Brand New::Garrett/Vin::NC-17::You Kiss Like You Fuck For a Living
[Title:] You Kiss Like You Fuck for a Living.
[Author:] dejectedmadness
[Rating:] NC-17
[Band/Pairing:] Brand New - Garrett/Vin
[Summary:] Vin worried about how the others saw him. Was he only a kid in their eyes? Being the youngest, barely out of high school, the thought wasn't so far fetched.
[Disclaimer:] You think I would have the balls to write slash about someone I ACTUALLY knew? Brand New and I are only on familiar terms in my dreams. This may have happened, but I don’t claim that it really did.
[Author's Notes:] I know I am supposed to try to write some slash about people who are NOT Brand New, but this mental image did a lot for me this morning.
Moving in together was the best idea either of them had ever had. Since Jesse and Brian still lived at home, they tended to save a lot more money than either of them, but now that they were splitting the rent on a cheaper place instead of dishing out for two bachelor apartments, Garrett and Vin would have it at least a little easier. Well, that was the theory.
In reality things were tense. They got along fine, they didn’t clash in any unacceptable ways. Like, Vin liked his music really loud, and Garrett liked all of Vin’s music, so that didn’t bother him. And Garrett sometimes ate Vin’s groceries and forgot to pay him back, but that was fine because Vin didn’t really eat that much, and it would have just gone bad otherwise. That wasn’t the reason why both men were walking around with bated breath, waiting for the static to spark.
“Morning,” Vin said as Garrett padded across the kitchen for the fridge, for the orange juice with Vin’s name on it. “You want a glass?” Garrett just shook his head and drank from the carton, and Vin just thought, ‘Whatever.’ He flipped his eggs.
“Jess and Brian coming over later?” His words seemed clipped. Maybe he was tired.
Vin’s response was curt, guarded. “I think we’re going someplace this afternoon.”
“Don’t we play tonight?”
“Yeah. We’re going out at, like, two.”
Garrett grunted. He stood there, like he was waiting for something, or like he could feel the tension that Vin felt and didn’t quite know how to dissipate it. Finally he just muttered, “Can you wake me up before they get here?”
“You didn’t sleep enough yet?”
Garrett grunted again and closed his door behind him. Vin shook his head. And that was how it was.
Hours later they were crammed in the backseat of Jesse’s mom’s van. He was driving his brother to the mall and his sisters to their friends’ houses, so Garrett and Vin were crammed in the backseat while Brian took the front with Jesse and the three younger kids were in the second row. Garrett folded his arms over his chest. Vin leaned against the window. They were sitting too close to even feign comfort. There was so much shit in Jesse’s van. Really there was only space for one in the back. Jesse theorized that since Vin and Garrett were so thin that they counted as one person.
“I don’t like this song!” Vin couldn’t remember all the girls’ names. He’d been thinking of her as Lacey-girl-number-one, and the other as Lacey-girl-number-two. Anyway, it was number-one that had bad music taste. “Change it! Put on the radio.”
“Radio only plays garbage,” Jesse insisted.
“I want to listen to the radio!” she hollered. Soon enough the second Lacey-girl was joining her in her protest, and the van was a cacophony of eight-to-ten-year-old whining.
“Just change the goddamn music!” Garrett shouted. Vin almost jumped into his lap. His heart was in his throat, but he could hardly scold him; how else could Jesse possibly have heard him over his two lovely screaming sisters?
He flicked on the local station and some nasally pop diva started bleating through the speakers much to the girls’ delight. He settled back against the window. ‘Are we there yet?’
“What the fuck is the point of this?” Garrett, hours later, asked him as they stood backstage.
“Well, you see Gare, you play a show, and then people watch you, so you can take their money. If they like you, they might buy a CD and you make money, again-”
“Fucking… no. Opening for this fucking band? Have you ever heard them before? Do you know what they sound like?” Vin shrugged. “It sounds like their vocalist could take lessons from mating cats, and their guitarist has three slow fingers on either hand and their drummer might as well be using pots and fucking pans. We’re better than this bullshit.”
“We’ve got to make a living.”
“Yeah, we’ve got to get noticed so we can start playing our own shows and screening our opening bands so we don’t have to listen to this fucking shit anymore.”
Vin smiled, ducked his head a bit. He wanted to calm Garrett down, really he did. But Vin knew when he was listening to bogus immature opinions, and he knew when he was listening to sense, and Garrett wasn’t spewing any of the former. They were better than this.
Encouraged by the lack of reprimand, Garrett turned to Vin. “Listen to us, man, have you heard us play? Between you and Jesse, song lyrics, harmonies, guitar parts have never sounded so good, and Brian’s the best fucking drummer in the state, and I’ll stick by that.”
“What about you?”
“I’m just the bassist,” Garrett shrugged.
“Listen to us,” Vin retorted. “We need every one of us to sound like we do. You don’t add nothing.”
“With or without me, we are fucking superstars compared to these assholes.” He looked around for anyone listening in. “You’re eighteen and you’re the best fucking musician in this building. Why do we have to open for trash like this?”
Vin couldn’t meet his eyes. The best? No. He was just a kid.... “We’ll play for auditoriums some day, Garrett. Enjoy life when you’re still unknown enough to be able to walk down the street.”
Sometimes Vin forgot that he was the kid in this set up. Sometimes he acted more mature than all of them put together. But then there were times when he realized that he was still only eighteen. Jesse was twenty-two, Garrett twenty, and even Brian was a year older than he. He was barely out of high school. He was barely an adult, and sometimes he wondered if the others saw him as such more than he felt it himself.
Jesse dropped them off at home. He climbed the flights of stairs to the apartment, unlocked the door for he and Garrett. How do you ask a question like that?
“Gare?”
“Mmm?”
“How do you... um...? Fuck."
Garrett raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Vin waved off his obvious confusion. That wasn't what he had meant to say. Try again. “I just.... Sometimes I feel like this immature kid around you guys, you know? I just... do you see me as... do I seem like just a kid, a lot?”
“You’re hardly a kid, Vin.”
“No, I know, but you guys are kind of more... grown up, sometimes.”
Garrett laughed. “Have you seen me? Hi, I’m Garrett, I’m actually the least mature person in this whole damn band.”
Vin sighed. “Yeah, no, but... sometimes-”
“Man, you worry too much.”
“I just look up to you guys.” Garrett’s attention was piqued. “Sometimes.”
Garrett turned to him. Vin was too embarrassed; he was staring at the floor. “Hey.” Garrett was beside him. “Hey, do you think that Jesse wonders if he seems too old for this shit to us?”
He snorted, “Twenty-two is hardly-”
“Probably crossed his mind once or twice, though, right? And you think I don’t wonder why you didn’t bother to get another bassist? Anyone can do this damn job, but you guys picked the weird kid with the hair and the quirks.”
Vin frowned. “You’re not I mean- you aren’t so replaceable, Garrett.”
“And just because you’re the youngest, that doesn’t mean you’re a kid. I told you before, you were the best damn guitarist at that show tonight. If you’re all that and only eighteen, props to you, man. Fucking mad props.”
Vin scratched his head, kind of embarrassed, and he didn’t meet Garrett’s eyes.
“Hey,” Garrett touched his shoulder. “Don’t worry so much about whether you’re up to par. Just assume that if you’re not someone will let you know, and do what you do.”
It was good advice, and from immature Garrett, Vin was a little surprised. He knew better than to think that Garrett would just brush him off with a semi-reassuring answer and then forget all about it. They had moved in together, not just because they both needed a place to stay. They had joined a band together. They were friends, after all.
Vin glanced up to thank him- Garrett was a good guy, and he was really grateful- but something happened that he had not intended. Or, at least, he didn’t think he’d intended it. Vin glanced up, leaned in, and was suddenly kissing- kissing- his roommate. Like, lips on lips and no space between them and eyes closed. Vin pulled back. ‘Oh my god!’ He couldn’t even think of why he had decided to do that. But Garrett, he was pretty smooth. He touched Vin’s shoulder- it was okay- and leaned in again.
He could barely breathe, or he barely wanted to for fear that it meant that something about this was going to change, and he definitely didn’t want that. He parted his mouth with the next kiss. Garrett caught one of his lips between his own. The next kiss introduced tongues. Garrett’s slid out, between their mouths, touched his lips, and tucked away again. Then another kiss let it slide in and against Vin’s tongue. Their mouths closed, sealed, locked on, and Garrett’s tongue slid and touched and engaged Vin’s until they were struggling, fighting for more.
“Fuck!” Vin said when he pulled back. He tried desperately to catch his breath, breath Garrett had stolen, and retracted his hand from Garrett’s hip, his other from his shoulder. He stepped back. Awkward. Awkward.
“Um,” he tried a moment later, “I should... it’s late and-and tomorrow we’ve got stuff to do, so-”
“Yeah,” Garrett muttered, he discreetly wiped his lips, touched them with his fingers, only Vin’s attention being right fucking there was locked on. Garrett’s fingers touching Garrett’s lips. Shit. Shit, what the hell were they doing? “Yeah, ok. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Only an hour later, Vin couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t even lie still. He kept touching his mouth and wishing it didn’t turn him on to think of Garrett kissing him.
And an hour after that, he was standing, hesitantly outside of Garrett’s door, wishing he had the guts to knock. Instead he just turned the handle, opened the door just enough to see the streetlight from the window sprawled across Garrett’s bed, across Garrett, and his open eyes.
Vin swallowed when he turned to look at the door, but he stepped in his room anyway. Garrett shifted on his bed, moved away toward the window, and he pulled back the covers so Vin could get in.
Garrett wasn’t wearing a shirt. He was only in his boxers; that was all he wore to bed. Vin slid under the sheets and could feel the warmth of Garrett’s body, the heat of his skin because the bed was small, and Garrett touched him as soon as he was lying next to him. Vin tried not to think too hard, but he rolled onto his side, and then he kissed him.
Garrett’s tongue slid into his mouth, their lips locked, and it was a fucking hell of a kiss. Vin couldn’t get over the slide of Garrett’s tongue, the feel of his teeth behind his lips, pressing hard into Vin because he wanted this, and Garrett wanted this, and it felt like they were too far apart, still.
Garrett touched his stomach. Vin was wearing a t-shirt because that was what he wore to bed, a t-shirt and boxers, so he slid his hand under the fabric and touched his stomach for real. It felt really good to Vin, and he didn’t complain when Garrett pulled away to help him take it off.
It occurred to him when Garrett eased him onto his back so he could lick and suck down Vin’s torso that he must not have been one to ever see Vin as just a kid. This would be really wrong otherwise.
Vin clutched him, though, one hand on his shoulder and the other trapped beneath him, touching Garrett’s stomach because that happened to be where their skin connected. Garrett’s erection strained against Vin’s leg, and I made him hard just to think about it.
Then Garrett stuck his tongue in Vin’s bellybutton. “Oh God!”
Boxers the fuck off, kissing again, because kissing, that felt really fucking good. Vin loved Garrett’s mouth, his very nice lips, sharp teeth, smooth tongue. He wanted to kiss and kiss and kiss and not stop kissing. Not ever. But he could feel Garrett’s curiosity, his clever hands searching down, down, down his torso, on his naked hip. Vin’s were trapped with nerves on his stomach, but Garrett’s were waiting. They were waiting for Vin to make a move because as soon as he did, he could have his prize. He wouldn’t have to worry that he would change his mind about this whole idea. So Vin yelled at his fingers, and his nerves, at his inexperience, and he told himself that if he wanted to touch Garrett’s cock, take a hold of it, make the other boy moan, if he wanted that, then he had to fucking do it because the ball was in his court and his partner was waiting.
Garrett sighed, breathed against Vin’s face because his mouth was preoccupied. He shifted his hips a little, Vin assumed because he needed to move, needed to solidify his position in his mind, to remember anything but the way this felt. He figured so because that was the way he felt right now, like he wasn’t sure this was really real.
Garrett touched him, next, wrapped each finger slowly around him, thumb brushing his head, and his kisses got more intense. Vin’s breath was sufficiently stolen. He pumped Garrett, eager to hear the little moans, little sighs that his friend made when Vin did something right.
Garrett tried to break the kiss, he locked his lips to Vin’s neck, he sucked and bit until he knew, he just knew that tomorrow there would be marks everywhere. Vin liked it. It felt good, but he wanted Garrett’s tongue in his mouth. He loved that. Soft lips pressing together, sliding across each other’s, feeling tongues, feeling teeth. He wanted that. With his free hand he pulled Garrett’s head up again, and he kissed him. This time, though, he kissed him like he wanted to be kissed. He thrust his own tongue past the boundary of teeth and lips and blocking tongue and said silently, 'Own my mouth. Make it yours.' And that was what he did to Garrett.
Garrett seemed to like that. He moaned around Vin’s tongue, he squeezed a little harder against Vin’s cock, and his breathing, it pretty much doubled in speed.
Then Garrett was kissing harder, more urgently. He bit Vin’s lip, sucked his tongue between his lips, and made him feel light headed. He felt like coming. He was definitely getting there.
With a swipe of his thumb, Vin knew Garrett was feeling it, too. They were leaking, they were throbbing, they were ready to fucking go. Vin wanted to explode, but not yet. Not yet. He wanted to hold onto this feeling. He wanted the taste of Garrett’s lips and the feel of his hand on his dick. He didn’t want it to stop.
“Oh, shit, Vinnie!” Garrett blurted between kisses. Vin moaned, probably the headiest, longest, fullest moan he’d ever offered anyone. Garrett kissed him again, and it was just like that. Tongue sliding past lips, into mouth, against tongue and teeth, scraping, sliding, battling, and then he was sucking, too, sucking Garrett’s tongue. Garrett grunted, moaned and jerked a little bit, and Vin felt him come on his hand, felt it squirt forward, splash against him a bit. And the building, burning, so-close, almost-there feeling that was growing in his abdomen finally released, and then he grunted, too, with his orgasm.
Garrett let him go, and he let Garrett go, and they breathed hard, kissing still, although lazily. Garrett’s lips pressed and smudged against Vin’s. His tongue lazily swiped here and there. They were mostly just relaxed, just kissing because it still felt good, and forget cleaning up; Vin just wanted to lie here.
Garrett had tissues beside the bed, he helped get rid of the mess they’d made. When it was safe to do so, Vin turned onto his stomach, draped an arm over Garrett’s chest, and they kissed once before they were both asleep.
In the morning, the buzzer buzzed, but Vin was so unconscious that he didn’t hear Garrett get out of bed or notice Jesse and Brian’s voices in their living room. When Garrett came back into the room to shake him awake, it was then that he heard Brian shout, “Where the hell is he? His room’s empty.” And a second later when Jesse came into Garrett’s room because he didn’t understand the concept of privacy sometimes, the jig was up, so to speak.
Vin rolled onto his back, shifted into a sitting position amidst Jesse’s confused, “What the fuck”s and Brian’s demands of “Where’s Vin?” echoing through the apartment. Garrett pulled on a shirt and passed Vin his underwear as Jesse’s scrutiny bore on and Brian became aware of the party in the next room.
“Holy fuck!” Brian cried on entry.
“Did you guys sleep together last night?”
“Did you guys fucking sleep together last night?!”
Garrett touched Vin’s back for his attention. “At least you don’t have to worry they’ll think you’re just a kid after this,” he commented optimistically.
Vin smiled a little, and Garrett kissed him.
“Oh my god!”
“Jesus guys!”
“Ew, tongue! I have to go!” Oh Brian, sometimes such a girl.
Vin grabbed the back of Garrett’s head before he could decide that that was quite enough. Garrett smiled against Vin’s lips and let Vin try his hand at the kiss formally known as French.
“Okay, I’ll see you when you’re a little better equipped for company,” Jesse closed the door behind himself, and the lovers decided not to get disentangled from each other quite yet.
[Author:] dejectedmadness
[Rating:] NC-17
[Band/Pairing:] Brand New - Garrett/Vin
[Summary:] Vin worried about how the others saw him. Was he only a kid in their eyes? Being the youngest, barely out of high school, the thought wasn't so far fetched.
[Disclaimer:] You think I would have the balls to write slash about someone I ACTUALLY knew? Brand New and I are only on familiar terms in my dreams. This may have happened, but I don’t claim that it really did.
[Author's Notes:] I know I am supposed to try to write some slash about people who are NOT Brand New, but this mental image did a lot for me this morning.
Moving in together was the best idea either of them had ever had. Since Jesse and Brian still lived at home, they tended to save a lot more money than either of them, but now that they were splitting the rent on a cheaper place instead of dishing out for two bachelor apartments, Garrett and Vin would have it at least a little easier. Well, that was the theory.
In reality things were tense. They got along fine, they didn’t clash in any unacceptable ways. Like, Vin liked his music really loud, and Garrett liked all of Vin’s music, so that didn’t bother him. And Garrett sometimes ate Vin’s groceries and forgot to pay him back, but that was fine because Vin didn’t really eat that much, and it would have just gone bad otherwise. That wasn’t the reason why both men were walking around with bated breath, waiting for the static to spark.
“Morning,” Vin said as Garrett padded across the kitchen for the fridge, for the orange juice with Vin’s name on it. “You want a glass?” Garrett just shook his head and drank from the carton, and Vin just thought, ‘Whatever.’ He flipped his eggs.
“Jess and Brian coming over later?” His words seemed clipped. Maybe he was tired.
Vin’s response was curt, guarded. “I think we’re going someplace this afternoon.”
“Don’t we play tonight?”
“Yeah. We’re going out at, like, two.”
Garrett grunted. He stood there, like he was waiting for something, or like he could feel the tension that Vin felt and didn’t quite know how to dissipate it. Finally he just muttered, “Can you wake me up before they get here?”
“You didn’t sleep enough yet?”
Garrett grunted again and closed his door behind him. Vin shook his head. And that was how it was.
Hours later they were crammed in the backseat of Jesse’s mom’s van. He was driving his brother to the mall and his sisters to their friends’ houses, so Garrett and Vin were crammed in the backseat while Brian took the front with Jesse and the three younger kids were in the second row. Garrett folded his arms over his chest. Vin leaned against the window. They were sitting too close to even feign comfort. There was so much shit in Jesse’s van. Really there was only space for one in the back. Jesse theorized that since Vin and Garrett were so thin that they counted as one person.
“I don’t like this song!” Vin couldn’t remember all the girls’ names. He’d been thinking of her as Lacey-girl-number-one, and the other as Lacey-girl-number-two. Anyway, it was number-one that had bad music taste. “Change it! Put on the radio.”
“Radio only plays garbage,” Jesse insisted.
“I want to listen to the radio!” she hollered. Soon enough the second Lacey-girl was joining her in her protest, and the van was a cacophony of eight-to-ten-year-old whining.
“Just change the goddamn music!” Garrett shouted. Vin almost jumped into his lap. His heart was in his throat, but he could hardly scold him; how else could Jesse possibly have heard him over his two lovely screaming sisters?
He flicked on the local station and some nasally pop diva started bleating through the speakers much to the girls’ delight. He settled back against the window. ‘Are we there yet?’
“What the fuck is the point of this?” Garrett, hours later, asked him as they stood backstage.
“Well, you see Gare, you play a show, and then people watch you, so you can take their money. If they like you, they might buy a CD and you make money, again-”
“Fucking… no. Opening for this fucking band? Have you ever heard them before? Do you know what they sound like?” Vin shrugged. “It sounds like their vocalist could take lessons from mating cats, and their guitarist has three slow fingers on either hand and their drummer might as well be using pots and fucking pans. We’re better than this bullshit.”
“We’ve got to make a living.”
“Yeah, we’ve got to get noticed so we can start playing our own shows and screening our opening bands so we don’t have to listen to this fucking shit anymore.”
Vin smiled, ducked his head a bit. He wanted to calm Garrett down, really he did. But Vin knew when he was listening to bogus immature opinions, and he knew when he was listening to sense, and Garrett wasn’t spewing any of the former. They were better than this.
Encouraged by the lack of reprimand, Garrett turned to Vin. “Listen to us, man, have you heard us play? Between you and Jesse, song lyrics, harmonies, guitar parts have never sounded so good, and Brian’s the best fucking drummer in the state, and I’ll stick by that.”
“What about you?”
“I’m just the bassist,” Garrett shrugged.
“Listen to us,” Vin retorted. “We need every one of us to sound like we do. You don’t add nothing.”
“With or without me, we are fucking superstars compared to these assholes.” He looked around for anyone listening in. “You’re eighteen and you’re the best fucking musician in this building. Why do we have to open for trash like this?”
Vin couldn’t meet his eyes. The best? No. He was just a kid.... “We’ll play for auditoriums some day, Garrett. Enjoy life when you’re still unknown enough to be able to walk down the street.”
Sometimes Vin forgot that he was the kid in this set up. Sometimes he acted more mature than all of them put together. But then there were times when he realized that he was still only eighteen. Jesse was twenty-two, Garrett twenty, and even Brian was a year older than he. He was barely out of high school. He was barely an adult, and sometimes he wondered if the others saw him as such more than he felt it himself.
Jesse dropped them off at home. He climbed the flights of stairs to the apartment, unlocked the door for he and Garrett. How do you ask a question like that?
“Gare?”
“Mmm?”
“How do you... um...? Fuck."
Garrett raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Vin waved off his obvious confusion. That wasn't what he had meant to say. Try again. “I just.... Sometimes I feel like this immature kid around you guys, you know? I just... do you see me as... do I seem like just a kid, a lot?”
“You’re hardly a kid, Vin.”
“No, I know, but you guys are kind of more... grown up, sometimes.”
Garrett laughed. “Have you seen me? Hi, I’m Garrett, I’m actually the least mature person in this whole damn band.”
Vin sighed. “Yeah, no, but... sometimes-”
“Man, you worry too much.”
“I just look up to you guys.” Garrett’s attention was piqued. “Sometimes.”
Garrett turned to him. Vin was too embarrassed; he was staring at the floor. “Hey.” Garrett was beside him. “Hey, do you think that Jesse wonders if he seems too old for this shit to us?”
He snorted, “Twenty-two is hardly-”
“Probably crossed his mind once or twice, though, right? And you think I don’t wonder why you didn’t bother to get another bassist? Anyone can do this damn job, but you guys picked the weird kid with the hair and the quirks.”
Vin frowned. “You’re not I mean- you aren’t so replaceable, Garrett.”
“And just because you’re the youngest, that doesn’t mean you’re a kid. I told you before, you were the best damn guitarist at that show tonight. If you’re all that and only eighteen, props to you, man. Fucking mad props.”
Vin scratched his head, kind of embarrassed, and he didn’t meet Garrett’s eyes.
“Hey,” Garrett touched his shoulder. “Don’t worry so much about whether you’re up to par. Just assume that if you’re not someone will let you know, and do what you do.”
It was good advice, and from immature Garrett, Vin was a little surprised. He knew better than to think that Garrett would just brush him off with a semi-reassuring answer and then forget all about it. They had moved in together, not just because they both needed a place to stay. They had joined a band together. They were friends, after all.
Vin glanced up to thank him- Garrett was a good guy, and he was really grateful- but something happened that he had not intended. Or, at least, he didn’t think he’d intended it. Vin glanced up, leaned in, and was suddenly kissing- kissing- his roommate. Like, lips on lips and no space between them and eyes closed. Vin pulled back. ‘Oh my god!’ He couldn’t even think of why he had decided to do that. But Garrett, he was pretty smooth. He touched Vin’s shoulder- it was okay- and leaned in again.
He could barely breathe, or he barely wanted to for fear that it meant that something about this was going to change, and he definitely didn’t want that. He parted his mouth with the next kiss. Garrett caught one of his lips between his own. The next kiss introduced tongues. Garrett’s slid out, between their mouths, touched his lips, and tucked away again. Then another kiss let it slide in and against Vin’s tongue. Their mouths closed, sealed, locked on, and Garrett’s tongue slid and touched and engaged Vin’s until they were struggling, fighting for more.
“Fuck!” Vin said when he pulled back. He tried desperately to catch his breath, breath Garrett had stolen, and retracted his hand from Garrett’s hip, his other from his shoulder. He stepped back. Awkward. Awkward.
“Um,” he tried a moment later, “I should... it’s late and-and tomorrow we’ve got stuff to do, so-”
“Yeah,” Garrett muttered, he discreetly wiped his lips, touched them with his fingers, only Vin’s attention being right fucking there was locked on. Garrett’s fingers touching Garrett’s lips. Shit. Shit, what the hell were they doing? “Yeah, ok. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Only an hour later, Vin couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t even lie still. He kept touching his mouth and wishing it didn’t turn him on to think of Garrett kissing him.
And an hour after that, he was standing, hesitantly outside of Garrett’s door, wishing he had the guts to knock. Instead he just turned the handle, opened the door just enough to see the streetlight from the window sprawled across Garrett’s bed, across Garrett, and his open eyes.
Vin swallowed when he turned to look at the door, but he stepped in his room anyway. Garrett shifted on his bed, moved away toward the window, and he pulled back the covers so Vin could get in.
Garrett wasn’t wearing a shirt. He was only in his boxers; that was all he wore to bed. Vin slid under the sheets and could feel the warmth of Garrett’s body, the heat of his skin because the bed was small, and Garrett touched him as soon as he was lying next to him. Vin tried not to think too hard, but he rolled onto his side, and then he kissed him.
Garrett’s tongue slid into his mouth, their lips locked, and it was a fucking hell of a kiss. Vin couldn’t get over the slide of Garrett’s tongue, the feel of his teeth behind his lips, pressing hard into Vin because he wanted this, and Garrett wanted this, and it felt like they were too far apart, still.
Garrett touched his stomach. Vin was wearing a t-shirt because that was what he wore to bed, a t-shirt and boxers, so he slid his hand under the fabric and touched his stomach for real. It felt really good to Vin, and he didn’t complain when Garrett pulled away to help him take it off.
It occurred to him when Garrett eased him onto his back so he could lick and suck down Vin’s torso that he must not have been one to ever see Vin as just a kid. This would be really wrong otherwise.
Vin clutched him, though, one hand on his shoulder and the other trapped beneath him, touching Garrett’s stomach because that happened to be where their skin connected. Garrett’s erection strained against Vin’s leg, and I made him hard just to think about it.
Then Garrett stuck his tongue in Vin’s bellybutton. “Oh God!”
Boxers the fuck off, kissing again, because kissing, that felt really fucking good. Vin loved Garrett’s mouth, his very nice lips, sharp teeth, smooth tongue. He wanted to kiss and kiss and kiss and not stop kissing. Not ever. But he could feel Garrett’s curiosity, his clever hands searching down, down, down his torso, on his naked hip. Vin’s were trapped with nerves on his stomach, but Garrett’s were waiting. They were waiting for Vin to make a move because as soon as he did, he could have his prize. He wouldn’t have to worry that he would change his mind about this whole idea. So Vin yelled at his fingers, and his nerves, at his inexperience, and he told himself that if he wanted to touch Garrett’s cock, take a hold of it, make the other boy moan, if he wanted that, then he had to fucking do it because the ball was in his court and his partner was waiting.
Garrett sighed, breathed against Vin’s face because his mouth was preoccupied. He shifted his hips a little, Vin assumed because he needed to move, needed to solidify his position in his mind, to remember anything but the way this felt. He figured so because that was the way he felt right now, like he wasn’t sure this was really real.
Garrett touched him, next, wrapped each finger slowly around him, thumb brushing his head, and his kisses got more intense. Vin’s breath was sufficiently stolen. He pumped Garrett, eager to hear the little moans, little sighs that his friend made when Vin did something right.
Garrett tried to break the kiss, he locked his lips to Vin’s neck, he sucked and bit until he knew, he just knew that tomorrow there would be marks everywhere. Vin liked it. It felt good, but he wanted Garrett’s tongue in his mouth. He loved that. Soft lips pressing together, sliding across each other’s, feeling tongues, feeling teeth. He wanted that. With his free hand he pulled Garrett’s head up again, and he kissed him. This time, though, he kissed him like he wanted to be kissed. He thrust his own tongue past the boundary of teeth and lips and blocking tongue and said silently, 'Own my mouth. Make it yours.' And that was what he did to Garrett.
Garrett seemed to like that. He moaned around Vin’s tongue, he squeezed a little harder against Vin’s cock, and his breathing, it pretty much doubled in speed.
Then Garrett was kissing harder, more urgently. He bit Vin’s lip, sucked his tongue between his lips, and made him feel light headed. He felt like coming. He was definitely getting there.
With a swipe of his thumb, Vin knew Garrett was feeling it, too. They were leaking, they were throbbing, they were ready to fucking go. Vin wanted to explode, but not yet. Not yet. He wanted to hold onto this feeling. He wanted the taste of Garrett’s lips and the feel of his hand on his dick. He didn’t want it to stop.
“Oh, shit, Vinnie!” Garrett blurted between kisses. Vin moaned, probably the headiest, longest, fullest moan he’d ever offered anyone. Garrett kissed him again, and it was just like that. Tongue sliding past lips, into mouth, against tongue and teeth, scraping, sliding, battling, and then he was sucking, too, sucking Garrett’s tongue. Garrett grunted, moaned and jerked a little bit, and Vin felt him come on his hand, felt it squirt forward, splash against him a bit. And the building, burning, so-close, almost-there feeling that was growing in his abdomen finally released, and then he grunted, too, with his orgasm.
Garrett let him go, and he let Garrett go, and they breathed hard, kissing still, although lazily. Garrett’s lips pressed and smudged against Vin’s. His tongue lazily swiped here and there. They were mostly just relaxed, just kissing because it still felt good, and forget cleaning up; Vin just wanted to lie here.
Garrett had tissues beside the bed, he helped get rid of the mess they’d made. When it was safe to do so, Vin turned onto his stomach, draped an arm over Garrett’s chest, and they kissed once before they were both asleep.
In the morning, the buzzer buzzed, but Vin was so unconscious that he didn’t hear Garrett get out of bed or notice Jesse and Brian’s voices in their living room. When Garrett came back into the room to shake him awake, it was then that he heard Brian shout, “Where the hell is he? His room’s empty.” And a second later when Jesse came into Garrett’s room because he didn’t understand the concept of privacy sometimes, the jig was up, so to speak.
Vin rolled onto his back, shifted into a sitting position amidst Jesse’s confused, “What the fuck”s and Brian’s demands of “Where’s Vin?” echoing through the apartment. Garrett pulled on a shirt and passed Vin his underwear as Jesse’s scrutiny bore on and Brian became aware of the party in the next room.
“Holy fuck!” Brian cried on entry.
“Did you guys sleep together last night?”
“Did you guys fucking sleep together last night?!”
Garrett touched Vin’s back for his attention. “At least you don’t have to worry they’ll think you’re just a kid after this,” he commented optimistically.
Vin smiled a little, and Garrett kissed him.
“Oh my god!”
“Jesus guys!”
“Ew, tongue! I have to go!” Oh Brian, sometimes such a girl.
Vin grabbed the back of Garrett’s head before he could decide that that was quite enough. Garrett smiled against Vin’s lips and let Vin try his hand at the kiss formally known as French.
“Okay, I’ll see you when you’re a little better equipped for company,” Jesse closed the door behind himself, and the lovers decided not to get disentangled from each other quite yet.