fic: bandom: "Arguments in the Key of Reason": nick/tyson
Title: Arguments in the Key of Reason
Authors: xaritomene and xrysomou
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Here be smut. Consider yourselves warned for Gabe.
Pairing: Nick/Tyson (minor Gabe/Tyson, mentions of Gabe/Bill)
Word Count: 4727
Summary: Nick and Ty are in love and have been forever - they just need a helping hand in the right direction. And Gabe... well, Gabe's always been handsy handy.
Disclaimer: Not ours, never happened, never will, please don't eat us.
This is crossposted all over the damn shop - aar_capslock, rejectedfic, here, our private journals and bandslashmania. Sorry for any spam!
A/N: This fic is a mix of utter crack and a sliver of canon; Gabe once got thoroughly over-excited about meeting Tyson and posted about it on his Twitter. The word 'swoon' was mentioned. Sadly, they never did meet one gets the impression that Tyson, very sensibly, ran for his life and the tweet itself is lost in the mists of Gabe's Twitter. Here's what we like to think might have happened:
The first text rather confused Tyson. ‘ritter, a little bird told me youre in new york. Wanna meet up? gabe’
‘gabe saporta?’
‘the one, the only!’
‘have you been stalking my twitter? Again?’
‘maybe. So, tuesday?’
‘what?’
‘great, coffee at eleven at starbucks on twelfth! See you there’
**
Unfortunately for Gabe, Tuesday rolled round and Tyson turned up in a foul mood. Gabe let him pretend everything was fine through ordering drinks and preliminary small talk, then pounced when they’d taken their seats.
“So, I’m in town for a few days,” Gabe started, eyeing Tyson’s gloomy posture interestedly out of the corner of one eye.
“Mmhmm...”
“Should be fun,” Gabe said slowly and a little louder.
“Mmhmm...”
“Sometimes I dance around my apartment in nothing but red stilettos.” No response. “And a cobra. It’s an erotic display Ryland and I put on for Bill. Really gets him going.”
Tyson glanced up, puzzled. “Is this your normal coffee conversation, Saporta?” He paused and smiled suddenly. “Wait, of course it is.”
Gabe grinned back. “Well, true, but right now it’s more of a coffee monologue. Don’t get me wrong, I love the sound of my own voice, but I’m pretty sure I could be quite fond of yours.” Tyson dithered momentarily. “C’mon, give it up - who spat in your Wheaties?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Tyson said, “I’m just a bit...” he gave an indistinct sound and a handwave.
Gabe raised an eyebrow. “How are those lyrics going?”
“Shut up,” Tyson said, but smiled a little. “Eh, you know. Clearly Nick and I have been spending too much time together.”
“Oh, yeah, how is the love affair that isn’t?” Gabe asked, leaning forwards.
“It isn’t,” Tyson said gloomily.
“Hence the spit in the Wheaties, right?”
“Eh,” Tyson shrugged. “We’ve just been around each other for too long. You know how it is.”
“No?”
“What, you’ve never got sick of spending time around Bill Beckett?”
“No. Bilvy is my light, my life, my reason for being - and the sex is awesome.” A woman two tables over choked on her coffee, which served her right for eavesdropping. Gabe gave her a crazed grin and turned back to his miserable companion. “So, yeah, sex is the root of all awesome. So, you’re sick of the guy - just take a break.”
“But I miss him when he’s gone,” Tyson said immediately, clearly without thinking, then visibly wished he could bite his own tongue off.
Gabe pulled a face. “Man, you got it bad.”
Tyson sighed. “Damn, I need a new band.”
“There’s always a vacancy in Cobra Starship,” Gabe grinned. “The Cobra likes tall people.”
“You already have a bassist, and I’d hate to do you out of a job singing, so - what vacancy would I fill?” Gabe’s eyebrows when crazy. Tyson met his gaze implacably. “Apart from that one.”
“Well, you’re a model, aren’t you?” The kid actually blushed, which amazed Gabe - he hadn’t thought Tyson Ritter had any shame left. “Just walk up and down a bit and look pretty.” He leant forwards and added conspiratorially, “we’re jealous of Panic’s stage-show.”
Tyson looked a little worried. “You’ve seen me dance, right?”
“No?”
“There’s a reason for that.”
Gabe accepted this with equanimity. “So, it’s all sorted, then? You run away with Cobra Starship and find consolation in the arms of my may I say gorgeous guitarist-”
“Does Ryland know you’re pimping him out?”
“Oh, yeah, I do it like, twice a day, man. Anyway, so - you find consolation in Ryland’s arms, he’s taller than you, it’s perfect - and then Wheeler turns a delicate shade of jealous, comes after you, begs your forgiveness and everyone goes home happy.”
Tyson paused. “Um. OK?”
Gabe paid no attention to him. “Hang on, wait - no, that’s an idea!”
“What? Because I’m sure Ryland’s really nice and all, but-”
“No, you’ve gotta make him jealous!”
“Who, Ryland?!”
“No, Ritter, your paramour, are you normally this slow? Make Wheeler think he’s losing you so he fights harder to keep you!”
“Man, that is some fucked up romcom shit right there,” Tyson frowned. “It’ll never work.”
“Twenty bucks and a cameo in a song says it will,” Gabe returned instantly.
Tyson actually laughed. “That’s one way to collaborate.”
“The Cobra will out,” Gabe smiled. “And it’s like I’ve always said - what AAR really needs is more neon.”
“The day you get Gaylor in neon is the day I will personally-”
“Perform lewd and filthy acts with me as my concubine?” The woman two tables away looked half-way to a hernia.
“I’m finding out far more about your kinks today than I really wanted to. Ever,” Tyson said, but he was smiling.
“Admit it - you’re curious.”
“No,” Tyson said simply. “Not really. The sight of your red-stiletto mating dance might just kill me.”
“Fine,” Gabe said sulkily. “But - look. Make it a bet. If I can’t get Wheeler to admit that he’s in love with you before I leave town, you get a duet on Cobra Starship’s next album. If I can, you gotta write me a duet. Sound fair?”
“The bits I understood sounded fair,” Tyson agreed warily. “But - look, dude, it’s a lost cause. I’ve had girlfriends and boyfriends before, and Nick’s never cared-”
Gabe’s grin was positively demonic. “You underestimate the power of the Cobra.”
“You’ve got to stop referring to yourself as the Cobra,” Tyson told him. “And seriously, how’re you going to do it?”
“None of your other conquests have been me,” Gabe grinned.
“What does that mean!?”
He winked and stood to leave. “I’m so annoying.”
**
Tyson caught up with him after about a block. “Saporta, wait.” Gabe glanced at him. “How is you being annoying going to help? I mean,” and was that a mischievous glint in his eye, “how will he even know you’re not just being you?”
“Firstly, ouch. Secondly, petal, you don’t understand,” Gabe stroked a hand down Tyson’s bare forearm, and Tyson visibly had to stop himself from stepping backwards and away from him. “I’m going to be all over you - all the time. He’s gonna go nuts.”
“Is this a tried and tested theory?”
“It’s got me punched in the past,” Gabe said thoughtfully. “So - yeah.”
“So, what, you’re essentially my boyfriend?”
“As far as most people are concerned,” Gabe nodded.
Tyson thought about this for a second, the groaned. “Bill Beckett is going to eat me.”
Gabe waved a dismissive hand. “Let me handle Bill. He’ll understand!”
“Hmm.” Tyson had seen Bill Beckett’s ‘understanding’ before, and it looked painful.
“Look, OK, basic plan. I’m going to be all over you in front of the guy who’s clearly infatuated with you,” Tyson muttered something resentful about that, but Gabe ignored him, “and then we’ll,” he made a ridiculous hand gesture, “reel him in.”
“You better be planning out that duet,” Tyson informed him and turned to go.
“It’ll be so nice to work with someone who has so much faith in my abilities,” Gabe called after him.
“I have total faith in your musical abilities, Saporta!” Tyson told him. “It’s your romance-guru ones I’m questioning.”
“Question no more, little grasshopper, for you shall go to the ball.”
“That was a horrible marriage of the movies.”
“Confidence, Ritter! And I’ll see you tomorrow, OK? Start laying groundwork tonight. Talk about how awesome I am, it shouldn’t be hard.”
**
‘good morning petal’
‘it’s seven am gabe what the fuck’
‘the early bird catches the photographer. Meet me on the corner and bring coffee’
**
“This place is fucking freezing,” Tyson informed him twenty minutes later. Gabe grinned madly at him and slung an arm around his shoulders, dragging him closer and neatly stealing one of the cups of coffee as he stuck one freezing hand down the neck of Tyson’s hoodie.
“Mm, you’re warm...”
“Fucking fuck, that’s cold, stop it!”
“Boyfriends share body warmth, Ritter,” Gabe said reprovingly. “And speaking of, does Nick know about me? Have you told him all about the gleam of my hair in the light of the subway? Does he know you’re here with me now?”
“He’s asleep. Because everyone is asleep. It’s seven on a Saturday morning, and you woke me up!”
“Stop moaning, or I won’t do anything nice for you ever again.”
“OK, well, talking of boyfriends,” Tyson challenged, “have you talked to Bill, yet?”
“Shit,” Gabe said, suddenly serious, digging around in his pockets for his phone. “Two seconds - don’t go anywhere!”
**
Twenty minutes later, Gabe reappeared back near Tyson, still on his mobile but clearly rounding up the call. “Yeah, OK, I promise. I gotta go, OK, he’s right here. Yeah, I’ll say hi. Love you.” He hung up and turned to Tyson with another of his trademark manic grins. “The eagle has landed and we’re good to go!”
“How’s Bill?” Tyson asked pointedly.
“Fine, fine,” Gabe waved his hand dismissively, but his expression softened fractionally. “He says hi. Now, come with me where all the children play,” he held out a hand.
Tyson didn’t take it. “Please don’t tell me you say that to actual kids,” he said, grinning. “Cos otherwise Wentz must know a really good lawyer.”
“Of course I don’t, I’m not actually a monster, Ritter. No, we’re just going photographer hunting.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh, yeah. And then we’re going get some nice photos of me kissing you against a wall somewhere leaked onto the internet. And hopefully that will drive your paramour mental.”
**
“Ty, what the hell?” Nick asked, chucking a couple of print-outs down in front of Tyson.
Tyson glanced at them. They were actually pretty good pictures, but then, Gabe was a sneaky little fucker, and he knew the best. Not to mention, he had carefully coached Tyson for just this moment. “Oh. I didn’t know there was a photographer,” he said, taking a blithe sip of tea. “Sorry about that.”
“The label are going to be thrilled,” Nick said, grasping a little at straws.
“Because I’m kissing boys now? Or is it Gabe you think they’ll object to?”
“We have to keep middle America, dude.”
“Middle America,” Tyson all-but snapped, genuinely annoyed, “is fine with those emo kids from Panic at the Disco, they’re fine with My Chemical Romance, and so help me god, they’re fine with Gabe too.”
Nick backed down. “OK then,” he admitted with rather bad grace. He dithered a little, then sat down. “So, er. You and Gabe. Is it, um. You know. Serious?”
Tyson pasted on his soppiest smile, barely reminding himself not to overdo it. “I think so. I mean, it’s. I’ve,” Nick was starting to look sceptical. “I’ve no idea,” Tyson said, actually honest, reeling himself back in. “I think, maybe, I’d like it to be? Right now, it’s - touch and go.” He grinned. “More of the touch, less of the go.”
Nick was doing that thing where he clenched his jaw and tried to smile - Tyson hoped this was a good sign. “Well. He, uh. He seems. Well, if I’m honest, he seems like a total nutcase, but - he seems OK.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty cool,” Tyson agreed, as opposed to Gabe’s suggestion of ‘he overwhelmed me with the sheer force of his raw, sexual masculinity’. (Clearly Gabe spent most of his time in the romance novel section of life.)
Nick nodded, though he looked very faintly pained. “Well, OK then,” he said and headed back into his room to grab his laptop. “I think I’ve come up with a bass line...”
Tyson shoved the printouts to one side and tried very hard to focus on the music and not Nick’s `mouth - with almost total success.
**
The most important part of this relationship, Gabe kept telling Tyson, was timing. They wanted to get caught - and regularly. This meant a lot of time memorising Nick’s habits, but since he was spending time with the reigning expert on all things Wheeler, that wasn’t too hard, and thankfully, Gabe was nothing if not a master of prevarication.
The first time, he walked Tyson back to his apartment block after one of their strategy meetings and kept him chatting until Gabe caught sight of Nick rounding the corner onto their road. That was when he grabbed Tyson, who reacted with admirable aplomb as Gabe slid one hand round the back of his neck, cupping Tyson’s jaw with the other, and pulling him forwards into a long, slow, explicit kiss.
Out of the corner of his eye - and in the quick break Gabe took before returning to the serious business of kissing the shit out of his new friend - Gabe watched as Nick paused, staring, then turned on his heel and headed into the building. To his credit, Tyson just went with it, but once Gabe had broken the kiss, he stepped backwards, smiling, lopsided and awkward.
“Dude, are you sure this isn’t taking things a little far?”
Gabe waved away his excuses. “Like I need an excuse to kiss pretty boys,” he grinned and patted Tyson on the cheek. “Be seeing you, Ritter. Phase Two - how ’bout Thursday?”
**
Secure in their plan, their next proper kiss was actually a little less staged.
Gabe was clearly some kind of expert torturer, and the dinner he so casually invited himself to was an exquisite kind of torment. He was actually a little worried about being left alone with Nick, whose raised eyebrows, Gabe knew, could actually flay a man’s soul. Nick was definitely frosty towards Gabe, though not outright rude - and whilst Tyson hoped that was a good sign, it could equally have been because Gabe was twenty minutes late, the rotis had nearly been burnt, and he had had the effrontery to turn up in a lime green hoodie which smarted even Tyson’s eyes. He’d then compounded the offence by spending the entire meal edging his chair closer to Tyson’s and whispering total inanities in the sultriest murmur imaginable.
“‘How did you get so much floorspace’? 'I need a flatscreen like that’? ‘Oh shit, my rent was due last week’?! Seriously!?” Tyson muttered as they both headed into the kitchen with dirty dishes.
“I know how to romance a guy,” Gabe said complacently.
“Yeah, ‘I love your carpets’ was a real high point,” Tyson agreed, loading the dishes into the sink. “If that’s how you romanced Bill Beckett, he’s just dropped whole storeys in my estimation.” He paused, and glanced at Gabe. “But, er... do you think it’s working?”
“Oh, yeah, I think so,” Gabe said, after pretending to think about it for barely a moment. “But we could always test it, if you want.”
“How do we do-” He was cut off as Gabe yanked him forwards.
Gabe was pretty sure Nick would be curious after being left alone for a good couple of minutes for no apparent reason, and apart from that, Tyson was kind of fucking hot, and Gabe intended to make the absolute most of the time during which he was allowed to kiss him.
He shoved him back against the counter, and cupped his cheek, stroking his thumb over the length of Tyson’s cheekbone.
For a moment, he didn’t even move to kiss him. “You are so fucking gorgeous,” he told Tyson, and could practically see the disbelief forming on his face. “And he’s an idiot if he doesn’t see it.”
Then, before Tyson could come out with something ridiculous and self-deprecating, Gabe leant heavily against him, holding him against the counter and kissing him firmly. His other hand slid down the length of Tyson’s back to rest at his hip, and Tyson wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him a little closer. It was Tyson who deepened the kiss, humming into Gabe’s mouth as he slid his lips over Gabe’s.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gabe could see Nick in the doorway. “I’ll bring the rest of the plates through, shall I?” He asked, loud and icy. As he disappeared through the doorway again, Tyson stiffened in Gabe’s arms, his face settling into unhappy lines as he attempted to pull away.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” He asked, voice low.
Gabe refused to let him move, thumb stroking comfortingly at his hip. “He’ll come round,” he promised. “Reckon he’d come round faster if I fucked you?” He pulled a thoughtful face. “Eh, maybe not - he doesn’t seem the type.”
Tyson laughed, low in his throat. “Oh, I’d do you, Saporta,” he grinned, “if you weren’t so fucking crazy.”
“And you’d have to fight Bill for me.”
“Sexy as I find you, I’d rather keep my eyeballs where they are, thanks,” Tyson said, and disentangled himself from Gabe just as Nick reappeared, stony-faced, in the kitchen.
**
“I think we should progress , Ty,” Gabe said, smiling wide and friendly. They were sipping coffee in Tyson’s kitchen, the flat conspicuously empty apart from them. When Nick had heard that Gabe was coming round that morning, he’d grunted disapprovingly and made himself scarce.
“Oh?” Just a couple of weeks had taught Tyson to be wary of that tone in Gabe’s voice.
“Horizontal making out!”
“But I don’t know when Nick’s gonna get back.”
“Practice makes perfect,” Gabe grinned. “C’mon Ritter, get it together. Sofa, you and me, now. It’s a date.”
It wasn’t like Tyson was especially shy, but this kind of making-out-by-numbers kind of freaked him out. “OK, um, then. How do you want me?” Gabe paused, weighing up his answers, but before he could speak, Tyson gave him a lascivious grin. “Because I want you to paint me - like one of your French girls.”
Gabe paused for a long moment. “Did you just make a Titanic reference?”
“I did!”
“How does the entire world not know you’re gay?” Gabe asked despairingly.
“I think I’m pretty good at hiding it,” Tyson said, allowing himself to be herded into the living room.
“Dude, you prance half-naked around the stage wearing nothing but girl jeans and glitter. You couldn’t make it clearer if you took out an advert in The New York Post.” Gabe shoved him towards the sofa. “Now, c’mon. Time to get down and dirty.”
“Well, if you insist...”
Tyson sat down and Gabe heaved a sigh, sitting down next to him. “OK, maybe - like this.” He grabbed Tyson’s wrists and all but yanked him into his lap. “This OK?”
Tyson paused and nodded. “Um, I guess? So, what do I do, know I’m up here?”
“Would you like cue cards? Because I thought it was pretty-”
“Shut up, Saporta.” This time it was Tyson who leant forward and pressed his mouth to Gabe’s, one eye on the door waiting for Nick’s return. Gabe’s hands settled at the small of his back, and Tyson grinned into the kiss, biting at Gabe’s lower lip and shoving him backwards into the sofa. Gabe shifted things rather by twisting so that Tyson was lying back along the sofa, Gabe lying on top of him, hands in Tyson’s hair as he licked into his mouth.
They kissed until Gabe pulled back, a little out of breath and lips red with kissing. “Holy fucking hell, Ritter, does Wheeler seriously not know what he’s missing out on?” Tyson laughed a little. “D’you think we could get my significant other to agree to a threesome?”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Tyson said apologetically. “I like my tea unpoisoned.”
“Worth a try,” Gabe said, shrugging unapologetically, and kissed him again. Breaking away, he mouthed at Tyson’s neck, biting at the delicate skin below his ear and relishing in the shudder Tyson gave, enjoying the feeling of the younger man arching up beneath him. Sucking kisses along his jaw, Gabe grinned as he kissed Tyson full on the mouth once more, allowing his hands to wander a little further down Tyson’s body.
It was then that Nick arrived back in the flat.
For a moment, he stood there in silence, surveying the scene, namely Tyson on his back, panting, Gabe on top of him, kissing him with abandon.
“Huh,” he said loudly, and watched with some satisfaction as Tyson jumped and attempted to wriggle out from underneath Gabe - though sadly with little success. “Saporta - Gabe - can I have a word?”
**
In the kitchen, Gabe smiled sleepily at Nick, rubbing one hand insolently over his mouth. “There a problem, Wheeler?”
Nick paced tightly in front of him. “Yeah, I got a problem,” he said, without thinking, then paused. What was his problem?
“Stop me if I’m wrong,” Gabe said insouciantly, “but you’re gonna get on my case about me making out with your frontman - am I wrong? ’Cos you’re head over heels in love with him, right?”
Nick floundered. “I... don’t really think... that’s relevant.”
“Really? Oh, sorry,” Gabe grinned, “cos I was going to tell you how ridiculously in love with you he is, but, er. My bad.”
“What?”
**
Nick leant in the doorframe of Tyson’s room, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “You couldn’t just have told me?”
Tyson jumped a foot. “You couldn’t just have knocked?”
“No, I couldn’t,” Nick snapped. “What the fuck made you think that was a good idea?”
“What was a good idea!?”
“You! And Gabe! And the jealousy thing!”
“Oh. That,” Tyson paused.
“Yeah, that!” Nick snapped. “Because, it’s not like I’ve been in love with you since I was eighteen, or anything!?” There was an awkward pause. Finally, Nick met Tyson’s eyes. “OK, should I not have said that?”
Tyson digested that for a moment in silence. “No, you should have said exactly that,” he said, “like, four years ago.”
Then Tyson was throwing himself at Nick, and Nick found himself with an armful of Tyson and Tyson’s tongue in his mouth, kissing him enthusiastically.
Nick’s hand’s instinctively gripped Tyson’s hips, pulling him closer. Tyson gave a little moan of encouragement and allowed himself to be walked carefully backwards, without too much interference to the kiss, towards his own bed. There was an awkward moment when Nick shoved him backwards onto the bed, but Tyson gave that stupid, too-loud laugh of his and grabbed at Nick’s T-shirt, pulling him down too to meet his mouth.
Nick pulled back for long enough to mouth at the skin of Tyson’s neck. “I swear to good, I will buy you flowers and take you to restaurants and what the fuck ever, but can we...?”
Tyson arched his neck back into Nick’s touch, and laughed. “Four years of foreplay and you think I want to fucking wait until the third date? Condoms and lube are in the fucking nightstand, now get a move on, Jesus.” He froze suddenly. “Um - you did get rid of Gabe, right?”
“Oh, yeah! Saw him out and locked the door,” Nick said absently, searching through the nightstand.
“OK, good,” Tyson said, working at his belt, “because much as I like the dude, I don’t trust him not to hide in a closet and jerk off.”
Nick just grinned, fumbling for lube and a condom and trying, messily, to kiss Tyson at the same time. He felt like an uncoordinated teenager again, all eagerness and passion, laughing against Tyson as Tyson’s hands slid down his sides. “Dude, ticklish.”
“I know,” Tyson grinned wickedly. “It’s payback.”
Nick wanted to question that but was too busy kissing him, hands fumbling at his pants. “Fucking hell, what do you need so many buttons for?” Nick demanded, giving up on Tyson’s pants for the moment, and grabbing at the hem of his shirt, and yanking upwards. “Fucking finally,” he gasped, “skin.” He mouthed along Tyson’s collarbone, using an edge of teeth to make Tyson moan, which Tyson obligingly did.
Tyson’s hands were busy at Nick’s fly, yanking his pants down and sliding a hand over Nick’s cock in retaliation. Nick hissed and bit down on Tyson’s collarbone, before pulling back to kiss him firmly. “Kay, dude, if you don’t want this to be over sooner than we’d both like, you’d better stop that,” Nick informed him, and Tyson grinned.
“Killjoy,” he told him, and reached up for another kiss.
Nick twisted the cap off the lube with hands that shook, giggling a little as Tyson ran one hand down his side.
“Could you be serious, please?” Tyson demanded, continuing to trail light fingertips up and down Nick’s ribs. “This is a deep and profound moment for me, the loss of innocence!”
“Oh? And what innocence would that be?”
“I had it once,” Tyson grinned, hips shifting unconsciously against Nick’s, “and I was waiting for you, but you didn’t show, so I mislaid it.”
Nick had, at long last, succeeded in working Tyson’s pants off, so he ignored that comment as Tyson kicked them off all the way. “Well, I’m here now,” he said, and brushed his fingers over Tyson’s hole and bit at Tyson’s lip to prevent any snarky reply. Tyson hissed at the sudden pressure and Nick pulled back, brushing his fingers over Tyson’s lips. “Y’alright?” He asked.
Tyson met his gaze firmly. “Fine.” He sucked Nick’s fingers into his mouth, and Nick’s eyes rolled back a little.
“Jesus, don’t do that,” he almost-moaned. Tyson’s eyebrows waggled ridiculously, even as his tongue traced the sensitive pads of Nick’s fingers. Nick laughed. “Shut up,” he said, and gently pulled his fingers from Tyson’s mouth. “You really OK with this?” he checked one more time.
“Nick, seriously,” Tyson said insistently, “I’ve wanted you since forever, OK?”
“Cheesy,” Nick mumbled against his neck as he slid a finger in.
Tyson arched up and gasped. “But true,” he insisted, and moaned as Nick’s finger slid against his prostate.
Nick added another finger and swallowed Tyson’s groan as it shuddered through his body, kissing him almost desperately. “I,” he pulled back a little, “God, I love you,” he said in a rush, and kissed Tyson again before he could reply, twisting his fingers viciously inside him just to feel him shudder.
“I’m ready,” Tyson promised, “C’mon, fucking fuck me, please, Nicky.”
“I’m not sure-” Nick prevaricated.
“C’mon, Nicky, you’re not the first,” he grinned, “you’re not even the third.”
“But-”
Tyson’s hand trailed down his body to brush over his cock. “Nicky, you wanted a virgin, you should have fucked me first-”
“I don’t want a virgin, I just want you,” Nick said. It might have been a little more romantic had he not stuttered a little as watched Tyson arch up into the third finger Nick added. Tyson’s leg’s spread and he whimpered, working his hips against Nick’s fingers, trying futilely to fuck himself on them.
“Come on, Nick, please - I’m not eighteen anymore, I fucking want it, Jesus, fucking fuck me!”
Nick paused. “Ask me - nicely.”
Tyson arched up. “oh, Jesus, don’t tell me you’re that clichéd!” It would have been believable if his breath hadn’t caught over the words. “I would have thought you’d be more original.” But he whimpered when Nick pulled his fingers out.
“I’d be nicer to me if I were you,” Nick said sweetly, tracing his fingers round and round Tyson’s hole until Tyson squirmed.
“OK, please, please, please, fuck me,” he begged, and Nick grinned.
“Well, since you ask so nicely,” he agreed, sliding home with a moan of his own. There was a moment of silence, punctuated by harsh gasping. “God,” Nick gasped, Tyson tight around him, and Tyson nodded fervently.
“Yeah,” he agreed, and Nick thrust a couple of times, unable to stop himself. Tyson fucked back onto his cock, whimpering a little as Nick’s cock hit his prostate dead on. “Come on, Nick, please, please please...” he begged desperately.
“Okay, okay,” Nick dragged a hand through Tyson’s hair, “just calm down, OK?”
“Easy for you to say,” Tyson snapped, hips still moving helplessly against Nick.
Nick thrust hard into him, relishing the broken moan.
“More than OK,” Tyson allowed, panting, “just fucking go for it, OK?”
Nick obeyed, and it wasn’t too long before Tyson was coming, shuddering through his orgasm and pulling Nick into his.
“Holy fuck,” Tyson said.
“Yeah,” Nick agreed weakly, wrapping an arm round Tyson’s waist.
“We need to do that again tomorrow,” Tyson said sleepily, resting his head against Nick’s shoulder. “And tomorrow I drive.” He pressed a kiss to Nick’s lips. “Fucking love you,” he said, and dropped off to sleep, curled round Nick.
**
So... any thoughts?...
Authors: xaritomene and xrysomou
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Here be smut. Consider yourselves warned for Gabe.
Pairing: Nick/Tyson (minor Gabe/Tyson, mentions of Gabe/Bill)
Word Count: 4727
Summary: Nick and Ty are in love and have been forever - they just need a helping hand in the right direction. And Gabe... well, Gabe's always been handsy handy.
Disclaimer: Not ours, never happened, never will, please don't eat us.
This is crossposted all over the damn shop - aar_capslock, rejectedfic, here, our private journals and bandslashmania. Sorry for any spam!
A/N: This fic is a mix of utter crack and a sliver of canon; Gabe once got thoroughly over-excited about meeting Tyson and posted about it on his Twitter. The word 'swoon' was mentioned. Sadly, they never did meet one gets the impression that Tyson, very sensibly, ran for his life and the tweet itself is lost in the mists of Gabe's Twitter. Here's what we like to think might have happened:
The first text rather confused Tyson. ‘ritter, a little bird told me youre in new york. Wanna meet up? gabe’
‘gabe saporta?’
‘the one, the only!’
‘have you been stalking my twitter? Again?’
‘maybe. So, tuesday?’
‘what?’
‘great, coffee at eleven at starbucks on twelfth! See you there’
**
Unfortunately for Gabe, Tuesday rolled round and Tyson turned up in a foul mood. Gabe let him pretend everything was fine through ordering drinks and preliminary small talk, then pounced when they’d taken their seats.
“So, I’m in town for a few days,” Gabe started, eyeing Tyson’s gloomy posture interestedly out of the corner of one eye.
“Mmhmm...”
“Should be fun,” Gabe said slowly and a little louder.
“Mmhmm...”
“Sometimes I dance around my apartment in nothing but red stilettos.” No response. “And a cobra. It’s an erotic display Ryland and I put on for Bill. Really gets him going.”
Tyson glanced up, puzzled. “Is this your normal coffee conversation, Saporta?” He paused and smiled suddenly. “Wait, of course it is.”
Gabe grinned back. “Well, true, but right now it’s more of a coffee monologue. Don’t get me wrong, I love the sound of my own voice, but I’m pretty sure I could be quite fond of yours.” Tyson dithered momentarily. “C’mon, give it up - who spat in your Wheaties?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Tyson said, “I’m just a bit...” he gave an indistinct sound and a handwave.
Gabe raised an eyebrow. “How are those lyrics going?”
“Shut up,” Tyson said, but smiled a little. “Eh, you know. Clearly Nick and I have been spending too much time together.”
“Oh, yeah, how is the love affair that isn’t?” Gabe asked, leaning forwards.
“It isn’t,” Tyson said gloomily.
“Hence the spit in the Wheaties, right?”
“Eh,” Tyson shrugged. “We’ve just been around each other for too long. You know how it is.”
“No?”
“What, you’ve never got sick of spending time around Bill Beckett?”
“No. Bilvy is my light, my life, my reason for being - and the sex is awesome.” A woman two tables over choked on her coffee, which served her right for eavesdropping. Gabe gave her a crazed grin and turned back to his miserable companion. “So, yeah, sex is the root of all awesome. So, you’re sick of the guy - just take a break.”
“But I miss him when he’s gone,” Tyson said immediately, clearly without thinking, then visibly wished he could bite his own tongue off.
Gabe pulled a face. “Man, you got it bad.”
Tyson sighed. “Damn, I need a new band.”
“There’s always a vacancy in Cobra Starship,” Gabe grinned. “The Cobra likes tall people.”
“You already have a bassist, and I’d hate to do you out of a job singing, so - what vacancy would I fill?” Gabe’s eyebrows when crazy. Tyson met his gaze implacably. “Apart from that one.”
“Well, you’re a model, aren’t you?” The kid actually blushed, which amazed Gabe - he hadn’t thought Tyson Ritter had any shame left. “Just walk up and down a bit and look pretty.” He leant forwards and added conspiratorially, “we’re jealous of Panic’s stage-show.”
Tyson looked a little worried. “You’ve seen me dance, right?”
“No?”
“There’s a reason for that.”
Gabe accepted this with equanimity. “So, it’s all sorted, then? You run away with Cobra Starship and find consolation in the arms of my may I say gorgeous guitarist-”
“Does Ryland know you’re pimping him out?”
“Oh, yeah, I do it like, twice a day, man. Anyway, so - you find consolation in Ryland’s arms, he’s taller than you, it’s perfect - and then Wheeler turns a delicate shade of jealous, comes after you, begs your forgiveness and everyone goes home happy.”
Tyson paused. “Um. OK?”
Gabe paid no attention to him. “Hang on, wait - no, that’s an idea!”
“What? Because I’m sure Ryland’s really nice and all, but-”
“No, you’ve gotta make him jealous!”
“Who, Ryland?!”
“No, Ritter, your paramour, are you normally this slow? Make Wheeler think he’s losing you so he fights harder to keep you!”
“Man, that is some fucked up romcom shit right there,” Tyson frowned. “It’ll never work.”
“Twenty bucks and a cameo in a song says it will,” Gabe returned instantly.
Tyson actually laughed. “That’s one way to collaborate.”
“The Cobra will out,” Gabe smiled. “And it’s like I’ve always said - what AAR really needs is more neon.”
“The day you get Gaylor in neon is the day I will personally-”
“Perform lewd and filthy acts with me as my concubine?” The woman two tables away looked half-way to a hernia.
“I’m finding out far more about your kinks today than I really wanted to. Ever,” Tyson said, but he was smiling.
“Admit it - you’re curious.”
“No,” Tyson said simply. “Not really. The sight of your red-stiletto mating dance might just kill me.”
“Fine,” Gabe said sulkily. “But - look. Make it a bet. If I can’t get Wheeler to admit that he’s in love with you before I leave town, you get a duet on Cobra Starship’s next album. If I can, you gotta write me a duet. Sound fair?”
“The bits I understood sounded fair,” Tyson agreed warily. “But - look, dude, it’s a lost cause. I’ve had girlfriends and boyfriends before, and Nick’s never cared-”
Gabe’s grin was positively demonic. “You underestimate the power of the Cobra.”
“You’ve got to stop referring to yourself as the Cobra,” Tyson told him. “And seriously, how’re you going to do it?”
“None of your other conquests have been me,” Gabe grinned.
“What does that mean!?”
He winked and stood to leave. “I’m so annoying.”
**
Tyson caught up with him after about a block. “Saporta, wait.” Gabe glanced at him. “How is you being annoying going to help? I mean,” and was that a mischievous glint in his eye, “how will he even know you’re not just being you?”
“Firstly, ouch. Secondly, petal, you don’t understand,” Gabe stroked a hand down Tyson’s bare forearm, and Tyson visibly had to stop himself from stepping backwards and away from him. “I’m going to be all over you - all the time. He’s gonna go nuts.”
“Is this a tried and tested theory?”
“It’s got me punched in the past,” Gabe said thoughtfully. “So - yeah.”
“So, what, you’re essentially my boyfriend?”
“As far as most people are concerned,” Gabe nodded.
Tyson thought about this for a second, the groaned. “Bill Beckett is going to eat me.”
Gabe waved a dismissive hand. “Let me handle Bill. He’ll understand!”
“Hmm.” Tyson had seen Bill Beckett’s ‘understanding’ before, and it looked painful.
“Look, OK, basic plan. I’m going to be all over you in front of the guy who’s clearly infatuated with you,” Tyson muttered something resentful about that, but Gabe ignored him, “and then we’ll,” he made a ridiculous hand gesture, “reel him in.”
“You better be planning out that duet,” Tyson informed him and turned to go.
“It’ll be so nice to work with someone who has so much faith in my abilities,” Gabe called after him.
“I have total faith in your musical abilities, Saporta!” Tyson told him. “It’s your romance-guru ones I’m questioning.”
“Question no more, little grasshopper, for you shall go to the ball.”
“That was a horrible marriage of the movies.”
“Confidence, Ritter! And I’ll see you tomorrow, OK? Start laying groundwork tonight. Talk about how awesome I am, it shouldn’t be hard.”
**
‘good morning petal’
‘it’s seven am gabe what the fuck’
‘the early bird catches the photographer. Meet me on the corner and bring coffee’
**
“This place is fucking freezing,” Tyson informed him twenty minutes later. Gabe grinned madly at him and slung an arm around his shoulders, dragging him closer and neatly stealing one of the cups of coffee as he stuck one freezing hand down the neck of Tyson’s hoodie.
“Mm, you’re warm...”
“Fucking fuck, that’s cold, stop it!”
“Boyfriends share body warmth, Ritter,” Gabe said reprovingly. “And speaking of, does Nick know about me? Have you told him all about the gleam of my hair in the light of the subway? Does he know you’re here with me now?”
“He’s asleep. Because everyone is asleep. It’s seven on a Saturday morning, and you woke me up!”
“Stop moaning, or I won’t do anything nice for you ever again.”
“OK, well, talking of boyfriends,” Tyson challenged, “have you talked to Bill, yet?”
“Shit,” Gabe said, suddenly serious, digging around in his pockets for his phone. “Two seconds - don’t go anywhere!”
**
Twenty minutes later, Gabe reappeared back near Tyson, still on his mobile but clearly rounding up the call. “Yeah, OK, I promise. I gotta go, OK, he’s right here. Yeah, I’ll say hi. Love you.” He hung up and turned to Tyson with another of his trademark manic grins. “The eagle has landed and we’re good to go!”
“How’s Bill?” Tyson asked pointedly.
“Fine, fine,” Gabe waved his hand dismissively, but his expression softened fractionally. “He says hi. Now, come with me where all the children play,” he held out a hand.
Tyson didn’t take it. “Please don’t tell me you say that to actual kids,” he said, grinning. “Cos otherwise Wentz must know a really good lawyer.”
“Of course I don’t, I’m not actually a monster, Ritter. No, we’re just going photographer hunting.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh, yeah. And then we’re going get some nice photos of me kissing you against a wall somewhere leaked onto the internet. And hopefully that will drive your paramour mental.”
**
“Ty, what the hell?” Nick asked, chucking a couple of print-outs down in front of Tyson.
Tyson glanced at them. They were actually pretty good pictures, but then, Gabe was a sneaky little fucker, and he knew the best. Not to mention, he had carefully coached Tyson for just this moment. “Oh. I didn’t know there was a photographer,” he said, taking a blithe sip of tea. “Sorry about that.”
“The label are going to be thrilled,” Nick said, grasping a little at straws.
“Because I’m kissing boys now? Or is it Gabe you think they’ll object to?”
“We have to keep middle America, dude.”
“Middle America,” Tyson all-but snapped, genuinely annoyed, “is fine with those emo kids from Panic at the Disco, they’re fine with My Chemical Romance, and so help me god, they’re fine with Gabe too.”
Nick backed down. “OK then,” he admitted with rather bad grace. He dithered a little, then sat down. “So, er. You and Gabe. Is it, um. You know. Serious?”
Tyson pasted on his soppiest smile, barely reminding himself not to overdo it. “I think so. I mean, it’s. I’ve,” Nick was starting to look sceptical. “I’ve no idea,” Tyson said, actually honest, reeling himself back in. “I think, maybe, I’d like it to be? Right now, it’s - touch and go.” He grinned. “More of the touch, less of the go.”
Nick was doing that thing where he clenched his jaw and tried to smile - Tyson hoped this was a good sign. “Well. He, uh. He seems. Well, if I’m honest, he seems like a total nutcase, but - he seems OK.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty cool,” Tyson agreed, as opposed to Gabe’s suggestion of ‘he overwhelmed me with the sheer force of his raw, sexual masculinity’. (Clearly Gabe spent most of his time in the romance novel section of life.)
Nick nodded, though he looked very faintly pained. “Well, OK then,” he said and headed back into his room to grab his laptop. “I think I’ve come up with a bass line...”
Tyson shoved the printouts to one side and tried very hard to focus on the music and not Nick’s `mouth - with almost total success.
**
The most important part of this relationship, Gabe kept telling Tyson, was timing. They wanted to get caught - and regularly. This meant a lot of time memorising Nick’s habits, but since he was spending time with the reigning expert on all things Wheeler, that wasn’t too hard, and thankfully, Gabe was nothing if not a master of prevarication.
The first time, he walked Tyson back to his apartment block after one of their strategy meetings and kept him chatting until Gabe caught sight of Nick rounding the corner onto their road. That was when he grabbed Tyson, who reacted with admirable aplomb as Gabe slid one hand round the back of his neck, cupping Tyson’s jaw with the other, and pulling him forwards into a long, slow, explicit kiss.
Out of the corner of his eye - and in the quick break Gabe took before returning to the serious business of kissing the shit out of his new friend - Gabe watched as Nick paused, staring, then turned on his heel and headed into the building. To his credit, Tyson just went with it, but once Gabe had broken the kiss, he stepped backwards, smiling, lopsided and awkward.
“Dude, are you sure this isn’t taking things a little far?”
Gabe waved away his excuses. “Like I need an excuse to kiss pretty boys,” he grinned and patted Tyson on the cheek. “Be seeing you, Ritter. Phase Two - how ’bout Thursday?”
**
Secure in their plan, their next proper kiss was actually a little less staged.
Gabe was clearly some kind of expert torturer, and the dinner he so casually invited himself to was an exquisite kind of torment. He was actually a little worried about being left alone with Nick, whose raised eyebrows, Gabe knew, could actually flay a man’s soul. Nick was definitely frosty towards Gabe, though not outright rude - and whilst Tyson hoped that was a good sign, it could equally have been because Gabe was twenty minutes late, the rotis had nearly been burnt, and he had had the effrontery to turn up in a lime green hoodie which smarted even Tyson’s eyes. He’d then compounded the offence by spending the entire meal edging his chair closer to Tyson’s and whispering total inanities in the sultriest murmur imaginable.
“‘How did you get so much floorspace’? 'I need a flatscreen like that’? ‘Oh shit, my rent was due last week’?! Seriously!?” Tyson muttered as they both headed into the kitchen with dirty dishes.
“I know how to romance a guy,” Gabe said complacently.
“Yeah, ‘I love your carpets’ was a real high point,” Tyson agreed, loading the dishes into the sink. “If that’s how you romanced Bill Beckett, he’s just dropped whole storeys in my estimation.” He paused, and glanced at Gabe. “But, er... do you think it’s working?”
“Oh, yeah, I think so,” Gabe said, after pretending to think about it for barely a moment. “But we could always test it, if you want.”
“How do we do-” He was cut off as Gabe yanked him forwards.
Gabe was pretty sure Nick would be curious after being left alone for a good couple of minutes for no apparent reason, and apart from that, Tyson was kind of fucking hot, and Gabe intended to make the absolute most of the time during which he was allowed to kiss him.
He shoved him back against the counter, and cupped his cheek, stroking his thumb over the length of Tyson’s cheekbone.
For a moment, he didn’t even move to kiss him. “You are so fucking gorgeous,” he told Tyson, and could practically see the disbelief forming on his face. “And he’s an idiot if he doesn’t see it.”
Then, before Tyson could come out with something ridiculous and self-deprecating, Gabe leant heavily against him, holding him against the counter and kissing him firmly. His other hand slid down the length of Tyson’s back to rest at his hip, and Tyson wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him a little closer. It was Tyson who deepened the kiss, humming into Gabe’s mouth as he slid his lips over Gabe’s.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gabe could see Nick in the doorway. “I’ll bring the rest of the plates through, shall I?” He asked, loud and icy. As he disappeared through the doorway again, Tyson stiffened in Gabe’s arms, his face settling into unhappy lines as he attempted to pull away.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” He asked, voice low.
Gabe refused to let him move, thumb stroking comfortingly at his hip. “He’ll come round,” he promised. “Reckon he’d come round faster if I fucked you?” He pulled a thoughtful face. “Eh, maybe not - he doesn’t seem the type.”
Tyson laughed, low in his throat. “Oh, I’d do you, Saporta,” he grinned, “if you weren’t so fucking crazy.”
“And you’d have to fight Bill for me.”
“Sexy as I find you, I’d rather keep my eyeballs where they are, thanks,” Tyson said, and disentangled himself from Gabe just as Nick reappeared, stony-faced, in the kitchen.
**
“I think we should progress , Ty,” Gabe said, smiling wide and friendly. They were sipping coffee in Tyson’s kitchen, the flat conspicuously empty apart from them. When Nick had heard that Gabe was coming round that morning, he’d grunted disapprovingly and made himself scarce.
“Oh?” Just a couple of weeks had taught Tyson to be wary of that tone in Gabe’s voice.
“Horizontal making out!”
“But I don’t know when Nick’s gonna get back.”
“Practice makes perfect,” Gabe grinned. “C’mon Ritter, get it together. Sofa, you and me, now. It’s a date.”
It wasn’t like Tyson was especially shy, but this kind of making-out-by-numbers kind of freaked him out. “OK, um, then. How do you want me?” Gabe paused, weighing up his answers, but before he could speak, Tyson gave him a lascivious grin. “Because I want you to paint me - like one of your French girls.”
Gabe paused for a long moment. “Did you just make a Titanic reference?”
“I did!”
“How does the entire world not know you’re gay?” Gabe asked despairingly.
“I think I’m pretty good at hiding it,” Tyson said, allowing himself to be herded into the living room.
“Dude, you prance half-naked around the stage wearing nothing but girl jeans and glitter. You couldn’t make it clearer if you took out an advert in The New York Post.” Gabe shoved him towards the sofa. “Now, c’mon. Time to get down and dirty.”
“Well, if you insist...”
Tyson sat down and Gabe heaved a sigh, sitting down next to him. “OK, maybe - like this.” He grabbed Tyson’s wrists and all but yanked him into his lap. “This OK?”
Tyson paused and nodded. “Um, I guess? So, what do I do, know I’m up here?”
“Would you like cue cards? Because I thought it was pretty-”
“Shut up, Saporta.” This time it was Tyson who leant forward and pressed his mouth to Gabe’s, one eye on the door waiting for Nick’s return. Gabe’s hands settled at the small of his back, and Tyson grinned into the kiss, biting at Gabe’s lower lip and shoving him backwards into the sofa. Gabe shifted things rather by twisting so that Tyson was lying back along the sofa, Gabe lying on top of him, hands in Tyson’s hair as he licked into his mouth.
They kissed until Gabe pulled back, a little out of breath and lips red with kissing. “Holy fucking hell, Ritter, does Wheeler seriously not know what he’s missing out on?” Tyson laughed a little. “D’you think we could get my significant other to agree to a threesome?”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Tyson said apologetically. “I like my tea unpoisoned.”
“Worth a try,” Gabe said, shrugging unapologetically, and kissed him again. Breaking away, he mouthed at Tyson’s neck, biting at the delicate skin below his ear and relishing in the shudder Tyson gave, enjoying the feeling of the younger man arching up beneath him. Sucking kisses along his jaw, Gabe grinned as he kissed Tyson full on the mouth once more, allowing his hands to wander a little further down Tyson’s body.
It was then that Nick arrived back in the flat.
For a moment, he stood there in silence, surveying the scene, namely Tyson on his back, panting, Gabe on top of him, kissing him with abandon.
“Huh,” he said loudly, and watched with some satisfaction as Tyson jumped and attempted to wriggle out from underneath Gabe - though sadly with little success. “Saporta - Gabe - can I have a word?”
**
In the kitchen, Gabe smiled sleepily at Nick, rubbing one hand insolently over his mouth. “There a problem, Wheeler?”
Nick paced tightly in front of him. “Yeah, I got a problem,” he said, without thinking, then paused. What was his problem?
“Stop me if I’m wrong,” Gabe said insouciantly, “but you’re gonna get on my case about me making out with your frontman - am I wrong? ’Cos you’re head over heels in love with him, right?”
Nick floundered. “I... don’t really think... that’s relevant.”
“Really? Oh, sorry,” Gabe grinned, “cos I was going to tell you how ridiculously in love with you he is, but, er. My bad.”
“What?”
**
Nick leant in the doorframe of Tyson’s room, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “You couldn’t just have told me?”
Tyson jumped a foot. “You couldn’t just have knocked?”
“No, I couldn’t,” Nick snapped. “What the fuck made you think that was a good idea?”
“What was a good idea!?”
“You! And Gabe! And the jealousy thing!”
“Oh. That,” Tyson paused.
“Yeah, that!” Nick snapped. “Because, it’s not like I’ve been in love with you since I was eighteen, or anything!?” There was an awkward pause. Finally, Nick met Tyson’s eyes. “OK, should I not have said that?”
Tyson digested that for a moment in silence. “No, you should have said exactly that,” he said, “like, four years ago.”
Then Tyson was throwing himself at Nick, and Nick found himself with an armful of Tyson and Tyson’s tongue in his mouth, kissing him enthusiastically.
Nick’s hand’s instinctively gripped Tyson’s hips, pulling him closer. Tyson gave a little moan of encouragement and allowed himself to be walked carefully backwards, without too much interference to the kiss, towards his own bed. There was an awkward moment when Nick shoved him backwards onto the bed, but Tyson gave that stupid, too-loud laugh of his and grabbed at Nick’s T-shirt, pulling him down too to meet his mouth.
Nick pulled back for long enough to mouth at the skin of Tyson’s neck. “I swear to good, I will buy you flowers and take you to restaurants and what the fuck ever, but can we...?”
Tyson arched his neck back into Nick’s touch, and laughed. “Four years of foreplay and you think I want to fucking wait until the third date? Condoms and lube are in the fucking nightstand, now get a move on, Jesus.” He froze suddenly. “Um - you did get rid of Gabe, right?”
“Oh, yeah! Saw him out and locked the door,” Nick said absently, searching through the nightstand.
“OK, good,” Tyson said, working at his belt, “because much as I like the dude, I don’t trust him not to hide in a closet and jerk off.”
Nick just grinned, fumbling for lube and a condom and trying, messily, to kiss Tyson at the same time. He felt like an uncoordinated teenager again, all eagerness and passion, laughing against Tyson as Tyson’s hands slid down his sides. “Dude, ticklish.”
“I know,” Tyson grinned wickedly. “It’s payback.”
Nick wanted to question that but was too busy kissing him, hands fumbling at his pants. “Fucking hell, what do you need so many buttons for?” Nick demanded, giving up on Tyson’s pants for the moment, and grabbing at the hem of his shirt, and yanking upwards. “Fucking finally,” he gasped, “skin.” He mouthed along Tyson’s collarbone, using an edge of teeth to make Tyson moan, which Tyson obligingly did.
Tyson’s hands were busy at Nick’s fly, yanking his pants down and sliding a hand over Nick’s cock in retaliation. Nick hissed and bit down on Tyson’s collarbone, before pulling back to kiss him firmly. “Kay, dude, if you don’t want this to be over sooner than we’d both like, you’d better stop that,” Nick informed him, and Tyson grinned.
“Killjoy,” he told him, and reached up for another kiss.
Nick twisted the cap off the lube with hands that shook, giggling a little as Tyson ran one hand down his side.
“Could you be serious, please?” Tyson demanded, continuing to trail light fingertips up and down Nick’s ribs. “This is a deep and profound moment for me, the loss of innocence!”
“Oh? And what innocence would that be?”
“I had it once,” Tyson grinned, hips shifting unconsciously against Nick’s, “and I was waiting for you, but you didn’t show, so I mislaid it.”
Nick had, at long last, succeeded in working Tyson’s pants off, so he ignored that comment as Tyson kicked them off all the way. “Well, I’m here now,” he said, and brushed his fingers over Tyson’s hole and bit at Tyson’s lip to prevent any snarky reply. Tyson hissed at the sudden pressure and Nick pulled back, brushing his fingers over Tyson’s lips. “Y’alright?” He asked.
Tyson met his gaze firmly. “Fine.” He sucked Nick’s fingers into his mouth, and Nick’s eyes rolled back a little.
“Jesus, don’t do that,” he almost-moaned. Tyson’s eyebrows waggled ridiculously, even as his tongue traced the sensitive pads of Nick’s fingers. Nick laughed. “Shut up,” he said, and gently pulled his fingers from Tyson’s mouth. “You really OK with this?” he checked one more time.
“Nick, seriously,” Tyson said insistently, “I’ve wanted you since forever, OK?”
“Cheesy,” Nick mumbled against his neck as he slid a finger in.
Tyson arched up and gasped. “But true,” he insisted, and moaned as Nick’s finger slid against his prostate.
Nick added another finger and swallowed Tyson’s groan as it shuddered through his body, kissing him almost desperately. “I,” he pulled back a little, “God, I love you,” he said in a rush, and kissed Tyson again before he could reply, twisting his fingers viciously inside him just to feel him shudder.
“I’m ready,” Tyson promised, “C’mon, fucking fuck me, please, Nicky.”
“I’m not sure-” Nick prevaricated.
“C’mon, Nicky, you’re not the first,” he grinned, “you’re not even the third.”
“But-”
Tyson’s hand trailed down his body to brush over his cock. “Nicky, you wanted a virgin, you should have fucked me first-”
“I don’t want a virgin, I just want you,” Nick said. It might have been a little more romantic had he not stuttered a little as watched Tyson arch up into the third finger Nick added. Tyson’s leg’s spread and he whimpered, working his hips against Nick’s fingers, trying futilely to fuck himself on them.
“Come on, Nick, please - I’m not eighteen anymore, I fucking want it, Jesus, fucking fuck me!”
Nick paused. “Ask me - nicely.”
Tyson arched up. “oh, Jesus, don’t tell me you’re that clichéd!” It would have been believable if his breath hadn’t caught over the words. “I would have thought you’d be more original.” But he whimpered when Nick pulled his fingers out.
“I’d be nicer to me if I were you,” Nick said sweetly, tracing his fingers round and round Tyson’s hole until Tyson squirmed.
“OK, please, please, please, fuck me,” he begged, and Nick grinned.
“Well, since you ask so nicely,” he agreed, sliding home with a moan of his own. There was a moment of silence, punctuated by harsh gasping. “God,” Nick gasped, Tyson tight around him, and Tyson nodded fervently.
“Yeah,” he agreed, and Nick thrust a couple of times, unable to stop himself. Tyson fucked back onto his cock, whimpering a little as Nick’s cock hit his prostate dead on. “Come on, Nick, please, please please...” he begged desperately.
“Okay, okay,” Nick dragged a hand through Tyson’s hair, “just calm down, OK?”
“Easy for you to say,” Tyson snapped, hips still moving helplessly against Nick.
Nick thrust hard into him, relishing the broken moan.
“More than OK,” Tyson allowed, panting, “just fucking go for it, OK?”
Nick obeyed, and it wasn’t too long before Tyson was coming, shuddering through his orgasm and pulling Nick into his.
“Holy fuck,” Tyson said.
“Yeah,” Nick agreed weakly, wrapping an arm round Tyson’s waist.
“We need to do that again tomorrow,” Tyson said sleepily, resting his head against Nick’s shoulder. “And tomorrow I drive.” He pressed a kiss to Nick’s lips. “Fucking love you,” he said, and dropped off to sleep, curled round Nick.
**
So... any thoughts?...