It'd been seven whole months since the storm. Of course the thought had crossed his (their?) mind, but once the twat started taunting him with recollections of early secondary-school sexual confusion, he pushed the curiosities away. He thought if he gave in to them, he would only be giving the sickest parts of himself some smug satisfaction. Precisely what he wanted to avoid, precisely what he wanted to flee from. Or so he thought.
They're curled up in opposite corners of his room after being triggered by yet another rejection from yet another girl. Awkward silence has stretched on, punctuated only by one or the other sucking his teeth to make little sounds of contempt.
"...Oi mate, you know how, that one time on that roof, you were sayin' how you would.. ehm, what was the phrase... Fuck yourself in an 'eartbeat, was it?"
Here we go again, he thinks. He's gonna stir up the gay issue, gonna tell me I might as well since I've got no chance with any member of the female population. "Yeah, what of it?"
"Well, ah, I do... I do actually have somethin' along the lines of a confession." He licked his lips nervously as he touched the side of his neck then curled his fingers inward - a nervous gesture that Rudy could never remember exhibiting.
"Oh really now? What's it?" He furrowed his brow and folded his arms.
"Well. Y'know how you were all blacked out in a noose and such? With Alisha?"
"Mm."
"Y'know how you woke up with us loomin' over you?"
Something in Rudy's mind clicked, and he felt sick to his stomach - this tosser had done things with Alisha that day, hadn't he? Ohh, brilliant. Just fucking brilliant. He'd come running in and played the hero and saved her and given her some dramatic smooch and -
"I may or may not have given you mouth to mouth."
Oh.
"Okay, I did."
Oh. Alright then.
"And I liked it." He looks at the floor and contorts his lips like he's going to cry, hugging one knee to his chest. He recalls having tried to tug his baggy green jacket down to hide his half-hard dick as they left the community center.
The awkward silence returns, but Rudy doesn't take his eyes off his counterpart. He's expressionless and speechless for a while, and he thinks he feels goosebumps prick up along his arms.
He sits up straighter in his chair and finally forms words, feigning indifference. "And your point is..?"
"You know my point," he snaps back, now pushing his forehead against his knee. Yep, the waterworks are definitely on their way. Probably along with some whiney speech about how he's so grotesque and useless that he won't even pityfuck himself, and -
"Oh, for Christ's sake." Rudy is not in the mood to hear aforementioned speech, so he moves across the room in one stride - more of a fall, really, as he abruptly slides down to straddle the other man who's on the floor, leaning against the wall. Rudy's almost saddened by how he blenches beneath him, like a pathetic dog that's grown accustomed to getting hit.
He kisses him, hard, before any of those terrible terrible words can get out. He's fairly shocked by the unfamiliar feel of pressing his mouth to stubble and thin lips, but he plants his palm on the side of his reflection's face and neck, hard, roughly, and presses his other hand down onto his thigh to stop him from squirming. He's not getting much of a response, despite his clumsy yet determined tongue, and eventually he feels the other man's face forming into a grimace so he leans back. He's met with those familiar sad shiny dark eyes and a barely-parted mouth that looks unsure of what to say.
"What?" Rudy barks at him, his fingers still sunk into the back of his neck, his thumb still on his cheek.
"I just... I... wanted..." His mouth keeps moving but no words come out. He swallows hard, then leans in. Presses a light kiss to the other's lips, gentle as a lamb, but he doesn't back away. He pivots to the left and kisses again, and Rudy frowns at him with his eyes still open, uneasy with this style. Uneasy with true intimacy of any sort. He jerks away.
"The fuck was that?" he grumbles, but immediately regrets it when he can see the other's heart breaking just by his expression. Jesus, so fucking sensitive. "N-never mind, carry on then," he says awkwardly, squeezing his eyes shut and puckering his lips. His counterpart perches up on his knees and caresses him as he goes in for another slow, timid kiss. He clings tighter and lets a shaky breath out through his nose when their tongues finally touch, softly, teasingly, then somehow finds the guts to take off Rudy's shirt and push him down to the never-vacuumed carpet.
Rudy's letting his feelings of confusion and feigned boredom overpower any ones of arousal, but he can see the same cannot be said for the other man. His breathing is ragged and his denim-clad erection is being rubbed between them as he can't help himself from grinding into his leg.
Long boney fingers are gliding over the dozens of tattoos, more little physical manifestations of memories and regrets, just as he himself is.
He starts letting out poorly-muffled whimpers and humping more erratically, kissing more voraciously, and Rudy crawls out from under him shouting "'EY. DON'T YOU DARE," poking a finger in his direction. He knows himself - or whoever this is - well enough to know those are signs he's about to cum.
The other sits on his heels, arms limp at his sides, asking "Wh... what?"
Before he can make another query, he finds himself bent over their TV cabinet, the lamps and knickknacks having been knocked off the top. Rudy's biting into his neck, raking his stubby nails down his sides and pushing his red t-shirt up enough to press his bare flat stomach against his lower back. Chills are rolling down both their spines, and his belt buckle is clinking against the television screen as he is now the one being humped. He yelps when the bites get harder, but they don't stop. When his hair gets pulled back roughly and another hand snakes up to cup his chest, he can't stand it any longer.
"Fuck me," he whines, breathless, elongating the syllables.
"What?"
"Fuck me, I fucking deserve it." Oh, quite the masochist at times, he was. The humping desists.
"Whoaaa now, I figured we'd just toss eachother off mayb-"
"FUCK ME."
Rudy bites his own lip in contemplation, then shrugs. Can't argue with that, huh?
He pushes the other's head down onto the cabinet, hard enough to illicit a groan, and struggles with two pairs of jeans with his free hand. Claws down maroon boxerbriefs, fumbles for the lotion handily placed on the nearby nightstand.
Before long, the weaker one's digging his nails into the cabinet, raking lines, scraping the finish off the wood. Eyes clamped shut. Loud, quick moans with every thrust. He arches his back when the pains start to subside and he figures he can truly enjoy it, and he looks back over his shoulder.
Rudy's chewing his lip, his nose is scrunched up in a way that somehow comes across as cute, and his unzipped jeans are gradually slipping off of his ass with every thrust. He lets go of his hips and braces himself on the shelf full of toys they carved in woodshop class years ago, his knuckles going white. He keeps his eyes fixated on his own cock, sliding in and out rapidly, trying not to think about who this arse belongs to. He can't distract himself forever, though, as he's taken by surprise and pulled down into a sloppy, desperate kiss and a clumsy bumping of noses. The pounding becomes rougher and he furrows his brow and subconsciously reaches around to take hold of the other man's achingly-hard dick, stroking it with little coordination. They have to break the kiss as the pleasure becomes too intense and they're left moaning into each other's mouths, one's forehead pressed against the other's left ear. They tense up and yell, one decidedly higher-pitched than the other, and as they climax they become one again. Rudy nearly smashes his face in as he stumbles forward onto the cabinets with nothing to support him.
"...Well, that takes care of the awkward cuddles, then," he says, lightheaded, before falling backwards onto the bed.