Unbetaed VR Fanfiction. Yes, I went there.
Title: Denim’s the New Khaki
Author: dejectedmadness
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Derrick Wells/Mat Labreche
Band: Viscera's Recital
Prompt: 008 Khaki
Disclaimer: None. (Well, some.) The truth is… this is a local band from Orleans (Ottawa), Ontario, Canada. I’ve been to see them a lot with a friend of mine. We’ve noticed a couple of girls sort of stalk one of the members, so they’re included in the story. I don’t know their names, though. But me and Derrick? We go waaaay back. Although something like this may have happened… it may also not have happened. I wouldn’t be the right person to ask. The point is, this particular story is fiction. I made it up. Heh.
Summary: On the night of their dreams, Derrick should be looking for a familiar face in the crowd, but all he can think about is the fact that he’s got Mat’s pleated khakis in a crumpled heap in the back of his closet.
Derrick’s heart was in his throat. ‘But anyone’s would be,’ he insisted. Anyone’s would be, given the opportunity to play a show with- to open for- a band whose influence had shaped their whole sound. Not that it was getting them anywhere. He stood next to the bar and watched bodies pile in, person after person excited to see half of At The Drive In- to see the counterparts of the post-emo, post-hardcore, post-grunge, post-fucking-everything band The Mars Volta- to see Sparta!
Not a single damn one of them gave a shit about Viscera’s Recital.
Well, not yet, but he was waiting not-so-patiently for dark, curly hair, striking green eyes, fucking lips, tell-tale cape-yes, cape- and nondescript tag-along friend. Just one familiar face, just one and he’d be happy. He was kidding himself, though, if he thought seeing her would make his knees stop knocking. But he knew- he just knew- that if he could count on anything anyone anything it was that the VR poster girls would be there to calm (calm?) his nerves.
“Hey,” Mat-and-Girlfriend bumped into him. He held out a brown bottle.
“Thanks.”
“How’re you doing?”
Derrick beamed back at him- ‘for the sake of appearances,’ he insisted to himself. He was pissing himself with anxiety right now. “Dude, we’re opening for Sparta!”
Mat laughed and held up his drink. Derrick’s bottle clinked against it, and they both tipped back for mouthfuls.
“I’m going to find Curt and Ashley,” declared Mat’s ornamentation before wiggling her little hips and departing, leaving the boys alone.
Awkward! Derrick shifted away from his friend. He pretended like he was scouring the bar for Vampire Girl.
“‘Ve you seen her yet?”
“Huh?”
Mat cleared his throat. “That girl? And her friend?”
Derrick shook his head and busied his lips with drinking to get over himself and turn his nerves down a few notches. Maybe then he could keep a casual conversation from dripping with sexual tension.
He made a noise in his throat like he was clearing it to cover the mild groan of embarrassment over the untimely flash of mental images. He could see a glimmer of acknowledgement in Mat’s expression. He kept his eyes open wider than most to better sift through all the bullshit. Everyone lied, everyone acted, but Mat had the uncanny ability to see past anyone’s mask. Besides, not that he could stop himself, but Derrick was being obvious. Avoidance was always obvious. Especially, he realized, when he stopped even pretending to look for his caped-crusading fan-of-the-year.
“Fuck guys!” Curt declared. “What the hell took so fucking long?”
“And where are your pants?” Mike demanded. Of course, he was the only one who’d noticed the change. Granted, it was common knowledge that the last thing that he would have chosen to wear was a pair of khakis from Mat’s astounding collection, but Derrick would rather Mike have kept his fat, observant mouth shut. But from Mike, that was asking a lot.
Mat gave a suggestive wink, but laughed it off enough for them to respond indifferently to Derrick’s “I spilled half my beer on my crotch.”
Derrick glanced at Mat once while they sat there with their drinks, and then not again until he dropped him off again after practice at Mike’s place. Mat held Derrick’s gaze for an inordinately long time- or that was how it felt, at least- sitting in Ursula’s driver’s seat and trying not to be the first to back down. Then he finally looked away and muttered a hurried, “Ahem. I’ll see you later.” An attempt not quite achieving casual. Derrick nodded, then set his eyes to the road again, shifting into drive before the slam of the door.
“You probably just missed her!” A hand coming down on his shoulder startled him from his thoughts. Curt was grinning broadly in his direction.
“What?”
“She’s probably here and you missed her. Have you seen this place?” his toothy laughter betrayed his incredulity. Derrick felt his sense come rocking back into him with a vengeance. He laughed, too, maybe a little manic.
“I wonder if they sold out.”
Curt snorted. Of course not! Sure it was Sparta, but Barrymore’s was an enormous place. Even with six amazing bands going on in a night, the place didn’t get sold out! He just tapped Derrick on the side, though and said again that she would be here, and they’d see her from the stage. Derrick took a minute or two to figure out he meant Ms. Lips, but he nodded anyway and pretended like he’d been wondering why she wasn’t here yet all along.
“Hey, let’s start tuning up,” Paul said unexpectedly from his right. “We’ve got the green light.”
Derrick gave one desperate last glance around the room- all eyes were on him, and he had to pretend not to notice, like the role he played wasn’t on their account- for the elusive caped-crusader herself. Curt pulled him bodily from the bar.
The first time Derrick saw him, he was drawn to Mat. He was a pretty kid, a popular kid, so everyone was trying to get in with him. But he let Derrick into the inner circle. Derrick had thought for a long time that Mat would be standoffish because of Curt.
Curt crowded everyone he was close to. He was the kind of kid that your mom made you hang out with because she was friends with his parents. Most kids pushed him down at recess and tripped him in the lunch room. The reason Derrick never had- well when he was so young it was hard to tell whether he had a reason for anything- but one thing was for sure: Derrick had always felt protective of Curt, since their first play-date. Even if he wasn’t the coolest, the most attentive, the most normal guy Derrick could have chosen for his best friend.
Mat being the pretty boy in class, the preppy, well-groomed, conventionally cute guy that everyone wanted to know, had influenced Derrick to assume that they wouldn’t ever even speak, particularly since Curt was never far away. But Mat had even been the one to approach him! He sat next to him in class and shared his packed lunch- it was elementary school!- and didn’t even act like a jerk to Curt. It wasn’t until somewhat more recently that Derrick had considered what might have caused this act of charity. Well, he had wondered before, but hadn’t really given it more than a moment’s consideration.
So suffice it to say, their years of friendship somewhat baffled Derrick, but since they weren’t idiot children anymore, he’d forgotten all about cool kids and losers. They were just his friends, and that was all.
Mostly.
It was a side effect of getting older. Another was growing up. Growing up, apart, together… shifting the dynamic. And usually- especially now- it was sex’s fault.
Derrick was the only single member of the band for a long time, and that had never bothered him, just like it hadn’t ever bothered him that his girlfriends didn’t really stick. He got bored easily anyway. It wasn’t until he’d met Ms. Lips, his caped-crusader as he called her in his head, that he’d found a girl even close to interesting enough to hold his attention. She played hard to get, often holding back from speaking to him at shows until he was forced to initiate interaction at the end of the night, but he usually did, just to hear her deep voice and the way she was nervously friendly, shaky-voiced and shifty-eyed- he thought because she liked him, too, but couldn’t tell whether he was interested.
But with months of tentative flirting and slow introductions, he was still no closer to getting in her pants. Complete with the difficulties Mat and his girlfriend were having, and considering that Curt’s tart had dumped him four months ago, the combined sexual frustration of their little group could smother puppies. That’s right. Puppies.
That didn’t really explain the way that Derrick’s muscles felt tense or the way his heart sped up just a little, or how his palms got sweaty, or that he couldn’t sit even as still as Curt in any situation where he and Mat were alone. Derrick didn’t like to think about it too much.
Except that he did. Often. Behind locked doors with shades drawn in pants-optional circumstances.
Mat didn’t know about that, though. No one knew about that. Derrick wouldn’t even admit it to himself with jizz on his hand and a mental picture fading with the spark of lights behind his eyelids.
“Hey,” a voice called from down the hall. “I forgot I washed your Moneen sweater.”
Derrick shoved his thoughts aside violently. “My what?”
“Remember you spilled shit on it? I gave you my Seconds To Go hoodie and threw it in the laundry.”
“Oh.” Derrick didn’t remember that. He did have a Seconds To Go hoodie, though. That was Mat’s? A glance at pleated khakis and a white button-down dress shirt left him in doubt, but he followed him into the bedroom nevertheless.
He was bent over in the closet rooting through a hundred identical shirts folded on a shelf. Derrick closed his eyes. Even a second’s worth of Mat’s amazing ass snug against the seat of his light-coloured prep-school-uniform pants left an imprint burned into his retinas. He came a little closer but turned away. Barren white walls helped just enough to purge his thoughts and get him back on track.
“Here it is!” Mat’s voice came from the closet, wherein his head was still tucked, but he sprung up as he spoke and suddenly, Derrick’s act of pivoting on his heel brought him a little too close to his friend. Mat’s chipper expression drained from his face probably as fast as Derrick’s eyes ignited all over again. He swallowed hard. Then he swallowed harder.
A breath: “Thanks.”
He couldn’t help but scan the crowd. He couldn’t see the upper floors that well, but even the last time they had played Barrymore’s the girls had been front and centre. The space in front of the stage was packed, but he couldn’t see those piercing eyes or those voluptuous lips anywhere. He kept smiling, though, and kept playing. It was okay.
Only it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay, and he knew that the rest of them knew it, too. Of all the people to ditch them on their night, their night, the one night that mattered, the night of the show that meant more than anything to each of them, it had to be her! He wailed on his guitar the same as any other set, and he screamed into his microphone the same as every other time they had played this song, except their number one and two supporters had both missed the fucking show!
And it would have been fine! Derrick would probably not even have noticed if not for- Yeah. No he wasn’t even going to think about that right now. Right now he had to be fucking on. They had to play to impress! This could end up being their big break! The thought still crept up on him, though, and before he knew what he was doing, he was distracted from the song by the memory of hands working his belt free and callused fingers tripping over buttons and zippers. Derrick swallowed and chanced a glance at Mat. He was staring right back.
Derrick knew his mistake when Mat glanced down at his mouth, too. ‘No, not obvious at all! Just stare at his lips until you can persuade them to kiss you!’ Derrick immediately felt a blush run screaming through his skin and fought helplessly for something to say, but when he looked back at his face, Derrick’s excuses kind of stopped mattering. Mat’s mouth was open just a little bit and the tip of a pink tongue flicked out to wet his lips between shallow breaths. He watched his friend’s Adam’s apple bob.
“Derrick?”
But he couldn’t even take a second to respond, to talk about anything like two adult people, reasonably. Instead, the impulsive child that he was, he dipped forward and with closed eyes felt his puckered lips connect with something. When Mat moved to match him, Derrick knew for sure that those were lips under his. Derrick felt something brush his knees on its way to the floor- the sweater- but disregarded it as unimportant as soon as Mat took a hold of his hair.
Mat wasn’t a shy boy, that was a sure thing. Derrick pressed forward harder in an attempt to keep up with the ferocity of the kiss. He moved so that Mat’s back was braced against the corner of the room and someone would have been hard pressed to fit a pencil between them. They were hardly complaining.
He held his counterpart’s jaw in place and pushed his tongue past the boundaries of teeth and lips. Mat’s soft moan was his well-earned satisfaction.
In seconds, the pair progressed from sloppy kisses to urgent biting, and Derrick felt Mat’s fingers sneak between them, and a second later his belt jerked. He broke his lips away from skin to breathe a moan. Head against Mat’s shoulder, he opened his eyes. The door was open. Mat’s room was right beside the stairs, and the guys were hanging out in the living room at the bottom, shouting distance away. Derrick didn’t even care if one of them came looking for them. At this point he just wanted Mat to get his fucking fist into his goddamn boxers!
“Shit, Derrick,” Mat breathed, and Derrick wondered, wasn’t he supposed to be the one mumbling incessantly with hard, insistent fingers around his cock? As the thought hit, it was his turn to moan.
“Fuck!” he grunted and pulled hard on Mat’s stupid fucking style-lacking pants until they came apart and he could feel the distinct shape of the erection he was rubbing through boxer-briefs. Mat’s hips twitched forward. ‘Touchmetouchmetouchme.’
Derrick tried to keep his mouth closed on all of the illicit little sounds that threatened to pop free. Mat pumped his fist in earnest so that Derrick’s next moan was deeper and richer. His thumb slipped through the precum gathering on the end of his dick and Derrick was just a little more vocal with his assent.
As his own fist barrelled past the blockade of underwear and eased Mat into his palm, he found that Mat was just as incapable of muffling his pleasure. He squeezed a little, slid his thumb over the end, and started at a neck-breaking pace. Even never having done this before to anyone else, Derrick knew exactly what he was up to.
He listened for Mat’s sounds, trying to overthrow his own distraction to pay enough attention not to let him down. When his grunts and moans began sounding more like heavy breathing, like he was running a race and nearing the end, Derrick sealed his mouth over Mat’s. Their tongues battled for dominance. They both fought for control, for just a second longer than they thought their bodies would give them. When Mat came first, he pushed his hips forward, fucking Derrick’s hand, pulsing into it as semen streamed out and past his fingers. Derrick couldn’t last much longer. Mat pulled him off only seconds later with a cry that was lost in the cavern of Mat’s mouth. He stroked until he was sure Derrick was milked dry, and then he released him.
As they stood there, heads together, panting, Derrick couldn’t stop thinking, ‘Oh shit! Oh shit, I’m so fucked!’
They both stepped back, and immediately, before either could comment on the atrocity that was the ruination of their friendship, Mat groaned in distaste. “Your pants….”
Come. Everywhere.
“Shit.”
“Um. I’ll… hold on while I get you a pair of pants to borrow.”
“Hey, better luck next time,” Curt said upon sliding up alongside the bar.
“What?”
“With the girl. I guess she’s not as infatuated with you as we all thought.”
Derrick rolled his eyes. He wasn’t interested in poking fun at his sex-life.
Curt leaned back against the bar and watched as the other band set up, so Derrick resumed his deliberate not-thinking-about-Mat. It wasn’t exactly a piece of cake when the man was only five feet away. At least he was behind him… although that thought didn’t do much to help with Derrick’s resolute non-sex-related-thinking. He closed his eyes tightly to try to block out every manner of mental image he’d just conjured up. He was glad he was facing the bar.
“Hey,” Curt called with a nudge, “maybe she went to, like, Europe or something.”
Derrick sniffed. Would it be better if she’d just picked up and moved away? He guessed a new home probably trumped an awkward possibly-flirting session after every local show she went to.
“And it isn’t like you’ve seen her in six months or so!”
He thanked him in his head. He really needed to be reminded of how pathetic his pining was.
“Maybe it’s time for a new plan!” Optimism. Derrick and optimism got along rarely, and usually only when it came to band stuff. “You should think about setting your sights elsewhere. I can help!” Oh great! “We’ll find you a cute little number in a prep-school uniform… and you’ll forget all about whatsherface.”
Derrick nearly choked in the middle of swallowing and felt the burn of carbonation in his nose from almost snorting beer. He hoped that he’d covered it up enough that Curt wouldn’t realize what had made him gasp into his drink in the first place, but when he turned his attention back to his mildly eccentric friend, he found him wearing a deliberately pointed expression. Derrick didn’t answer. He just stared, asking silently to validate his fears or assuage them.
Curt looked away finally, but he wasn’t done. “You’ve gotta watch out for them preppy kids. They’re never what they appear to be.”
“Hey!” Mat fell with a breathless grin against the bar between the both of them and signalled the bartender for another drink. Derrick turned to face forward again, staring at the bottles of hard liquor on the wall. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” Curt threw back. “I’m gonna go find Mike.”
Derrick froze, paralysed, all over again. He didn’t know if he was reading too much into an innocent and very Curt-like statement or not, but the quick escape felt like a setup to him. He nodded, supposedly to Curt although in no way was it in his direction, and he walked off. And left them alone.
Derrick tried to make the tightness of his shoulders loosen, but he could feel the warmth of Mat’s body hovering right beside him, and it was making his pants, which were already uncomfortably tight, even less wearable. He stared. ‘Just keep staring.’
“Hey.” And oh was that ever a problem. Derrick never wanted to hear inflection in Mat’s voice ever again. Not another whisper, not one more soft chuckle. His arm hair was standing on end just from the intimate nature of the word. Just one word!
Derrick tried playing it cool, glancing carelessly over at him. “Hey.” He thought he was casual. That had definitely been casual.
“Can we talk?”
“What do we need to talk about?”
Mat shrugged. His off-put demeanour suggested that maybe Derrick’s coolness was the slightest bit too frosty. ‘Relax.’
Mat didn’t even glance around. He just leaned the tiniest bit closer. “What happened… between us.”
“As far as I’m concerned, nothing happened between us,” he tried to say. He got about as far as the comma when Mat cut him off.
“You’ve been shutting me down every fucking day since it happened, Derrick. This is something we need to talk about.”
“Can we at least not do it here?” He knew his tone was too forceful, and he didn’t want to get into a fight with Mat. No, that wasn’t what this was about. He wasn’t like that.
“Why not?”
He looked cautiously around himself during the process of facing him. His face was solemn because he was trying not to let on that his heart was panicking like a bird trapped in his chest. He swallowed nothing because his mouth was so dry, but managed still to say, “Because I really want to strip you and bend you forwards over the bar to have my way with you, and if you make me talk about it, I can’t promise I won’t.”
Mat looked strangled. ‘Oh shit,’ Derrick thought. He’d taken it too far.
But Mat had a few of his own surprises up his sleeve tonight. He set his beer on the bar and tugged Derrick’s shirtsleeve to follow. Derrick paused just long enough to put his full drink down, too and was trotting cooperatively behind.
Derrick shoved Mat’s back against Ursula hard enough that his head struck the side, but they didn’t care. Not when he could be licking the inside of Mat’s mouth obscenely- complete with sucking sound effects- to get the roll of appreciative hips into his. Impatience won out for the both of them moments later, after all, they were currently very publicly fucking behind the music hall, and moving things right along probably wasn’t unwise. Derrick hauled open one of the rear doors and unceremoniously dumped Mat ass-first into the back.
Shirts went first, despite the cold of the end of October, so Derrick was fumbling with Mat’s ridiculous dress-shirt buttons until he decided he just wasn’t that patient anymore and pulled it up over his head. Derrick was slightly more sensible and had worn a more easily-strippable band-tee. Mat had him out of it in less than a second.
Pants didn’t come off right away, though, because although their arousals and intentions were clearly matched, neither of them- Derrick assumed- had ever exactly gotten down with another guy before. The learning experience, he realized, could be awkward to say the least.
Instead, Derrick bowed down to catch Mat’s nipple between his lips and groped his crotch through the denim barricade.
‘Wait!’
Derrick pulled back long enough to verify his suspicions. He gaped. “Are you wearing my jeans?”
Mat smiled unapologetically and shrugged. “I ran out of pants. You took my last pair home with you.”
He hissed a laugh through a sideways smile that made even Mat’s lips twitch. “I like these on you,” he confessed lightly.
“They’re tight,” Mat objected.
Derrick laughed into Mat’s neck and painted a saliva-stripe up his throat to his right earlobe where he rumbled, “That’s why I like them.”
A quick inhalation and Mat was succumbing to Derrick’s urgent hands. His hips arched upward and into the blonde’s devilish palm. ‘Oh yeah,’ Derrick thought.
Mat wasn’t exactly submissive, though. He wouldn’t go down without a fight, not that Derrick expected him to fight too hard about going down. Before Derrick knew it, though, Mat was shoving his jeans and boxers away with hard fingertips until he could kick the offending garments into the corner over the spare patch cords. Mat’s pants- Derrick’s pants, really- came off just as unceremoniously, and God, were they actually doing this? In the back seat of the van in a fucking parking lot in the middle of Ottawa? People knew them here! What if someone came out for a smoke and saw steamed windows or heard Mat’s obscene keening from the street?
Derrick slapped his hand over Mat’s mouth. “Man, do I have to gag you?”
Mat winked.
Just then, with a twist of his hand, Mat brought fireworks to Derrick’s eyes. He couldn’t very well keep his own moans silent, then, either. Point taken.
So to keep them situated on the safe road, Derrick sealed their mouths together. He swallowed every last sound Mat made, and his fist continued to pull and squeeze slowly, but with mild impatience. He wanted to feel Mat’s grip earnestly tighten around him while he bit his lip to hold back just that little bit longer. They’d been too concerned with speed before. The thrill of getting found set them on their toes with bated breath and a rush of adrenaline. Now, it was about getting to know each other. What did it take to make Mat lose it? Would his eyes roll back in his head? Would he grind out inappropriate noises as he got closer to climax? Derrick wanted to know.
He slipped his thumb over his leaking head. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed. Derrick bit his lip and pulled on it until Mat whined.
Derrick was feeling it, too. The pulling, squeezing pressure and slick slide of thick, guitar-worn fingers over his flesh… yeah, he was feeling it. Which was exactly why he pulled away. Mat looked up confusedly as Derrick’s lips came away with a smack, and he rocked back against his feet. He looked about to sit up, but Derrick wasn’t going anywhere. He was fucking naked, first of all! No way was all of Barrymore’s going to see his lily-white ass! He shifted lower, heart in his throat, and pressed a wet, sloppy, swollen-lipped kiss to Mat’s flat tummy, then again to the line of dark hair below his navel, and once more, even lower. Mat’s cock bumped against his chin.
Derrick could smell him down here. It wasn’t anything like he’d smelled before during sex, but then he’d never exactly gone down on himself, had he? Musky, almost earthy, clean and soapy from the shower he’d taken before their set, but smelling vaguely of sweat from rocking out so hard… girls didn’t smell like that. He liked it.
He dipped his head down again and tried not to think too hard when he closed his lips over the leaking end. Mat shuddered when he tongued his slit and tasted salty precum. Experimentally, he sucked, gently. Mat bucked upward.
“Oh fuck!” Derrick swallowed against his gag reflex and stretched his lips wider around the thick column of flesh. “Oh! Fuck!” Mat exclaimed again. “Jesus, Derrick!”
He wasn’t used to this, and already his jaw was starting to ache. That wasn’t a good sign. But then again, Mat didn’t look like he was going to be able to take much more of this. His eyes were squeezed tightly together, twitching with the effort of keeping them closed. He was fishing with both hands for something to grab, something that wasn’t Derrick’s hair, so he couldn’t just fuck Derrick’s mouth like he obviously wanted to. Derrick slid the palm of his hand up Mat’s thigh, across his hipbone, and shifted his weight forward onto the one hand. Mat opened his eyes to slits and a grateful smile sparked across his face and was gone.
Derrick had started sucking.
“Oh my- fucking fuck! Der! Derrick!”
Derrick’s erection reinforced itself with a pulse and a tremor. God, he was throbbing, and without any physical contact at all! How embarrassing would it have been, had Mat still been stroking him, if he’d come like a thirteen year old boy just from those fucking noises?! Derrick tried not to think about it.
He bobbed his head slowly, tongue working under Mat’s head, slipping rarely over the still-leaking slit, when he could manage it, and in minutes his friend was calling out for him.
“Derrick! Derrick, I’m coming!”
Swallowing? Maybe okay, but not on the first date. He pulled off and replaced his mouth with his hand to work Mat through his orgasm, complete with heavy breathing and innumerable moans. Then he crawled back up beside Mr. Afterglow and nuzzled his red and well-bitten neck. Derrick knew he would have to apologize profusely later when Mat called him on the tooth-shaped bruising his girlfriend was sure not to miss. But right now, he was still hard, and Mat was recovering very quickly. Quickly enough to already have Derrick’s dick in his hand again.
“You must have done that before,” Mat breathed. His eyes lazily opened. Mat was staring hungrily at him. Derrick fucking loved that look on his face.
“Nope.”
Mat didn’t believe him.
“I promise. You were my first.”
“I bet you tell that to all the pretty girls.”
Derrick moaned when he squeezed the end of him, pulled on him more insistently, and his eyes drifted shut again. “Mmm. Yeah, but when I say it to them, I’m lying.”
With eyes closed, he felt Mat’s lips brush his, and he opened his mouth a crack to meet them. Mat lapped Derrick’s mouth into submission with an unfairly talented tongue. He was kind of glad that it wasn’t anywhere near his crotch right now. He’d be done for instantly! But the constant licking and sucking and stroking… fuck. His stomach felt tight. He was trembling, one hand clutching Mat’s shoulder, the other latched onto his side, and squeezing.
He gasped through his teeth, “Mat!” and then he was coming, too.
Holy fuck.
His brain stopped. His brain waited for a good five minutes while he collapsed onto his back next to his partner. His brain started again.
“Holy fuck,” he repeated aloud.
“Yeah.”
“Like. Holy fuck.”
“Yeah.”
He swallowed. “I don’t want to move.”
“We’re naked in the back of a van in a parking lot in the middle of downtown.”
“I think maybe we should move.”
“Yeah.”
They dressed. Luckily, thanks to Paul’s perpetually running nose, they were stocked with Kleenex, which made cleaning up a little less annoying. Then they got out, cracked a window to maybe air out the scene of the crime, and closing the back doors with a slam, headed back. Derrick turned down Mat’s offered cigarette in favour of another super secret kiss in the shadows behind the staff entrance and said he’d meet him inside.
“Hey, ‘ve you seen him?” Girlfriend-minus-Mat asked as he darted across the room toward Curt at the bar. Derrick kept a safe distance from her- for the smell of sex- and shrugged, not without a guilty blush. It was dark, though. Maybe it was okay? “Where’re you off to?”
Derrick beamed at her- ‘I hope I don’t have pubes in my teeth,’ he thought- and facing her, kept moving backwards toward the bar. “Gonna tag Curt.”
“What?” she giggled and followed him in his elaborate exploit; he darted up behind his friend and sunk his teeth into his neck hard enough to bruise. Genius!
“Ow! Fuck!” he shoved Derrick away with an incredulous laugh and made a show of checking his skin for blood. “Dick!”
Derrick winked.
And what an opportune time for Mr. Love-Bites to re-arrive. “Hey!” Mat breathed with a covert flick of his eyes toward Derrick before offering a strained smile to the long-haired beauty to his right. He waved at the barkeep for a drink.
“Holy fuck, he got you good, didn’t he?”
Mat’s eyes went wide. He completely stopped moving. And breathing! Girlfriend poked his neck.
Curt gave Derrick a subtle eyebrow-raise and laughed loudly. All eyes settled on him. “He just got me,” he jumped in, saving the day. “Toothy motherfucker!”
Mat didn’t look like he really understood, but he covered his confusion with a relaxed smile.
“What’s going on?”
Derrick winked for Mat’s eyes only as Mike pulled up a stool and sunk his teeth into his neck, next.
“I don’t know what the hell you guys are up to,” Paul declared, “but this is getting a little too sexy for me. I think I’m gonna bail.”
Derrick pulled into the driveway three weeks later. It had been three weeks since Sparta, and Vampire Girl hadn’t once entered his fantasies. He had someone else’s face in his head.
No cars meant that he wasn’t entertaining anyone, which suited him perfectly, since he only knew one other person Mat would be entertaining in the middle of the night, and he’d already decided that it wasn’t her turn.
He slinked through the shadows up the driveway and lifted the potted tree outside the back door for the key. After he scaled the stairs, he found Mat’s bedroom door was open just a crack, so it made no noise when he entered.
Bleary eyes blinked him into focus, awakened by the dipping of the mattress, and sleepy lips spread into a grin. Derrick slid naked beneath the sheets.
Author: dejectedmadness
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Derrick Wells/Mat Labreche
Band: Viscera's Recital
Prompt: 008 Khaki
Disclaimer: None. (Well, some.) The truth is… this is a local band from Orleans (Ottawa), Ontario, Canada. I’ve been to see them a lot with a friend of mine. We’ve noticed a couple of girls sort of stalk one of the members, so they’re included in the story. I don’t know their names, though. But me and Derrick? We go waaaay back. Although something like this may have happened… it may also not have happened. I wouldn’t be the right person to ask. The point is, this particular story is fiction. I made it up. Heh.
Summary: On the night of their dreams, Derrick should be looking for a familiar face in the crowd, but all he can think about is the fact that he’s got Mat’s pleated khakis in a crumpled heap in the back of his closet.
Derrick’s heart was in his throat. ‘But anyone’s would be,’ he insisted. Anyone’s would be, given the opportunity to play a show with- to open for- a band whose influence had shaped their whole sound. Not that it was getting them anywhere. He stood next to the bar and watched bodies pile in, person after person excited to see half of At The Drive In- to see the counterparts of the post-emo, post-hardcore, post-grunge, post-fucking-everything band The Mars Volta- to see Sparta!
Not a single damn one of them gave a shit about Viscera’s Recital.
Well, not yet, but he was waiting not-so-patiently for dark, curly hair, striking green eyes, fucking lips, tell-tale cape-yes, cape- and nondescript tag-along friend. Just one familiar face, just one and he’d be happy. He was kidding himself, though, if he thought seeing her would make his knees stop knocking. But he knew- he just knew- that if he could count on anything anyone anything it was that the VR poster girls would be there to calm (calm?) his nerves.
“Hey,” Mat-and-Girlfriend bumped into him. He held out a brown bottle.
“Thanks.”
“How’re you doing?”
Derrick beamed back at him- ‘for the sake of appearances,’ he insisted to himself. He was pissing himself with anxiety right now. “Dude, we’re opening for Sparta!”
Mat laughed and held up his drink. Derrick’s bottle clinked against it, and they both tipped back for mouthfuls.
“I’m going to find Curt and Ashley,” declared Mat’s ornamentation before wiggling her little hips and departing, leaving the boys alone.
Awkward! Derrick shifted away from his friend. He pretended like he was scouring the bar for Vampire Girl.
“‘Ve you seen her yet?”
“Huh?”
Mat cleared his throat. “That girl? And her friend?”
Derrick shook his head and busied his lips with drinking to get over himself and turn his nerves down a few notches. Maybe then he could keep a casual conversation from dripping with sexual tension.
He made a noise in his throat like he was clearing it to cover the mild groan of embarrassment over the untimely flash of mental images. He could see a glimmer of acknowledgement in Mat’s expression. He kept his eyes open wider than most to better sift through all the bullshit. Everyone lied, everyone acted, but Mat had the uncanny ability to see past anyone’s mask. Besides, not that he could stop himself, but Derrick was being obvious. Avoidance was always obvious. Especially, he realized, when he stopped even pretending to look for his caped-crusading fan-of-the-year.
“Fuck guys!” Curt declared. “What the hell took so fucking long?”
“And where are your pants?” Mike demanded. Of course, he was the only one who’d noticed the change. Granted, it was common knowledge that the last thing that he would have chosen to wear was a pair of khakis from Mat’s astounding collection, but Derrick would rather Mike have kept his fat, observant mouth shut. But from Mike, that was asking a lot.
Mat gave a suggestive wink, but laughed it off enough for them to respond indifferently to Derrick’s “I spilled half my beer on my crotch.”
Derrick glanced at Mat once while they sat there with their drinks, and then not again until he dropped him off again after practice at Mike’s place. Mat held Derrick’s gaze for an inordinately long time- or that was how it felt, at least- sitting in Ursula’s driver’s seat and trying not to be the first to back down. Then he finally looked away and muttered a hurried, “Ahem. I’ll see you later.” An attempt not quite achieving casual. Derrick nodded, then set his eyes to the road again, shifting into drive before the slam of the door.
“You probably just missed her!” A hand coming down on his shoulder startled him from his thoughts. Curt was grinning broadly in his direction.
“What?”
“She’s probably here and you missed her. Have you seen this place?” his toothy laughter betrayed his incredulity. Derrick felt his sense come rocking back into him with a vengeance. He laughed, too, maybe a little manic.
“I wonder if they sold out.”
Curt snorted. Of course not! Sure it was Sparta, but Barrymore’s was an enormous place. Even with six amazing bands going on in a night, the place didn’t get sold out! He just tapped Derrick on the side, though and said again that she would be here, and they’d see her from the stage. Derrick took a minute or two to figure out he meant Ms. Lips, but he nodded anyway and pretended like he’d been wondering why she wasn’t here yet all along.
“Hey, let’s start tuning up,” Paul said unexpectedly from his right. “We’ve got the green light.”
Derrick gave one desperate last glance around the room- all eyes were on him, and he had to pretend not to notice, like the role he played wasn’t on their account- for the elusive caped-crusader herself. Curt pulled him bodily from the bar.
The first time Derrick saw him, he was drawn to Mat. He was a pretty kid, a popular kid, so everyone was trying to get in with him. But he let Derrick into the inner circle. Derrick had thought for a long time that Mat would be standoffish because of Curt.
Curt crowded everyone he was close to. He was the kind of kid that your mom made you hang out with because she was friends with his parents. Most kids pushed him down at recess and tripped him in the lunch room. The reason Derrick never had- well when he was so young it was hard to tell whether he had a reason for anything- but one thing was for sure: Derrick had always felt protective of Curt, since their first play-date. Even if he wasn’t the coolest, the most attentive, the most normal guy Derrick could have chosen for his best friend.
Mat being the pretty boy in class, the preppy, well-groomed, conventionally cute guy that everyone wanted to know, had influenced Derrick to assume that they wouldn’t ever even speak, particularly since Curt was never far away. But Mat had even been the one to approach him! He sat next to him in class and shared his packed lunch- it was elementary school!- and didn’t even act like a jerk to Curt. It wasn’t until somewhat more recently that Derrick had considered what might have caused this act of charity. Well, he had wondered before, but hadn’t really given it more than a moment’s consideration.
So suffice it to say, their years of friendship somewhat baffled Derrick, but since they weren’t idiot children anymore, he’d forgotten all about cool kids and losers. They were just his friends, and that was all.
Mostly.
It was a side effect of getting older. Another was growing up. Growing up, apart, together… shifting the dynamic. And usually- especially now- it was sex’s fault.
Derrick was the only single member of the band for a long time, and that had never bothered him, just like it hadn’t ever bothered him that his girlfriends didn’t really stick. He got bored easily anyway. It wasn’t until he’d met Ms. Lips, his caped-crusader as he called her in his head, that he’d found a girl even close to interesting enough to hold his attention. She played hard to get, often holding back from speaking to him at shows until he was forced to initiate interaction at the end of the night, but he usually did, just to hear her deep voice and the way she was nervously friendly, shaky-voiced and shifty-eyed- he thought because she liked him, too, but couldn’t tell whether he was interested.
But with months of tentative flirting and slow introductions, he was still no closer to getting in her pants. Complete with the difficulties Mat and his girlfriend were having, and considering that Curt’s tart had dumped him four months ago, the combined sexual frustration of their little group could smother puppies. That’s right. Puppies.
That didn’t really explain the way that Derrick’s muscles felt tense or the way his heart sped up just a little, or how his palms got sweaty, or that he couldn’t sit even as still as Curt in any situation where he and Mat were alone. Derrick didn’t like to think about it too much.
Except that he did. Often. Behind locked doors with shades drawn in pants-optional circumstances.
Mat didn’t know about that, though. No one knew about that. Derrick wouldn’t even admit it to himself with jizz on his hand and a mental picture fading with the spark of lights behind his eyelids.
“Hey,” a voice called from down the hall. “I forgot I washed your Moneen sweater.”
Derrick shoved his thoughts aside violently. “My what?”
“Remember you spilled shit on it? I gave you my Seconds To Go hoodie and threw it in the laundry.”
“Oh.” Derrick didn’t remember that. He did have a Seconds To Go hoodie, though. That was Mat’s? A glance at pleated khakis and a white button-down dress shirt left him in doubt, but he followed him into the bedroom nevertheless.
He was bent over in the closet rooting through a hundred identical shirts folded on a shelf. Derrick closed his eyes. Even a second’s worth of Mat’s amazing ass snug against the seat of his light-coloured prep-school-uniform pants left an imprint burned into his retinas. He came a little closer but turned away. Barren white walls helped just enough to purge his thoughts and get him back on track.
“Here it is!” Mat’s voice came from the closet, wherein his head was still tucked, but he sprung up as he spoke and suddenly, Derrick’s act of pivoting on his heel brought him a little too close to his friend. Mat’s chipper expression drained from his face probably as fast as Derrick’s eyes ignited all over again. He swallowed hard. Then he swallowed harder.
A breath: “Thanks.”
He couldn’t help but scan the crowd. He couldn’t see the upper floors that well, but even the last time they had played Barrymore’s the girls had been front and centre. The space in front of the stage was packed, but he couldn’t see those piercing eyes or those voluptuous lips anywhere. He kept smiling, though, and kept playing. It was okay.
Only it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay, and he knew that the rest of them knew it, too. Of all the people to ditch them on their night, their night, the one night that mattered, the night of the show that meant more than anything to each of them, it had to be her! He wailed on his guitar the same as any other set, and he screamed into his microphone the same as every other time they had played this song, except their number one and two supporters had both missed the fucking show!
And it would have been fine! Derrick would probably not even have noticed if not for- Yeah. No he wasn’t even going to think about that right now. Right now he had to be fucking on. They had to play to impress! This could end up being their big break! The thought still crept up on him, though, and before he knew what he was doing, he was distracted from the song by the memory of hands working his belt free and callused fingers tripping over buttons and zippers. Derrick swallowed and chanced a glance at Mat. He was staring right back.
Derrick knew his mistake when Mat glanced down at his mouth, too. ‘No, not obvious at all! Just stare at his lips until you can persuade them to kiss you!’ Derrick immediately felt a blush run screaming through his skin and fought helplessly for something to say, but when he looked back at his face, Derrick’s excuses kind of stopped mattering. Mat’s mouth was open just a little bit and the tip of a pink tongue flicked out to wet his lips between shallow breaths. He watched his friend’s Adam’s apple bob.
“Derrick?”
But he couldn’t even take a second to respond, to talk about anything like two adult people, reasonably. Instead, the impulsive child that he was, he dipped forward and with closed eyes felt his puckered lips connect with something. When Mat moved to match him, Derrick knew for sure that those were lips under his. Derrick felt something brush his knees on its way to the floor- the sweater- but disregarded it as unimportant as soon as Mat took a hold of his hair.
Mat wasn’t a shy boy, that was a sure thing. Derrick pressed forward harder in an attempt to keep up with the ferocity of the kiss. He moved so that Mat’s back was braced against the corner of the room and someone would have been hard pressed to fit a pencil between them. They were hardly complaining.
He held his counterpart’s jaw in place and pushed his tongue past the boundaries of teeth and lips. Mat’s soft moan was his well-earned satisfaction.
In seconds, the pair progressed from sloppy kisses to urgent biting, and Derrick felt Mat’s fingers sneak between them, and a second later his belt jerked. He broke his lips away from skin to breathe a moan. Head against Mat’s shoulder, he opened his eyes. The door was open. Mat’s room was right beside the stairs, and the guys were hanging out in the living room at the bottom, shouting distance away. Derrick didn’t even care if one of them came looking for them. At this point he just wanted Mat to get his fucking fist into his goddamn boxers!
“Shit, Derrick,” Mat breathed, and Derrick wondered, wasn’t he supposed to be the one mumbling incessantly with hard, insistent fingers around his cock? As the thought hit, it was his turn to moan.
“Fuck!” he grunted and pulled hard on Mat’s stupid fucking style-lacking pants until they came apart and he could feel the distinct shape of the erection he was rubbing through boxer-briefs. Mat’s hips twitched forward. ‘Touchmetouchmetouchme.’
Derrick tried to keep his mouth closed on all of the illicit little sounds that threatened to pop free. Mat pumped his fist in earnest so that Derrick’s next moan was deeper and richer. His thumb slipped through the precum gathering on the end of his dick and Derrick was just a little more vocal with his assent.
As his own fist barrelled past the blockade of underwear and eased Mat into his palm, he found that Mat was just as incapable of muffling his pleasure. He squeezed a little, slid his thumb over the end, and started at a neck-breaking pace. Even never having done this before to anyone else, Derrick knew exactly what he was up to.
He listened for Mat’s sounds, trying to overthrow his own distraction to pay enough attention not to let him down. When his grunts and moans began sounding more like heavy breathing, like he was running a race and nearing the end, Derrick sealed his mouth over Mat’s. Their tongues battled for dominance. They both fought for control, for just a second longer than they thought their bodies would give them. When Mat came first, he pushed his hips forward, fucking Derrick’s hand, pulsing into it as semen streamed out and past his fingers. Derrick couldn’t last much longer. Mat pulled him off only seconds later with a cry that was lost in the cavern of Mat’s mouth. He stroked until he was sure Derrick was milked dry, and then he released him.
As they stood there, heads together, panting, Derrick couldn’t stop thinking, ‘Oh shit! Oh shit, I’m so fucked!’
They both stepped back, and immediately, before either could comment on the atrocity that was the ruination of their friendship, Mat groaned in distaste. “Your pants….”
Come. Everywhere.
“Shit.”
“Um. I’ll… hold on while I get you a pair of pants to borrow.”
“Hey, better luck next time,” Curt said upon sliding up alongside the bar.
“What?”
“With the girl. I guess she’s not as infatuated with you as we all thought.”
Derrick rolled his eyes. He wasn’t interested in poking fun at his sex-life.
Curt leaned back against the bar and watched as the other band set up, so Derrick resumed his deliberate not-thinking-about-Mat. It wasn’t exactly a piece of cake when the man was only five feet away. At least he was behind him… although that thought didn’t do much to help with Derrick’s resolute non-sex-related-thinking. He closed his eyes tightly to try to block out every manner of mental image he’d just conjured up. He was glad he was facing the bar.
“Hey,” Curt called with a nudge, “maybe she went to, like, Europe or something.”
Derrick sniffed. Would it be better if she’d just picked up and moved away? He guessed a new home probably trumped an awkward possibly-flirting session after every local show she went to.
“And it isn’t like you’ve seen her in six months or so!”
He thanked him in his head. He really needed to be reminded of how pathetic his pining was.
“Maybe it’s time for a new plan!” Optimism. Derrick and optimism got along rarely, and usually only when it came to band stuff. “You should think about setting your sights elsewhere. I can help!” Oh great! “We’ll find you a cute little number in a prep-school uniform… and you’ll forget all about whatsherface.”
Derrick nearly choked in the middle of swallowing and felt the burn of carbonation in his nose from almost snorting beer. He hoped that he’d covered it up enough that Curt wouldn’t realize what had made him gasp into his drink in the first place, but when he turned his attention back to his mildly eccentric friend, he found him wearing a deliberately pointed expression. Derrick didn’t answer. He just stared, asking silently to validate his fears or assuage them.
Curt looked away finally, but he wasn’t done. “You’ve gotta watch out for them preppy kids. They’re never what they appear to be.”
“Hey!” Mat fell with a breathless grin against the bar between the both of them and signalled the bartender for another drink. Derrick turned to face forward again, staring at the bottles of hard liquor on the wall. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” Curt threw back. “I’m gonna go find Mike.”
Derrick froze, paralysed, all over again. He didn’t know if he was reading too much into an innocent and very Curt-like statement or not, but the quick escape felt like a setup to him. He nodded, supposedly to Curt although in no way was it in his direction, and he walked off. And left them alone.
Derrick tried to make the tightness of his shoulders loosen, but he could feel the warmth of Mat’s body hovering right beside him, and it was making his pants, which were already uncomfortably tight, even less wearable. He stared. ‘Just keep staring.’
“Hey.” And oh was that ever a problem. Derrick never wanted to hear inflection in Mat’s voice ever again. Not another whisper, not one more soft chuckle. His arm hair was standing on end just from the intimate nature of the word. Just one word!
Derrick tried playing it cool, glancing carelessly over at him. “Hey.” He thought he was casual. That had definitely been casual.
“Can we talk?”
“What do we need to talk about?”
Mat shrugged. His off-put demeanour suggested that maybe Derrick’s coolness was the slightest bit too frosty. ‘Relax.’
Mat didn’t even glance around. He just leaned the tiniest bit closer. “What happened… between us.”
“As far as I’m concerned, nothing happened between us,” he tried to say. He got about as far as the comma when Mat cut him off.
“You’ve been shutting me down every fucking day since it happened, Derrick. This is something we need to talk about.”
“Can we at least not do it here?” He knew his tone was too forceful, and he didn’t want to get into a fight with Mat. No, that wasn’t what this was about. He wasn’t like that.
“Why not?”
He looked cautiously around himself during the process of facing him. His face was solemn because he was trying not to let on that his heart was panicking like a bird trapped in his chest. He swallowed nothing because his mouth was so dry, but managed still to say, “Because I really want to strip you and bend you forwards over the bar to have my way with you, and if you make me talk about it, I can’t promise I won’t.”
Mat looked strangled. ‘Oh shit,’ Derrick thought. He’d taken it too far.
But Mat had a few of his own surprises up his sleeve tonight. He set his beer on the bar and tugged Derrick’s shirtsleeve to follow. Derrick paused just long enough to put his full drink down, too and was trotting cooperatively behind.
Derrick shoved Mat’s back against Ursula hard enough that his head struck the side, but they didn’t care. Not when he could be licking the inside of Mat’s mouth obscenely- complete with sucking sound effects- to get the roll of appreciative hips into his. Impatience won out for the both of them moments later, after all, they were currently very publicly fucking behind the music hall, and moving things right along probably wasn’t unwise. Derrick hauled open one of the rear doors and unceremoniously dumped Mat ass-first into the back.
Shirts went first, despite the cold of the end of October, so Derrick was fumbling with Mat’s ridiculous dress-shirt buttons until he decided he just wasn’t that patient anymore and pulled it up over his head. Derrick was slightly more sensible and had worn a more easily-strippable band-tee. Mat had him out of it in less than a second.
Pants didn’t come off right away, though, because although their arousals and intentions were clearly matched, neither of them- Derrick assumed- had ever exactly gotten down with another guy before. The learning experience, he realized, could be awkward to say the least.
Instead, Derrick bowed down to catch Mat’s nipple between his lips and groped his crotch through the denim barricade.
‘Wait!’
Derrick pulled back long enough to verify his suspicions. He gaped. “Are you wearing my jeans?”
Mat smiled unapologetically and shrugged. “I ran out of pants. You took my last pair home with you.”
He hissed a laugh through a sideways smile that made even Mat’s lips twitch. “I like these on you,” he confessed lightly.
“They’re tight,” Mat objected.
Derrick laughed into Mat’s neck and painted a saliva-stripe up his throat to his right earlobe where he rumbled, “That’s why I like them.”
A quick inhalation and Mat was succumbing to Derrick’s urgent hands. His hips arched upward and into the blonde’s devilish palm. ‘Oh yeah,’ Derrick thought.
Mat wasn’t exactly submissive, though. He wouldn’t go down without a fight, not that Derrick expected him to fight too hard about going down. Before Derrick knew it, though, Mat was shoving his jeans and boxers away with hard fingertips until he could kick the offending garments into the corner over the spare patch cords. Mat’s pants- Derrick’s pants, really- came off just as unceremoniously, and God, were they actually doing this? In the back seat of the van in a fucking parking lot in the middle of Ottawa? People knew them here! What if someone came out for a smoke and saw steamed windows or heard Mat’s obscene keening from the street?
Derrick slapped his hand over Mat’s mouth. “Man, do I have to gag you?”
Mat winked.
Just then, with a twist of his hand, Mat brought fireworks to Derrick’s eyes. He couldn’t very well keep his own moans silent, then, either. Point taken.
So to keep them situated on the safe road, Derrick sealed their mouths together. He swallowed every last sound Mat made, and his fist continued to pull and squeeze slowly, but with mild impatience. He wanted to feel Mat’s grip earnestly tighten around him while he bit his lip to hold back just that little bit longer. They’d been too concerned with speed before. The thrill of getting found set them on their toes with bated breath and a rush of adrenaline. Now, it was about getting to know each other. What did it take to make Mat lose it? Would his eyes roll back in his head? Would he grind out inappropriate noises as he got closer to climax? Derrick wanted to know.
He slipped his thumb over his leaking head. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed. Derrick bit his lip and pulled on it until Mat whined.
Derrick was feeling it, too. The pulling, squeezing pressure and slick slide of thick, guitar-worn fingers over his flesh… yeah, he was feeling it. Which was exactly why he pulled away. Mat looked up confusedly as Derrick’s lips came away with a smack, and he rocked back against his feet. He looked about to sit up, but Derrick wasn’t going anywhere. He was fucking naked, first of all! No way was all of Barrymore’s going to see his lily-white ass! He shifted lower, heart in his throat, and pressed a wet, sloppy, swollen-lipped kiss to Mat’s flat tummy, then again to the line of dark hair below his navel, and once more, even lower. Mat’s cock bumped against his chin.
Derrick could smell him down here. It wasn’t anything like he’d smelled before during sex, but then he’d never exactly gone down on himself, had he? Musky, almost earthy, clean and soapy from the shower he’d taken before their set, but smelling vaguely of sweat from rocking out so hard… girls didn’t smell like that. He liked it.
He dipped his head down again and tried not to think too hard when he closed his lips over the leaking end. Mat shuddered when he tongued his slit and tasted salty precum. Experimentally, he sucked, gently. Mat bucked upward.
“Oh fuck!” Derrick swallowed against his gag reflex and stretched his lips wider around the thick column of flesh. “Oh! Fuck!” Mat exclaimed again. “Jesus, Derrick!”
He wasn’t used to this, and already his jaw was starting to ache. That wasn’t a good sign. But then again, Mat didn’t look like he was going to be able to take much more of this. His eyes were squeezed tightly together, twitching with the effort of keeping them closed. He was fishing with both hands for something to grab, something that wasn’t Derrick’s hair, so he couldn’t just fuck Derrick’s mouth like he obviously wanted to. Derrick slid the palm of his hand up Mat’s thigh, across his hipbone, and shifted his weight forward onto the one hand. Mat opened his eyes to slits and a grateful smile sparked across his face and was gone.
Derrick had started sucking.
“Oh my- fucking fuck! Der! Derrick!”
Derrick’s erection reinforced itself with a pulse and a tremor. God, he was throbbing, and without any physical contact at all! How embarrassing would it have been, had Mat still been stroking him, if he’d come like a thirteen year old boy just from those fucking noises?! Derrick tried not to think about it.
He bobbed his head slowly, tongue working under Mat’s head, slipping rarely over the still-leaking slit, when he could manage it, and in minutes his friend was calling out for him.
“Derrick! Derrick, I’m coming!”
Swallowing? Maybe okay, but not on the first date. He pulled off and replaced his mouth with his hand to work Mat through his orgasm, complete with heavy breathing and innumerable moans. Then he crawled back up beside Mr. Afterglow and nuzzled his red and well-bitten neck. Derrick knew he would have to apologize profusely later when Mat called him on the tooth-shaped bruising his girlfriend was sure not to miss. But right now, he was still hard, and Mat was recovering very quickly. Quickly enough to already have Derrick’s dick in his hand again.
“You must have done that before,” Mat breathed. His eyes lazily opened. Mat was staring hungrily at him. Derrick fucking loved that look on his face.
“Nope.”
Mat didn’t believe him.
“I promise. You were my first.”
“I bet you tell that to all the pretty girls.”
Derrick moaned when he squeezed the end of him, pulled on him more insistently, and his eyes drifted shut again. “Mmm. Yeah, but when I say it to them, I’m lying.”
With eyes closed, he felt Mat’s lips brush his, and he opened his mouth a crack to meet them. Mat lapped Derrick’s mouth into submission with an unfairly talented tongue. He was kind of glad that it wasn’t anywhere near his crotch right now. He’d be done for instantly! But the constant licking and sucking and stroking… fuck. His stomach felt tight. He was trembling, one hand clutching Mat’s shoulder, the other latched onto his side, and squeezing.
He gasped through his teeth, “Mat!” and then he was coming, too.
Holy fuck.
His brain stopped. His brain waited for a good five minutes while he collapsed onto his back next to his partner. His brain started again.
“Holy fuck,” he repeated aloud.
“Yeah.”
“Like. Holy fuck.”
“Yeah.”
He swallowed. “I don’t want to move.”
“We’re naked in the back of a van in a parking lot in the middle of downtown.”
“I think maybe we should move.”
“Yeah.”
They dressed. Luckily, thanks to Paul’s perpetually running nose, they were stocked with Kleenex, which made cleaning up a little less annoying. Then they got out, cracked a window to maybe air out the scene of the crime, and closing the back doors with a slam, headed back. Derrick turned down Mat’s offered cigarette in favour of another super secret kiss in the shadows behind the staff entrance and said he’d meet him inside.
“Hey, ‘ve you seen him?” Girlfriend-minus-Mat asked as he darted across the room toward Curt at the bar. Derrick kept a safe distance from her- for the smell of sex- and shrugged, not without a guilty blush. It was dark, though. Maybe it was okay? “Where’re you off to?”
Derrick beamed at her- ‘I hope I don’t have pubes in my teeth,’ he thought- and facing her, kept moving backwards toward the bar. “Gonna tag Curt.”
“What?” she giggled and followed him in his elaborate exploit; he darted up behind his friend and sunk his teeth into his neck hard enough to bruise. Genius!
“Ow! Fuck!” he shoved Derrick away with an incredulous laugh and made a show of checking his skin for blood. “Dick!”
Derrick winked.
And what an opportune time for Mr. Love-Bites to re-arrive. “Hey!” Mat breathed with a covert flick of his eyes toward Derrick before offering a strained smile to the long-haired beauty to his right. He waved at the barkeep for a drink.
“Holy fuck, he got you good, didn’t he?”
Mat’s eyes went wide. He completely stopped moving. And breathing! Girlfriend poked his neck.
Curt gave Derrick a subtle eyebrow-raise and laughed loudly. All eyes settled on him. “He just got me,” he jumped in, saving the day. “Toothy motherfucker!”
Mat didn’t look like he really understood, but he covered his confusion with a relaxed smile.
“What’s going on?”
Derrick winked for Mat’s eyes only as Mike pulled up a stool and sunk his teeth into his neck, next.
“I don’t know what the hell you guys are up to,” Paul declared, “but this is getting a little too sexy for me. I think I’m gonna bail.”
Derrick pulled into the driveway three weeks later. It had been three weeks since Sparta, and Vampire Girl hadn’t once entered his fantasies. He had someone else’s face in his head.
No cars meant that he wasn’t entertaining anyone, which suited him perfectly, since he only knew one other person Mat would be entertaining in the middle of the night, and he’d already decided that it wasn’t her turn.
He slinked through the shadows up the driveway and lifted the potted tree outside the back door for the key. After he scaled the stairs, he found Mat’s bedroom door was open just a crack, so it made no noise when he entered.
Bleary eyes blinked him into focus, awakened by the dipping of the mattress, and sleepy lips spread into a grin. Derrick slid naked beneath the sheets.