#will: I KNOW DIPSHIT I WAS WONDERING WHEN YOU WERE PLANING TO START TREATING ME LIKE ONE

[stfuhair]

the roller rink scene is like so sad from wills pov but A WHOLE COMEDY SHOW from mikes pov thats just crazy

[skinsharpenedteeth]

Coming Up Easy - The First Dance

You can also check this out on AO3!!

Michael reclined in bed against the pillows he’d stacked against the wall so he could read his phone, drink a beer, and be semi-comfortable. It’d been a long, long day and he was having trouble winding down from it. He’d put on one of Isobel’s Spotify playlists on random while he dicked around on his phone. He knew what he wanted to do. He’d been scrolling through his photo’s gallery for ten minutes staring at the few pictures he had of them together. He wished he had more. He was pointedly trying to stay out of the private file he had that definitely showed more of them together because he’d been visiting that file way too often since Alex had moved.

Finishing his beer, Michael chucked the empty bottle into the trash and opened a new one. Feeling daring, he shot Alex a text.

Me 10:02 p.m. >> You up?

Alex 10:03 p.m. >> I am. In fact, I’m cooking.

Me 10:05 p.m. >> I call bullshit. You hate cooking.

<<Alex is requesting a video chat session: Accept?>>

Biting his lip, Michael had a second to wonder how he was going to look before saying ‘Fuck it’ and pushing his thumb against the accept key. Alex’s face filled his phone screen and Michael would be lying to say his heart didn’t flutter a little at the sight of his slightly red, smiling face.

“Oh my God, I missed your face,” Alex said without preamble. Michael found himself smiling despite himself.

“Yeah? Need me to send you pictures daily?” Michael teased.

“No, I don’t want to get spoiled. This is a treat for me. I’ve been looking at strangers for weeks now,” Alex replied. Michael was trying not to stare because Alex looked so good and it just made Michael want to go over to his place and tackle him against the refrigerator. He couldn’t though. That sort of thing would take planning and plane tickets and passports and so much more work than it did a month ago. Sighing to himself, Michael tried to keep the conversation flowing.

“Any cute ones?” Michael asked, kicking himself immediately. Alex’s eyebrows drew together for a moment before he wiped the expression away.

“Uh, not yet. I’ll probably have to get on a dating app or something to really meet people,” Alex replied awkwardly, smile turning brittle as he spoke. Faintly, Michael could hear music in the background of Alex’s kitchen.

“So what are you listening to while you cook? And what are you cooking? You burned a peanut butter and jelly sandwich once!” Michael exclaimed, eyes flitting around the screen trying to see behind Alex’s head. Alex rolled his eyes, but his smile was more genuine.

“I’m listening to that new Miley Cyrus song “Can't Stop”. Have you heard it?” Alex asked, moving closer to his Bluetooth speaker and turning up the volume so Michael could listen in.

“No, I haven’t. I’ll have to listen to it later, sounds good,” Michael commented. Alex was closing his eyes and the phone was swaying like he was dancing to the music.

“Oh shit, I’m going to put you down on the counter. I gotta stir,” Alex exclaimed a moment later and suddenly Michael could see much more of Alex’s apartment kitchen and of Alex himself. He was wearing his old MCR t-shirt they’d spent one night turning into a tank top and sweatpants. The large, gaping armholes showed off the hint of muscle on his back and chest and made Michael’s mouth water and his entire body ache with want to touch him. He watched Alex grab a spatula and start stirring it around a frying pan, hips still moving with the beat of the song as he concentrated. Michael had to clear his voice as his mouth went suddenly dry at the visual of those hips in action. Alex had always been good with rhythm, but being best friends with Liz had also given him a swivel to his dancing style that was frankly indecent.

“So, uh, what are you cooking?” Michael asked again, trying not to get too mesmerized by Alex dancing and mouthing the words to the song into the end of the spatula when he wasn’t stirring.

“Stirfry. Something so basic even I can’t fuck it up, hopefully,” Alex joked. He picked the phone up so he could turn the camera for Michael to look in the pan. Looked like soggy frozen veggies mixed with overcooked chicken in something that might’ve been brown sauce.

“Looks great,” Michael lied as Alex put the phone back down. Alex looked at him for a moment and started laughing.

“Okay, it looks like dog vomit, but it’ll be edible. Someone never taught me how to cook, despite being excellent at it,” Alex joked, giving Michael a dirty look through the phone. Fuck, Michael wanted to kiss that look off his face.

“I was trying to make my friendship indispensable to you. Apparently, I failed since you moved to another country and left me to languish in the desert alone and lonely,” Michael said dramatically. Alex barked out another laugh before turning back to the pan and shaking his head down at it. He moved it off the heating element and flipped the dial. Michael watched him as he bent over and settled on his elbows in front of the phone. He looked… well, Michael was glad his own camera was facing front.

“You’re indispensable to me no matter what, even without the cooking lessons. Just you wait, you’ll come up here for a visit and soon I’ll have a roommate,” Alex joked.

“We’ll see about that,” Michael retorted as another song came on. The song immediately sent him back to a small, dusty shed that smelled like sweat, metal, wood, and damp cotton. He could feel Alex’s warm hands on his hips nudging him to shift with the beat to the left and right while they both stared at his bare feet.

“Is this….?” Michael started but stopped as he became sure that it was. Alex had been looking over his shoulder towards the speaker and when Michael spoke up, he turned back to the phone. His cheeks were slightly pink and he looked sheepish.

“Yeah, this is Hellogoodbye. Remembering the same thing I am?” Alex asked, looking at Michael nervously through the phone. Michael let his head fall back against the wall behind him and he took a long pull from his beer before answering.

“Yeah, I think so. You teaching me to dance for prom?” Michael asked, not looking at the phone but hearing Alex clear his voice.

“Yeah, that,” he answered, voice subdued. They fell into silence and Michael had no doubt they were both trapped in a shared memory.

“I don’t even want to go to prom. I’ve managed to miss every other dance in high school, I don’t see why Isobel is so insistent I go to this one!” Michael raged, walking the length of the Mane’s shed back and forth while Alex watched from the futon. They were both shirtless and slightly sweaty, only partially dressed after their makeout and hand job session. Alex was leaned over with his elbows on his knees watching Michael warily.

“It’s just a dance, Michael. Go if it’ll make her happy. I’m going, you can come hang out with me,” Alex said, tone slightly exasperated. He’d been listening to Michael bitch about Isobel’s insistence for him to go to prom for a week already and it was beginning to grate on his nerves. Michael stopped and looked at him, arms raised and expression clearing asking ‘Are you actually agreeing with her?!’. Alex just kept looking at him blankly. ‘Yes,’ his expression replied. ‘I’m agreeing with her.’ With a defeated sigh, Michael let his arms drop suddenly and slap against his sides.

“I don’t even know how to dance,” he mumbled, almost too low for Alex to hear him. Alex gave him a complicated look, somewhere between amusement and pity.

“That’s easy enough to fix. I can teach you that much,” Alex replied, standing up.

“What? No, I don’t want to know! It’s just going to be weird. I’m not going to have anything to do except stand around and drink punch. It’s going to be expensive and lame,” Michael whined, even as he watched Alex go over to his iPod and put it into the stereo he’d brought out to the shed. He ignored Michael’s protests and found a song with an easily recognizable beat. It started up, sounding poppy and electronic, and Michael rolled his eyes. Alex caught him at it.

“Hey, this is going to be easy. Quit being such an ass about it,” Alex griped, coming to stand in front of Michael. He placed his hands on Michael’s hips and looked him straight in the eyes. “Okay. Just follow my movements. Right now we’re just finding the beat.”

Michael swallowed and nodded, throat suddenly dry at the feeling of Alex being close to him and semi-nude and touching him. It seemed Alex put him on a hair-trigger to want sex. With a gentle push and pull, Alex moved Michael and himself back and forth until they were swaying with the beat.

“Okay, this is literally the most basic form of slow dancing. It’s just swaying from side to side. Put your hands on my shoulders and just keep following me,” Alex instructed. Michael raised his arms and lazily draped his arms over Alex’s shoulders like he’d seen every girl do in every teen movie ever. He’d rolled his eyes again as he did it and Alex pinched his side for his sass. “I’m doing you a favor, dipshit. Be nice.”

“Ow! Fine, fine. I’ll be nice. Now what?” Michael asked as they continued to sway. It felt so weird to be standing there in Alex’s shed just shifting his weight back and forth. Without warning, Alex began to pull Michael’s body closer to him while he moved back too. Michael stumbled a little, his foot stepping on the one Alex had kept still.

“Okay, sorry, I didn’t explain. That’s my bad,” Alex apologized once they’d untangled themselves. He grabbed Michael’s hips again and began the original swaying. Once they’d gotten back in rhythm with the song, Alex tried to explain. “So we’re going to basically be moving in a box. Whoever’s leading, so me this time, is always outlining the box with their movements while whoever’s following, you, is tracing the inside of the box.”

Michael gave him a confused look. Making a discontent noise, Alex stepped close until his stomach and hips were resting against Michael’s. Michael gave him a wide-eyed look, wondering if Alex had decided to save dancing for later and more fucking for now…

“Close your eyes,” Alex ordered. Michael closed them obediently, waiting for the gentle pressure of Alex’s lips against his. Instead, Alex continued talking. “Now follow my lead.”

Michael felt the pull of Alex’s body to the right and he instinctually followed. Then Alex moved him backward. It threw Michael off for a second, but then he felt the gentle pressure of Alex’s left leg pressing against his right and he moved that leg back. Then they glided to the left and then Alex was pulling Michael forward. This time he felt which of Alex’s legs was staying still and which was moving away and followed suit. They did this two more times before he felt Alex’s breath by his ear.

“This is a box step. You’re dancing,” he whispered. Despite the heat of the spring day which baked against the poorly insulated shed walls, Michael felt goosebumps break out along his shoulders and chest at the feeling of Alex’s breath against his ear. Opening his eyes, he pulled back to look at Alex’s face and immediately stepped wrong and made them stumble.

“Damnit!” Michael yelled, dropping his arms.

“No, Michael. It’s fine. It just takes practice,” Alex consoled.

“I’m just not made for dancing,” Michael grouched, turning away and taking a few steps to put space between them. The song changed to some other top 100 pop slow jam, and after a minute he felt Alex hook his chin over one of his shoulders and press his chest to Michael’s back. His arms wrapped around Michael’s crossed ones and he immediately started swaying them again.

“You are. Dancing isn’t so different from fucking. It’s about tempo and rhythm and matching or counterpointing movements. You’re great at fucking, you could be good at dancing,” Alex said quietly. He started kissing Michael’s neck and shoulder intently and heat started to pool in Michael’s gut at the feeling of Alex pressing against him and moving slowly. “Maybe you can dance with me at prom and I’ll make sure you don’t make a fool of yourself?”

“You want to dance with me at prom? Isn’t that a bit… public?” Michael asked. He didn’t really mind it being public, but he didn’t want Alex to say something and not realize the consequences.

“We’ll be out of here in a couple months anyway. Fuck ‘em if they can’t hang, right?” Alex said, voice tight behind his teasing tone.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll dance with you at prom then,” Michael replied easily. He turned his head and Alex kissed the corner of his mouth.

“You’re a good friend. I wouldn’t have anyone to dance with either without you,” Alex said. Michael’s heart ached against his ribs, but he nodded anyway.

“We didn’t get to dance at prom,” Alex said simply when the silence stretched.

“No, you had to go get into a fight with Valenti before I could get in from pictures with Iz and Max,” Michael agreed.

“Wish we had,” Alex replied, sounding wistful.

“Yeah, me too,” Michael agreed. The silence was sad now and he hated it. Michael tried to think of something to say. Clearing his throat, he went with the first thing that came to his mind. “So you adding rice to that stirfry or something?”

“Uh, I was going to just get some like minute rice and dump it on top when I reheated this,” Alex explained. Michael grimaced and Alex laughed.

“Jerk,” Alex said, but a smile was back on his face.

“Just let me know if you end up in the hospital with food poisoning. I’ll send you flowers,” Michael replied with a grin.

“Ugh, shut UP! It’s fine!” Alex exclaimed, grabbing a fork from a drawer and scooping up some onto it. “See?!”

He put it in his mouth and Michael waited. He saw him grimace and chew slowly.

“So good, right?” Michael teased.

“It’s fine,” Alex said after swallowing. Michael waited, Alex and he looked at each other through the screen, before Alex grimaced and then stood up abruptly. “UGH, FINE! It’s gross!”

Michael chuckled.

“Poor baby,” Michael cooed. Alex flipped him off but laughed along with him.

“Yeah, poor me. Well, shit. Now I have to clean all this up and I have nothing to show for it,” Alex groused. Michael watched him rub his hands over his face in frustration and stare at the pan of ruined food.

“Going to try again?” Michael asked. Alex looked over at him and shook his head.

“No. I gotta get to bed. It’s already late. This was just kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision anyway,” Alex replied morosely.

“Hey, you’ll get it next time. Just call me and I’ll walk you through it on video,” Michael offered. Alex sighed and nodded.

“Probably for the best,” he agreed. “Well, I better get to bed. It was nice seeing your face.”

“It was good seeing yours. Miss you,” Michael said before he could chicken out.

“Miss you too. Night,” Alex said with a smile.

“Night,” Michael replied before the call ended. He took a deep sigh and set his phone down on his chest before taking a sip of his lukewarm beer.

Damn, he missed that fucker.

[writerwritesstuff]

use your hands and my spare time (justin foley/alex standall)

Summary: Alex leads Justin up the stairs, and he isn’t sure why he let him in in the first place. 

Alternatively, what happened the night Justin went to Alex’s.

Word count: 3188

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, mentions of rape, smut

Alex leads Justin up the stairs, and he isn't sure why he let him in in the first place. He hates Justin, ever since he heard those tapes, what he did to Jessica.. He wanted nothing to do with Justin fucking Foley; anyone who could let someone be raped is just as bad as a rapist. But Alex couldn't turn him away, not if he was desperate enough to come to Alex for a place to stay. "You're sleeping on the floor," Alex mumbles as he leads Justin into his bedroom. Justin doesn't say anything, and Alex doesn't turn around but he assumes Justin nodded. Not that he has any room to complain. Alex tosses a pillow and his duvet onto the floor, keeps the soft throw blanket that he hides under his duvet for himself. If his dad knew he liked to curl up under something so soft and plush every night, if he knew how much it comforted Alex, he'd never let him hear the end of it. "Turn off the light whenever," the blond mutters, pulling his laptop out from under his bed and turning it on. "Thank you," Justin says quietly as he flicks the light off. Alex doesn't watch but he hears just undress, strip down to his underwear, "for letting me stay." "Yeah," Alex sighs, opening up the browser on his computer and signing in to Netflix, "Just go to sleep. You look like you need it." "So do you," Justin comments, and Alex sees his silhouette disappear below the edge of his bed, knows he's lying down. "I'll sleep eventually," Alex mumbles, even though he knows he won't, not tonight. Justin sighs softly but doesn't speak. Alex assumes he knows better than to push his buttons. Justin falls asleep after not too long. Alex lays awake and absently watches Donnie Darko. He thinks about how he wishes the engine of a plane could fall on his bedroom; die in some freak accident so he doesn't have to do it himself. Hours pass, midnight becomes three AM, and Justin stirs for no reason at all. He's unsure of where he is at first, but the sounds of quiet voices coming out of a computer speaker reminds him. He sits up, sees Alex sitting on his bed, watching some show on his laptop with tired eyes. The blond looks over at Justin, the same solemn expression he always wears still carved into his feature. Justin wonders when the last time he saw Alex smile was. "What?" Alex mutters, rubbing his eyes. Justin frowns, wondering why he's even awake, what he's expecting from Alex. "What time is it?" "Three thirty," he says, pausing the random black and white movie he'd put on but hadn't really watched a second of. "Aren't you gonna sleep?" Alex sighs, running a hand through his short hair. "I don't know, Foley. What's it matter to you?" "You don't sleep, do you?" Alex rolls his eyes, "Everyone sleeps, dipshit." Justin opens his mouth to speak again, but Alex cuts him off. "Just drop it. It's not your problem if I sleep or not." Justin falls silent, and Alex starts the movie again, thinks he's going to leave it alone, go back to sleep, but of course not. "Were you going to drown yourself in Bryce's pool?" Alex tenses, but he doesn't look away from his laptop. "I liked you better when you were asleep." "You didn't care if you crashed your car when we were trying to scare Clay, right?" Alex groans, throwing his head back against the wall behind his bed. "What do you want, Justin?" "You're suicidal," Justin states, like he's just figured out the answer to the most important question in the world. "If I say yes will you shut up and go back to sleep?" "You don't have to say yes," Justin says, standing up, "I know you are." Alex swallows as Justin approaches him, but tries not to let his nervousness show. "That's great. Want a gold star?" Justin sits on the edge of Alex's bed, and he scoots away immediately. "Why?" the brunette asks, reaching over and pausing the movie again. "Wow, my own personal therapist," Alex tries to sound sarcastic, but his voice trembles a little and he knows Justin can hear it. "It doesn't matter, Justin." "It matters," Justin says, fixing Alex with a hard stare, "I didn't see it with Hannah, but I know now. I see it in you." Alex tries to hold Justin's gaze, but he feels his strong facade start to falter, so drops his gaze to his laptop screen, where Marion Crane is frozen on the shower floor. He hadn't even realized what he was watching until then, too distracted by the thoughts that rattled around in his brain. "Why?" Justin asks again, and Alex glances over at him for a second, surprised to see genuine concern written on his face. "I killed Hannah, I lost Jessica, and I will never be who my dad wants me to be," Alex says bitterly, "is that what you wanted to hear?" "Alex-" "Stop it, Justin," Alex mutters through gritted teeth, "I'm not going to spill my guts to you, of all people. Go back to sleep or get the fuck out." Alex's words are weak, no real threat behind them, and when he feels the empty side of his bed sink under Justin's weight, he knows Justin could tell. Justin closes Alex's laptop, puts it down on the floor next to the bed. "You're gonna kill yourself because of that?" "I never said I was going to," Alex mutters, ignores the part of him that wants to scream yes, I am going to kill myself and please stop me, no one else cares enough to stop me. "Fine," Justin sighs, and Alex feels his heart sink down into his stomach, thinks of course he doesn't care, before Justin continues. "Say you were. That'd be why?" "Is that not reason enough?" Alex whispers, tired and not totally confident in his emotional ability to handle this conversation. "I don't think so," Justin says, propping himself up on his elbow and staring down at Alex, "Compared to everyone else, what you did to Hannah was nothing, man. And you fucked up with Jessica, but she's just a girl, you know? It sucks, but it's not worth dying over. And nobody ever lives up to their dads expectations." Alex narrows his eyes at Justin, and before he can stop himself, says, "I didn't let you stay here so you can tell me I'm wrong for wanting to kill myself when my list made all those guys, including Bryce, harass Hannah, I treated Jessica like shit cause she wouldn't sleep with me, and my dad hates me because I made him move towns. I'm sick of fucking everything up and being a disappointment, so I think me wanting to die is completely fucking justified." Alex huffs out a breath, turning onto his side to avoid looking at Justin. He squeezes his eyes shut and curses himself for saying all of that, for admitting to Justin that he wants to die because it's all too real now. Justin will either tell somebody and try to get him help or he won't tell anyone, just brush it off and give Alex more reason to want to kill himself. "Alex," Justin begins, voice unbelievably soft, resting a hand on Alex's shoulder. Alex flinches away like he's been burned by Justin's hand. "Let's just go to sleep, alright?" The blond feels Justin settle into the bed next to him, and hopes to a God he doesn't believe in that Justin will leave him alone. God has never been on Alex's side, though, and of course, Justin has more questions. "How did you make your dad move?" "Don't ask questions you don't wanna know the answer to," Alex mutters, even though what he really means is don't ask questions that I don't want to answer. "I wanna know," Justin says, followed by a quiet "please?" Alex doesn't speak for a second, but then he figures that he's got nothing to lose. Justin can go ahead and try to ruin Alex's already ruined reputation. He doesn't plan on being around much longer anyways. "My dad's.. manly, you know? All that 'yes sir no sir' bullshit, you heard it. He's really religious too, and he wants me to be just like him.." Alex pauses, hesitating, unsure if he really wants to finish the story. "I had a boyfriend. My dad found out, pulled me out of school and we moved two weeks later." The younger boy keeps his eyes closed but flips onto his back. He waits for Justin's reaction, for him to get up and leave, call him a fag, but it never comes. "That's harsh," come his softly-spoken words instead, "to move because of a boyfriend?" "Not when you're my dad, a cop with a perfect reputation. Can't have a faggot son, no sir," Alex laughs humourlessly. "So what, he thought you'd turn straight if you moved?" Justin asks, earning a quick nod from Alex. "I guess he was right, then. You know, Jessica." "I'm not gay," Alex says, rolling his eyes, "I just, I don't know, I don't have a preference, I guess. There's a lot of hot guys here anyway. My dad was wrong. I'm just going to hide it." "Hot guys? Who?" Justin asks, curious and maybe hopeful, though Alex chalks that up to his own lack of sleep. Alex decides to indulge him. He's already embarrassed himself enough. "Definitely Zach," he begins, a small smirk on his lips, "Jeff was hot too. Tony. Tyler's cute but he's too creepy, not my type anyway. Ryan could be if he wasn't a stuck up douchebag. Monty is alright." Once he's done, he glances over at Justin. The brunet is staring at him, and somehow Alex isn't uncomfortable. "Anyone else?" Justin asks, and there's that hopeful tone again. "Quit fishing, asshole. You already know you're hot, I don't have to tell you." Alex says, nudging Justin with his elbow. "I think you're hot too," Justin says, scooting closer to Alex so their shoulders are together. Alex swallows, willing himself not to scoot away. "Thanks?" "I’ve heard you're a virgin," Justin whispers, and he's right there, right in Alex's ear. The blond's cheeks heat up and he's grateful that Justin put his laptop on the floor so the room is too dark for him to notice. "Yeah," is all he says, his voice small and nervous, doesn’t ask who told him that, already knows.

Alex feels wetness on his jawline, and it takes him a second to realize that Justin's got his lips on him, kissing him. "What are you doing?" Alex asks, but he doesn't move, lets his eyes close instead. "Want me to stop?" Justin asks, and part of Alex wants to say yes, shove him out of the bed and back onto the floor. Part of Alex wants to say no, tell him to keep his mouth on him, to kiss him properly. He opts to say nothing, just tips his head to the side and exposes his neck. Justin accepts the invitation, leaving a trail of wet kisses down Alex's neck. Alex watches with wide eyes as Justin pulls the throw blanket off of Alex's body and straddles his hips. Justin slides his hands under Alex's shirt, running his fingertips over the boy's torso. Alex silently hopes Justin won't comment on how skinny he is. The older boy tugs the collar of Alex's shirt down, attaches his lips to the soft skin in the dip of his collarbone, begins to suck and nibble at his flesh. Alex knows he should tell Justin to stop, knows the mark will be hard to hide, but he can't bring himself to care. Instead, he bites his lip to suppress the moans that are threatening to escape, exchanges them for panted breaths and the occasional whine, and tries not to feel pathetic. Justin slides a hand out from under Alex's shirt and reaches between them, uses it to palm Alex through his flannel pyjama pants. "Fuck," Alex moans, pushing his hips up into the brunet's hand. "Pretty slutty for a virgin," Justin comments, moving his lips back up Alex's neck to his jawline. "Shut up," Alex breathes, tipping his head back and closing his eyes as Justin continues to touch him. The older boy kisses his way up to Alex's lips, and then finally, finally presses their lips together. Immediately, Alex kisses him back, pushes up against him desperately. He's embarrassed, deep down, but pushes it aside to enjoy the moment. It's been so long since he's been kissed, hell, he can't even remember the last time someone properly hugged him. Justin can sense his desperation, how badly he wants, needs to be touched, and pulls back just enough that he can speak. "I'm not going anywhere, Alex," he whispers into the blond's ear. Alex shivers, feels himself blushing again and wonders when he stooped low enough to melt in Justin Foley's hands, of all people. After giving him a short nod in response, Alex kisses him again, softer this time, slower. Less like Justin's touch is his lifeline, more like he wants to savour the attention. Justin slides his tongue over the seam of Alex's lips, and Alex immediately breaks it, lets Justin's tongue slide into his mouth, rub up against his own. In the past, the sensation made Alex cringe, but there's something so wonderfully erotic about the way Justin explores his mouth. Justin slides a hand down the front of Alex's pants, wraps a hand around him and gives his length one full stroke before Alex breaks their kiss to gasp, tipping his head back. "This okay?" Justin asks, his hand stilling. Alex nods, takes a deep breath and tells himself to calm down, it’s just a handjob. “Yeah,” he whispers, finally looking at Justin, is met with blown pupils and a concerned face.

 “Never been touched like this?” Justin chuckles, flopping down onto the bed next to Alex.  

 The blond wants to stop him, tell him to finish what he started, but Justin keeps his hand down Alex’s pants, so he decides to hold off. “Fuck you, I have,” Alex huffs, eyes wandering down Justin’s body, which is only illuminated by the streetlight outside his window.

 The cool-toned streetlight looks an awful lot like moonlight, and Alex decides this is kind of beautiful. As beautiful as two teenage boys who don’t really like each other fooling around in the middle of the night can be, that is. The most Alex has ever done with anyone else was exchanging blowjobs in the back of his ex’s truck, and chances are he’ll never get anything else, so he lets himself believe it’s beautiful.

 Alex’s eyes land on Justin’s erection, clearly visible through his boxers. One of his hands lifts from his side before he can stop himself and he drops it onto the brunet, his thin fingers just barely brushing over his length. He glances over at Justin, sees that he’s biting his lip, and takes that as encouragement to slip his hand under Justin’s underwear, grab him properly.

 Justin hums, a quiet noise of approval, and then he rubs his thumb over the head of Alex’s cock, begins to work his hand over the younger boy in a steady rhythm. It’s a little dry and almost uncomfortable, so Justin pulls his hand away, licks his palm, and then continues.

 Alex does the same, wets his hand and then shoves it back down Justin’s underwear. He follows the brunet’s lead, tries to match his speed, but it’s hard to focus when someone’s touching your dick, so Alex finds himself faltering, his hand stilling at the base of Justin’s member every so often. Justin doesn’t seem to mind, just keeps stroking Alex and occasionally rocking his hips up and reminding the blond to move.

 There’s nothing romantic about it, really. Alex knows Justin probably just wants to get off, probably does this with all of his friends, but he can’t stop the way his heart flutters when he really thinks about how intimate their current situation is. Maybe it’s not as intimate as it could be, but only one other person has ever touched Alex’s dick.

 “Stop thinking,” Justin whispers, his voice weak and shaking.

 Alex turns his head to the side, presses his face against Justin’s neck. He doesn’t trust that his brain and mouth can communicate well in such a state, so he kisses Justin’s neck instead to keep himself from saying something stupid. Pumping Justin’s length faster, Alex tries to focus on getting him off.

 “You gonna come for me like this?” Justin asks, and Alex shivers at the raw pleasure in his voice. The brunet rubs his thumb over the tip of Alex’s member, slow and patronizing, and he gasps softly against his skin.

 “Yes,” Alex whispers, and isn’t sure what comes over him when he adds a quiet “please, sir”.

 Justin’s eyes widen, Alex feels him twitch in his hand, and then he’s spilling over Alex’s hand and his underwear with a moan that he muffles with his free hand. The younger boy keeps stroking his shaft until Justin is spent, then keeps holding him, unsure of what to do with his hand.

 After a moment of recovery, Justin remembers Alex’s still hard cock in his hand, and continues pumping him fast. It doesn’t take much for Alex to finish, and he moans Justin’s name into his neck as he comes, eyelids fluttering shut and thighs shaking.

 They stay like that for a few minutes before Alex comes to his senses, thinks what the fuck did I just do and pulls his hand away like Justin’s spunk is battery acid that he accidentally dipped his hand in.

 He strips in a hurry, wipes his hand off on his own boxers then slips back into his pyjama pants. Standing next to the bed, Alex waits for Justin to get up, stares at him pointedly.

 “What, no cuddles?” Justin asks, and Alex detects a hint of disappointment underneath his sarcasm.

 “No cuddles, get up,” Alex says, nods at the floor beside the bed, “what if my dad comes in? What if he heard us?”

 Justin raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t protest, gets out of the bed like he’s told. “We weren’t that loud. Can I borrow a pair of boxers?”

 The blond flops on his bed, tells Justin they’re in his dresser, and curls up underneath his throw blanket. All kinds of thoughts rattle around in his brain, from the possibility of his dad knowing and moving them again to wondering why the hell he and Justin Foley just jerked each other off in his bed and why Justin acted like it was no big deal.

 Alex doesn’t sleep a wink.