when you know what I know
alexander/kevin
angst
nc17
2066 words
On a bitterly cold day in the tail end of November, Xander learns a few things.
One.
Kevin cannot ski for shit.
The instructor tells them, make an A with your skis to break, come on it’s not that hard here lets go just like this good good but Xander thinks otherwise. Kevin laughs and laughs when he falls, taking Xander with him down into the snow, a tangle of flailing limbs. “You suck,” Xander points out without malice as he helps Kevin free from his skis. “You suck so bad that there’s no word in any language to properly describe the extent of your suckiness.” Kevin just pouts and says something about there not being a ski resort in San Francisco but Xander counters with how there isn’t even snow in Hong Kong or Macau for that matter. “And I’m still better than you,” he adds over the sound of Kevin scoffing.
Here, the snow is too hard to make snowballs of but he’s got a bit of it on the end of one glove, going to wipe it on Kevin’s nose.
Two.
The cold does good things to Kevin.
It’s hardly a snowball fight but they take what they can get, the slope abandoned for now so they can go somewhere with softer snow. Kevin shrieks when Xander cups his face in his gloves, the cold making high colour rise into his cheeks, the tip of his nose already red from where Xander had tweaked it with snow-caked fingers. “S’cold!” he complains but does the same anyways, the both of them trying to better the other with snow down jackets, snow in hair, snow in any reachable place. When they finally get inside, the gloves come off and it’s a habit that Kevin has perfected over the years, pressing his freezing hands to the warmth of Xander’s neck. Xander makes a sound that probably only canines can hear and Kevin laughs, the sound a counterpoint.
“Sneaky,” Xander huffs out and his breath leaves a cloud in the air but Xander doesn’t make to move away, Kevin cradling the base of his neck a little longer than usual before going off in search of other warm things.
“Are you coming or not?” Kevin’s cheeks are still flushed, even more so now that they’re indoors and the heat is slowly unthawing them. Xander feels something uncurl inside him. “Tea? Coffee? Me?” He waggles his eyebrows at the lameness of his own joke but Xander links their arms, says “You,” in a voice too soft to hear.
Three.
Their room has a faulty bathroom door.
The room is as sparse as their budget but it’s okay, Xander toweling his hair dry while the sounds of Kevin showering in the bathroom comes through the too thin walls. Xander hums under his breath, running his hand through the tangles. There’s a comb in the toiletries basket on the bathroom counter but Kevin… Xander yelps a little as he tries to work out a particularly stubborn kink on his left. Well it’s not like they haven’t used the bathroom two at a time before on hectic schedule days now, isn’t it?
“Getting a comb,” Xander announces loudly before shoving off the bed, leaning against the door to knock just in case-
Oh.
The door gives way without any effort at all. There’s a warm dampness in the air, the sound of the shower going on loud, Kevin standing under it with his eyes closed and a hand wrapped around his cock.
Oh.
Xander swallows and in his mind, it’s loud enough to make Kevin turn around but in reality it’s not. What’s loud is the sound of the water on Kevin’s back, what’s loud is the sounds that Kevin’s making, small broken noises as he touches himself in long strokes. What’s loud is the name Kevin whispers into the water, forehead pressed against the wall. “Xander,” he’s saying and Xander watches bare shoulders heave, studies the way warm water looks between Kevin’s shoulder blades. “Xander.” As silent as a shout, a whisper, as loud as the thump thump of a heartbeat in his ears.
He doesn’t know how it happens but the damp assaults Xander’s skin the moment he takes his shirt off, door still open to their twin sharing room when Xander’s sweatpants follow soon after in a messy heap. The water is as warm as it looks but Kevin is burning to touch, startling when Xander draws a shallow breath and says his name, one hand resting on Kevin’s hip.
“Xander,” Kevin whispers with wide eyes. His pupils are blown. “What are you-” He’s gone and let go, his cock hard against his stomach. “-doing here.”
“You were saying my name,” comes the reply, as easy an answer as if Kevin was merely asking for the time. It’s four in the afternoon and cold sunlight is filtering from a high window the size of something small. “So here I am.” Both his hands on Kevin’s hips now and Xander presses himself against Kevin, chest to back, chin in the crook of Kevin’s neck. “Kevin,” he breathes out as water falls from the ends of his hair and into his eyes. It stings. “Kevin, please, I-”
Four.
Xander has no idea what he wants.
Kevin is everything he’s ever imagined and then some. When he thinks of Kevin, he thinks of soft curves and hard angles at the very right places, like maybe his hip (Xander’s hand fits perfectly there, bone pressing into his palm and fingers digging into Kevin’s skin hard enough to leave bruises) or his chin (tilted up when Xander moves his hand from hip to thigh to the base of Kevin’s sex, carding the wet curls there to hold tease stroke make Kevin sigh) but thinking is not reality. Thinking is like this:
Xander thinks of Kevin when he sleeps, has thought of Kevin in a thousand different ways ever since that one night in Hong Kong when Kevin fell asleep on his bed and Xander had to fit his body around another boy’s because that was his bed goddammit and Kevin had turned his face to Xander’s chest, made adorable little snuffling noises as he dreamt of whatever boys named Kevin dreamt of.
Xander thinks of Kevin with his knees up and eyes hooded, spread-eagled or on his knees and the thought of it drives him out of his mind.
“I want you.”
This is the breaking point. This is thinking out loud. This is how Kevin arches in Xander’s touch, shuddering, and Xander can feel himself growing harder than ever.
“I want you,” he says into Kevin’s skin. “Want to touch you.”
As if Kevin isn’t letting him, as if Kevin could even begin to deny him now. Xander moves his hand and rubs a thumb over the tip of Kevin’s head, pins Kevin to the wall as he splays his other hand on Kevin’s chest, finding, pinching the painfully hard nipples there.
“Please, please I can’t-” But Xander can, for Kevin. He can and he will. A leg worked between Kevin’s thighs and Kevin is clawing at the wall tiles for some sort of purchase, body stiffening when Xander lets go to reach for the conditioner, slicking his fingers to circle Kevin’s entrance.
“Yes,” Kevin gasps out and Xander wishes he could see the look on Kevin’s face when he slides one finger in, fucking Kevin open. He’s never done this before but neither has Kevin so that makes two of them, fumbling around in the shower like schoolboys but Xander adds another finger and he must be doing something right since Kevin is hissing his name, Xander Xander Xander yes please oh god please, cock flat and unattended to against his torso because Xander is two fingers almost knuckle deep, other hand fisting himself ready.
“Tell me if you don’t want to,” Xander makes himself say and he can feel Kevin clenching hard around his fingers, trying to draw more of him in. “If you don’t-”
Five.
Kevin, at least, knows what he wants.
When Kevin had said Not here, Xander almost misheard and regretted ever asking at all but Kevin only whines his displeasure when Xander draws his hand away, turning off the shower so he can flip Kevin around to stand face to face with. Kevin is breathing hard, mouth slightly open. “Not here,” Kevin says again in the sudden silence. “Not like this, Xander.”
So they move. Towels are considered for a brief moment and Xander’s hair is still tangled when they fall onto Kevin’s bed, the sheets beyond saving the moment Kevin lies back and pulls Xander on top of him saying come on, come on quick like it’s the last thing he’ll ever have a chance to say. Xander kisses Kevin open-mouthed when he sheathes himself in, just the tip of his head, Kevin moaning against his tongue when he goes the whole way. Somewhere in the middle, Kevin hooks one ankle around Xander’s neck and this is how they come, just seconds shy of each other, Xander’s head pressed against Kevin’s as he says oh, god in a small voice that sends Kevin over the edge as well.
Six.
Xander has the worst timing under the sun and this doesn’t change, ever.
2am and they both smell like hotel soap, Kevin half asleep curled up next to Xander. He’s humming under his breath, the exact same song that Xander had been humming just a few hours before. Dinner was a quiet affair for most part but then Xander had placed a bit of fish on top of Kevin’s rice, a silent offering for something he doesn’t know whether he’s thankful for, Kevin reciprocating with a nudge of his foot against Xander’s under the table. The ice had broken then and they’d fallen in, floundering.
“Hey,” Xander says to the top of Kevin’s head. Kevin has hair that Xander can only dream of, cloud-soft and always in place no matter when, with or without any care. “Hey, are you awake?”
“Am now.” Stirring, stretching, Kevin bumping against Xander’s chin sleepily. “’sup.”
“I’m leaving.”
Seven.
Some things are best left for daylight.
Kevin draws away with all the grace of someone dying, still managing to cling at Xander even though their bodies are barely touching now. For a long moment, Xander thinks Kevin is going to punch him but what happens is far worse, Kevin’s shoulders drooping as he breathes out slowly.
“I know,” he says. “And if you’re asking me to come with you, I won’t.”
There’s no explanation needed and they both know each other too well to need words. Xander doesn’t try to say that I didn’t sleep with you to make this easier and Kevin doesn’t say I think I might love you but it’s not enough so they make up for the lack of words in different ways, a touch here, a kiss on one bare shoulder that turns into a bite that turns into Kevin fisting the sheets as Xander fucks him hard from the back, Kevin screaming whatever he wants to into the pillow. I hate you, I hate you. Blasphemy in its purest form.
“I’m sorry,” Xander says when it’s over and Kevin doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for. “For hurting you.” Still no idea which one Xander’s referring to but Kevin is sure he’s bleeding someplace. They know each other well enough, right? At this rate, I’m sorry is better than I’ll see you around and Kevin says “You didn’t do anything no one can fix.”
Over the next few hours, days, Xander will wake up unsure of whether he’s alone or if Kevin is just in the other bed. Sometimes the lines merge and they both seem like the same thing but in the morning, Kevin will bring him coffee just the way he likes it, sing stupid songs in his ear. Fall asleep on his shoulder in the car.
It’s only later that Xander realizes he must have broken something for Kevin to need fixing but Kevin is a country away by now. There’s a million people, a thousand towns between them and Xander can only wonder if he’s left any lasting damage. Sometimes fixing can’t hide the cracks.
Eight.
Goodbyes are not something you say, it’s something you feel.
fin.
angst
nc17
2066 words
On a bitterly cold day in the tail end of November, Xander learns a few things.
One.
Kevin cannot ski for shit.
The instructor tells them, make an A with your skis to break, come on it’s not that hard here lets go just like this good good but Xander thinks otherwise. Kevin laughs and laughs when he falls, taking Xander with him down into the snow, a tangle of flailing limbs. “You suck,” Xander points out without malice as he helps Kevin free from his skis. “You suck so bad that there’s no word in any language to properly describe the extent of your suckiness.” Kevin just pouts and says something about there not being a ski resort in San Francisco but Xander counters with how there isn’t even snow in Hong Kong or Macau for that matter. “And I’m still better than you,” he adds over the sound of Kevin scoffing.
Here, the snow is too hard to make snowballs of but he’s got a bit of it on the end of one glove, going to wipe it on Kevin’s nose.
Two.
The cold does good things to Kevin.
It’s hardly a snowball fight but they take what they can get, the slope abandoned for now so they can go somewhere with softer snow. Kevin shrieks when Xander cups his face in his gloves, the cold making high colour rise into his cheeks, the tip of his nose already red from where Xander had tweaked it with snow-caked fingers. “S’cold!” he complains but does the same anyways, the both of them trying to better the other with snow down jackets, snow in hair, snow in any reachable place. When they finally get inside, the gloves come off and it’s a habit that Kevin has perfected over the years, pressing his freezing hands to the warmth of Xander’s neck. Xander makes a sound that probably only canines can hear and Kevin laughs, the sound a counterpoint.
“Sneaky,” Xander huffs out and his breath leaves a cloud in the air but Xander doesn’t make to move away, Kevin cradling the base of his neck a little longer than usual before going off in search of other warm things.
“Are you coming or not?” Kevin’s cheeks are still flushed, even more so now that they’re indoors and the heat is slowly unthawing them. Xander feels something uncurl inside him. “Tea? Coffee? Me?” He waggles his eyebrows at the lameness of his own joke but Xander links their arms, says “You,” in a voice too soft to hear.
Three.
Their room has a faulty bathroom door.
The room is as sparse as their budget but it’s okay, Xander toweling his hair dry while the sounds of Kevin showering in the bathroom comes through the too thin walls. Xander hums under his breath, running his hand through the tangles. There’s a comb in the toiletries basket on the bathroom counter but Kevin… Xander yelps a little as he tries to work out a particularly stubborn kink on his left. Well it’s not like they haven’t used the bathroom two at a time before on hectic schedule days now, isn’t it?
“Getting a comb,” Xander announces loudly before shoving off the bed, leaning against the door to knock just in case-
Oh.
The door gives way without any effort at all. There’s a warm dampness in the air, the sound of the shower going on loud, Kevin standing under it with his eyes closed and a hand wrapped around his cock.
Oh.
Xander swallows and in his mind, it’s loud enough to make Kevin turn around but in reality it’s not. What’s loud is the sound of the water on Kevin’s back, what’s loud is the sounds that Kevin’s making, small broken noises as he touches himself in long strokes. What’s loud is the name Kevin whispers into the water, forehead pressed against the wall. “Xander,” he’s saying and Xander watches bare shoulders heave, studies the way warm water looks between Kevin’s shoulder blades. “Xander.” As silent as a shout, a whisper, as loud as the thump thump of a heartbeat in his ears.
He doesn’t know how it happens but the damp assaults Xander’s skin the moment he takes his shirt off, door still open to their twin sharing room when Xander’s sweatpants follow soon after in a messy heap. The water is as warm as it looks but Kevin is burning to touch, startling when Xander draws a shallow breath and says his name, one hand resting on Kevin’s hip.
“Xander,” Kevin whispers with wide eyes. His pupils are blown. “What are you-” He’s gone and let go, his cock hard against his stomach. “-doing here.”
“You were saying my name,” comes the reply, as easy an answer as if Kevin was merely asking for the time. It’s four in the afternoon and cold sunlight is filtering from a high window the size of something small. “So here I am.” Both his hands on Kevin’s hips now and Xander presses himself against Kevin, chest to back, chin in the crook of Kevin’s neck. “Kevin,” he breathes out as water falls from the ends of his hair and into his eyes. It stings. “Kevin, please, I-”
Four.
Xander has no idea what he wants.
Kevin is everything he’s ever imagined and then some. When he thinks of Kevin, he thinks of soft curves and hard angles at the very right places, like maybe his hip (Xander’s hand fits perfectly there, bone pressing into his palm and fingers digging into Kevin’s skin hard enough to leave bruises) or his chin (tilted up when Xander moves his hand from hip to thigh to the base of Kevin’s sex, carding the wet curls there to hold tease stroke make Kevin sigh) but thinking is not reality. Thinking is like this:
Xander thinks of Kevin when he sleeps, has thought of Kevin in a thousand different ways ever since that one night in Hong Kong when Kevin fell asleep on his bed and Xander had to fit his body around another boy’s because that was his bed goddammit and Kevin had turned his face to Xander’s chest, made adorable little snuffling noises as he dreamt of whatever boys named Kevin dreamt of.
Xander thinks of Kevin with his knees up and eyes hooded, spread-eagled or on his knees and the thought of it drives him out of his mind.
“I want you.”
This is the breaking point. This is thinking out loud. This is how Kevin arches in Xander’s touch, shuddering, and Xander can feel himself growing harder than ever.
“I want you,” he says into Kevin’s skin. “Want to touch you.”
As if Kevin isn’t letting him, as if Kevin could even begin to deny him now. Xander moves his hand and rubs a thumb over the tip of Kevin’s head, pins Kevin to the wall as he splays his other hand on Kevin’s chest, finding, pinching the painfully hard nipples there.
“Please, please I can’t-” But Xander can, for Kevin. He can and he will. A leg worked between Kevin’s thighs and Kevin is clawing at the wall tiles for some sort of purchase, body stiffening when Xander lets go to reach for the conditioner, slicking his fingers to circle Kevin’s entrance.
“Yes,” Kevin gasps out and Xander wishes he could see the look on Kevin’s face when he slides one finger in, fucking Kevin open. He’s never done this before but neither has Kevin so that makes two of them, fumbling around in the shower like schoolboys but Xander adds another finger and he must be doing something right since Kevin is hissing his name, Xander Xander Xander yes please oh god please, cock flat and unattended to against his torso because Xander is two fingers almost knuckle deep, other hand fisting himself ready.
“Tell me if you don’t want to,” Xander makes himself say and he can feel Kevin clenching hard around his fingers, trying to draw more of him in. “If you don’t-”
Five.
Kevin, at least, knows what he wants.
When Kevin had said Not here, Xander almost misheard and regretted ever asking at all but Kevin only whines his displeasure when Xander draws his hand away, turning off the shower so he can flip Kevin around to stand face to face with. Kevin is breathing hard, mouth slightly open. “Not here,” Kevin says again in the sudden silence. “Not like this, Xander.”
So they move. Towels are considered for a brief moment and Xander’s hair is still tangled when they fall onto Kevin’s bed, the sheets beyond saving the moment Kevin lies back and pulls Xander on top of him saying come on, come on quick like it’s the last thing he’ll ever have a chance to say. Xander kisses Kevin open-mouthed when he sheathes himself in, just the tip of his head, Kevin moaning against his tongue when he goes the whole way. Somewhere in the middle, Kevin hooks one ankle around Xander’s neck and this is how they come, just seconds shy of each other, Xander’s head pressed against Kevin’s as he says oh, god in a small voice that sends Kevin over the edge as well.
Six.
Xander has the worst timing under the sun and this doesn’t change, ever.
2am and they both smell like hotel soap, Kevin half asleep curled up next to Xander. He’s humming under his breath, the exact same song that Xander had been humming just a few hours before. Dinner was a quiet affair for most part but then Xander had placed a bit of fish on top of Kevin’s rice, a silent offering for something he doesn’t know whether he’s thankful for, Kevin reciprocating with a nudge of his foot against Xander’s under the table. The ice had broken then and they’d fallen in, floundering.
“Hey,” Xander says to the top of Kevin’s head. Kevin has hair that Xander can only dream of, cloud-soft and always in place no matter when, with or without any care. “Hey, are you awake?”
“Am now.” Stirring, stretching, Kevin bumping against Xander’s chin sleepily. “’sup.”
“I’m leaving.”
Seven.
Some things are best left for daylight.
Kevin draws away with all the grace of someone dying, still managing to cling at Xander even though their bodies are barely touching now. For a long moment, Xander thinks Kevin is going to punch him but what happens is far worse, Kevin’s shoulders drooping as he breathes out slowly.
“I know,” he says. “And if you’re asking me to come with you, I won’t.”
There’s no explanation needed and they both know each other too well to need words. Xander doesn’t try to say that I didn’t sleep with you to make this easier and Kevin doesn’t say I think I might love you but it’s not enough so they make up for the lack of words in different ways, a touch here, a kiss on one bare shoulder that turns into a bite that turns into Kevin fisting the sheets as Xander fucks him hard from the back, Kevin screaming whatever he wants to into the pillow. I hate you, I hate you. Blasphemy in its purest form.
“I’m sorry,” Xander says when it’s over and Kevin doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for. “For hurting you.” Still no idea which one Xander’s referring to but Kevin is sure he’s bleeding someplace. They know each other well enough, right? At this rate, I’m sorry is better than I’ll see you around and Kevin says “You didn’t do anything no one can fix.”
Over the next few hours, days, Xander will wake up unsure of whether he’s alone or if Kevin is just in the other bed. Sometimes the lines merge and they both seem like the same thing but in the morning, Kevin will bring him coffee just the way he likes it, sing stupid songs in his ear. Fall asleep on his shoulder in the car.
It’s only later that Xander realizes he must have broken something for Kevin to need fixing but Kevin is a country away by now. There’s a million people, a thousand towns between them and Xander can only wonder if he’s left any lasting damage. Sometimes fixing can’t hide the cracks.
Eight.
Goodbyes are not something you say, it’s something you feel.
fin.