Firsts

(A/N: Written for the last day of BuJeet week, "firsts." Unfortunately it ended up being really hard to write and now it's late BUT ANYWAY HERE YOU ARE... I dont really know what this is a first of, exactly, but. Uh. something about first sexual experiences, maybe first bad ones? I dont know. whatever. Enjoy lol. )

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"A-ah!"

There were deep indents in Baljeet's lip where he'd been clenching his teeth. His hands were curled underneath him, shakily holding his upper body up on the sheets. His knuckles had long since gone pale from the harshness of his grip.

"Shit, 'Jeet you gotta relax."

Baljeet felt his lip curl in light annoyance. He drooped his head, his neck sore.

"I am trying to!"

The room was sweltering. The air was thick and moist, and he was absolutely sure it stunk of sex and sweat, but he'd been in there so long he couldn't tell anymore.

"A-ah! Hn!"

Baljeet felt his arms give out from under him. Sweat dripped off his temple and ran down to his chin. He was dizzy. He'd been holding his breath, occasionally gasping for air, and it was so so bad for a person not to breath properly during cardio-

"AH!"

The quick shot of pleasure was followed by the sound of a tongue clicking approvingly.

"Found it~"

Baljeet panted lightly against the rumpled sheets, trying to sway the spinning of his vision. His knees shook slightly, and he swallowed thickly, his nose fogging with the undeniable smell of Buford on the fabric. Buford had thick fingers and they were a little uncomfortable, but he was petting around and every few moments it would feel a little better.

He held his breath.

So nervous.

So scared.

Scared of how much he wanted it, scared of how in love he was, scared of being face down with his ass in the air for a young man he'd known since he was 9, scared of the knowledge he was loved back so intensely, scared that he'd never be able to breathe again-

His lungs forced the air back out of his mouth upon feeling heat on his back and chapped lips upon his shoulder blade.

"Are you okay?"

Baljeet couldn't tell him he'd puke if he opened his eyes. He couldn't tell him he was scared and tense even though he was ready. They needed this. He didn't want to turn back, not after they'd come so far. If Buford could see his face, he'd stop. So he buried it deeper in the sheets.

He could feel his head swimming as he inhaled sharply. It felt as though he was going to implode his lungs. They hurt.

But he nodded.

And he could feel Buford's hesitancy.

"... 'Jeet, we don't have to."

He swallowed, and unfisted his hands long enough to gather the sheets.

"I-I want to."

He braced himself for an argument, he knew Buford knew he was unusually tense, but it never came. Instead, there were three soft kisses placed upon the curve of his spine, and the snap of a plastic cap. The fingers inserted in his body disappeared, and Baljeet still couldn't find the stability to press himself back up onto all fours. He breathed quickly and deeply, almost as if he was sighing, and forced himself to continue to inhale gently.

His ears perked to the sound of Buford spreading more lube on himself, and upon hearing him stop he held his breath, again.

Clenched hands and bitten lips and furrowed brows.

He turned his head just enough to peak open his chestnut eyes and watch as a large, pink hand pressed itself into the mattress by his shoulders.

He sucked in sharply for a moment.

Something - he knew what it was - pressed between his pulled cheeks. Buford's hand slipped from his ass to his hip when he was sure he was positioned correctly.

But he paused, and everything fell silent.

"... Baljeet."

The Indian felt his chest clench harder at the tone in his boyfriend's voice.

"You're sure you're ready for this?"

His face has begun to tingle from the blood and he could feel the pressure his lack of breathing caused. His head buzzed.

No, I'm not sure anymore.

"Y-yes," he breathed, and almost instantly regretted. That was not a well thought-out response. He'd been ready all but five seconds ago, and now that it was imminent he was being enveloped by his fear. But he didn't want to back out, he didn't. He wanted to give this to Buford, and they'd been waiting so long-

"A-ah!"

Baljeet's face twisted up and his teeth latched back on to his surely bruised lower lip. Even after that prepping, he could feel a painful stretch as Buford had begun to press himself into him. It wasn't even all of the tip, but his hands had started to shake from being clenched so hard, and every muscle in his body was tight and unwelcoming.

Even so, he'd expect Buford to keep pushing through.

But he didn't.

"I'm not going to do this shit to you, Baljeet."

Baljeet forced himself up onto his arms when Buford's body left his. He turned his upper body, eyes wide, confusion in his features, and there must have been sweat pouring down his face. Buford had sat back down to the side of him, his feet touching and a hand running through his short hair as he puffed. He looked upset. And hurt.

The Indian had felt such incredible relief when they stopped, but now he felt... insulted. Shamed, like he was being cast aside. He turned, shakily, as his muscles vibrated in their relaxing and the lingering adrenaline. His dark brows furrowed.

"Why the fuck not!?"

He caught Buford off guard with the swearing, but it didn't phase him for long. Buford's lips had gone thin and his blue eyes had narrowed suspiciously.

"Are ya serious?!" the bulkier male snapped, wiping his brow with his large palm. "You were about t' rip a hole in my sheets! You're not ready for this."

Insulted.

"That is not your decision to make!" Baljeet felt hot all of a sudden, and the tingle in his face had begun to subside, "I told you I am ready because I am ready!"

He felt his mouth, his eyes, his nose, his face twitch with uncertainty, and when Buford's eyes narrowed farther he knew it'd betrayed his anxiety.

"Fine, Baljeet, you're ready," Buford waved a hand ceremoniously, and with a quick roll of his eyes he moved to point accusingly at his love. "But are ya ready because I'M ready, or are ya ready because YOU'RE ready? Hm?"

Baljeet tried to respond, eager to defend himself, but-

"An' don't give me any of that merde about how you wouldn' tell me sumthin unless you REALLY meant it, 'cause you an' I BOTH know that you jus' told me a fat- cul lie."

The Indian faltered, stared, and tucked his knees. He sighed ever so softly, and pulled the left corner of his lower lip into his teeth.

Buford was right. He knew Buford was right. The moment he'd begun to second guess his decision he knew that tonight would have been a mistake if they'd gone through with it.

"I just wanted to give you something you actually wanted..." he murmured, his eyes flitting to the dusty bookcase across the room. "I know you do not read the books I buy you. I was just hoping-"

"Merde Baljeet, seriously!?"

Baljeet looked back up at Buford, finding him throwing an arm towards the bookcase and all but glaring him down.

"We've been together for, like, a year and a half! Why the fuck would you-"

"But that is just it, Buford!" He almost snarled, frowning heavily, sitting back on his feet and pushing his chest out. Doing his best to look nothing like the guilt he was feeling. "We have been together for a year and a half, and we have not gone that far yet! You have been ready for me for like, a year! But I am just sitting here twiddling my thumbs, afraid to get my feet wet like you can just wait for me forever!"

He felt his arms tremble and he waved them around for emphasis. There was this stinging lump down in his throat, and his face was certainly flushed and hot and his eyes tingled lightly.

"When some-" he faltered on the lump, "-some other gorgeous, adventurous guy could show up and put out and-" he slouched again, "-and sweep you off your feet... you know?"

He just stared at his hands now, his eyes prickling with his fear of being left behind. Completely missing the surprised look on Buford's face.

"I just want to make you happy."

Baljeet fiddled with his perfectly groomed nails, his eyes just wet enough to blur his vision slightly. Buford was going to agree with him. He was going to agree that Baljeet's lack of "putting out" was making him less and less interested until eventually some other guy would come along and take his place. Baljeet didn't know when he would really be ready to do that; he was okay with the sex that they have had, the handjobs and the oral and the touching, but being penetrated was just a different story. He trusted Buford and he loved Buford and he knew it'd be okay in the end, but... Letting someone else into his body was so... it was such a different level of intimacy and it just scared him. He knew he wanted it and he knew it'd be okay eventually, but how long would eventually take? A month? Another year? Buford couldn't really wait that long, could he?

"I'm not dating you 'cause I want to fuck you."

Baljeet looked up, watery eyes blinking rapidly to clear his vision. Buford had moved closer while he'd been worrying, and there was a strange, soft look on his face that made Baljeet's heart throb.

"I... want to make love to you 'cause I'm dating you."

Staring blankly at the significantly larger mass of human in front of him, Baljeet found himself having trouble processing what was being told to him. He'd been expecting an agreement, not... whatever was just said to him, and not in such a sweet voice.

"Uh...?" he breathed unintelligibly, causing Buford to dip his head and laugh softly.

"What I mean, Baljeet," Buford smiled, reaching over to cup his love's small cheek in his rather large hand, "Is that we could never touch each other again, and I would still be crazy 'bout ya."

Baljeet couldn't figure out how to react, so he just continued to stare. It was almost like you could see the beads of nervous sweat forming on Buford's foreheads at the silence.

"Yea, it's true that I want this, and it's true that I want to do anythin' and everythin' to you and with you, but when it all comes down to it I want it 'cause I love ya," he continued, releasing the other boy to rub the back of his own neck. "Something like waiting for you is nothin', 'cause it's not the sex that makes me happy. I mean, the sex does make me happy; don't get me wrong it makes me real - real happy, but I mean it can't be - it's not everythin' ya know?" Buford was practically sweating now, and Baljeet couldn't help but find himself amused at the wash of color that'd taken over his pale cheeks as he continued to ramble. "You don't hafta do nothin' if you don't want to and I don't want ya to feel like you gotta do anything just 'cause - 'cause maybe I wanna do it. An' - 'n' - even if I do wanna do it, in the end I'm jus' - I'm happy you're here 'n that I get to see your face everyday 'n shit. I mean - you could run off with some bitch and then I - ya know then I could be alone."

Baljeet smiled softly, finding himself swollen with relief and emotion as Buford rambled on. He knew if Buford was the one hesitating he'd be reacting the same way, so why had he been so worried about it? Buford loved him, didn't he? They'd gone through way worse than this, even since before they'd started dating, so why would he think that something like this was a deal-breaker?

"Buford," he tried to interrupt, but Buford just held his hand out and continued.

"My point is - " Buford shifted a little and awkwardly rested his hand on Baljeet's knee, his voice soft and loving and strange to hear coming out of his mouth," - is tha' your sexual experiences are yours, an', ya know, they should happen when you're ready for 'em to happen. An' the - an' I respect that. 'N' anyone who doesn't should get punched in th' eye 'cause waitin' for someone like that ain't that big of a deal."

Baljeet bit down on his lip, trying really hard to keep his eyes from stinging. But they burned anyway, so he pushed up on his knees to wrap his arms around Buford's neck. He squeezed, burying his bleary eyes into the other man's hot skin. He felt the other man start slightly, and he could just imagine the confused look on his face.

"Wha-? What's wrong?" Buford asked, sounding worried, resting his large hands on Baljeet's thin waist.

"I am so sorry," the Indian hiccupped, inwardly cursing how the support was making him so teary. "Thank you."

He sighed softly when Buford's arms wrapped around him, and more than willingly allowed himself to be sat sideways across his lap. He couldn't remember a time when he had felt so comfortable in Buford's embrace. He was always loved being held by him, but there was just something about right now that made everything feel so... perfect. Accepted. Supported. Calmed.

Loved.

In love.

"We should stop for the night," Buford mumbled after what felt like an eternity, pulling away from Baljeet long enough to nestle the smaller boy against him.

"Yeah..." Baljeet hummed, nuzzling his cheek against Buford's chest. He sighed softly, finding himself suddenly overcome with guilt. "I am sorry..."

"Shh. It's fine, 'Jeet. We'll try again whenever you're ready. No big deal, 'member?"

Nodding lightly, Baljeet quirked a small smile and stretched upwards to plant a quick, appreciative kiss to his boyfriend's lips.

"I love you."

Baljeet's heart squirmed happily when Buford presented the cutest lopsided smile in response.

"I love ya too, 'Jeet."