(Author's note: This is one of my favorite movies of all time. It has the plot of a twisty heist movie, with cutting edge technology (for its time), along with several other spectacular elements: twelve-year-old-boy humor, Scrabble, codes, quirky geeky characters, an excellent score, and an absolutely stellar cast. What it doesn't have is a clearly happy ending. I decided to fix that.

Also, I really couldn't resist slashing Robert Redford and Ben Kingsley, because they are SO CUTE together. I highly recommend you watch the movie, but you can read the story without having seen it. Here's a brief clip of the two of them together from the middle of the movie (spoiler), so you can see the chemistry for yourself: http:/ www. youtube. com/watch?v=coDtzN6bXAM

Along the way, this story pretty much turned into an adventure for my own personal (non-BDSM) kinks. I can't feel too guilty for that, but you have been warned.

Enjoy! -amy)

The French drop is a well-known vanish involving sleight of hand. The magician takes a coin or small object between the fingers and the thumb with fingers facing the audience and thumb behind... The left hand appears to come away with the object and the space between the right hand finger and thumb is seen to be empty. After a brief pause the magician opens his left hand and the object has disappeared. In some versions the right hand can also be seen empty, leaving no clue as to where the object went.

September 1969

They didn't start out as roommates. That happened a few weeks after the beginning of junior year, when Cosmo found himself assigned to a room with a freshman whose idea of a good time involved way too much alcohol and not nearly enough brain cells.

Marty was a friend from class, not someone he knew well, but they had most of the same professors, both being engineering majors. Marty's PI had an office down the hallway from the lab where Cosmo worked, doing scutwork for his double major in biochemistry, so they ran into each other with some frequency. One day Marty caught Cosmo in the hall and tugged him into his PI's office with a teasing smile.

"I need your help," he said in an excited undertone, and Cos had felt that tension in his gut that meant something dangerous is going to happen, and I want to be part of it.

"What can I do?" Cos said breathlessly.

It had just been a harmless prank – Marty and two graduate students were going to cup a fellow professor's lab. This involved a couple gross of Dixie cups filled with water, laid out to cover every available surface, with a few conveniently filled with juice in order to spell out the word HA. Juvenile, but right up Cosmo's alley.

After that, Cos and Marty had smiled at each other more often, and things had felt more easy between the two of them. And even though the actual number of words they'd spoken to one another were few, Cos felt like he got Marty. That maybe Marty might get him.

So it was Marty he approached one morning at breakfast. Marty was sitting alone, drinking half-coffee, half-chocolate milk with his eggs and sausage. Cos let out a calculated sigh as he dropped into a chair across from him.

"You okay?" Marty asked, wiping coffee off his moustache with his napkin.

"God, my roommate." Cos rolled his eyes, picking at his toast. "He seems to think it's his personal mission to empty a fifth of vodka into his stomach every weekend, and then to deposit it, none too neatly, in the trash can between three AM and five AM."

"Hey, that's rough," said Marty, looking sympathetic. "I guess I lucked out, getting a single this year."

"Guess so," Cosmo said, trying to pitch his sad face just right. He made another sigh and spread butter on his toast in silence. Marty watched him.

"You could switch with someone," he offered. Cos made a face, and Marty hastened to add, "I mean, not that most of these jerks would be prime roommate material. You need somebody who… well –"

"Who wouldn't mind how much room my tape drive takes up?" Cos suggested, and Marty laughed, letting out a breath.

"Yes - that. Somebody who understands the significance of ARPANET." Marty took an enthusiastic bite of eggs and grinned at Cosmo. Cos grinned back, feeling a little lightheaded.

"Somebody with access to the mainframe after hours," added Cos.

Marty considered him. "Somebody who would appreciate the printout of data numbers I got from a questionable source?"

Cos's eyes gleamed. "Exactly."

They made the switch that night, only bothering to check with their resident assistant after the fact. Cos' freshman alcoholic-in-training was only too happy to ditch his square, nerdy roommate for the smaller solitary space that Marty had vacated at the end of the hall.

It wasn't until Marty was all moved in that Cos said to him, haltingly, "That was… really nice of you, to do this for me."

"Hell, I was bored, living all alone," said Marty, and threw an arm around Cosmo. "Now? You're buying the Chinese takeout."

October 1969

Marty had a girlfriend at the beginning of the year, a petite math major named Lisa, but she didn't come around as much as the days got colder. It didn't occur to Cosmo to think about why that might be until midterms, when Marty set a black coffee on his desk and said, "You and me, man – all nighter, here, until we know those theorems backwards and forwards."

"What about Lisa?" Cos said, not looking up from his notes. "Isn't she in that class, too?"

Cos didn't realize the silence had stretched out so long until Marty cleared his throat. "Uh… yeah. She's not… we're not seeing each other anymore."

"Oh – hey." He did look up then, startled, but Marty wasn't looking back. "You okay?"

Marty shrugged. "Yeah. It was kind of mutual. We decided we weren't so compatible."

Cosmo's textbook lured him back to studying, and he said absently, "No? She seemed like a nice girl. And pretty – I mean, if you like that sort of thing."

Marty laughed, a little uneasily. "Well… I guess that's the point. I… uh, I don't think I do like that sort of thing."

Cosmo paused in reading while his brain attempted to parse what Marty had said, but after several moments, it still didn't make any sense. He stared up at Marty, eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

Marty blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. "Posit: My admittedly foxy and smart ex-girlfriend wanted a deeper commitment, and I said no thanks."

Cosmo leaned forward in his chair, scrutinizing Marty's nervous posture, his moving hands. "Consequence: you're… frustrated?" Marty snorted, flushing, and Cos grinned. "Yeah, okay. Result?"

"Hard to focus on midterms," Marty muttered. He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. His glance flickered back to Cosmo, who was still staring at him, somewhat perplexed. "Conclusion?"

"You need a new girlfriend?" Cosmo guessed.

Marty gazed back at him, then shook his head. "Faulty logic," he said softly. "Inaccurate a priori knowledge."

And then Cos got it, and he felt his face go scarlet. Marty saw it happen, and headed for the door, hanging his head and calling, "I'll see you later."

Cos spent the better part of a half hour freaking out before he realized there was absolutely no logical reason for that. Marty hadn't given him any reason not to trust him. He'd come forth with this information. It wasn't the end of the world.

When Marty knocked on their own door five hours later wearing a tentative expression, Cosmo was ready with a friendly smile. Because even if my roommate is a queer, he thought, that doesn't mean he's any different than he was yesterday, and I liked him just fine then.

"Ready for that all-nighter," Cos said, holding up his differential equations textbook, and Marty visibly relaxed, giving him a grateful smile. Cosmo felt oddly proud of himself for being so open-minded.

They were diligent and focused enough that their all-nighter ended at twelve-thirty, and when Marty offered him a joint, Cosmo was in no shape to say no. He put a Beatles album on the record player. It made Marty a little melancholy to listen to it, since the Beatles had broken up earlier that year. Cos was more of a classical fan, himself, but he knew Marty still thought it was the best music in existence, and he didn't want to be too much of a square about it.

"You're gonna ace this midterm," he said to Marty, passing the joint back for the third time. They sat cross-legged on the floor by the bunkbed. Cos noticed how careful Marty was being not to touch him: no casual contact, no accidental brushes with his fingers. It was kind of irritating. "You've got a super memory."

"Yeah, I never had trouble remembering numbers," Marty agreed. He let the smoke curl out of his nose, holding it as long as he could before exhaling. Cos watched him hold the joint and had a strange impulse to lean in and take a drag right from his fingers. He shook it off.

"But that doesn't really mean anything, does it?" Marty went on, staring at the wall. "I mean, we're here, at school, learning all kinds of things, right on the cutting edge of all of it – ARPANET, the moon landing, everything – but nothing's changing, is it? The world's still going to shit. Race relations, inequality, capitalism, and the war -"

"But we can change it, Marty," said Cos. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, feeling the mind-opening effect of the pot starting to take hold, and he smiled at Marty. "I know we can."

"Maybe," Marty said. Cosmo shook his head impatiently.

"Really. Come on. Posit: the world needs fixing. Consequence: we're going to take what we learned here and put it to work, changing things that stink." He put a hand on Marty's shoulder, and Marty paused, looking back with startled blue eyes. "I can think of a few things, already."

"Result?" Marty said after a minute. "Things get better for… people like me."

"For everybody," Cos insisted. "Maybe you realize you're not so alone. Power to the people means everybody, right?" He squeezed Marty's shoulder. "Conclusion?"

Marty smiled. Cos was so glad to see it that he laughed, which made Marty smile even bigger. "As it turns out, I'm not so alone to begin with."

"Nah," Cosmo agreed. "I'm here."

They worked their way through another joint, accompanied by several meandering conversations about the war, Nixon, Students for a Democratic Society, and whether the new rock opera Tommy was just too hippie to be cool. Eventually Cosmo stood, stretched and dug his pajamas out from under his pillow. He tried to be casual as he went to the bathroom to change, but even stoned as they were, Marty still noticed.

"You don't have to be any different around me," he said, sounding not hurt, as Cos would expect, but resigned. "I'm still the same as I was yesterday. I'm not going to... to take advantage of you or anything."

Cos paused in the doorway to the bathroom with a little snort. "Well, why not? Don't tell me you don't want this body."

Cos had no illusions about how appealing his skinny engineer self was, even if his biceps had finally popped after having no definition for the first two years of college. Which was why Marty's uncomfortable face made no sense. "Hey," Cosmo said. "Really. Joking. It's not a problem, Marty."

Marty nodded, but didn't watch as Cosmo defiantly stripped off his shirt and pants and slipped on his pajamas, right there in the middle of their dorm room. It wasn't like he hadn't done it dozens of times already, without thinking about it. No reason to think about it now.

But he was thinking about it. Climbing the ladder to his bunk, he was thinking about it a lot. Thinking of Marty, lying in the bed beneath him, wondering if he was thinking about it, too.

Cosmo lay back on his bed, watching the room spin lazily around him. Pot always made him horny. He wondered if he might be able to get away with choking the chicken once Marty's breathing finally evened out into sleep, but the movement of the bunk was hard to disguise. Not that both of them hadn't done that in the room before, at night, but it hadn't felt so… personal, before.

Does he think about me, when he does that? Cos couldn't help it, and he gripped himself through his pajama pants, giving himself a little squeeze.

"Cos?"

Marty's voice, coming at him in the dark like that, while Cosmo had his dick in his hand, was surprisingly moving. He caught his breath, trying to sound as normal and casual as he could. "Yeah, Marty?"

"It really doesn't bother you? That I… that I might be a… a homosexual."

Not if it doesn't bother you, Marty. Cos let go of himself for a moment, not feeling guilty, exactly, but… well, maybe a little guilty, because the sound of Marty's soft words were definitely inspiring some very specific sensations below the waist. "No," he said honestly. "It doesn't bother me at all."

"That's a relief, man. Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Really. Don't.

And then it was just too much for Cos. He stuck his hand down into his boxers, under his pants, and he knew the bed was moving, he knew he was being obvious about what he was doing. He just couldn't bring himself to care. No, that wasn't it – he did care, he wanted Marty to feel the bed moving, to know that he was stroking his dick and thinking about – thinking about –

Then he heard Marty take his own shuddering breath, and suddenly Cosmo could feel the bed moving in a new rhythm, and he couldn't help let out a surprised moan. Marty's doing it, too, he thought wildly, his mind making great leaps across gulfs of possibility. He's jacking off in his bed, underneath me. He knows what I'm doing, and he's doing it - with me.

When Cosmo came, he did it as silently as he could. He didn't care much for sitting around in sticky shorts, but there was no way he was going to get up and miss Marty's own conclusion. Cos could tell it was close. He heard Marty's breathing change, and the subtle movement of the bunk rocking sped up for a few incredible seconds, and then – it stopped.

Did you do that on purpose? Cos wanted so much to ask, but he knew that would be crossing a big line, and he wasn't going to do that. Instead he wiped himself off as best he could, and tried to sleep.

They did it every night after that.

They never said anything about it to one another. Marty would rise from studying at his desk and say, casually, "I'm going to bed now." And Cos would go brush his teeth, and get into his pajamas, already half-hard without laying a hand on himself, and climb into his bunk and lie there. Marty would turn off the light.

And then Cosmo would pull the elastic of his pants down over his dick, now rock-hard, harder than he'd ever felt it before when he was jacking off to thoughts of Alice Grossman's tits. And he would feel Marty's own rhythm, shaking the bunk beneath him, and knowing exactly what he was doing made it that much more intense. He could imagine Marty, on his stomach, rubbing into the mattress, his fist curled over his straining cock, thrusting hard, not caring that Cos could feel him.

Wanting him to, if Cosmo had to be honest, because this was unquestionably for each other, now. They never started before the other got into bed, even when it took a little longer for one of them to get ready. Cos would lie there, squirming, feeling his hard dick's pressure on the seam of his pajamas, but keeping his hand to himself, until Marty was lying down in the bunk below him, lights safely out. And Marty sometimes would make this noise, this satisfied, relieved little sigh as he began. Cos would strain his ears for every one of his sounds: the way Marty breathed in rhythm, the slick, wet slip-slap of his hand, the grunts and stifled gasps as he found new fantasies to inspire himself. It was always silent at the end, though, and Cos wondered if Marty put his face into the pillow when he came.

One morning, Cos woke earlier than usual, before the sun had quite risen outside, to the unmistakable sound of Marty getting off in the bottom bunk. He could hear the usual wet, slick sound of his hand stroking himself in rhythm, and feel the movement of the bunk. But this time, Marty wasn't being silent. Cos could hear him talking to himself, saying things under his breath that he clearly didn't think Cosmo would be listening to. Cos held as still as possible, not wanting to interrupt, not wanting to miss a word of Marty's whispered litany.

"… do you from behind, you like it, I know you want it… giving it to you hard, making you take it… fucking you right in your ass, you pervert, sliding into you, so tight, so good, fuck… come on, right on your knees, spreading you wide… feel my dick filling you up…"

It was so improbable to hear Marty's calm, friendly, boy-next-door voice saying such things that Cosmo wasn't even sure it was him at first – although, really, if there had been another guy in the bed with him, that might have been a little disturbing. But when he heard Marty say, "God, fuck, Cosmo, you're so tight," Cos let out a whimper that didn't sound like it could have come from him.

And then Marty just shut up, went completely silent and still, like he was made of stone.

Cos touched his own cock, hard and ready, even more than it usually was in the morning, and wondered desperately what to do. Don't stop, he wanted to urge. His body was aching for it; he wanted, more than anything he could think of, to hear what else Marty wanted to do to him. With only mild trepidation, he opened his mouth.

"Want to feel you – grab your dick in my hand," he said, a little louder than a whisper. He heard Marty take a sharp breath. Whoever this Marty was, the one in the bunk who had been saying those things, Cos somehow knew that he wouldn't mind hearing Cos say them, either. He tried again, feeling the tension gather beneath his navel, and he thrust forward with his hips against the bed. "So hard – so hot. So fucking gorgeous – going to make you suck my cock."

Marty's answering groan was loud enough to make Cos wonder if their neighbors suspected they had girls over. It didn't worry him enough to ask him to quiet down, though, because Marty's voice was just about the most fucking sexy thing he'd ever heard, and he wasn't going to tell him to stop talking, not any time soon. Not ever.

Cos started to stroke in earnest, the bed moving in its now familiar rhythm, hinges squeaking, the frame bumping the wall occasionally. No, this time, it was the accompaniment that was different, the words that would have made Cos blush with shame to hear anyone say in the light of day, but to hear them from Marty, in the privacy of their dorm room, in the dark just before dawn seemed completely, absurdly, exactly what he wanted. He heard Marty's own rhythm begin again, rocking the bed in counterpoint as he spoke, and it was so ridiculously, brain-numbinglyhot.

"Gonna swallow you right down, god, your big cock, I'm taking it right down my throat, you're making me take it, you're fucking my mouth, come on, Cos, fuck my mouth, come in my mouth, on my face, on my neck, come on, fuck, just give it to me…!"

"M-Marty," Cos moaned.

Marty's cries landed on Cosmo's skin like miniature explosions. Cos felt the bed jerk as he gave a couple more thrusts, and then he heard him panting, "That's it, Cos, come on, you come too, just give it to me, come on…"

It didn't take long at all for him to follow Marty into spectacular release, but this time, for the first time, he wasn't afraid to make a little noise. His own voice was hoarse and a little rough and low, as it often was in the morning, and he let himself say, "Fuck, Marty, you're so good, you make me come so fucking hard…"

The room was full of breathing for about a minute after that, and Cos thought maybe Marty had fallen back asleep for a little while. But then he heard him stir, and he heard Marty say in a worried tone, "Cos?"

Face flaming, Cos thought he would sit this one out, feigning sleep. But then he realized he really couldn't do that to Marty, and he replied, "Yeah."

"You're there?"

"Yeah, Marty, I'm here."

"All right."

Those were the only words spoken, but Marty seemed satisfied with them, and Cos wasn't saying anything more. They lay there in their beds for a little while, and eventually Cos slept again.

He didn't see Marty again until after physics class, at lunch. Marty was already sitting with other friends, but there was a spot open next to him. Cos got his tray with salad and macaroni and a sandwich. He made Marty a half-coffee, half-hot chocolate. Then he slid into the chair beside Marty and set the drink on the table.

Marty was talking and laughing with Brian, but he took the drink, sipped it. When he set it down, it was on his own tray. Cosmo felt an inexplicably warm, pleasant sensation inside his rib cage, and he ate the rest of his lunch in peaceful silence.

Later, walking in the hall through the math building, Marty passed him, smiled at him, nodded and said, "Farm out."

"Right arm," Cos replied. Those were ordinary, every day words, and he didn't need to be afraid of them, or of bumping fists with Marty as he walked right by.

Sometimes it was silent after that, and sometimes it was Marty's words that initiated things, but it became a twice a day event: in the morning before they rose, and at night before they went to bed. They still never touched, never discussed it.

Every now and then, Cos would see Marty watching him later that day, as though to say, We okay? and Cos would nod and look away. That was him, saying, Yeah, we're okay, but this is all. This is all I can do. And Marty never pressed him for more.

Cosmo tried not to think about it much during the day. It was too raw, too embarrassing, and far too illustrative of things about himself that he was not ready to admit.

The end of the semester snuck up on him. Marty was going home for vacation, but Cos was staying at school. They knew enough about each other's families by now, and Marty was sympathetic about Cosmo's old man, how he drank and said things he meant but shouldn't say under any circumstances. It was better for Cos to be at school over break and not to have to deal with it.

The night before Marty's last day was silent, as most of them were. Cosmo brushed his teeth, then climbed into bed and lay on his stomach, waiting for Marty, feeling restless. When he had time to wait like this, he would indulge in letting his mind wander. He could almost picture Marty there, could imagine him lying next to him in the bed, running a hand over Cosmo's back, down along his thighs, pressing between his – he let out a gasp.

"Cos," Marty said, low and intense, from across the room.

Cosmo waited, his heart pumping double time, as Marty walked toward the bed. This was a deviation from their normal script; a big one. He didn't watch him approach, but he could hear Marty, could almost pick up and hold the tension between them.

"Cos," he said again, and it was tender and full of things that made Cos feel like crying.

"Go to bed, Marty," he said, as calmly as he could. "Just go to bed."

For a moment, Cos thought Marty might not listen - but then he did climb into his own bunk, and there was nothing from him, no words or movement or anything, just the sound of his breathing.

Cos swallowed. His head was swimming, his heart in his throat, his cock achingly hard, because… because Marty wanted more. Wanted him.

"You like this," Cos said tentatively. Marty's breathing caught, and Cos heard him shifting in the bunk below.

"Yeah," Marty said. He sounded defeated. "I do."

Cosmo let his hand ghost down over his own legs again, between them, and touched, feeling his body clench in response. "You want to… do me?" he said.

"Yeah. All of that. You heard me say it."

"No, I mean… right now. You want to do me?"

Marty's shocked silence almost drove Cosmo to speak again, but eventually Marty said, incredulous, "You… you want that?"

Part of him did. The several inches of insistent erection currently being crushed into the bed definitely did, and the pulsing opening at the base of his spine. It had seldom been used for anything other than its usual output procedure, but he could feel himself wanting to be touched there, to be… filled. He opened his mouth to say something hot, but the words that came out were, "I'm a little scared, but yeah."

"Cos," Marty said, his voice gentle. "I've never – I mean, there hasn't been anybody –"

"I know," said Cos. "Me, neither."

Cos heard Marty sit up in bed, then stand. He reached out and put a hand on the wooden railing. Cosmo wondered if Marty could tell how he was feeling, how much he wanted – this, wanted him, but he wasn't moving until he knew for sure that Marty wasn't going to –

"Can I… come up?" Marty asked.

"Uh." Cosmo's brain went blank, and he just stammered, "S-sure."

He moved back to make room for him as Marty climbed the ladder and swung a leg over the edge of the railing. It wasn't the only time Marty had ever been up in Cosmo's bunk, but it was the first time since they'd been having their morning and evening rendezvous. He settled down beside him, their knees and ankles bumping.

Cosmo had no idea what to expect. Should he touch him? What could he say? He sighed and put his head down on the pillow, avoiding Marty's eyes.

Cos felt Marty's hand on his back, warm through his pajamas. "I've got some lotion."

"What?"

"Lotion," Marty insisted. "For… making things slick. I think we'd need it. You don't use lotion, do you? When you're… by yourself, here?"

"No." Cos' voice cracked. To his own ears, he sounded fucking terrified, and it wasn't too far off from the truth.

Marty brought his arm down around Cos' shoulder in a kind of half-hug, lying down beside him in the bed. He was so close, and his face was right next to Cosmo's. He was near enough that if Marty looked at him, Cos knew he would be able to see everything Cos was thinking and feeling. He kept his face turned away.

"It's okay," Marty said. "We don't have to do anything."

Cos felt Marty touch his mouth to his cheek, and he wasn't sure if Marty was trying to say something into his ear, or to kiss him, but Cosmo somehow didn't care.

"I want to," he whispered.

With that terrifying admission, Cosmo rolled over onto his back and looked up at him. And Marty was just – Marty. There wasn't anything scary or weird about him. In the dim light from the streetlights outside, Cos could see his eyes, blue and big and full of questions. He licked his lip under his moustache.

"I want to, too," Marty whispered back.

Cos reached up with one hand and pulled him down, pressing their lips together. Marty groaned as their tongues touched, and he opened up to Cos, his mouth hot and wet, giving Cos all kinds of perverse ideas about what other things he might want to do with that mouth. It made him deepen the kiss, and his hands went to Marty's chest, touching him through his t-shirt. Suddenly he wanted more skin, to feel Marty right there on top of him. No bed, no air, nothing between them but the slip of skin against skin.

"Can I take off your shirt?" Cos asked.

Marty sat up, struggling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it over the side of the bunk. He was pretty well built, if you liked things like that. In this moment, Cos was only a little ashamed to admit he really, really did. His own hands went to the buttons on his pajama top, and Marty watched, mouth open and eyes enormous, while Cos took it off. His eyes, and then his hands, slid over Cos's bare chest, finding all the most sensitive spots and inspiring echoes of sensation all over his body.

"C'mere," Cos urged, his hands around Marty's back, pulling him down. And then Marty was on top of him, his whole body, lying right there astride Cosmo, and he could feel the scalding heat of Marty's throbbing erection, digging into his hip. His breathing went erratic for a moment.

"I'm so fucking turned on right now," Marty murmured. It was entirely needless, but it was hot anyway, and Cosmo pressed his own hard cock into Marty's abdomen, thwarted only by the two thin layers of fabric of Cosmo's pajamas and Marty's boxers.

"I want to touch you," Cosmo said, and Marty groaned, right into his ear, and god, he didn't know he could get any harder. He dug his fingers into Marty's back, holding him tighter, and they spent a good ten seconds thrusting in tandem against each other before Marty sat up again. Cos lay a hand on Marty's abdomen, tight with need, and tugged at the hem of his boxers.

Marty didn't need to be asked twice; he just pulled the hem back and drew it down to reveal his long white cock. Before he could think about anything, Cos reached out and wrapped a hand around it, stroking him, just like he would stroke himself. Marty cried out, thrusting into his grip.

"God – fuck," he panted. "Don't, unless you want me coming on your – oh, god, ohgod, Cos!"

Through his haze of lust, Cosmo considered the bottle of Marty's lotion, sitting next to them on the bed. He'd never tried it before with anything like that, but sometimes in the shower with soap, which did feel fantastic, and sometimes his own hand with spit on it, and that was good too. It stood to reason he'd like it slick, and why hadn't he thought of that before? But this wasn't the time. Right now, Cos was going to get Marty off, as fast as he could, make him come hard, shouting Cosmo's name, and he was going to be right there with him – if he didn't beat him to the finish line, because this was way, way too fucking hot.

"Yeah, that's what I want, Marty," he muttered, watching him close his eyes and throw his head back like he was some porn star or something. He was good-looking enough to be one, that was for sure, and Cosmo was pretty certain he'd never thought those words consciously before, but they were true. He said them. "You're so gorgeous – god, look at you."

Marty's hips took over, thrusting, and the bed was suddenly moving in that familiar rhythm, the one they'd set together for the past three months, every night, and just that rocking, squeaking sensation alone was almost enough to drive him to completion, right there. But then Marty had to put his hand behind his own neck and arch his back, like he was Cos' own personal wet dream, and chanted, "Oh, fuck, Cos, I'm going to come, going to come, right now –"

The sight of Marty's arc of spurting come landing on his stomach, along with the friction of Marty's writhing body against his desperate cock, was all Cosmo needed. He heard his own cries eclipse Marty's as he came, hard, in his pajama pants.

There was a long silence, made tense by the implications of what they'd just done. Cos was way too blissed out to be upset, but he witnessed Marty avoiding his eyes, pulling away from him in the aftermath, and it hurt his heart to see it.

"Hey," he said, still a little breathless, and reached up to pull Marty down against his sticky chest. He kissed his cheek and whispered into his ear. "Are you okay?"

Marty turned his head with a groan and pressed their lips together. "Am I –" He laughed a little, shaking his head. "I should be asking youthat."

"I, uh… yeah." Cos couldn't suppress his smile. "I'm good. I'm… really good."

"You're not upset?" Marty said anxiously. "I mean, you'd have every right to be. I just practically forced myself on my straight roommate…"

"Not upset, Marty," Cos insisted. Not particularly straight, either, judging by this experience, and what we've been doing together for the past couple months. "I was totally into this."

"Yeah?" Marty looked sideways at him, rolling to the side to lie beside him, propped up on his elbow. Cosmo felt himself fracturing into tiny useless pieces at the expression Marty was wearing, directed at him. He reached out and touched Marty's fucking beautiful face.

"Yeah," he said softly, and he couldn't help it, he just leaned in to kiss him, and Marty kissed right back, no question. It still felt natural, still just what he wanted. "You're… my friend. I couldn't say no to you."

Marty looked taken aback, and a little shaken. "Uh, I sure hope you could."

"I mean, I wouldn't. I wouldn't want to." Cos stroked his chest, feeling him shiver. "Come on, grab that blanket. You're cold."

"Not cold," Marty said, snagging the sheets and pulling them up over the two of them, but he huddled against the length of Cosmo's body.

Cos's arm slipped under Marty's body, as natural as breathing. "We should get some sleep." Before I make you do it all again.

Cosmo stayed awake for some time after Marty's eyes had closed, reveling in the unexpectedly wonderful sensations of Marty's leg brushing his calf, Marty's breath on his shoulder, Marty's head on the pillow beside him. He watched his face, preternaturally beautiful in sleep, and considered staying awake all night just so he could be certain to be the first one awake the next morning. Because the thing they did every morning was likely to be a hundred times more interesting with both of them in the same bunk.

But when Cos did wake up the next day, the space next to him was empty, and he was alone in the room. He reached out to touch the bed, still slightly warm from Marty's body, and he could feel an equivalent empty space in his own chest. Cos rose reluctantly to dress and go to class, but by the time he got back that afternoon, Marty's bags and books had gone home for vacation on the train, along with Marty himself.

It was a remarkably uncomfortable feeling not to realize you wanted something until after you didn't have it anymore.