A/N: This chapter contains mental health discussion, suicide mention, and a dubcon lemon.
Trent was a weird guy, but the weirdest thing about him was probably that he liked to sleep in a fuzzy bear-ears onesie. George tried to shrug it off; at least he didn't sleep naked. George normally would sleep naked himself, but in this case, he opted for briefs and a tank top.
When they got about as comfortable as possible, being two people who disliked each other sharing a twin-sized bed, George decided to ask Trent something that had been bothering him.
"Hey, Trent?"
"Mhm?"
"Why do you always cover up so much? It's the dead of summer and you still wear turtlenecks and onesies? Do you even own a short-sleeved shirt?"
"Would you like me to cover up less?" came Trent's annoying response. George heard him start to unzip his onesie.
"No, dude, I'm just curious. You don't have to undress. In fact, please don't."
The zipper went back up. "I don't like to expose my body, especially after my first…."
George waited for him to finish his sentence. When he didn't, George prompted him. "Your first what?"
"About two and a half years ago, Rebecca asked me to cheer her up with sex after a fight she had with Paula. She did specify that she never wanted to see me again afterwards, but I was so eager to be close to her, so grateful she was finally letting me in."
George took a minute to process this. "So… your first time with Rebecca didn't go well?"
"It was my first time with anyone, and at the time, it was absolutely perfect. But I didn't even get to stay the night, and after the euphoria wore off, I felt so broken. I had given my body in the purest form of love to someone who just used it as a tool to make herself feel better. I didn't even know if I was real to her, and then, I didn't know if I was real to myself, either." He sniffled lightly; George almost didn't hear it over the sound of the fan.
"The razor didn't cut that deep," Trent continued. "I don't have a high tolerance for pain to begin with. But I remember where I made every mark, even though they had all long faded by the time I met Nathaniel."
"My God," George whispered, recoiling in horror.
"That's not the first time I cut myself over her, but it is the first time I did so much, all at once, in places that would have been visible before they healed. I don't care if it's a hundred degrees out, I feel cold and like I'm already dead if I'm not wearing my turtlenecks."
"That… I guess makes sense, sort of. I'm so sorry, Trent. But what about the onesies?"
Trent gave a soft laugh. "Can you imagine breaking into someone's house to rob them, and then getting stabbed to death by a giant teddy bear?"
Something about the way he said it made George's blood run cold. "You shouldn't sleep with a knife," he said. "Not if you have a history of cutting."
"I can't own a gun," Trent replied, his tone abrupt.
"You can't, like, you're not allowed to, or—?"
"That's right. By California law, I can't own a firearm for at least a few more years."
George phrased his next thought as delicately as he could. "So, Trent, did you bring any— any vitamins or medicine—?"
That bitter laugh again. "SSRIs fix your executive functioning before they fix the rest of your brain chemistry. They stopped trying to prescribe me pills after they caught me acting on some of my darker thoughts too many times. Every new pill they gave me did the same thing, so, no, I'm not medicated. And don't worry, I'm not going to harm you or Nathaniel or anyone else. Not myself, either."
"Thank you for explaining," George said politely. He had no idea how to react to that.
"Did you know"— Trent's voice was back to its usual warm, excited tone— "he told me he loves me? He's so amazing. He's my elixir. When we made love, it was like everything inside me was put back together, and I'm a real person again!"
"That's great, buddy," George said, keeping his tone as light as possible, trying to hide how terrified he was about sharing a bed with a man who had been committed and whose brain chemistry was resistant to medication. "You know, I kind of like the onesie. Do you mind if I…?"
"Sure, go ahead."
George tentatively cuddled up to Trent and wrapped an arm around his waist. "Mmm, this is actually pretty cozy."
Trent relaxed into the friendly embrace, and drifted off to sleep peacefully. It took George a little longer to do the same, but Trent was surprisingly cuddly, and once asleep he was harmless, so George allowed himself to drift off as well.
xoxo
Waking up with George's morning wood pressing into his back was, in terms of discomfort, somewhere between waking up from a leg cramp while sleeping in a cave and waking up in a hospital gown in a brightly lit room with twenty annoying loons. Trent tried to pull away, but George just scooted closer and squeezed his body.
"No— George, seriously, get off me," Trent protested, trying to wiggle away. George, half-asleep, clung to him with murmured dissent and started grinding hard against him. Trent cringed and elbowed him.
George jumped. "Wha— oh." He released Trent immediately. "Hey, sorry about that. I was having a nice dream."
"I could tell," said Trent calmly, resisting the urge to shoot him a look of disgust. "Why don't I give you some privacy." He headed to the shower and turned the water on. He still preferred to spot-wash when Nathaniel wasn't around to keep him grounded, but he could tolerate being under the spray, and the sound would hopefully drown out George.
Except, George chose to join him in the shower. "After what you told me last night, I really don't think it's safe to let you shower alone," he said.
Trent crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "You realize that this situation we're in right now is a cliche from every gay porno ever made, right? Tiny apartment, no privacy, only one bed, showering together…. You might as well just fuck me now and get it over with," he said sarcastically.
George looked Trent up and down appreciatively. Trent scoffed; clearly, he had not been serious.
"You shave," George said, coming closer and kneeling, reaching out to touch Trent's calf.
"Actually, I wax."
George scooped some body scrub out of a jar and gently rubbed it over Trent's leg. "It's nice…."
Trent leaned back against the shower wall and let George wash him. George was going to do what he wanted, clearly, and it didn't feel bad by any means.
George moved up one of Trent's legs and then the other, scrubbing him gently but thoroughly; then up his hips, then his stomach (Trent was slightly ticklish), and his chest and shoulders; then down his arms. He rested his head against Trent's chest, listening to his heart beat.
"This isn't affecting you at all," George said in amazement. "Your heartbeat is completely steady, and…. Does everything work okay?"
"Yes," Trent replied placidly. George made a skeptical noise, but Trent chose to ignore that; just because he wasn't aroused didn't mean he was broken, but he owed George no explanation for his physiology.
George switched to soap to clean Trent a little more intimately, but he didn't protest, even when George lingered there longer than necessary trying to get a reaction.
George guided Trent to face the wall as he scrubbed the other man's back. Trent let George clean down his back, his rear, the backs and insides of his legs, his ankles.
"You are damn tempting," George murmured. "Surprisingly pure, and that face and attitude of yours… almost like an angel." He leaned against Trent and cupped his rear firmly. "Have you let Nathaniel corrupt you yet?"
A soft moan escaped Trent at the sound of Nathaniel's name. "For all you know, I corrupted him," he retorted.
George reached around to grope Trent again. He gave a little scoff of disbelief. "It works, after all," he said, giving Trent's member a squeeze.
Trent tsked. "It works for Nathaniel," he said flatly.
"I'm curious about you. The way you captivate him, how he seems so eager to drop everything to rush to your side. Maybe if we hooked up, I'd be a little less jealous of the time you spend with him," George suggested. "And we don't have to do everything… maybe just letting me taste you would be enough?"
Trent frankly didn't care that much whether George was jealous of him, but the poor guy was trying so hard to make him seem like less of a threat.
"Well, like I said before," Trent said, turning around and leaning his back against the wall, "if you want to do anything to me, now would be the time."
He'd told Nathaniel he didn't do casual sex, and at the time it had been true, but somehow George had managed to find and exploit the one loophole to getting him hard. He'd hacked Trent's body, and that felt like more of a violation than anything else George could do to him, so he figured he may as well just let this happen, or it would escalate into a buildup of unresolved tension.
George kept a tight grasp on Trent's member, stroking him with one hand as he grasped the back of Trent's head with the other and pulled him down for a kiss. Trent kissed him back, allowing the physical sensations of pleasure to tingle through his body. Trent rarely masturbated, and having someone else do it for him did feel kind of nice. George broke the kiss to trail kisses and bites down Trent's chest and stomach while continuing to stroke him, slowly sinking down to his knees in front of Trent.
"You are infuriatingly handsome. I hate you so much," George growled, just before cupping his mouth around Trent's cock and swirling his tongue over the tip. Trent cried out in pleasure and grabbed the back of George's head instinctively.
"Fuck, George!" he gasped, his fingers curling in George's soft brown hair.
George pulled back and smirked. "Did you like that?" he asked.
"Mhm…." Trent couldn't deny that he did, not after that reaction.
"Say, 'I like that, George.'"
Trent nodded, taking a second to breathe. "I like that, George," he repeated.
"Do you want more?" George pressed a kiss to Trent's tip. Trent gasped.
"Yes. I— I want more, George."
"Smart boy," George crooned. He took Trent back into his mouth and teased him with his tongue, pressing it hard against the glans. At Trent's short, sharp breaths, he began rubbing his tongue against him, skillfully working Trent into a frenzy of pleasure. Trent kept his hand in George's hair, his grip tightening and relaxing, his body rocking more-or-less gently in reaction to George's attentions.
George pulled back and chuckled. "You don't have to restrain yourself so much," he scolded lightly. "Just give in to what you're feeling."
"Are you sure?" Trent asked. He was starting to get dizzy from pleasure, and dark thoughts were circling in his head.
"Totally," said George.
Trent reached down and grabbed George by the throat and tugged. George stood, and Trent pressed him against the shower wall and kissed him roughly. George groaned deep in his throat and wrapped one arm around Trent's waist, then brought his free hand to cup the back of Trent's head, deepening the kiss. It was slightly salty, but not altogether unpleasant, Trent thought. George released his waist, then reached down and grasped him, pumping him aggressively as they kissed, both moaning loudly. Trent reached over and turned off the shower.
"May I finish what I started?" George asked, breaking the kiss.
"Not in here," Trent said. Carefully, using George's shoulder as a crutch, he stepped out of the shower and walked back to the bedroom. George followed him, then knelt before him and took Trent back into his mouth.
Trent's cries of pleasure were a strange sort of music. George liked them, almost as much as he had liked hearing Nate's. The way Trent's body moved, so fluid, so graceful, like a dancer… it really turned George on as well. He stroked himself furiously as Trent thrust into his mouth.
"Aaaahhh— you're so good at this, George," Trent moaned out, bucking hard into George's mouth. George made a low sound of appreciation. Trent continued, "It— oh God— mmh! It makes me wonder what a threesome with Nathaniel would be like."
George liked that idea. He opened the drawer of the desk next to Trent and pulled out a condom, then rolled it over his fingers and—
"Ahh! George, what are you doing?!... Mmh— oh yes— yes, that feels so nice! Oh God, George, yes, just like that!" Trent was starting to see stars. This felt amazing, he wanted more, he said so, cried out for it, and George gave it to him, working his body like an instrument until he exploded into confetti and fell to the ground.
Not quite to the ground. George was holding him, saying something he couldn't understand, leading him to the bed, bending him over it. He felt something enter him again and moaned. He was still hard and his body was oh-so-deliciously sensitive. He relaxed as much as he could and let George have his way with him. It was, after all, so enjoyable, and Nathaniel had said he wouldn't mind….
Trent woke up cuddled into George, under the covers, somehow back in his onesie. He stirred, making a slight noise, and George raised his head and looked at him before peeling himself away.
"Hey, you're awake," he said. "Do you want to use the shower first, or…?"
"Shower?" Trent repeated. "I just… no, I was dreaming?" He looked at George, still dressed in the tank top from last night.
"Must have been a hell of a dream. You look really dazed."
"The important thing is that it was just a dream and never happened. You go ahead and shower. I'll catch one at the gym," Trent lied. George, having no reason to question this, nodded and went off to take a shower.
