.if you ask me (you know that i'd stay)
[the social network. chris hughes/dustin moskovitz (mark zuckerberg/eduardo saverin). 6,511 words. adult. for tsn_kinkmeme.]
please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me.
disclaimer; i am writing about dustin moskovitz and chris hughes (and other characters) as presented in the movie the social network. this is no way about the real people. also; i do not own the social network. this is for love and not profit.
notes; for this prompt at tsn_kinkmeme.
It takes Chris a moment to realise what he’s seeing.
There’s a post-it stuck to his computer, upside down with hasty written scrawl covering it from corner to corner. He can barely see what colour the post-it used to be and it makes him smile. Pulling it away he reads the same three words over and over aside from a small c scrawled in the upper left corner. It’s almost endearing except he doesn’t know who the scrawl belongs to.
please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me. please like me.
At first he thinks Dustin because this is the sort of thing he does when he’s drunk but it’s not his handwriting. It’s readable for a start and Dustin doesn’t like to make any comprehensible sense unless he’s writing in code, so. Mark doesn’t write and Eduardo’s handwriting is far too neat. That leaves Billy Olsen (Chris shivers because no) or someone else. It’s not implausible because Dustin has a habit of leaving their dorm room door propped open. Chris wonders if it’s a voyeurism kink gone wrong or just a need to be semi-public every time he does something on the sofa. (That does, unfortunately, include masturbation because Dustin just doesn’t have any concept of privacy at all - something that will no doubt amuse Chris later in life).
Shrugging, he sticks the post-it to his desk where he can see it and boots up his PC.
“Hey Chris,” Dustin says, peering over his shoulder. “What’s this?”
Chris makes a grab for the post-it just a step too late and watches Dustin’s face light up. “Oooh! You have a secret admirer! It’s either some poor, misguided girl who hasn’t realised you’re gayer than, well, someone who’s gay or.”
“Or what?” Chris sighs.
“A buff, intelligent, sexy man who wants to rock your world.”
Chris just stares.
“What?” Dustin sticks the post-it to Chris’ forehead and grins. “There are guys like that at Harvard.”
“Not in any of your classes there aren’t.”
Something flashes across Dustin’s face and he shrugs. “Probably not. Anyway, there’s this girl in Eduardo’s economics class who apparently flashed their tutor today and...”
Chris tunes him out because what the hell. The look on Dustin’s face had been something a little too close to hurt but Chris doesn’t understand why. It’s not as though he was dissing Dustin about not being buff and since when does Dustin care about that anyway?
Peeling the post-it off of his forehead he watches Dustin with a frown.
There’s something not quite right and Chris is going to figure out what it is.
Chris hates Valentines Day.
Everywhere he looks there's couples smooching or touching or just being plain disgusting in their displays of affection and lust. (He's mostly thinking about Eduardo and Mark with that last one because it seems they’re everywhere Chris is which isn't unusual when they're sharing a dorm but it's not like he wants to walk into the bathroom and see the way Eduardo has Mark pressed up against the wall, legs splayed and Mark whining Wardo's name over and over.)
He hates Valentines day because he's afuckinglone and it's the worst day of the year. He never gets a card because he doesn't advertise the fact that he's gay but he's pretty sure every girl at Harvard must know by now with the way Dustin's always screaming about it in class, the hallways, the dorm, anywhere that ever existed ever.
Chris hasn't seen Dustin since he woke up grinning, kissing Chris sloppily on the cheek and wishing him a happy Valentine’s day with a wink. Again, not unusual. Dustin likes to make a big show of everything and Chris kind of hates him a little bit for doing it sometimes. If he doesn't mean it, it's not fair.
Not that he can tell Dustin that. He kind of likes it, which is so so wrong, but Dustin has this way of looking at him sometimes and it's kind of nice, like Chris is the only thing in Dustin's universe and that's something that's very hard to achieve.
He's not really paying attention when he gets the letter, mostly because he's lying face down on the bed, ear phones in and a song playing on his iPod which has nothing to do with love whatsoever.
The card slides across the floor and Chris frowns, picks it up and hesitates before pulling open his door. Predictably, Dustin has left their dorm door wide open again and there's no hope of Chris actually finding out who it is.
Just as he's contemplating going outside just to see, Wardo and Mark tumble in the door and oh my god, is that Wardo's hand in Mark's pants?
Chris shuts the door with a bang and puts his music on even louder.
He puts the card on his desk and then opens it, deciding what the hell.
The writing is weird, not a style Chris recognises and he sighs, touches the corner of the paper and wonders.
That night, Chris is sprawled on the sofa when Dustin comes back.
He looks tired but he still has enough energy to grin and throw himself onto the sofa right over Chris’s legs. “CHRIS!”
“Why are you shouting?” Chris asks, eyes flicking back to the TV.
It’s not like Dustin to be this clingy, crawling up Chris’s body until he has his face pressed against the jut of Chris’s hipbone and his hand curled against Chris’s t-shirt. He’s drunk; red cheeks and soft eyes. Chris swallows and pretends to play with the remote.
“I just had the best party which wasn’t actually the best because you weren’t there but there was pink and red everywhere and someone kissed me.”
Chris feels something tight in his chest which he steadfastly ignores. “How much have you had to drink?”
Dustin just grins some more. On anyone else it would be inane and stupid but on Dustin it’s just endearing. He pushes his face into Chris’s hipbone again and mumbles against the curve of the bone something like, “tired.”
“I have no sympathy,” Chris says, dropping a hand onto Dustin’s head anyway, threading his fingers into his hair. “You’re going to have the worst hangover tomorrow.”
“Probably,” Dustin mumbles, words muffled by material. Chris rolls his eyes but then Dustin says, “Did you get any cards?”
Chris sighs. “One.”
Oddly enough, Dustin doesn’t raise his head, doesn’t grin and mock. After a while, he hears the soft snuffle of Dustin sleeping and Chris rolls his eyes, turns the volume on the TV down and figures suffering the sounds of Wardo and Mark having a far more fulfilling sex life than him is a small price to pay so that Dustin can actually sleep off his hangover.
It takes Chris a second to realise where he is when he wakes.
The sofa in the common room isn't exactly comfortable but he's slept on it before and it's not the worst place to wake up. He runs a hand over his face and pretends not to see the way Wardo's grinning at him from the doorway to the bathroom. "Morning sunshine."
"I hate your face," Chris moans and grunts when he feels a comfortable weight over his own. Dustin is still sprawled all over him and Chris doesn't have the heart to move him so he stays where he is, hand in Dustin's hair and glaring half-heartedly at Wardo. "It's not what it looks like."
"And what does it look like?" Wardo asks, a weird smile on his face.
"Don't answer a question with a question, Wardo. It’s not nice."
Wardo just smirks, pushes away from the doorjamb and pats Chris on the head. It's not as patronising as Chris expects it to be but then again, nothing with Wardo is ever what you expect it to be when your name isn’t Mark. "Just saying. Be careful, okay?
"You and Dustin," Wardo says, but it's that tone he uses when someone's threatening Mark and he's within earshot.
“I promise not to break his heart." Chris hates that his tone is so sarcastic but what, like he's going to try it on with Dustin? So sometimes Wardo can be more cryptic than Mark (and that's saying something) but he's being especially so right now.
Wardo just stares at him and Chris wonders which of them he’s trying to protect; Chris or Dustin. Shrugging, Wardo ducks back into Mark's room, shutting the door behind him.
Chris stares at Dustin's head and frowns. They're friends. It's not like he's trying to steal Dustin's virtue from him or anything. Plus, he seems to be brimming with excitement ever since Chris got that stupid post-it note. Probably on Chris's behalf because he's always been more invested in Chris's love life than Chris.
Mostly from what he assumes are feelings left over from their long and involved 'project' to get Wardo and Mark together, which seems to have worked well. Chris doesn't have the heart to tell Dustin that they worked together and no matter how hard Dustin tries, he's just not going to find that perfect someone for Chris at Harvard. He's pretty sure he's going to meet the person for him in some distant future where isn't just background noise for the Wardo and Mark show.
That's probably just wishful thinking though.
Not that he'll ever give lip (or thought) service to the feelings he gets around Dustin sometimes because Dustin is so painfully away from Chris even when he's right near so it's not like he's going to have any luck there.
Sighing, Chris shifts his hips a little to get more comfortable and smiles at the whimper Dustin lets out as he moves.
He wakes a second time to the sounds of the shower, Mark shouting at Wardo and a pounding on the door. Sighing, Chris laments that this has somehow become his life and stands, looking in the mirror and sighing when he sees that his clothes are askew, the hair at the back of his head is stuck up at odd angles and he’s got the pattern of the cushion spread across his face. Pulling open the door he frowns at the face of a girl he’s pretty sure he recognises from an aepi party.
“Here,” she says, thrusting a piece of paper in his hands and she pulls a face. “I was asked to give this to you.”
She turns and leaves and Chris is still standing there when Dustin comes out of the bathroom. “Chris! Why are you standing in the doorway?”
Chris stares down at the bit of paper and shoves it in his pocket, not needing to hear any more of Dustin's teasing about this. “No reason. Not hungover then?”
He closes the door and tries to duck the wet arm Dustin throws around his shoulders but he’s unsuccessful and Dustin hugs him close. He’s turning his face and Chris is uncomfortably aware of every place his body touches Dustin’s. He wills himself to relax because, fuck, he doesn’t need this right now. Stupid admirers and Dustin and his body which doesn’t seem to get the message that Dustin is Off Limits.
“No, I am definitely not. That is because you are the best friend in the world and to say thank you, I am going to get you breakfast!”
“You’re not cooking are you?” Chris asks, horrified. He also doesn’t think to mention that it’s just past two o’clock and that’s not breakfast to anyone except Dustin but he doesn’t want to shake the grin from Dustin’s face or the way he’s looking at Chris right now, eyes wide and open and happy.
“Chris, are you insulting my cooking?”
Dustin pretends to be offended and buries his face in Chris’ shoulder and Chris stiffens. He knows Dustin has to feel it but he pulls away before he can say anything. Curling his fingers around the piece of paper in his pocket, he ducks his head. “No thanks, Dustin. I have work to do.”
Chris turns and disappears into his room before he can see the look on Dustin’s face which he knows is going to be hurt, anger or both.
“You’re being unfair you know,” Mark says when Chris finally comes out of his room.
Chris frowns. “What?”
Mark doesn’t look up from the TV. He’s lying sideways on the sofa, Wardo splayed across his lap a little like Chris and Dustin must have looked last night except Wardo’s face is pressed right into Mark’s chest, fingers curled around his hoodie and it’s so painfully perfect and disgusting that Chris just wants it.
“Dustin’s not here.”
Chris didn’t ask. “Look, Mark. I don’t know what you and Wardo are up to but this is none of your business.”
Mark tips his head back so that he can see Chris better. Chris frowns. He’s angry and he folds his arms because where does this sudden attack on Dustin’s behalf come from?
“Dustin’s my best friend.”
“And Wardo’s mine.” Mark looks at him. Chris can’t read his expression because he can never fucking read his expression.
“That has nothing to do with this.” Chris pauses because are they actually trying to say that he and Dustin- “You’re crazy.”
“You like him,” Wardo mumbles from Mark’s chest and Mark shifts, putting a hand on the back of Wardo’s neck like he’s pressing him down, making him stay. Chris knows enough about Mark to know that it’s a gesture that means he wants Wardo to go back to sleep. It’s so painfully sweet and attentive that Chris is torn between teasing them for being so adorable and glaring at the back of Mark’s head for interfering.
“I don’t,” Chris says because it’s the only way he knows to get them to back off and leave him alone. He only half believes what he’s saying and doesn’t know why they care so much about Dustin’s feelings when it’s obvious to all three of them that the only one who’s having issues with inappropriate feelings for his best friend is Chris. “Stay out of this.”
Chris can handle this on his own.
When he storms back into his room, the piece of paper given to him that morning falls to the floor from his desk and he stares down at it.
“Fuck you.” Chris doesn’t even know who he’s saying it to. The note is stupid, he doesn’t even understand it but it’s like the world is mocking him because it’s just the sort of thing Dustin says to him, smile wide and large and bright and Chris just hates everything right now. “Fuck you.”
Chris sees it when he comes back to the room, written in gaudy red marker on their dorm room’s white board. The writing is neat and completely different to what he already has on note, paper and post-it but he doesn’t doubt that it’s all come from the same person. He’s not creeped out because it’s painfully obvious that whoever this is really likes him and is taking a lot of effort to try and get his attention. A lot more effective if they just asked but he’s not in a position to be judging anyone for lack of courage when he can’t even say a simple sorry.
He knows Dustin’s not ignoring him because they live in the same dorm and it’s not like they have any choice but to run into each other but he’s not seeking Chris out either and that’s the worst part. They’ve never really fought like this before because they’re not Wardo and Mark and Chris hates to see the look in Dustin’s eyes when he’s said something nasty or scathing and Dustin’s taken it to heart.
He glares at the message because somehow it’s all its fault and pushes open the door.
Dustin’s on the sofa, probably playing COD with someone but he’s not being aggressive or stupid in the way he normally is. Chris sighs and shuts the door but Dustin doesn’t even look up. Tossing his key on the sideboard, Chris sits on the arm of the chair next to the sofa and sighs.
Pausing in his game, Dustin looks up.
“For how I acted when you, you know, with the letter.”
“The letter?” Dustin frowns and Chris thinks shit because he’s been trying to keep that quiet.
“The other day at the door. I got a letter and then you were joking and this whole admirer business is starting to get to me.”
“Why? Because you have one?” Dustin asks and there’s no trace of anger in his tone, only amusement. Chris rolls his eyes and just like that they’re back to normal. He kind of likes that; they argue sometimes but it never lasts for long because they’re too comfortable, too set in their ways together and he doesn’t know why he ever worried about saying sorry.
Chris snorts. “No, Dustin. I’m no stranger to the concept.”
“Lies,” Dustin says, completely forgetting the game and Chris watches him die a horrific death on screen. “I think it’s awesome. I mean, we could lay traps for them to try and catch them.”
“This isn’t Home Alone, Dustin. You’re not Macaulay Culkin.”
Dustin pulls a face. “I’m far more attractive.”
“Yes,” Chris says before he can stop himself. “There is that.”
Eyes widening, Dustin plays with the console controller and then grins. “I’m sure there’s still a way we can catch them in the act.”
“You’re going to have too much fun with this, aren’t you?” Chris says, letting out a breath and enjoying the way Dustin's grinning at him.
“Of course! Laying traps is my speciality.”
“You’re assuming of course that I catch them?”
Dustin sits back on the sofa. “You’ll catch them eventually, Chris. They want to be caught.”
Chris doesn’t ask how Dustin knows that.
“You kissed and made up then.”
Chris throws a slice of cheese at Wardo’s head and Wardo grins. “I don’t see why you care so much anyway. Dustin and I have to listen to you and Mark go through a range of emotions from anger to lust. None of them pleasant.”
Wardo flips him the finger and drops down the sofa. He seems to have taken up permanent residence since he and Mark started whatever is it they’ve started but Chris doesn’t mind. Eduardo’s a great guy and they all like him but he’s especially good for Mark, making him a little more human and suitable for outside company. There’s been a lack of that recently.
Chris abandons his sandwich and leans against the counter. “Have you ever had a secret admirer?”
He doesn’t know why he asks but Wardo’s frowning, thoughtful and shrugs lightly. “Depends on what you mean.”
“I mean someone human, who doesn’t spend every day trying to get your attention by actually shutting his laptop once in a while.”
“You can be a real bastard sometimes, Hughes,” Mark says from the range of his bedroom and Chris grins.
“The kind that leaves notes,” Chris stresses, keeping his voice low. He doesn’t want Mark to hear this or mock him. “Everywhere. Even when I’m sleeping.”
Wardo looks like he wants to make a joke about that but something stops him and he blinks. “I don’t think so. How often?”
“Has anyone stood out as being interested in your classes or anything?”
Chris thinks about it. “No. Not really. No more than usual and even when they do, Dustin’s usually around to whisk me off before it gets awkward.”
Something in Wardo’s expression changes and Chris frowns.
“What? What is it?”
“Nothing,” Wardo says, too quickly and okay, that is it. Chris pushes away from the counter and goes to stand in front of the sofa, leans down and puts a hand on Wardo’s chest in case he tries to move.
“It’s not nothing. What is your problem?”
Wardo shifts and Mark says, “Don’t say anything,” and Chris knows, knows there’s something going on.
“Wardo. If you don’t tell me right now, you won’t want to know what I’m going to do to you.”
“You terrify me,” Wardo blurts out. “But I promised.”
“You know who it is!” Chris grabs a fistful of Wardo’s shirt and shakes him. “You know who’s been making my life difficult? Leaving notes when I'm in the middle of a crisis and you-”
“Crisis?” Dustin’s standing in the doorway, shirt and hair rumpled and Chris is sure his brain goes offline for a minute. “What sort of crisis and why are you shaking Wardo?”
Chris lets go of Wardo and looks from Dustin to the expression on Wardo’s face and then back to Dustin. “Him? Dustin? It’s him?”
Wardo doesn’t say anything because he doesn‘t have to; Chris can see it in the way he won’t meet Chris’s eyes or the way Mark’s actually hovering in the doorway nervous (he’s never fucking nervous) and even in the way Dustin’s starting to clue in and he looks panicked.
“You let me think you didn’t know who it was!”
“I couldn’t tell you,” Dustin says, hands out. “I like you and I think-”
“You don’t.” Chris can’t believe this is happening. “Is this some joke? I’m the only lonely person in this dorm so, what, I need help? You need to mock me into finding someone?”
“Chris, that’s stupid.”
Chris snarls angrily at Mark. “Like you're in any position to judge.”
“Hey!” Wardo jumps to Mark’s defence but Chris ignores him.
He stares at Dustin who’s trying and failing to look contrite. “Were you just making fun of me? The way I reacted to you that time you put your arm around me, maybe before that when you fell asleep on me?”
“No, Chris. No. They started before. They-”
“Leave me alone, Dustin.”
Dustin's face falls but Chris doesn’t care. Wardo and Mark are staring between them awkwardly. “Chris-”
“Leave me alone,” Chris snaps, walking into his room and slamming the door. The notes and cards are on his desk and he hates them, throws them on the floor and stares at the wall, hands curling into fists.
I thought you were my friend, he wants to shout. Instead he says it, knowing Dustin will be standing outside his door because he’s just that way, thinking he can make everything better just by existing in Chris’ space. Not this time.
“Not this time, Dustin.”
Avoiding Dustin doesn’t become any easier.
Chris misses him and it’s frustrating because he’s angry, hurt and a little bit humiliated. He’s not worried that Dustin will say anything and Wardo and Mark seem more interested in Dustin’s feelings than his, so he knows it won’t get out any further than their dorm. That doesn’t make it any easier to accept. He hates himself a little for keeping the notes and cards stuffed in his bag like a ridiculous schoolgirl and hates himself even more for that little thrill he gets from thinking that maybe Dustin meant it but no.
He can’t have meant it because Dustin’s better than that - he can form the words like a normal person and he’s never been shy.
“Dustin likes you.”
Chris looks up from his work, surprised to see the girl who delivered the note to the dorm the other day. “Excuse me?”
“He meant it.”
Chris sighs, closes his book with a snap. “Whatever he told you to say-”
“He didn’t tell me to say anything.” The girl puts a hand on her hip like Chris is going to piss her off if he keeps talking. Frowning, Chris tilts his head and hears her out. It’s not like this won’t be entertaining. (If that makes him a bastard, so be it but this is Dustin. His best friend.) “He really fucking likes you, you know? Won’t shut up. ‘Chris this’ and ‘Chris that.’ We all assumed you were a girl until we realised he meant Chris as in his roommate.”
“Right.” Chris slides his books into his bag and refuses to look the girl in the eye. It’s uncomfortable to hear but part of him is still feeling betrayed by Dustin’s actions.
“He didn’t know how to tell you. Look.”
She’s waving something under his face and he realises it’s four bits of yellow paper.
“He left this in class yesterday. Figured he’s trying to tell you something.”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t.” Chris appreciates her honesty but she shrugs, dropping the paper on the table. “Dustin’s an idiot.”
Chris bristles and frowns. “Dustin’s a little bit ridiculous, yeah, but he’s not an idiot. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Snatching up the papers, he shoulders his bag and stalks out of the building. He’s still angry when he gets back to Kirkland. The doom room is unlocked but Chris figures Mark is wired in somewhere in the vicinity of his bedroom. One too many times walking in on something he really doesn’t want to see keeps Chris from walking in there and he just drops down onto the sofa and stares at the paper crumpled in his fist.
When it’s spread out on the table, his breath catches a little.
He’s not sure what to do with this, exactly. He feels like an idiot. Mostly because Dustin’s always been a little bit reluctant to tell him anything concrete about his sex life. He brags a little, like every guy in college, but his smiles are always that little bit sad when Chris just nods or shrugs like he doesn’t care because he never has, not really. He’s always been a little bit jealous and angry at the stories because maybe he’s always wanted Dustin for himself and it’s so fucking stupid that they’ve been dancing around each other for this long.
Maybe Dustin’s not the only coward because Chris isn’t exactly a paragon of bravery right now.
Chris startles when the door to Mark’s bedroom opens. Wardo freezes and then swallows, shifting on his feet. He’s always been the worst at fights; the first one to apologise, the first one to try and make it better. Before he can say anything, Chris sighs and slides the letter out of sight. “Sorry, Wardo.”
Wardo nods and stands awkwardly in the doorway. “He’s in your room, you know.”
“What?” Chris looks back over his shoulder, towards his bedroom and the door pulled to.
“You’re an idiot.”
Chris snorts. “I’d punch you for that if I didn’t believe it.”
“That’s not nice, Christopher.” Wardo pulls a face and they both hear Mark from inside the room.
“If you punch him, I’ll be forced to come out and force my company on you.”
“Please, no,” Chris says before he can stop himself but Mark just snorts. “I promise not to touch your precious Wardo.”
Wardo gives him the finger and then backs up into Mark’s room, his attention already back on Mark when he kicks the door shut.
Sometimes Chris hates his friends with a passion and knows that he has just the kind of luck that means he’ll always end up being their glorified babysitter. Most of the time he loves them, though and right now he’s kind of glad he has Wardo - and Mark - around to keep him from being too much of an idiot.
He turns to go into his bedroom but knows he’s not sober enough to have this conversation with Dustin and goes into the kitchen to grab two beers. Being drunk gives them the option of blaming it all on the alcohol in the morning, although most of him hopes that won’t be the case. As he pushes the door shut with his elbow, he sees the second message and there’s a tight feeling in his chest.
“You’re not the only one,” Chris says.
It looks like Dustin’s had a fit in the kitchen when he spies another note taped to the coffee machine - maybe in the hope that Chris will see them or Wardo will get pissed off enough to rub Chris’s nose in the fact that he’s been a really shitty friend by avoiding the subject and not dealing with it. Lucky for all of them that Chris doesn’t want this to drag on any longer.
When he finally opens his door enough to walk inside, he can already see Dustin sprawled out on his bed in a mess of limbs, duvet and paper.
Chris puts the beer on the dresser and approaches the side of the bed, gathering up the papers Dustin’s scribbled all over and pushing them onto the floor. Dustin’s face is turned into Chris’s pillow and he’s got his left hand fisting the duvet. Chris feels his heart stutter and then beat just that little fraction faster. He can’t even believe he’s fucking doing this but it’s not like he can stop himself. Reaching over, he touches Dustin’s face, fingers sliding into Dustin’s hair.
Dustin doesn’t move because of course he sleeps like the dead when Chris doesn’t want him to but the final obstacle, a small notepad that Chris has seen Dustin use for coding, is pushed out of the way as he kneels on the edge of the bed, torn between waking Dustin and letting him sleep.
Eventually, he decides on the latter, stretching out on the bed carefully alongside Dustin and spooning closer. He holds his breath, wonders if he can fall asleep like this when Dustin shifts, mumbling something under his breath but relaxing his death grip on the duvet so that he can turn into Chris’s body. Dustin’s hair tickles his nose but Chris turns his face into it anyway, nuzzling the top of Dustin’s head and smiling. If this is going to go to shit when Dustin wakes up then he’s just going to make the most of it now.
Resting a hand on Dustin’s hip, he slides his fingers just under the hem of Dustin’s t-shirt so that he can feel skin. Lulled to sleep by the steady puff of breath against his chest, Chris thinks please because he doesn’t want to lose this, now that he knows he can have it.
Chris groans as he comes awake to the feel of someone kissing the curve of his jaw. He knows it’s Dustin, it has to be Dustin and he opens his eyes. Dustin is kissing a bruise into his skin, his fingers splayed on Chris’s chest and the other hand wrapped around his hipbone. Chris tilts his head, his own hands settling on Dustin’s lower back and he pushes down, feels the grind of Dustin’s hips against his own. He still feels bone tired, the mess of the last few days almost too exhausting, but the easy way Dustin touches him, like he can’t quite believe this is happening is more than intoxicating.
Dustin smiles against his neck, scraping his nails gently over the skin of Chris’s exposed hip. Chris blinks slowly, pressing his lips to the side of Dustin’s face. He noses at the skin just under Dustin’s ear as Dustin turns his face, kissing the corner of Chris’s mouth. Shivering, Chris blinks slowly as Dustin shifts down his body, hands pushing up Chris’s t-shirt.
“Morning,” Dustin says, eyes bright and wide and Chris suddenly wants to apologise.
He tugs on Dustin but Dustin just presses the palm of his hands against Chris’s pants and Chris sucks in a breath. “Dustin.”
The word is drawn out and Dustin’s eyes crinkle in the corner with his smile. He’s so gorgeous in the low light and Chris just wants to stare at him, to touch his face and kiss him and fold himself around Dustin’s lithe body. Dustin hooks his fingers into the hem of Chris’s pants and pulls them down, slow and teasing. Chris can feel his heart pounding in his ears and he blinks lazily. He turns his face into the pillow, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He can feel the slow graze of nails against his thigh and the warm puff of breath against his boxers.
He’s half-hard already and he knows it won’t take long with the way Dustin starts to palm him through the material, a thumb hooked in the waistband. Chris threads his hands in Dustin’s hair just for something to do and he pushes his hips up a little, aiming for traction.
Dustin laughs and tugs Chris’s boxers down over his dick. Chris doesn’t want to look but he knows it has to be curved, full and red against his stomach and Dustin makes an appreciative noise low in his throat.
“Dustin,” Chris says again, repeating the word until it just becomes one long moan as Dustin licks from base to tip. He tugs a little on Dustin’s hair, head thrust back against the pillow. Chris barely has time to get a feel for the lazy licks and kisses Dustin is planting on his dick before he feels hotwet suction. “Holy shit.”
He grunts, Dustin pulling back before setting an easy pace of back and forth. Chris doesn’t ask if he’s done this before because it feels like he has, feels like the graze of teeth and the soft stroke of his tongue on the underside of his cock is so perfect. He doesn’t like the feeling that goes along with it, the jealousy pooling low in his belly and so he tugs a little, feels Dustin respond to his movements and hum low in his throat.
Chris’s hips stutter and Dustin pulls back but then he’s back, fingers wrapping around the base, stroking as he sucks and Chris is finding it hard to concentrate. Then Dustin uses his free hand to brush against the skin just behind Chris’s balls, stroking once, twice, again and again. Chris pushes down, hips stuttering and he’s making a noise that he knows is turning into a low keening but he can’t stop it, can’t stop himself palming the top of Dustin’s head.
“Dustin, Dustin, please, please.”
Dustin hums again, keeping pace with both finger and mouth and Chris pushes back against the bed, feels a press of Dustin’s hand against his hip keeping him down but he fights, fingers tightening in Dustin’s hair because he wants more, he can feel the pull of orgasm as it builds and he chokes out a, “Dustin,” just as he comes.
Dustin fucking swallows.
He keeps sucking until Chris whimpers, his spent dick oversensitive as Dustin lets it slide out of his mouth. Nuzzling his way up Chris’s body, Dustin smiles as he presses his face into the curve of Chris’s neck. There’s a hesitance to his actions that Chris will fight when he can push through the sleepiness and the satisfaction that comes from a brilliant blowjob.
He pushes a hand through Dustin’s hair, turning his face so that he can kiss Dustin on the mouth, tasting himself and something inherently Dustin as he does so. He smiles and kisses the skin just under Dustin’s left eye, fingers massaging his scalp. “That’s mine.”
Dustin grins. “Well, unless you’re someone else right now, yeah.”
“No,” Chris presses, shifting on the bed until he’s got Dustin underneath him, thighs sliding down either side of Dustin’s hips until he’s straddling him, Dustin’s cock visibly hard now that Chris is awake. He gives Dustin a grin of his own, strokes two fingers over the straining material and watches Dustin’s chest heave, his breath stutter. “That’s just for me.”
Dustin’s eyes widen.
“Yeah.” Chris leans down, brushes their noses together but keeps enough distance that Dustin can look into his eyes.
Dustin reaches up a hand, touches Chris’s face and thumbs at his bottom lip. “Took you long enough.”
Chris just makes a face that he knows has to be stupid and soft and ridiculous but it makes Dustin’s face lighten a little, his thumb stroking as he presses in for another kiss, this one lazy and perfect. It doesn’t deepen into anything else despite Dustin’s cock being a pleasant pressure against Chris’s thigh and neither of them are in a hurry.
When they finally pull away, Chris slides his hand into Dustin’s pants, only has to stroke three times before Dustin tips his head back, thrusts his hips forward into Chris’s grip and comes.
So...I kissed him. And then for good measure, I kissed him again
When they finally make their way out of the bedroom, into the bathroom, and then back out into the common room, Mark and Wardo are already lying on the sofa. Chris slides into the chair and Dustin sits between his legs, grabbing a controller and booting up the Playstation. Dustin’s hair is sticking up in the back because he hasn’t bothered to brush it and Chris palms it down, leaving his hand threaded into the soft red locks and Chris pretends not to see the way Wardo is grinning at him.
Mark looks up, frowning. “Dustin, do you have to make that noise?”
Chris realises slowly that Dustin’s been making soft mewling noises as Chris strokes his hair.
Dustin just grins. “Yes, actually. Pretty sure Wardo makes louder noises than that when you’re stroking him.”
Wardo’s face goes red but Mark snorts and turns back to his laptop. Chris grins and lets his fingers slide down to cup the back of Dustin’s neck. Dustin shivers but his concentration is all on the computer, death and destruction and Chris is content, feeling the curl of Dustin’s fingers around his ankle during a lull in the game.
we could be a great pair of dorks together.
“I’m gunna put him to bed,” Wardo says, rousing a sleepy Mark from the sofa. As they stand, Mark pushes his face into Wardo’s neck and mumbles something, hands sliding under Wardo’s t-shirt. Dustin laughs as Wardo blushes and pushes him in the direction of his bedroom. “Night!”
When they’re alone, Dustin tips his head back. He grins at Chris upside down and abandons both controller and game. Chris leans over him, lips curving into a smile as they kiss. The angle is awkward but Chris strokes his fingers down Dustin’s neck, sliding down into his t-shirt and splaying his fingers over Dustin’s chest.
“Sorry,” he says. Dustin frowns but Chris just kisses him again, tongue sliding into Dustin’s mouth. When they pull away, he scratches at Dustin’s skin lightly. “For being an idiot.”
Dustin snorts, and reaches up, holding Chris’s head in place. “I love you anyway.”
Chris feels his heart stutter and his chest tightens but it feels good. “I love you too.”
It feels fucking great.'