell phone.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Josh would be calling at any second.
At any second, Drake’s band could have a gig at the coolest club within a fifteen mile radius. This could be his big break, his chance to get attention, his opportunity to make something of himself.
His heart leaping at the sudden feeling of vibration, Drake hastily flipped open his phone.
“Josh?”
And as soon as Drake heard Josh breathe, he knew.
“I’m sorry.”
Drake’s face fell and as he moved backwards he allowed himself to sink into the couch, the phone still held to his ear.
“Hug me, brotha?”
Even though Drake felt like a big dork he held the phone close to his chest, wishing that Josh would hurry up and get home so the hug could become real.
--
It was all happening so fast and the room was quickly getting very warm and when Mindy ran her fingers down Josh’s back like that, Josh felt like his whole body was spinning wildly out of control.
The touches began to move lower and the kissing became deeper and Josh was pretty sure nothing in the world could ever feel this good, especially once he and Mindy had become horizontal and he could feel every inch of Mindy’s body pressed close from beneath him.
And just as hands started tugging clothing off and just as Josh began to feel his mind growing dizzy and weary and blissful -
“Josh!”
Falling sideways off the couch, Josh glanced up to find that Drake was pretending not to throw up and that Mindy was blushing and yanking her sweater back on and telling Josh she had to leave and Josh thought his whole being was going to explode.
Drake watched Mindy leave the room, shuddering when she shut the door behind her. Walking over to Josh, Drake grinned down at him and held out a hand.
“I’m sorry?”
Glaring at Drake, Josh slapped the hand away and picked himself up. He started to make his way to the door, in pursuit of his runaway girlfriend.
“Hug me, brotha?”
Josh’s face grimaced, but when he turned - intentions to yell and hit and scold - he couldn’t resist the open arms and the wide eyes and the warm, knowing smile.
--
Drake was dreaming, dreaming of a stage with a bright spot light. He stood right under it, guitar in arms and microphone poised in front of his lips. A sea of fans stood below his feet, arms raised and mouths following the words to his song.
And Drake felt so famous, so incredible, so free. So free that he almost felt weightless - no, he really did. He really was. Drake could fly. And so his feet began to raise from the ground and slowly he was reaching new heights and testing the soft fluffy feel of the clouds.
From the corner of his eye, Drake could see another figure joining him in his flight - a blurry yet recognizable figure. And the sight made Drake’s heart jump and his hand reach out for the one reaching out for his and when fingers touched -
Suddenly Drake crashed out of his dream, his head falling off of Josh’s shoulder and back into the couch. Gasping and blinking a few times, Drake realized that the television was still on and that him and Josh had fallen asleep together.
Again.
Gently shaking Josh, Drake leaned in close to whisper.
“Josh?”
Waking with a start, Josh jumped a little before frowning. Drake smiled sheepishly.
“I’m sorry.”
Josh stretched and sighed, allowing himself to fall down into the cushions. He closed his eyes and lifted his arms, inviting Drake to join him.
“Hug me, brotha?”
And Drake obliged. Obliged quite willingly.
--
It was when the washed up pop star won the Shark Tank competition on When Celebrities Battle Nature’s Vicious Creatures.
Josh had been on his side since day one, recalling the days when his one hit wonder was the most popular song on the west coast. Drake claimed he rooted for the heroine addicted model with breasts the size of bowling balls, but silently he hoped the sad, attention-seeking guitarist would beat the rest of the crowd.
(Somewhere inside Drake felt that he could one day be that washed up artist, fighting sharks and rabid koalas for a little bit of limelight.)
So when the pop star was the last one standing (in a tank full of hammerheads), Josh and Drake began whooping and clapping and jumping. And when Josh turned to Drake with arms stretched out, Drake did the only thing he could think of.
He leaped into Josh’s arms, reached his hands up to cup Josh’s face and planted a firm kiss onto Josh’s lips. Surprisingly, and yet not so surprisingly, Josh kissed back, squeezing Drake’s body closer.
When Josh finally set Drake back down, Drake stammered and tried to think clearly.
“Josh - “
A deep blush spread across Drake’s cheeks as realization began to sink in.
“I’m sorry - “
Before Drake could continue, Josh covered Drake’s mouth with his right hand. Josh was smiling excitedly, obviously still concentrating on the Celebrity Victory.
“Hug me, brotha!”
Who was Drake to ruin such a fantastic moment?
--
Things were…unusual.
Maybe not unusual, but definitely strange.
Although not exactly strange, but for sure not ordinary.
Different. Slightly devastatingly different.
It was those damned lips. Josh was sure. And every time they moved, all Josh could imagine was what those lips felt like against his.
Because now that Josh had had a taste of what those lips were like in action, he wanted more.
More, more, more.
So when Drake came home from his date with Alex (Alice? Ally? What was her name this night?) and Josh sat up straight in his bed and Drake fell onto Josh’s legs, Josh couldn’t stop himself.
He lunged for Drake’s jacket lapel, pulling him up and close. Breathing in gently and barely tasting the soda on Drake’s tongue, Josh growled and roughly pressed his lips against Drake’s.
They were violent and desperate and needy, hands wandering everywhere and lips colliding with tongue colliding with teeth. And when Josh bit down on Drake’s bottom lip, he almost didn’t notice Drake’s cry of pain.
“Josh!”
“I’m sorry!”
Kissing softly around the swelling lip, Josh tried to tell his body and his heart to slow it down. Drake closed his eyes and leaned into Josh’s chest, wrapping his arms around Josh’s frame.
“Hug me, brotha.”
And Josh did. Tightly.
--
They had a system. A clear and perfect system.
There was no talking about the system. Only following the system.
No discussing the problem. No facing the problem. They were together, but not. They were a thing, but not. The system worked, for the most part.
And they followed it, almost religiously.
So all Josh could think when he walked into the room and saw Drake sucking face with some girl on their couch was Blasphemy, Blasphemy, Blasphemy.
Even after Drake asked her to go and she left, leaving a trail of cheap perfume in her wake, Josh didn’t dare look near Drake or the vandalized couch.
Drake sighed and pouted and was about to make excuses. Josh was late. Josh was always working. Josh was leaving.
And it hurt and Josh couldn’t stand that it hurt so much, but he gathered a change of clothes and made his way to the door.
“Josh!” Drake stood with arms raised halfway, eyes welling, throat choking back the millions of apologies he thought could maybe work (and Josh knew that if he heard them they would).
Josh shook his head and turned around. “I’m sorry.”
He closed the door behind him and rested his back against the wood.
His decision didn’t last long as he heard the muffled sound of Drake wearily muttering to himself.
“Hug me, brotha…”
And Josh was dropping his clothes and swinging the door open and rushing back into the room and picking Drake up and kissing his face and he was sorry, sorry, sorry he picked Columbia.
--
If what they say about reunion sex being amazing is true, than Drake wonders what they say about goodbye sex.
Because Drake wants to tell them that goodbye sex can break hearts and make people never want to have sex again. Not even reunion sex.
Even as Josh trailed wet kisses down Drake’s chest and rubbed Drake’s hips with his thumbs, all Drake could see were Josh’s suitcases standing by the door and Josh’s change of clothes waiting on the couch and the general absence of Josh throughout the room. Even though Josh was on top of him, naked and sweaty and working his way down to Drake’s navel.
All Drake could picture was the airport gate and the tears he wouldn’t let fall and the hug that would be too short and too brief and that would leave him breathless and alone. Even as Josh dipped his head lower, slowly taking Drake in.
And all Drake could imagine was Josh doing this with someone else, and Drake having someone else do this to him, and how easy it would be to just forget each other and move onto other people - except Drake knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t ever again be able to think about anyone but Josh.
Yanking at Josh’s head, Drake waited for Josh to align their faces before Drake pulled Josh down for a deep and frantic kiss. Josh worked their bodies together until finally they were joined and Josh was moving and Drake was loosing his train of thought.
“Josh,” Drake gasped. Josh moaned and started to suck on Drake’s collarbone. And the rhythm sped up and it didn’t take long, and when Drake came it felt like pleasure mixed with heavy pain.
The tears weren’t there, Drake told himself. But they were. And Drake was soon holding back sobs. Josh looked down at Drake and began to question.
“I’m sorry.” Drake began to wipe away the tears, but Josh was gripping him hard and close.
“Hug me, brotha.”
Drake softly cried himself to sleep in Josh's arms.
--
He hung his head over the edge of his bed. Holding the phone to his ear with one hand, Drake managed to yoyo upside down with the other
Just listening to Josh talk made Drake’s chest swell with pride and want and longing and pleasure and loneliness.
Drake could hear Josh’s transition from stairwell to dorm floor, the noises of college students filling his ear.
”Josh!”
A foreign conversation interrupted Josh’s explanation of the pros and cons of his dining hall, and Drake fought down the sudden and tumultuous rage of jealously that roared in his head.
He knew, he expected, but never actually came to terms that Josh would have friends that Drake didn’t know of. Friends that Drake couldn’t see.
Josh returned, sincere and oblivious to Drake’s panic attack. “I’m sorry.”
Drake bit back all his bitter words, trying his best to just breathe.
“Hug me, brotha.”
And it made Drake the happiest he had been in a long time to hear the rustling of Josh hugging his phone.
--
Drake had day dreamed about Josh’s return often, picturing lots of smiles and lots of touching and lots of kissing and lots of sex.
Lots and lots of sex.
Because after two months of no sex, Drake was more than ready to change his mind about goodbye sex scarring him for life.
Drake never imagined, though, that Josh’s return would be like this.
He found Josh sitting on the floor by his bed, black suit wrinkled and head buried in his arms. Drake dropped down and rested his head atop of Josh’s.
“Josh,” he whispered, kissing the messy tangle of brown curls. “I’m sorry.”
Josh’s hands clutched the program from the wake. Grammy’s face was crumpled a little, looking as though Josh’s grip had tried to reincarnate her through photography.
Drake felt Josh’s body shudder, and soon the gasping cries erupted.
Gently pulling Josh’s arms away from his face, Drake worked his way into Josh’s lap.
“Hug me, brotha.”
It was the saddest reunion Drake had never imagined.
--
Winter break. Drake’s two favorite words, next to summer break.
Josh was home. For a whole month.
Drake was going to fill the month with tons of holiday themed events.
Most of them involved kissing. And sex.
Drake anticipated lots of kissing and lots of sex.
As Drake climbed the step ladder to hang his first of thirty bunches of mistletoe above the door, his balance was quickly stolen as the door suddenly opened and pushed the ladder backwards. Drake shrieked and fell to the ground.
Josh gasped when he saw what had happened, rushing to Drake’s side.
“Josh!” Drake groaned, rubbing his sore bottom.
“I’m sorry!” Josh began racing his fingers all over Drake’s limbs, testing for any breaks or bruises. Once confirming that Drake was well and fine (minus the very displeased bottom), Josh laughed nervously.
“Hug me, brotha?”
Drake rolled his eyes and smirked, pointing upward. Josh’s eyes found the mistletoe and he, too, began to grin.
--
What they (whoever “they” is) say about reunion sex, Drake decided, is completely and utterly true.
The reunion sex?
Amazing.
Reunion sex on Christmas Eve?
Cliché and sappy.
But amazing.
Drake was determined to have sex on every plausible surface, if only so once Josh left Drake could have as much of Josh as possible left in the room.
As they were moving from the couch to the floor, Drake accidentally pushed Josh a little too roughly, sending him into the coffee table. Josh cried out in pain.
“Josh!”
They sat on the floor, catching their breath. Drake traced his fingers over Josh’s already bruising thigh.
“I’m sorry.”
Josh shrugged, and pulled Drake into his lap.
“Hug me, brotha.”
Drake did, but only briefly.
They had a lot of sex to have.
Author: stttmsbwa
Rating: Light R
Summary: Snippets into the life of Drake and Josh.
A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to everyone! I hope you all enjoy!
Josh’s backpack hit the floor with a soft FWUMP when he threw it against the ground. Face screwed up in anger, Josh paced around the room and tried his best not to cry.
Drake walked into the room, saw Josh and sighed heavily. He shook his head and rolled his eyes, walking over to his bed and throwing his backpack onto the comforter.
Josh continued to pace, every so often shooting pointed glares in Drake’s direction.
Turning to face Josh, Drake crossed his arms and waited for the distraught boy to look him in the eye.
“Josh,” Drake said forcefully. “I’m sorry.”
Stopping to stare Drake down, Josh waited before slowly allowing a smile to break. Nodding softly, Josh opened his arms.
“Hug me, brotha?”
Drake rolled his eyes again, but smiled softly in return. He opened his arms, too.
--
When Josh trudged up the steps and into the bedroom, he immediately ripped off his red vest and flung it onto the floor. Popcorn butter covered his head and most of his right arm, and all Josh wanted to do was clean it all off - right away.
As he began to strip off his clothing, a high pitched yelp made Josh jump and glance in the direction of Drake’s bed.
A blonde girl sat on Drake’s lap, shirt halfway off and face flushed. She pulled out of Drake’s embrace and yanked her shirt down, quickly gathering her purse and what was left of her dignity. Drake watched her hurriedly leave, words unable to come out of his mouth.
Face contorted with rage, Drake turned to Josh and glared.
“Josh!”
Already flustered from the surprise of finding an almost topless girl straddling his stepbrother on said stepbrother’s bed, Josh stammered.
“I-I’m sorry.”
Drake groaned and fell backwards onto his bed. Biting his lip, Josh tried his best to smile as sweetly as possible.
“Hug me, brotha?”
All Josh got, though, was a CD case thrown at his buttered head.
--
Pacing the floor nervously, Drake held one hand to his forehead and the other around his cell phone.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Josh would be calling at any second.
At any second, Drake’s band could have a gig at the coolest club within a fifteen mile radius. This could be his big break, his chance to get attention, his opportunity to make something of himself.
His heart leaping at the sudden feeling of vibration, Drake hastily flipped open his phone.
“Josh?”
And as soon as Drake heard Josh breathe, he knew.
“I’m sorry.”
Drake’s face fell and as he moved backwards he allowed himself to sink into the couch, the phone still held to his ear.
“Hug me, brotha?”
Even though Drake felt like a big dork he held the phone close to his chest, wishing that Josh would hurry up and get home so the hug could become real.
--
It was all happening so fast and the room was quickly getting very warm and when Mindy ran her fingers down Josh’s back like that, Josh felt like his whole body was spinning wildly out of control.
The touches began to move lower and the kissing became deeper and Josh was pretty sure nothing in the world could ever feel this good, especially once he and Mindy had become horizontal and he could feel every inch of Mindy’s body pressed close from beneath him.
And just as hands started tugging clothing off and just as Josh began to feel his mind growing dizzy and weary and blissful -
“Josh!”
Falling sideways off the couch, Josh glanced up to find that Drake was pretending not to throw up and that Mindy was blushing and yanking her sweater back on and telling Josh she had to leave and Josh thought his whole being was going to explode.
Drake watched Mindy leave the room, shuddering when she shut the door behind her. Walking over to Josh, Drake grinned down at him and held out a hand.
“I’m sorry?”
Glaring at Drake, Josh slapped the hand away and picked himself up. He started to make his way to the door, in pursuit of his runaway girlfriend.
“Hug me, brotha?”
Josh’s face grimaced, but when he turned - intentions to yell and hit and scold - he couldn’t resist the open arms and the wide eyes and the warm, knowing smile.
--
Drake was dreaming, dreaming of a stage with a bright spot light. He stood right under it, guitar in arms and microphone poised in front of his lips. A sea of fans stood below his feet, arms raised and mouths following the words to his song.
And Drake felt so famous, so incredible, so free. So free that he almost felt weightless - no, he really did. He really was. Drake could fly. And so his feet began to raise from the ground and slowly he was reaching new heights and testing the soft fluffy feel of the clouds.
From the corner of his eye, Drake could see another figure joining him in his flight - a blurry yet recognizable figure. And the sight made Drake’s heart jump and his hand reach out for the one reaching out for his and when fingers touched -
Suddenly Drake crashed out of his dream, his head falling off of Josh’s shoulder and back into the couch. Gasping and blinking a few times, Drake realized that the television was still on and that him and Josh had fallen asleep together.
Again.
Gently shaking Josh, Drake leaned in close to whisper.
“Josh?”
Waking with a start, Josh jumped a little before frowning. Drake smiled sheepishly.
“I’m sorry.”
Josh stretched and sighed, allowing himself to fall down into the cushions. He closed his eyes and lifted his arms, inviting Drake to join him.
“Hug me, brotha?”
And Drake obliged. Obliged quite willingly.
--
It was when the washed up pop star won the Shark Tank competition on When Celebrities Battle Nature’s Vicious Creatures.
Josh had been on his side since day one, recalling the days when his one hit wonder was the most popular song on the west coast. Drake claimed he rooted for the heroine addicted model with breasts the size of bowling balls, but silently he hoped the sad, attention-seeking guitarist would beat the rest of the crowd.
(Somewhere inside Drake felt that he could one day be that washed up artist, fighting sharks and rabid koalas for a little bit of limelight.)
So when the pop star was the last one standing (in a tank full of hammerheads), Josh and Drake began whooping and clapping and jumping. And when Josh turned to Drake with arms stretched out, Drake did the only thing he could think of.
He leaped into Josh’s arms, reached his hands up to cup Josh’s face and planted a firm kiss onto Josh’s lips. Surprisingly, and yet not so surprisingly, Josh kissed back, squeezing Drake’s body closer.
When Josh finally set Drake back down, Drake stammered and tried to think clearly.
“Josh - “
A deep blush spread across Drake’s cheeks as realization began to sink in.
“I’m sorry - “
Before Drake could continue, Josh covered Drake’s mouth with his right hand. Josh was smiling excitedly, obviously still concentrating on the Celebrity Victory.
“Hug me, brotha!”
Who was Drake to ruin such a fantastic moment?
--
Things were…unusual.
Maybe not unusual, but definitely strange.
Although not exactly strange, but for sure not ordinary.
Different. Slightly devastatingly different.
It was those damned lips. Josh was sure. And every time they moved, all Josh could imagine was what those lips felt like against his.
Because now that Josh had had a taste of what those lips were like in action, he wanted more.
More, more, more.
So when Drake came home from his date with Alex (Alice? Ally? What was her name this night?) and Josh sat up straight in his bed and Drake fell onto Josh’s legs, Josh couldn’t stop himself.
He lunged for Drake’s jacket lapel, pulling him up and close. Breathing in gently and barely tasting the soda on Drake’s tongue, Josh growled and roughly pressed his lips against Drake’s.
They were violent and desperate and needy, hands wandering everywhere and lips colliding with tongue colliding with teeth. And when Josh bit down on Drake’s bottom lip, he almost didn’t notice Drake’s cry of pain.
“Josh!”
“I’m sorry!”
Kissing softly around the swelling lip, Josh tried to tell his body and his heart to slow it down. Drake closed his eyes and leaned into Josh’s chest, wrapping his arms around Josh’s frame.
“Hug me, brotha.”
And Josh did. Tightly.
--
They had a system. A clear and perfect system.
There was no talking about the system. Only following the system.
No discussing the problem. No facing the problem. They were together, but not. They were a thing, but not. The system worked, for the most part.
And they followed it, almost religiously.
So all Josh could think when he walked into the room and saw Drake sucking face with some girl on their couch was Blasphemy, Blasphemy, Blasphemy.
Even after Drake asked her to go and she left, leaving a trail of cheap perfume in her wake, Josh didn’t dare look near Drake or the vandalized couch.
Drake sighed and pouted and was about to make excuses. Josh was late. Josh was always working. Josh was leaving.
And it hurt and Josh couldn’t stand that it hurt so much, but he gathered a change of clothes and made his way to the door.
“Josh!” Drake stood with arms raised halfway, eyes welling, throat choking back the millions of apologies he thought could maybe work (and Josh knew that if he heard them they would).
Josh shook his head and turned around. “I’m sorry.”
He closed the door behind him and rested his back against the wood.
His decision didn’t last long as he heard the muffled sound of Drake wearily muttering to himself.
“Hug me, brotha…”
And Josh was dropping his clothes and swinging the door open and rushing back into the room and picking Drake up and kissing his face and he was sorry, sorry, sorry he picked Columbia.
--
If what they say about reunion sex being amazing is true, than Drake wonders what they say about goodbye sex.
Because Drake wants to tell them that goodbye sex can break hearts and make people never want to have sex again. Not even reunion sex.
Even as Josh trailed wet kisses down Drake’s chest and rubbed Drake’s hips with his thumbs, all Drake could see were Josh’s suitcases standing by the door and Josh’s change of clothes waiting on the couch and the general absence of Josh throughout the room. Even though Josh was on top of him, naked and sweaty and working his way down to Drake’s navel.
All Drake could picture was the airport gate and the tears he wouldn’t let fall and the hug that would be too short and too brief and that would leave him breathless and alone. Even as Josh dipped his head lower, slowly taking Drake in.
And all Drake could imagine was Josh doing this with someone else, and Drake having someone else do this to him, and how easy it would be to just forget each other and move onto other people - except Drake knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t ever again be able to think about anyone but Josh.
Yanking at Josh’s head, Drake waited for Josh to align their faces before Drake pulled Josh down for a deep and frantic kiss. Josh worked their bodies together until finally they were joined and Josh was moving and Drake was loosing his train of thought.
“Josh,” Drake gasped. Josh moaned and started to suck on Drake’s collarbone. And the rhythm sped up and it didn’t take long, and when Drake came it felt like pleasure mixed with heavy pain.
The tears weren’t there, Drake told himself. But they were. And Drake was soon holding back sobs. Josh looked down at Drake and began to question.
“I’m sorry.” Drake began to wipe away the tears, but Josh was gripping him hard and close.
“Hug me, brotha.”
Drake softly cried himself to sleep in Josh's arms.
--
He hung his head over the edge of his bed. Holding the phone to his ear with one hand, Drake managed to yoyo upside down with the other
Just listening to Josh talk made Drake’s chest swell with pride and want and longing and pleasure and loneliness.
Drake could hear Josh’s transition from stairwell to dorm floor, the noises of college students filling his ear.
”Josh!”
A foreign conversation interrupted Josh’s explanation of the pros and cons of his dining hall, and Drake fought down the sudden and tumultuous rage of jealously that roared in his head.
He knew, he expected, but never actually came to terms that Josh would have friends that Drake didn’t know of. Friends that Drake couldn’t see.
Josh returned, sincere and oblivious to Drake’s panic attack. “I’m sorry.”
Drake bit back all his bitter words, trying his best to just breathe.
“Hug me, brotha.”
And it made Drake the happiest he had been in a long time to hear the rustling of Josh hugging his phone.
--
Drake had day dreamed about Josh’s return often, picturing lots of smiles and lots of touching and lots of kissing and lots of sex.
Lots and lots of sex.
Because after two months of no sex, Drake was more than ready to change his mind about goodbye sex scarring him for life.
Drake never imagined, though, that Josh’s return would be like this.
He found Josh sitting on the floor by his bed, black suit wrinkled and head buried in his arms. Drake dropped down and rested his head atop of Josh’s.
“Josh,” he whispered, kissing the messy tangle of brown curls. “I’m sorry.”
Josh’s hands clutched the program from the wake. Grammy’s face was crumpled a little, looking as though Josh’s grip had tried to reincarnate her through photography.
Drake felt Josh’s body shudder, and soon the gasping cries erupted.
Gently pulling Josh’s arms away from his face, Drake worked his way into Josh’s lap.
“Hug me, brotha.”
It was the saddest reunion Drake had never imagined.
--
Winter break. Drake’s two favorite words, next to summer break.
Josh was home. For a whole month.
Drake was going to fill the month with tons of holiday themed events.
Most of them involved kissing. And sex.
Drake anticipated lots of kissing and lots of sex.
As Drake climbed the step ladder to hang his first of thirty bunches of mistletoe above the door, his balance was quickly stolen as the door suddenly opened and pushed the ladder backwards. Drake shrieked and fell to the ground.
Josh gasped when he saw what had happened, rushing to Drake’s side.
“Josh!” Drake groaned, rubbing his sore bottom.
“I’m sorry!” Josh began racing his fingers all over Drake’s limbs, testing for any breaks or bruises. Once confirming that Drake was well and fine (minus the very displeased bottom), Josh laughed nervously.
“Hug me, brotha?”
Drake rolled his eyes and smirked, pointing upward. Josh’s eyes found the mistletoe and he, too, began to grin.
--
What they (whoever “they” is) say about reunion sex, Drake decided, is completely and utterly true.
The reunion sex?
Amazing.
Reunion sex on Christmas Eve?
Cliché and sappy.
But amazing.
Drake was determined to have sex on every plausible surface, if only so once Josh left Drake could have as much of Josh as possible left in the room.
As they were moving from the couch to the floor, Drake accidentally pushed Josh a little too roughly, sending him into the coffee table. Josh cried out in pain.
“Josh!”
They sat on the floor, catching their breath. Drake traced his fingers over Josh’s already bruising thigh.
“I’m sorry.”
Josh shrugged, and pulled Drake into his lap.
“Hug me, brotha.”
Drake did, but only briefly.
They had a lot of sex to have.