nash and daniel, the first time (senior year)
i shall blame storm coming on (especially part 4) by winterlive whichispadacklesrpsohtheshameseemehangmyhead. damn you, wren. >.<
there's smut, possibly some schmoop, and me attempting to fit two random bits and one complete (if very short) story into a single whole. it kind of drops you into the middle but i don't have the beginning, so.
Daniel does not understand on the face of things how this has happened. If he looks at it closely, knowing what he does about Nash McGowan, he thinks he understands why, but as to how...? How did he end up on his back on his mattress, blankets pushed to the foot of the bed, Nash naked and kneeling between his thighs, unrolling a condom down over his prick? Daniel is still wearing the shirt he sleeps in, but his pajama bottoms are on the floor, in a cotton puddle with Nash's sleep pants and long-sleeve t-shirt. How did this happen?
"Stop," he says, whispers. "Just... stop."
"Why?" Nash whispers back.
"What are we doing?"
"You're about to freak out, and I'm deflating."
"No. I mean... you don't fuck your friends."
"I don't."
"So what are you doing?"
"I'm about to fuck one of my friends."
"Nash...."
"Shh. Daniel, sh." Nash reaches out and lays his palm against Daniel's cheek. It's a strange, gentle movement, unexpected and appropriate at the same time. "Do you still want to?"
"I don't know. Yes. I think. I can't - "
Nash sits back, strokes himself absently. Daniel tries very hard to keep his eyes on Nash's face and not his hand.
"Kiss me," he says, surprising himself, his voice small and nervous.
It seems like the right thing to say, and it must be because Nash leans down and brushes his lips over Daniel's, a light, chaste kiss.
"Relax, McKenna. Just... let me do this, ok?"
Daniel takes a deep breath. He watches Nash watch him. He watches Nash wait for him.
"Ok," he says. "Ok."
And Nash smiles at him, and lifts Daniel's hips, and he tells Daniel to relax, and he slowly pushes himself in.
Daniel sucks air. He makes a noise, a small, strange noise, something like pain and something like surprise and something that might sound like Oh Jesus, that feels good, if it was enough of a noise for words.
"Daniel," Nash says quietly.
"Nash."
"Are you ok?"
"Yes. Aren't you supposed to... move?" And Nash grins down at him and slowly, oh god so slowly, he starts to move.
Daniel bites his lip, afraid to make a sound, afraid to speak because he's afraid of what he might say, afraid he might forget there are other people in the house and moan out loud and wake them up or bring them running.
"Oh... fuck, Daniel," Nash says, a little breathless, "fucking hell...."
"What? What?"
"Nothing. You feel so good." His eyes are half-closed, his mouth half-open. He starts to move a little faster, thrust a little deeper, and Daniel bites hard on his lower lip because this is nothing he's ever felt, nothing he understands, he's lost, he's so lost, he's somewhere he knows with someone he knows but he's missing something....
Nash doesn't fuck his friends. He loves them instead.
And yet. And yet.
"Ok?" he pants, and Daniel nods.
"Yes...."
"Good. So good... so... Christ, Daniel, say something...."
"I don't... faster. Faster."
Nash has both hands flat on the bed, either side of Daniel's shoulders, and Daniel can almost see the tension in his arms, his chest, his neck. Jesus Christ, he's beautiful, and for not the first time, Daniel falls in love, falls hard and fast and deep, as Nash is now fucking him harder, faster, the bed shaking a little, and Daniel can't help the breathless moan that escapes his lips - Uhnn - and he reaches out almost blindly, his hand closing around his own cock and starting to pull.
"Can't wait," Nash gasps, "Daniel... Daniel...."
Daniel has never heard anything like that in his life, the way Nash says his name.
His back arches and he can feel every nerve ending in his body and he is suddenly, terrifyingly aware of Nash's cock, the long hot length pounding into him, plunging deep, hitting spots inside his body that he didn't know existed, that cock and those hips driving it hard, Nash's face all concentration and need and no little desire, and then Daniel is gasping for air and shooting between his fingers and he has lost control and Oh god, oh god, that's amazing, do that again....
He is only dimly aware of Nash's hips jerking gracelessly, Nash groaning softly, and then it's over, it's all over, and Nash collapses on top of him and for a minute there is only the sound of the two of them catching their breath and the weight of Nash lying on Daniel's chest.
Did that take even five minutes? Seven? Three? Forever, and no time at all. Daniel is exhausted, and he doesn't feel as if he's actually done any of the work.
"Fuck," Nash breathes, eventually. "Fuck." He lifts his head, grins, and then reaches up to brush the hair off Daniel's face. "Was it good for you too?" His fingers are callused and gentle. Daniel closes his eyes. "Are you ok?"
"No. Yes. I don't know."
"Daniel?"
Daniel opens his eyes. Nash is still beautiful. He looks the same, but things don't feel the same.
"I'm ok. That was.... I don't know. Good. Weird."
"'Weird.'"
"Weird. Not bad, I mean it feels good, it's... well...."
"You came," Nash finishes, his grin widening.
"Well, yeah. So did you."
"I always do." Nash pats his cheek, slides out, and climbs off the bed. "Don't move. I'll be right back." And he leaves, presumably to throw out the condom and maybe wash his face and sponge himself down, which is what Daniel wants to do right now. He's sticky and sweaty and he can't stop thinking and he is worried now that something fundamental has changed. He can feel a seismic shift somewhere, a shuffling of the places he occupies in Nash's mind. He doesn't know what to do, so he does normal, average things, things he doesn't have to concentrate on - puts his pajama bottoms back on, changes his shirt, tries to rearrange his bed.
He's wide awake when Nash gets back. Nash sweeps his clothes up off the floor and pulls them on and sits on the edge of the mattress.
"Are you sure you're ok?" he asks. "I don't think I've ever gotten such uncertainty before. I usually get 'You were incredible, I screamed like a banshee, will you do that to me again, preferably right this second.'"
Did you say their names the way you said mine? Daniel wonders suddenly. Did you make that face for the last girl you slept with? He can't ask that. But he wants to.
"I'm ok," he repeats. "You were incredible, sorry I didn't scream like a banshee, will you do it to me again, just not right this second."
"Now you're teasing me." But Nash grins, and pats Daniel's cheek again. "Do you want me to stay?"
"We don't both fit in my bed."
"Ok." Nash stands up, and Daniel must look disappointed, because he adds "You know better than anyone that you are always welcome, and I will let you sleep. Nothing has changed, Daniel."
But Daniel knows that's a lie. If nothing had changed, Nash wouldn't have kissed him on the mouth and knelt between his thighs and touched his face and fucked him.
Nash leaves again, this time headed for his own room, and Daniel lies down and pulls the blankets over his head and tries to shut up his brain long enough to fall asleep. He can't think about this. He doesn't know how to think about it.
But he can't sleep either.
After about ten minutes he rolls out of bed, pads into the hallway, pauses in front of Nash's door, and goes in. Nash is considerately sprawled across only half his bed, and Daniel thinks he might actually be asleep until he rolls over, sees Daniel, and yawns.
"I'm not surprised," he says, tiredly patting the mattress. "Come on in, the bed's warm."
Daniel crawls under the blankets, and Nash yawns again and closes his eyes and Daniel wonders how many times they've done this, and how often has he lain here and wanted to reach out and touch Nash on the arm, on the face, how often has he actively wanted Nash to want him, and has he ever thought about what might happen if Nash did....
"Daniel."
"What?"
"Stop thinking."
"I'm not thinking."
"You're awake."
"Maybe I'm not tired."
"You're thinking. Go to sleep."
"I'm not.... Ok. Fine."
Nash's arm snakes out from under the covers and pats him on the head.
"Go to sleep, McKenna."
"Yes mom."
And maybe because this is something he does know - the two of them side by side, close enough to touch but each keeping to his own space, close enough for comfort but not so close as to be awkward - because this is familiar and easy and simple, he relaxes enough to fall asleep.
there's smut, possibly some schmoop, and me attempting to fit two random bits and one complete (if very short) story into a single whole. it kind of drops you into the middle but i don't have the beginning, so.
Daniel does not understand on the face of things how this has happened. If he looks at it closely, knowing what he does about Nash McGowan, he thinks he understands why, but as to how...? How did he end up on his back on his mattress, blankets pushed to the foot of the bed, Nash naked and kneeling between his thighs, unrolling a condom down over his prick? Daniel is still wearing the shirt he sleeps in, but his pajama bottoms are on the floor, in a cotton puddle with Nash's sleep pants and long-sleeve t-shirt. How did this happen?
"Stop," he says, whispers. "Just... stop."
"Why?" Nash whispers back.
"What are we doing?"
"You're about to freak out, and I'm deflating."
"No. I mean... you don't fuck your friends."
"I don't."
"So what are you doing?"
"I'm about to fuck one of my friends."
"Nash...."
"Shh. Daniel, sh." Nash reaches out and lays his palm against Daniel's cheek. It's a strange, gentle movement, unexpected and appropriate at the same time. "Do you still want to?"
"I don't know. Yes. I think. I can't - "
Nash sits back, strokes himself absently. Daniel tries very hard to keep his eyes on Nash's face and not his hand.
"Kiss me," he says, surprising himself, his voice small and nervous.
It seems like the right thing to say, and it must be because Nash leans down and brushes his lips over Daniel's, a light, chaste kiss.
"Relax, McKenna. Just... let me do this, ok?"
Daniel takes a deep breath. He watches Nash watch him. He watches Nash wait for him.
"Ok," he says. "Ok."
And Nash smiles at him, and lifts Daniel's hips, and he tells Daniel to relax, and he slowly pushes himself in.
Daniel sucks air. He makes a noise, a small, strange noise, something like pain and something like surprise and something that might sound like Oh Jesus, that feels good, if it was enough of a noise for words.
"Daniel," Nash says quietly.
"Nash."
"Are you ok?"
"Yes. Aren't you supposed to... move?" And Nash grins down at him and slowly, oh god so slowly, he starts to move.
Daniel bites his lip, afraid to make a sound, afraid to speak because he's afraid of what he might say, afraid he might forget there are other people in the house and moan out loud and wake them up or bring them running.
"Oh... fuck, Daniel," Nash says, a little breathless, "fucking hell...."
"What? What?"
"Nothing. You feel so good." His eyes are half-closed, his mouth half-open. He starts to move a little faster, thrust a little deeper, and Daniel bites hard on his lower lip because this is nothing he's ever felt, nothing he understands, he's lost, he's so lost, he's somewhere he knows with someone he knows but he's missing something....
Nash doesn't fuck his friends. He loves them instead.
And yet. And yet.
"Ok?" he pants, and Daniel nods.
"Yes...."
"Good. So good... so... Christ, Daniel, say something...."
"I don't... faster. Faster."
Nash has both hands flat on the bed, either side of Daniel's shoulders, and Daniel can almost see the tension in his arms, his chest, his neck. Jesus Christ, he's beautiful, and for not the first time, Daniel falls in love, falls hard and fast and deep, as Nash is now fucking him harder, faster, the bed shaking a little, and Daniel can't help the breathless moan that escapes his lips - Uhnn - and he reaches out almost blindly, his hand closing around his own cock and starting to pull.
"Can't wait," Nash gasps, "Daniel... Daniel...."
Daniel has never heard anything like that in his life, the way Nash says his name.
His back arches and he can feel every nerve ending in his body and he is suddenly, terrifyingly aware of Nash's cock, the long hot length pounding into him, plunging deep, hitting spots inside his body that he didn't know existed, that cock and those hips driving it hard, Nash's face all concentration and need and no little desire, and then Daniel is gasping for air and shooting between his fingers and he has lost control and Oh god, oh god, that's amazing, do that again....
He is only dimly aware of Nash's hips jerking gracelessly, Nash groaning softly, and then it's over, it's all over, and Nash collapses on top of him and for a minute there is only the sound of the two of them catching their breath and the weight of Nash lying on Daniel's chest.
Did that take even five minutes? Seven? Three? Forever, and no time at all. Daniel is exhausted, and he doesn't feel as if he's actually done any of the work.
"Fuck," Nash breathes, eventually. "Fuck." He lifts his head, grins, and then reaches up to brush the hair off Daniel's face. "Was it good for you too?" His fingers are callused and gentle. Daniel closes his eyes. "Are you ok?"
"No. Yes. I don't know."
"Daniel?"
Daniel opens his eyes. Nash is still beautiful. He looks the same, but things don't feel the same.
"I'm ok. That was.... I don't know. Good. Weird."
"'Weird.'"
"Weird. Not bad, I mean it feels good, it's... well...."
"You came," Nash finishes, his grin widening.
"Well, yeah. So did you."
"I always do." Nash pats his cheek, slides out, and climbs off the bed. "Don't move. I'll be right back." And he leaves, presumably to throw out the condom and maybe wash his face and sponge himself down, which is what Daniel wants to do right now. He's sticky and sweaty and he can't stop thinking and he is worried now that something fundamental has changed. He can feel a seismic shift somewhere, a shuffling of the places he occupies in Nash's mind. He doesn't know what to do, so he does normal, average things, things he doesn't have to concentrate on - puts his pajama bottoms back on, changes his shirt, tries to rearrange his bed.
He's wide awake when Nash gets back. Nash sweeps his clothes up off the floor and pulls them on and sits on the edge of the mattress.
"Are you sure you're ok?" he asks. "I don't think I've ever gotten such uncertainty before. I usually get 'You were incredible, I screamed like a banshee, will you do that to me again, preferably right this second.'"
Did you say their names the way you said mine? Daniel wonders suddenly. Did you make that face for the last girl you slept with? He can't ask that. But he wants to.
"I'm ok," he repeats. "You were incredible, sorry I didn't scream like a banshee, will you do it to me again, just not right this second."
"Now you're teasing me." But Nash grins, and pats Daniel's cheek again. "Do you want me to stay?"
"We don't both fit in my bed."
"Ok." Nash stands up, and Daniel must look disappointed, because he adds "You know better than anyone that you are always welcome, and I will let you sleep. Nothing has changed, Daniel."
But Daniel knows that's a lie. If nothing had changed, Nash wouldn't have kissed him on the mouth and knelt between his thighs and touched his face and fucked him.
Nash leaves again, this time headed for his own room, and Daniel lies down and pulls the blankets over his head and tries to shut up his brain long enough to fall asleep. He can't think about this. He doesn't know how to think about it.
But he can't sleep either.
After about ten minutes he rolls out of bed, pads into the hallway, pauses in front of Nash's door, and goes in. Nash is considerately sprawled across only half his bed, and Daniel thinks he might actually be asleep until he rolls over, sees Daniel, and yawns.
"I'm not surprised," he says, tiredly patting the mattress. "Come on in, the bed's warm."
Daniel crawls under the blankets, and Nash yawns again and closes his eyes and Daniel wonders how many times they've done this, and how often has he lain here and wanted to reach out and touch Nash on the arm, on the face, how often has he actively wanted Nash to want him, and has he ever thought about what might happen if Nash did....
"Daniel."
"What?"
"Stop thinking."
"I'm not thinking."
"You're awake."
"Maybe I'm not tired."
"You're thinking. Go to sleep."
"I'm not.... Ok. Fine."
Nash's arm snakes out from under the covers and pats him on the head.
"Go to sleep, McKenna."
"Yes mom."
And maybe because this is something he does know - the two of them side by side, close enough to touch but each keeping to his own space, close enough for comfort but not so close as to be awkward - because this is familiar and easy and simple, he relaxes enough to fall asleep.