Authors Note: I know I said this was a one-shot, but I wanted to follow it up. I have no idea how many parts I'll write to this, so... don't expect some huge fanfic to come out of it or anything!

CONFUSION

Ellis was an easy and heavy sleeper. He'd been told this for years, from his mom telling all her friends how soundly her baby boy used to sleep, to his teen years where getting him to wake up in the morning was a chore. Even at work, on slow days, Dave would have to shake his shoulders pretty roughly if he dozed off in the afternoon sun.

So why was he having such trouble sleeping now?

Of course, he knew the answer. It was pretty obvious what occurrence that day was keeping him awake. It wasn't the smoker whose head he'd practically cleaved in two with a machete. It wasn't Ro's awkward, almost pitying smile when Ellis had mentioned seeing his mom again. No, while these things were the sorts that would play in his mind before going to sleep, it wasn't what kept him awake this time. Keeping him awake on that particular night was Nick.

Not literally, as Nick was already on his own bed, a mere metre or two away, and rolled to face the wall with his back to the Georgian, making it abundantly clear that he had no interest in talking. Talking had apparently been the last thing on the gamblers mind that evening, Ellis fighting with himself, not sure if he wanted to mentally examine the happenings of that evening, or try to force them so deep into his subconscious that he forgot altogether.

As much as forgetting the encounter might have made sleeping easier, it was an impossible task, and soon the hick had given up trying it altogether, and laid on his back to stare up at the stipple-painted ceiling, the little lumps and bumps in the paint casting tiny shadows across his vision, sourced from the street light outside the window. His mind was a swirling mass of questions, one pushing its way to the forefront of his mind, before being shoved aside before he had a chance to really examine it, replaced with a new question.

Was Nick gay? Did this make Ellis gay? Was it going to hurt this much tomorrow? Was he bleeding? Should he go wash up? Should he try to say something to the gambler? Was he meant to do something once they'd finished? Was Nick mad at him?

All these questions floated around his head, but one in particular kept surfacing more than the others, and eventually he was able to calm his mind enough to settle on this one query: Why didn't I stop him?

He could have done so with ease. Nick wasn't weak, but he didn't have the brute strength that Ellis possessed. Hell, he and Keith used to throw tyres across the yard just for fun, but he couldn't imagine Nick being able to lob one any further than a couple of metres, tops. Had he wanted to, the mechanic could have pinned Nick's arms, shoved him away, or even punched him. So why hadn't he? He'd struggled, that was for sure. It was the natural reaction when someone was suddenly upon you to struggle against them, especially with how little he'd expected the attack! The day had been a reasonably normal one, by most counts, and Nick had certainly given no indication that he was planning something, or any unusual thoughts about the hick were going through his mind.

He wondered if Nick had been drinking (Nick said and did strange things on the two occasions the group had seen him drunk), but they'd found no alcohol in the house, and he didn't smell of spirits. No, his mouth had definitely tasted of cigarettes, and little else. Ellis cringed a little as he realised he could perfectly recall the taste of Nick's mouth, the feel of his tongue, the way his teeth bit firmly on Ellis' lips, but not hard enough to break skin. A shiver ran up the young mans spine, and he pulled the blanket tighter around himself.

He could have fought, and didn't. Did he regret that? Honestly, he didn't know. Ellis wasn't a sex addict like some of his guy friends were, and he could handle the down-time between girlfriends with reasonable ease... but even he had to admit that things were getting a bit tense in that department. But what were his options? Rochelle was more a sister to him than anything, so completely off-limits. Zoey was... Zoey was an angel. He could happily see himself getting married to a girl that pretty and smart, had fate allowed it. But she was gone, having left with her two friends, and the likeliness of seeing her again was low. That left Ellis with no options, or so he had thought. Clearly Nick had come to the same conclusion, and decided to play the game with a different set of rules.

The one major fact that Ellis didn't want to admit, to himself or to Nick, was that he had enjoyed what happened. Not at first. No, at first, it was awkward, and painful. You didn't have to be a homo to know that sex with a guy will hurt the first time, but it took him by surprise nevertheless. He'd let Nick lead, and didn't question their positioning one bit. Despite being the stockier and stronger of the two, Ellis just couldn't imagine their situation happening the other way around. After a while, however, despite the friction teetering on the edge of painful as Nick's spit slowly wore aware, the pain became dull in place of the weird sense of pleasure that came with the act. Was it the sex, or the way Nick had gripped to him, panting and grunting, saying Ellis' name. Twice, in fact. Ellis could recall perfectly how the strained word had fallen from the gamblers mouth mid-breath.

The climax was good. Of course it was. But then, so was the thirty seconds or so after that, where Nick had collapsed onto Ellis' chest, and the Georgian had allowed his hands to rest on the mans lower back, almost an embrace, but not quite. He had to resist the urge to hold on when Nick finally pulled away (none to gently either), as he figured the gambler was far from the cuddling type. A shame. Ellis really liked cuddling.

He laid there and waited. Waited for Nick to do or say something. No such moment came. The man threw on half his clothes, collapsed to his own bed, and fell asleep. In shock, Ellis didn't move, aside from pulling the blanket over his lower half as soon as Nick had left him, covering himself with a flush to his cheeks that was invisible in the dimly lit room. Was... that it? Not even an arrogant 'thank you'? No explanation? Ellis lay stunned, finally forcing himself to quietly push the blanket away from him, wincing and taking a sharp inhale as he sat up, pain shooting through his lower body. He hoped he wasn't walking funny tomorrow. Everyone always said you can tell when a guy had been screwed by another guy because he walks funny, though the Georgian had never seen it first hand. Maybe it was a rumour. Keith had made jokes about it a few times.

He carefully got to his feet, gingerly as possible so as to cause himself the least amount of aches and pains. He retrieved his clothes from where he'd dropped them, only pulling on his boxer shorts and t-shirt before giving up, gently flopping back to the mattress with a sigh, laying himself back under the blankets.

Tomorrow's gunna be awkward...he thought to himself, before accepting he had a long night of restlessness ahead of him, and reluctantly began to explore all the questions floating around his head.

Even as the sun began to rise, most of them remained unanswered.