feel so much and feel nothing at all (Star Trek RPF Fanfic)
Title: feel so much and feel nothing at all
Author: therumjournals
Fandom: Star Trek RPF
Pairings: Chris/Zach, Chris/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,750
Summary: It’s not like it’s cheating. I mean…it’s just us.
A/N: Now with het! This is the third and final installment of the Gay Club AU that I started last year:
i got soul, i'm so wasted.
1: i could use another round, so i could really get on down
2: you wanna go to a party tonight
Warning: het
“Zach, where the fuck are you?” Chris yelled, pressing the phone to his ear as he shoved his way through the crowded club. “What? What? I can’t hear you, hold on!”
Becky dragged him over to a door, and they stumbled into the stairwell to escape the noise of the club. A couple making out in the corner gave them a dirty look, but Becky ignored them, leaning against the wall as she listened to Chris’s side of the call.
“Where are you? I thought you were going to be here like an hour ago. What?! Are you serious? Fucking hell, Zach. Wait, did you say Alec? Are you fucking kidding me? You told me you didn’t even talk to him- fine, whatever. You know what, why don’t you wait until you’re actually over him to call me back. Whatever, I don’t care, you know I am actually capable of having fun without you.” Becky gave him a sympathetic look as he shot a final insult at Zach and ended the call.
“He’s not coming?”
Chris shook his head angrily, jamming the phone in his pocket as he pushed out the door and back into the club. Becky put a hand on his arm and leaned close so he could hear her over the blasting techno beat. “You want to get out of here?”
“Fuck no. I want to get shit-faced and tear up the dance floor.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, Bex,” Chris said, flashing her a wicked smile. “Don’t you want to dance?”
*
The bass pounded through their veins, pulsed up through the soles of their feet. They were wrapped around each other in the middle of the dance floor, the length of their bodies pressed together, faces close, temples glistening with sweat.
Becky had a hand on the back of Chris’s neck, the other roaming over his ass as they ground against each other. Chris licked his lips and spread his palm against her lower back to pull her closer. His eyes were hooded, and she knew they were both so drunk that if they weren’t clinging to each other like this, it’s unlikely either of them would still be standing. Still, that didn’t mean she wasn’t planning to enjoy it while it lasted.
She rolled her hips and heard Chris hiss and stutter, “F-fuck,” just before she felt the telltale bulge in his jeans where he was pressed up tight against her. Heat bloomed beneath her skin and throbbed between her legs, and she hid her face in the crook of Chris’s neck as they danced. Chris’s lips brushed her hair - they were in dangerous territory now, familiar and forbidden at the same time, and flattering above it all. Her heart ached, and she clung a little tighter, tried to memorize the shift of Chris’s muscles beneath her palms.
She turned her head, letting her lips brush against Chris’s jaw. She could feel his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, could see the slight indent his teeth had left in his lower lip. His voice was rough and earnest in her ear. “Wanna get out of here?”
She managed a nod, and he slid their hands together, led her across the club, down the stairs and outside into the cool night air. They didn’t talk, didn’t dare look at each other as Chris raised his hand to hail a cab. A taxi cut across two lanes of traffic to screech to a stop in front of them. Chris pulled the door open and Becky climbed inside, sliding across the worn leather seats. Chris slammed the door shut and gave the cabbie his address. Then he reached for Becky and crushed their mouths together in a desperate kiss.
It took her a few seconds to get her bearings. She was drunk, and it had been a long time since she and Chris had kissed like this. But they found their rhythm quickly, lips moving against each other, tongues darting out for brief, illicit touches. Becky could taste the rum on Chris’s breath, could feel it rushing in her own veins. She knew it was making them reckless, making them take what they wanted from each other, and she didn’t care. Their teeth clacked together as the cab jostled over a pothole, and their only reaction was to deepen the kiss.
“Shit, Bex,” Chris groaned. His fingers dug into her hip as he tugged her closer. “Want you so bad.”
Becky smiled against his lips. “Yeah, right.”
“’m serious,” he murmured against her jaw. “Missed this.”
Her eyes fluttered shut, smile slipping away as she pressed another lingering kiss to his lips. “Me, too.”
She was working at his fly when the cab slowed to a stop outside of Chris’s apartment building, and she grumbled a protest as he removed her hand and reached across her to open the door. He thrust a stupid amount of money into the driver’s hand, and they managed to make it across the lobby with only a minimum of wobbling and cursing.
Chris didn’t even bother to switch on the lights in his apartment, just tugged Becky back to his bedroom. She fell gratefully onto the bed, rolling onto her back to look up at him.
“We should drink some water,” Chris mumbled, climbing onto the mattress beside her.
“Yeah.”
“We’re really drunk.”
“Mm-hmm,” she murmured, and pulled him down on top of her.
He went willingly, catching her mouth in a sloppy kiss before shifting back just enough to let her get to work on his jeans again. She wrestled with the button and zipper and made a triumphant sound when Chris was finally able to shove them down around his hips.
They rolled around on the bed together, kissing and grappling until Chris got his pants all the way off and Becky had slipped her shirt off over her head. Chris fumbled with her bra strap and by some stroke of luck actually managed to unfasten it. He pressed his face between her breasts and mumbled something that sounded like “motorboat.”
She yanked him up by the hair before he could start drooling on her boobs, tipped her head to let him kiss wetly at her neck and ear instead. He was stretched out over her, and she reached down to grab a handful of his ass, basking in the feel of his body covering hers. The press of his erection against her thigh would have been painful if it weren’t so hot, the way he was grinding down on her, short quick thrusts of his hips, grunted sounds of pleasure spilling from his lips, “Shit, unh, shit, feels so-“
He slid a hand up under her skirt, brushing his knuckles over the damp cotton of her panties, pressed his thumb against the fabric covering her clit. She hissed and bucked her hips, moved her hand to wrap her fingers around his cock where it strained against his boxer-briefs.
“Shit, yeah.”
She tugged at him, a few short, clumsy strokes, and was sliding her fingers beneath his waistband when she was startled by a momentary sense of responsibility. She pulled her hand away, lifted her head to catch his eye. “You sure this is okay?” she whispered.
“Shut up,” he grunted, pawing at her underwear. “Take these off.” She scrambled to comply, shedding the last vestiges of guilt with the rest of her clothes, seeking out Chris’s lips again and gasping into his mouth as he pressed two fingers into her.
He caught her lower lip between his teeth, released it to murmur against her cheek, “That feel good?”
Her answer was a quiet laugh, a nod against his temple as he slid his fingers out to rub her clit. She reached for him again, remembering to squeeze and stroke just a little harder than she thought she should. He was so fucking hard, and the feel of his length in her fist, the slickness seeping from the slit beneath her thumb, had her bucking up beneath him, wanting more.
She knew she wasn’t going to get it.
They were both panting now, hair damp with sweat and falling in their eyes. They pressed their foreheads together, kissing forgotten as they focused on touching each other, seeing how close they could get to the edge before-
She whimpered as Chris gave her one last swipe with the pads of his fingertips and pulled his hand away. His sticky fingers tangled with hers on his dick, and he guided her hand, a little harder, twisting just beneath the head. She got the message and pulled her hand away, clutched at his side and arched her back. He pressed the tip of his cock against her clit and jerked himself hard. It felt good, the vibrations sending a bolt of pleasure through her, tingling in her extremities and pulsing hotly in her cunt. But Chris knew it wasn’t enough, and after a few seconds he pulled away, rolling onto his side and murmuring, “You do it.”
She didn’t hesitate, sliding a hand between her legs, fingers following a familiar pattern as she hooked an ankle over Chris’s legs to keep him close. The air between them was warm, humid, heavy with the smell of rum and sweat. Chris dropped hurried kisses against Becky’s lips, pumping at his cock until they both shook with the motion. Becky heard the hitch in his breath, and she quickened her pace, squeezed her eyes shut as a wave of sensation shuddered through her, curling her toes. Beside her, Chris rolled onto his back, a second before his body went still with his own release. Becky suppressed a twinge of disappointment and let the last throes of her climax wash through her, sweeping away any thoughts more complicated than whether she should pull the covers up before they fell asleep.
After a few minutes, Chris made the decision for her, sitting up just enough to pull his boxers back on and slide the sheet up over their waists. He curled an arm around Becky’s shoulders, and she scooted close, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he stared up at the ceiling.
“I’m gonna feel like shit tomorrow, aren’t I?” Chris asked with a short laugh.
She hummed noncommittally.
“I just…fuck. I’m so pissed at Zach, I just don’t get it…” He glanced down at her. “This weekend is our two-month anniversary.”
Becky groaned into his chest. “Chris. You are so gay.”
“I’m sorry! I know, I know, I just…it’s stupid, I know. Ugh. Maybe I did something to scare him off? Maybe he sees this as a fling?”
Becky propped her head up to look at him in the moonlight. “I thought you guys had the talk.”
“We did! I thought we did, at least. I don’t know. God, I am still so drunk.”
“Go to sleep.”
“Yeah. Good plan.”
Chris tangled their legs together and tipped his head down to press a quick kiss to her lips before he passed out.
*
Becky awoke to Chris’s phone buzzing annoyingly somewhere in the vicinity of her feet. She sat up groggily and pulled the phone out of Chris’s discarded jeans.
“Well, hello,” she said, cringing at the sour sting in the back of her throat.
“Becky?”
“Uh huh.”
“It’s Zach. Do you have any idea where Chris is?”
“Um.” Becky squinted at Chris’s sleeping form beside her, then double checked to make sure they were in his room. “In his bed?”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure. I’m sitting right next to him.”
“Jesus, how passed out are you two, I’ve been knocking on the door for like 30 minutes!”
Becky heard a loud knock on the door. “Oh. Sorry.” She grimaced as a throbbing pain started up in her temples. “We got really trashed last night. Hold on a sec.” She hung up the phone and rolled off the bed, struggled into a pair of Chris’s sweats and a t-shirt before she stumbled through the living room to open the door. Zach was standing in the hall with his arms crossed, scowling at her. She raised an eyebrow as she took in his grey hoodie and yoga pants.
“Wow,” she said.
“I know, I know. I never leave the house dressed like this. Don’t tell anyone,” he said, pushing past her into the apartment and heading towards Chris’s room.
“Zach, what are you doing here?” she called after him, following. “I think Chris is kinda pissed…”
“I know,” Zach said, sitting down on the bed next to Chris and giving his shoulders a light shake. “Hey, wake up, drunky.”
Chris rolled over a little, cracked an eye open, groaned and turned to bury his face in his pillow. Zach stretched himself out along the bed next to Chris, and Becky sat down across from him.
“Chris,” Zach said, poking him a little harder in the chest.
“Umf. The fuck is he doing here?”
Becky shrugged, and Zach rolled his eyes. “I’m here to tell you why I didn’t come out to the club last night.”
“Because you were fucking Alec?”
“What?!” Zach spluttered. “No! God, I knew you were already drunk last night on the phone. If by fucking Alec, you mean calling a variety of psychiatric institutions and trying to prevent him from jumping out of his fourth story window like he was threatening to, then yes, that’s exactly what I was doing.”
“What?” Chris grunted, squinting as he struggled to understand what Zach was talking about. “Oh. Fuck.”
“Yeah, oh fuck is right, douchebag. His roommate called me, freaking the fuck out, right as I was getting ready to go meet up with you. I was trying to explain this to you on the phone while you were screaming in my ear about having fun without me,” Zach said patiently.
“I wasn’t screaming,” Chris muttered.
“Fine, yelling, whatever.”
“It was loud.”
“Yes it was. In my ear.” Zach reached for Chris’s hand, meshing their fingers together. “Anyway, listen, I’m really sorry, okay? Chris.” Chris met his eyes grudgingly. “I know you were really excited about going out last night. And I was really looking forward to spending our two-month anniversary together.”
Becky watched the corner of Chris’s mouth quirk up. She rolled her eyes.
Zach ran the tips of his fingers along Chris’s stubbled cheek. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?”
“Zach, I’m sorry I-“
Zach cut him off with a kiss. “Shh. Just please don’t break up with me.”
“Zach, no,” Chris answered earnestly, “I wouldn-“
Zach kissed him again, this time with tongue, parting Chris’s lips and licking deep into his mouth. “Your breath is rank.”
“Sorry.”
Zach went to kiss him again anyway, but Chris shrugged him off, turning his head to glare at Becky.
“Bex?”
“Hmm?” Becky responded nonchalantly. She’d propped herself up on an elbow to take in the view.
“Mind giving us a few minutes?”
“Ugh, really?”
“Yes, really.”
She flopped over and turned to climb off the bed. “You guys suck.”
*
Becky left the muffled sounds of kissing behind her and wandered into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, made a face, and closed it again. In the living room, she plopped down on the couch and turned on the TV, slumping back into the cushions as she changed the channels mindlessly. She knew that she should probably go home, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to leave.
Less than ten minutes had passed when she heard the bedroom door open and close. She looked up from the couch to see Zach ambling into the living room.
“That was quick,” she observed.
“Chris wanted to jump in the shower.”
“Yeah? Why aren’t you in there with him?”
“Um, because you’re here?”
“Oh. I appreciate that.”
“I thought you might,” Zach said, reaching the couch. She gestured for him to sit, and he did, dropping his entire 6-foot-4 frame onto her lap.
“Ooof, get off of me, you bony oaf,” she grunted, sliding her arms around his waist to keep him there.
He tipped his head back onto her shoulder. “I think, by definition, one cannot be bony and an oaf. So which one is it?”
He was neither. He was long and lean and toned, and she couldn’t help but flash back to last night, the feel of Chris’s muscles beneath her hands, bunching and tightening as he’d writhed above her. Fuck, he and Zach made such a hot couple. It wasn’t fair.
She kept her thoughts to herself. “What can I say, Quinto - you defy categorization.”
He shifted a little on her lap and sighed. “Look, Bex, I wanted to apologize to you, too. For last night.”
“Okay. Why?”
“Because Chris is your friend, and you care about him. And because I know you have a tendency to get a little protective when you feel that injustices have been done against him.”
Becky nodded against Zach’s shoulder. “You mean you want to stay on my good side because you know I’ll kill you and cut you into tiny, tiny pieces if you hurt him?”
Zach squirmed uneasily. “Graphic, but yes. That, too.”
“I’ll forgive you this once.”
“Thank you. And thanks for, you know, keeping him entertained.”
“You’re welcome. Not that it took much - I basically just fed him drinks and let him grind up against me on the dance floor.”
“Ah.” An uncomfortable beat of silence passed, and Zach spoke his next words softly into the heavy air. “Should I be jealous?”
Becky hesitated. “No.”
Zach was quiet for a few seconds. “Okay.” Becky could see him staring at the ceiling, could feel him thinking. “It’s just, I know you guys have a history-“
“Zach.”
“Yeah?”
“You have nothing to worry about. Chris is crazy about you. And as you can probably tell by the absence of a boner digging into your ass right now, I don’t have a dick.”
“Maybe I’m just not your type,” Zach suggested helpfully.
Becky gave a pained laugh. “Oh, Zach. You are so, so my type.”
Zach shifted so he could look her in the eye. “It really is too bad that you don’t have a dick.”
“Tell me about it. In great detail.”
Zach gave her a wicked grin. “I’d love to,” he murmured, but his stomach chose that moment to grumble loudly beneath Becky’s arm. “Shit, I’m fucking starving. Can we reschedule this little fantasy for another time if I get up and go get us muffins and coffee?”
“Oh, I suppose.”
“Great.” Zach heaved himself up off the couch. “When Chris gets out of the shower, make him drink a glass of water and take an Advil before he starts whining about his headache like a little bitch.”
Becky grinned. “Will do.”
*
Chris came out of the bedroom a few minutes after Zach left, toweling his hair off as he headed into the kitchen. He was already filling up a glass of water from the faucet when Becky relayed the message. “Hey, Chris! Drink some water and take an Advil before you start whining about your headache like a little bitch!”
Chris swallowed down half the glass and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “Zach tell you to say that?”
“Yup.”
“He’s such an asshole,” Chris muttered under his breath, before finishing the water and shuffling into the living room to drop onto the couch beside Becky.
“Shut up, you love him.”
Chris tipped his head back. “Yeah, I think I do.”
“You do?”
“I don’t know. Yeah, probably.” He lolled his head to the side to look at her. “You okay?”
Becky raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m fine. Are you?”
Chris scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah. I’m alright. I’m good.”
“Good.” Becky watched him for a long second, could see him trying not to fidget beneath her gaze. “Chris. Don’t feel guilty.”
Avoiding eye contact, Chris took her hand, played idly with her fingers. “I don’t.”
“Promise?”
“…maybe a little?”
“Chris…”
Chris met her eyes, squeezed her hand. “I know, I shouldn’t. It’s not like I cheated on him. I mean…it’s just us.”
“Exactly. It has nothing to do with him.”
“I know. And it’s not going to happen again.”
She swallowed, fighting down a sudden ache in her chest. “Yeah.”
Chris gave her a look. “It won’t.”
She nodded slowly, wondering which one of them he was trying to convince. “Okay.”
They sat in silence. Becky was painfully aware that Chris’s hand was still on hers, his thumb rubbing absently across her knuckles. She thought maybe Chris hadn’t even noticed, but then he gave her hand one last squeeze, leaned over to brush a kiss against her temple, and let go.
Zach returned a few minutes later, juggling a paper bag from the bakery and a tray of coffees. Becky stood and helped herself to coffee and a scone while Zach snuggled onto the couch beside Chris. She glanced at them out of the corner of her eye as she picked up her purse from where she’d dropped it the night before.
“Alright, I’m out of here. You guys enjoy yourselves.”
Zach pouted at her. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah. I need to shower, and you guys need to spend all day cuddling on the couch watching crappy TV, drinking wine, and eating Chinese takeout.”
Chris raised an eyebrow and glanced at Zach. “How did she know?”
“I just know these things. Give me some credit - I have celebrated two-month anniversaries before,” she added, as she reached the door.
“Come to brunch with us tomorrow,” Chris called after her.
She paused, surprised at the sudden relief that swept through her, alleviating a fear she hadn’t wanted to name. “I don’t know…”
“Yes!” Zach implored. “Mimosas! Please come!”
She bit back a smile. “Maybe. Call me tomorrow.”
The door clicked shut behind her, and she stood in the hallway for a moment, letting the corners of her mouth creep up. Brunch meant they’d make it to a restaurant by 2:00, drink mimosas for hours, then stumble to the park so Zach could pet strangers’ dogs. They’d have dinner at some hole-in-the-wall ethnic place, and Zach would drag them to a dark, trendy gay bar to drink $19 appletinis. Chris and Zach would struggle to keep their hands off of each other until a fabulous drunk guy came over to pull Becky onto the dance floor.
And how could she say no to that?
the end
Author: therumjournals
Fandom: Star Trek RPF
Pairings: Chris/Zach, Chris/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,750
Summary: It’s not like it’s cheating. I mean…it’s just us.
A/N: Now with het! This is the third and final installment of the Gay Club AU that I started last year:
i got soul, i'm so wasted.
1: i could use another round, so i could really get on down
2: you wanna go to a party tonight
Warning: het
“Zach, where the fuck are you?” Chris yelled, pressing the phone to his ear as he shoved his way through the crowded club. “What? What? I can’t hear you, hold on!”
Becky dragged him over to a door, and they stumbled into the stairwell to escape the noise of the club. A couple making out in the corner gave them a dirty look, but Becky ignored them, leaning against the wall as she listened to Chris’s side of the call.
“Where are you? I thought you were going to be here like an hour ago. What?! Are you serious? Fucking hell, Zach. Wait, did you say Alec? Are you fucking kidding me? You told me you didn’t even talk to him- fine, whatever. You know what, why don’t you wait until you’re actually over him to call me back. Whatever, I don’t care, you know I am actually capable of having fun without you.” Becky gave him a sympathetic look as he shot a final insult at Zach and ended the call.
“He’s not coming?”
Chris shook his head angrily, jamming the phone in his pocket as he pushed out the door and back into the club. Becky put a hand on his arm and leaned close so he could hear her over the blasting techno beat. “You want to get out of here?”
“Fuck no. I want to get shit-faced and tear up the dance floor.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, Bex,” Chris said, flashing her a wicked smile. “Don’t you want to dance?”
*
The bass pounded through their veins, pulsed up through the soles of their feet. They were wrapped around each other in the middle of the dance floor, the length of their bodies pressed together, faces close, temples glistening with sweat.
Becky had a hand on the back of Chris’s neck, the other roaming over his ass as they ground against each other. Chris licked his lips and spread his palm against her lower back to pull her closer. His eyes were hooded, and she knew they were both so drunk that if they weren’t clinging to each other like this, it’s unlikely either of them would still be standing. Still, that didn’t mean she wasn’t planning to enjoy it while it lasted.
She rolled her hips and heard Chris hiss and stutter, “F-fuck,” just before she felt the telltale bulge in his jeans where he was pressed up tight against her. Heat bloomed beneath her skin and throbbed between her legs, and she hid her face in the crook of Chris’s neck as they danced. Chris’s lips brushed her hair - they were in dangerous territory now, familiar and forbidden at the same time, and flattering above it all. Her heart ached, and she clung a little tighter, tried to memorize the shift of Chris’s muscles beneath her palms.
She turned her head, letting her lips brush against Chris’s jaw. She could feel his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, could see the slight indent his teeth had left in his lower lip. His voice was rough and earnest in her ear. “Wanna get out of here?”
She managed a nod, and he slid their hands together, led her across the club, down the stairs and outside into the cool night air. They didn’t talk, didn’t dare look at each other as Chris raised his hand to hail a cab. A taxi cut across two lanes of traffic to screech to a stop in front of them. Chris pulled the door open and Becky climbed inside, sliding across the worn leather seats. Chris slammed the door shut and gave the cabbie his address. Then he reached for Becky and crushed their mouths together in a desperate kiss.
It took her a few seconds to get her bearings. She was drunk, and it had been a long time since she and Chris had kissed like this. But they found their rhythm quickly, lips moving against each other, tongues darting out for brief, illicit touches. Becky could taste the rum on Chris’s breath, could feel it rushing in her own veins. She knew it was making them reckless, making them take what they wanted from each other, and she didn’t care. Their teeth clacked together as the cab jostled over a pothole, and their only reaction was to deepen the kiss.
“Shit, Bex,” Chris groaned. His fingers dug into her hip as he tugged her closer. “Want you so bad.”
Becky smiled against his lips. “Yeah, right.”
“’m serious,” he murmured against her jaw. “Missed this.”
Her eyes fluttered shut, smile slipping away as she pressed another lingering kiss to his lips. “Me, too.”
She was working at his fly when the cab slowed to a stop outside of Chris’s apartment building, and she grumbled a protest as he removed her hand and reached across her to open the door. He thrust a stupid amount of money into the driver’s hand, and they managed to make it across the lobby with only a minimum of wobbling and cursing.
Chris didn’t even bother to switch on the lights in his apartment, just tugged Becky back to his bedroom. She fell gratefully onto the bed, rolling onto her back to look up at him.
“We should drink some water,” Chris mumbled, climbing onto the mattress beside her.
“Yeah.”
“We’re really drunk.”
“Mm-hmm,” she murmured, and pulled him down on top of her.
He went willingly, catching her mouth in a sloppy kiss before shifting back just enough to let her get to work on his jeans again. She wrestled with the button and zipper and made a triumphant sound when Chris was finally able to shove them down around his hips.
They rolled around on the bed together, kissing and grappling until Chris got his pants all the way off and Becky had slipped her shirt off over her head. Chris fumbled with her bra strap and by some stroke of luck actually managed to unfasten it. He pressed his face between her breasts and mumbled something that sounded like “motorboat.”
She yanked him up by the hair before he could start drooling on her boobs, tipped her head to let him kiss wetly at her neck and ear instead. He was stretched out over her, and she reached down to grab a handful of his ass, basking in the feel of his body covering hers. The press of his erection against her thigh would have been painful if it weren’t so hot, the way he was grinding down on her, short quick thrusts of his hips, grunted sounds of pleasure spilling from his lips, “Shit, unh, shit, feels so-“
He slid a hand up under her skirt, brushing his knuckles over the damp cotton of her panties, pressed his thumb against the fabric covering her clit. She hissed and bucked her hips, moved her hand to wrap her fingers around his cock where it strained against his boxer-briefs.
“Shit, yeah.”
She tugged at him, a few short, clumsy strokes, and was sliding her fingers beneath his waistband when she was startled by a momentary sense of responsibility. She pulled her hand away, lifted her head to catch his eye. “You sure this is okay?” she whispered.
“Shut up,” he grunted, pawing at her underwear. “Take these off.” She scrambled to comply, shedding the last vestiges of guilt with the rest of her clothes, seeking out Chris’s lips again and gasping into his mouth as he pressed two fingers into her.
He caught her lower lip between his teeth, released it to murmur against her cheek, “That feel good?”
Her answer was a quiet laugh, a nod against his temple as he slid his fingers out to rub her clit. She reached for him again, remembering to squeeze and stroke just a little harder than she thought she should. He was so fucking hard, and the feel of his length in her fist, the slickness seeping from the slit beneath her thumb, had her bucking up beneath him, wanting more.
She knew she wasn’t going to get it.
They were both panting now, hair damp with sweat and falling in their eyes. They pressed their foreheads together, kissing forgotten as they focused on touching each other, seeing how close they could get to the edge before-
She whimpered as Chris gave her one last swipe with the pads of his fingertips and pulled his hand away. His sticky fingers tangled with hers on his dick, and he guided her hand, a little harder, twisting just beneath the head. She got the message and pulled her hand away, clutched at his side and arched her back. He pressed the tip of his cock against her clit and jerked himself hard. It felt good, the vibrations sending a bolt of pleasure through her, tingling in her extremities and pulsing hotly in her cunt. But Chris knew it wasn’t enough, and after a few seconds he pulled away, rolling onto his side and murmuring, “You do it.”
She didn’t hesitate, sliding a hand between her legs, fingers following a familiar pattern as she hooked an ankle over Chris’s legs to keep him close. The air between them was warm, humid, heavy with the smell of rum and sweat. Chris dropped hurried kisses against Becky’s lips, pumping at his cock until they both shook with the motion. Becky heard the hitch in his breath, and she quickened her pace, squeezed her eyes shut as a wave of sensation shuddered through her, curling her toes. Beside her, Chris rolled onto his back, a second before his body went still with his own release. Becky suppressed a twinge of disappointment and let the last throes of her climax wash through her, sweeping away any thoughts more complicated than whether she should pull the covers up before they fell asleep.
After a few minutes, Chris made the decision for her, sitting up just enough to pull his boxers back on and slide the sheet up over their waists. He curled an arm around Becky’s shoulders, and she scooted close, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he stared up at the ceiling.
“I’m gonna feel like shit tomorrow, aren’t I?” Chris asked with a short laugh.
She hummed noncommittally.
“I just…fuck. I’m so pissed at Zach, I just don’t get it…” He glanced down at her. “This weekend is our two-month anniversary.”
Becky groaned into his chest. “Chris. You are so gay.”
“I’m sorry! I know, I know, I just…it’s stupid, I know. Ugh. Maybe I did something to scare him off? Maybe he sees this as a fling?”
Becky propped her head up to look at him in the moonlight. “I thought you guys had the talk.”
“We did! I thought we did, at least. I don’t know. God, I am still so drunk.”
“Go to sleep.”
“Yeah. Good plan.”
Chris tangled their legs together and tipped his head down to press a quick kiss to her lips before he passed out.
*
Becky awoke to Chris’s phone buzzing annoyingly somewhere in the vicinity of her feet. She sat up groggily and pulled the phone out of Chris’s discarded jeans.
“Well, hello,” she said, cringing at the sour sting in the back of her throat.
“Becky?”
“Uh huh.”
“It’s Zach. Do you have any idea where Chris is?”
“Um.” Becky squinted at Chris’s sleeping form beside her, then double checked to make sure they were in his room. “In his bed?”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure. I’m sitting right next to him.”
“Jesus, how passed out are you two, I’ve been knocking on the door for like 30 minutes!”
Becky heard a loud knock on the door. “Oh. Sorry.” She grimaced as a throbbing pain started up in her temples. “We got really trashed last night. Hold on a sec.” She hung up the phone and rolled off the bed, struggled into a pair of Chris’s sweats and a t-shirt before she stumbled through the living room to open the door. Zach was standing in the hall with his arms crossed, scowling at her. She raised an eyebrow as she took in his grey hoodie and yoga pants.
“Wow,” she said.
“I know, I know. I never leave the house dressed like this. Don’t tell anyone,” he said, pushing past her into the apartment and heading towards Chris’s room.
“Zach, what are you doing here?” she called after him, following. “I think Chris is kinda pissed…”
“I know,” Zach said, sitting down on the bed next to Chris and giving his shoulders a light shake. “Hey, wake up, drunky.”
Chris rolled over a little, cracked an eye open, groaned and turned to bury his face in his pillow. Zach stretched himself out along the bed next to Chris, and Becky sat down across from him.
“Chris,” Zach said, poking him a little harder in the chest.
“Umf. The fuck is he doing here?”
Becky shrugged, and Zach rolled his eyes. “I’m here to tell you why I didn’t come out to the club last night.”
“Because you were fucking Alec?”
“What?!” Zach spluttered. “No! God, I knew you were already drunk last night on the phone. If by fucking Alec, you mean calling a variety of psychiatric institutions and trying to prevent him from jumping out of his fourth story window like he was threatening to, then yes, that’s exactly what I was doing.”
“What?” Chris grunted, squinting as he struggled to understand what Zach was talking about. “Oh. Fuck.”
“Yeah, oh fuck is right, douchebag. His roommate called me, freaking the fuck out, right as I was getting ready to go meet up with you. I was trying to explain this to you on the phone while you were screaming in my ear about having fun without me,” Zach said patiently.
“I wasn’t screaming,” Chris muttered.
“Fine, yelling, whatever.”
“It was loud.”
“Yes it was. In my ear.” Zach reached for Chris’s hand, meshing their fingers together. “Anyway, listen, I’m really sorry, okay? Chris.” Chris met his eyes grudgingly. “I know you were really excited about going out last night. And I was really looking forward to spending our two-month anniversary together.”
Becky watched the corner of Chris’s mouth quirk up. She rolled her eyes.
Zach ran the tips of his fingers along Chris’s stubbled cheek. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?”
“Zach, I’m sorry I-“
Zach cut him off with a kiss. “Shh. Just please don’t break up with me.”
“Zach, no,” Chris answered earnestly, “I wouldn-“
Zach kissed him again, this time with tongue, parting Chris’s lips and licking deep into his mouth. “Your breath is rank.”
“Sorry.”
Zach went to kiss him again anyway, but Chris shrugged him off, turning his head to glare at Becky.
“Bex?”
“Hmm?” Becky responded nonchalantly. She’d propped herself up on an elbow to take in the view.
“Mind giving us a few minutes?”
“Ugh, really?”
“Yes, really.”
She flopped over and turned to climb off the bed. “You guys suck.”
*
Becky left the muffled sounds of kissing behind her and wandered into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, made a face, and closed it again. In the living room, she plopped down on the couch and turned on the TV, slumping back into the cushions as she changed the channels mindlessly. She knew that she should probably go home, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to leave.
Less than ten minutes had passed when she heard the bedroom door open and close. She looked up from the couch to see Zach ambling into the living room.
“That was quick,” she observed.
“Chris wanted to jump in the shower.”
“Yeah? Why aren’t you in there with him?”
“Um, because you’re here?”
“Oh. I appreciate that.”
“I thought you might,” Zach said, reaching the couch. She gestured for him to sit, and he did, dropping his entire 6-foot-4 frame onto her lap.
“Ooof, get off of me, you bony oaf,” she grunted, sliding her arms around his waist to keep him there.
He tipped his head back onto her shoulder. “I think, by definition, one cannot be bony and an oaf. So which one is it?”
He was neither. He was long and lean and toned, and she couldn’t help but flash back to last night, the feel of Chris’s muscles beneath her hands, bunching and tightening as he’d writhed above her. Fuck, he and Zach made such a hot couple. It wasn’t fair.
She kept her thoughts to herself. “What can I say, Quinto - you defy categorization.”
He shifted a little on her lap and sighed. “Look, Bex, I wanted to apologize to you, too. For last night.”
“Okay. Why?”
“Because Chris is your friend, and you care about him. And because I know you have a tendency to get a little protective when you feel that injustices have been done against him.”
Becky nodded against Zach’s shoulder. “You mean you want to stay on my good side because you know I’ll kill you and cut you into tiny, tiny pieces if you hurt him?”
Zach squirmed uneasily. “Graphic, but yes. That, too.”
“I’ll forgive you this once.”
“Thank you. And thanks for, you know, keeping him entertained.”
“You’re welcome. Not that it took much - I basically just fed him drinks and let him grind up against me on the dance floor.”
“Ah.” An uncomfortable beat of silence passed, and Zach spoke his next words softly into the heavy air. “Should I be jealous?”
Becky hesitated. “No.”
Zach was quiet for a few seconds. “Okay.” Becky could see him staring at the ceiling, could feel him thinking. “It’s just, I know you guys have a history-“
“Zach.”
“Yeah?”
“You have nothing to worry about. Chris is crazy about you. And as you can probably tell by the absence of a boner digging into your ass right now, I don’t have a dick.”
“Maybe I’m just not your type,” Zach suggested helpfully.
Becky gave a pained laugh. “Oh, Zach. You are so, so my type.”
Zach shifted so he could look her in the eye. “It really is too bad that you don’t have a dick.”
“Tell me about it. In great detail.”
Zach gave her a wicked grin. “I’d love to,” he murmured, but his stomach chose that moment to grumble loudly beneath Becky’s arm. “Shit, I’m fucking starving. Can we reschedule this little fantasy for another time if I get up and go get us muffins and coffee?”
“Oh, I suppose.”
“Great.” Zach heaved himself up off the couch. “When Chris gets out of the shower, make him drink a glass of water and take an Advil before he starts whining about his headache like a little bitch.”
Becky grinned. “Will do.”
*
Chris came out of the bedroom a few minutes after Zach left, toweling his hair off as he headed into the kitchen. He was already filling up a glass of water from the faucet when Becky relayed the message. “Hey, Chris! Drink some water and take an Advil before you start whining about your headache like a little bitch!”
Chris swallowed down half the glass and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “Zach tell you to say that?”
“Yup.”
“He’s such an asshole,” Chris muttered under his breath, before finishing the water and shuffling into the living room to drop onto the couch beside Becky.
“Shut up, you love him.”
Chris tipped his head back. “Yeah, I think I do.”
“You do?”
“I don’t know. Yeah, probably.” He lolled his head to the side to look at her. “You okay?”
Becky raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m fine. Are you?”
Chris scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah. I’m alright. I’m good.”
“Good.” Becky watched him for a long second, could see him trying not to fidget beneath her gaze. “Chris. Don’t feel guilty.”
Avoiding eye contact, Chris took her hand, played idly with her fingers. “I don’t.”
“Promise?”
“…maybe a little?”
“Chris…”
Chris met her eyes, squeezed her hand. “I know, I shouldn’t. It’s not like I cheated on him. I mean…it’s just us.”
“Exactly. It has nothing to do with him.”
“I know. And it’s not going to happen again.”
She swallowed, fighting down a sudden ache in her chest. “Yeah.”
Chris gave her a look. “It won’t.”
She nodded slowly, wondering which one of them he was trying to convince. “Okay.”
They sat in silence. Becky was painfully aware that Chris’s hand was still on hers, his thumb rubbing absently across her knuckles. She thought maybe Chris hadn’t even noticed, but then he gave her hand one last squeeze, leaned over to brush a kiss against her temple, and let go.
Zach returned a few minutes later, juggling a paper bag from the bakery and a tray of coffees. Becky stood and helped herself to coffee and a scone while Zach snuggled onto the couch beside Chris. She glanced at them out of the corner of her eye as she picked up her purse from where she’d dropped it the night before.
“Alright, I’m out of here. You guys enjoy yourselves.”
Zach pouted at her. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah. I need to shower, and you guys need to spend all day cuddling on the couch watching crappy TV, drinking wine, and eating Chinese takeout.”
Chris raised an eyebrow and glanced at Zach. “How did she know?”
“I just know these things. Give me some credit - I have celebrated two-month anniversaries before,” she added, as she reached the door.
“Come to brunch with us tomorrow,” Chris called after her.
She paused, surprised at the sudden relief that swept through her, alleviating a fear she hadn’t wanted to name. “I don’t know…”
“Yes!” Zach implored. “Mimosas! Please come!”
She bit back a smile. “Maybe. Call me tomorrow.”
The door clicked shut behind her, and she stood in the hallway for a moment, letting the corners of her mouth creep up. Brunch meant they’d make it to a restaurant by 2:00, drink mimosas for hours, then stumble to the park so Zach could pet strangers’ dogs. They’d have dinner at some hole-in-the-wall ethnic place, and Zach would drag them to a dark, trendy gay bar to drink $19 appletinis. Chris and Zach would struggle to keep their hands off of each other until a fabulous drunk guy came over to pull Becky onto the dance floor.
And how could she say no to that?
the end