Title: No Point In Asking Why
Fandom: Static Shock
Characters: Virgil/Richie
Word Count: 1000
Rating: M
Author's Notes: m/m, as close to a lemon as my muse will allow me to do today. It seems that doing tithing gifts for the God-of-Uncensored-Man-on-Man-Sex is complicated by the fact that muses aren't allowed to give any assistance.
It had come to the point when he stopped asking why.
It was just… pointless to ask why. Or how. He didn't know. And to be perfectly honest? He didn't care. He didn't care that under 'normal' circumstances and in 'normal' situations, he still considered himself straight. He didn't care that the only times he had sex, or was even remotely intimate with anyone, it was with another male. One particular super-genius. He didn't. There was just something… amazing about the whole thing. Sure, they were guys, and there was a bit of awkwardness to it, but…
But Virgil liked watching Richie's expressions. The way the blond just couldn't –look- at him, and would either close his eyes or look around or focus on some random spot. It was somewhere between the kissing, the touching, the foreplay, and then the actual penetration that blue-green eyes were no longer able to look at him. But Virgil didn't question that, either, because he understood a little. It was awkward all around. There was also the way the super-genius would bite his lip just before he hit his breaking point, or gasp with shock and surprise when Virgil moved in an unexpected way.
Sometimes it started with an actual invitation. A simple, "You wanna?" Sometimes it started with a bit of playing around. Once… Once it started with holding each other after a particularly rough day. But mostly, lately, it started with kisses.
The first time it began with a kiss was when Virgil, for some unknown reason, pushed Richie up against a wall and kissed him.
It was unlike any kiss he'd given or received before. His blood had been spiked by uncertainty and fear, though they'd already fooled around a little bit. But… this was different. This was –him- actively instigating it.
This was him, taking off his gloves and placing his hands on Richie's shoulders, pushing the blond up against a wall. This was him, knowingly taking a step closer. This was him, tilting his head to the side and leaning forward. Pressing his lips to Richie's. Feeling the blond respond, softening under him. Flicking his tongue forward, just sliding over pale pink lips. Then, taking it one step further and actually deepening the kiss.
Richie's first reaction was shock. And then surrender. And then? Then he responded with an acidic need that left burn marks embedded in Virgil's mind. The way he reached up, one hand pulling at Virgil's waist, the other tangling in the dark-skinned super-hero's dreads. That first sharp tug on his hair sent alien sparks of arousal up the electric meta-human's back.
That was the first time that Virgil stopped asking why.
Occasionally, afterwards, when he was huddling with the blond, cuddling in the afterglow, the young hero would still wonder, but he never questioned the situation hard enough to stop.
It had been Richie's idea to bring the mattress, and eventually a full bed, into the gas station. Hidden, of course, as they didn't want vagrants and other homeless people trying to use their hideout as theirs. Originally, it was just there for those nights when they were both out late, or just up late, and didn't want to chance running out of power, or passing out, before they got home. A good idea that got better over time when they found other uses for the comfortable surface.
It wasn't exactly romantic, but it was practical and functional and really? That was all they really needed. There wasn't that much room for romance in their lives, anyway. What, with being teenagers, about to graduate and go to college, being superheroes, and still being who they always were.
Friends. First and foremost, they were friends.
But at some point, they became something… slightly different. Still friends, but the friendship had taken on a new edge to it.
An edge that allowed him to have fantasies about Richie that involved a lot of physical exertion and not a lot of clothing. And when fantasies were permitted to become reality, he preferred to have Richie on his back, their hands clasped together. It was… erotic, noticing the difference in skin tones, and… And it was fascinating to watch his own hands moving over Richie's oh-so-pale flesh, just before their fingers entwined. After that, though, dark eyes always focused on the blond's flushed face.
And then he began to move… He always started out slowly, and he always claimed it was because he didn't want to hurt his partner. But the real reason, the one that always confused him, was because he wanted it to last.
Because, truthfully, it felt good.
So very, very good.
And he never wanted to stop. Never. He just wanted to feel Richie's body repeatedly accepting him, to watch the blond's expression shift from lost and needy to as close to excruciatingly aroused to sated and pleasured, to hear the super-genius gasping, whimpering, and then begging. Begging him. Calling out his name in soft cries as he was carried to the brink, but not quite able to fall over.
Not until Virgil let him.
And the dark-skinned super-hero withheld that moment, kept them both from falling over that ledge for as long as he could, for as long as it took for Richie to call out his name. Because he needed to hear it, needed to hear that Richie needed him as much as he needed the blond.
And it wasn't just during those moments that he needed the super-genius. And it wasn't just when they were playing their heroic parts as Static and Gear, either. The… the need was a persistent thing. It was there first thing in the morning. It was there during every conversation Virgil had during the day, no matter who he was talking about. It was there just before he fell asleep.
He didn't understand it. But he'd learned to not question it. There just wasn't a point to asking why.
Not when he didn't want it to end.