We don't want to label it

XII (2nd half NSFW)

He turns off all the lights and closes all the doors. He checks that the front door is locked, then he pads to the bedroom. Brett is already in there, the light on the nightstand flicked on, the overhead light already off, his arms folded under his head as his eyes follow him around. The house is quiet, now, almost like a balm. There's nothing left to do, now, no one left to make happy, no expectations from anything or anyone. He looks at the reflection of the nightstand light on the ceiling. It moves out from a centre of brightness to fading circles until it reaches the edge where it's dark. And safe. The bed is like a little nest of safety and peace. He smiles and takes a deep breath, then pulls his jeans off and puts on a t shirt from his wardrobe. 
"Have a nice evening?" he asks as he slips in beside Brett. 
"Of course. You?"
"Yeah."
Look, there's so much more he could say. There's so much he could tell him about his day, about the orchestra and the second oboe, about how relieved he was to be having lunch with him, about all of his doubts and fears and insecurities. 
It's not something he says, though, not to Brett, and as an extension not to anyone. But is it even necessary? 
Surely he knows anyway. 
"Come here, Eddy. You worry too much." Brett says suddenly, showing this uncanny ability he's always had to read his mind. Eddy grins, then scoots closer obediently. "Hey." Brett adds gently. "You're as tense as a... well. You're the one with the analogies."
"Coiled spring?"
"Worse than a coiled spring. Hey."
Brett's mouth on his is soft. It's gentle, and sweet. God, it's good. Everything inside Eddy springs to life all at once. 
They were each other's first kiss, of course. Years and years ago. He remembers it well, how they were teenagers, and curious. How they used each other to practise. Well, they never quite stopped because it's never been as easy as this with anyone else. His tongue slides past Brett's and he feels him reacting. 

It's been a while since they've spent the night like this, not because they're drunk, not because they're utterly exhausted and fall asleep in minutes. And when Eddy hears his tiny grunt he knows what he wants. His hand slides down and finds what he knew he would. Brett. Like a rock. he grins against his lips and doubles down on the kiss. 
The whole world disappears around them, their tongues like the circles of light that spread out above them. Eddy almost calls out when Brett's hand closes around his dick in turn. 
When have they last done this? It's been a good while but he knows it's exactly what they need now. So he grabs him firmly and starts moving him through his boxer shorts, up, and down, up, and down. Brett grunts deeply. 
"Fuck..." Eddy whispers against his lips, then bites his bottom lip, hard enough so he grunts again. His orgasm is building fast despite the three beers in his system and he knows he'll blow soon. 
Oh, God, Brett is good at this, so good. Having someone else's hand, who knows exactly what they're doing, seems to make everything twice as good. It's why they do this, of course. It's why they used to do this all the time, it's the whole reason they tried this, way back when when they were sweet, innocent virgins. Always with underwear on of course, never naked.
"Eddy! God!" Brett calls suddenly, pulling him back to the now and he can feel him begin to pulse underneath his hand, he can feel his sticky warmth spread through his boxer shorts, he feels his moan against his cheek. God, it's sexy. Sexy enough that before he knows it he is shouting out in turn, shooting his own warmth into his own underwear and Brett's hand in wave after wave of delicious tingles. 

They take their time, slowly regaining their senses, their foreheads together, breaths calming as an ensemble. And Eddy could stay here forever in this calm. Like the eye of the storm. 
They shouldn't, though, they would regret it in the morning and clearly Brett knows it because he chuckles. 
"Right. Imma see if I have any underwear here."
"Otherwise take some of mine." he shrugs as he sits up and swings his legs over the bed. He wipes himself quickly and puts on a clean slip. It takes maybe ten seconds and he's back in the nest they've made. 
It's even calmer and safer now than before. He sighs contentedly and lies back, waiting for Brett to come and slide in beside him. He's already half asleep by the time he does.