Oh, how much easier would it be to be a straight couple. They could have slow danced together, surrounded by their friends, he could have pressed his engorged pelvis into him secretly. They could have kissed, twirled their tongues around each other slowly to the beat of the music. Instead they had danced with everyone, he had chatted outside with a little group of con friends, and it had gotten way late, but Brett's promise had never left his mind. And somehow, as he chatted and bantered and glanced at his love, only to find him glancing back every time, that was actually more intimate than anything they could have done if they were boy and girl. More special.
He made sure not to drink too much. He was high enough on the day, high enough on Brett's promise. So when Brett said something in Todd's ear and then looked at him at last, way after midnight, with that glance, he was all ready to leave. His dick was, too, because it instantly grew to capacity and throbbed in his jeans.
"Come on." Brett said in his ear, his breath carressing his ear lobe, almost like he had run his tongue over it. Eddy shivered and followed him out.
There was nothing to say, right now, nothing at all. The energy crackled between them like fireworks and Eddy rubbed the back of his hand over Brett's in the quiet street.
"God, I want you." he said softly, and Brett let out the tiniest groan. He looked around him, just to check. Then he took Eddy's hand, and put it on the front of his jeans. He was like a rock, and now it was Eddy's turn to groan. He squeezed softly and let go.
"Let's get home." Brett breathed.
They ran up the flights of stairs to their apartment, and they were kissing raucously the second Brett closed the front door behind them. Eddy pushed his erection eagerly against Brett's.
"I need, I need..." he whispered against his lips.
"I know." Brett whispered back as he dragged Eddy to their room. He closed yet another door and then he looked Eddy up and down.
"I had kind of set my heart on being fucked, tonight." he said then, in the most deadpan of tones. "But I doubt you have that sort of patience right now.
Eddy was so turned on by now, after what he did to Brett this morning in the practice room, after what Brett had done to him at the bar, that he was dizzy with it. And maybe that was why, or maybe it was the beer he had had, but he just couldn't, not anymore.
"Bretty." he whispered as he pushed him against the wall, as he started grinding his erection against him, his dress pants still on, the feeling so insanely good his knees got all wobbly. "Fuck, Bretty."
He ground, again, and again, and he could feel Brett responding, his breath getting faster.
"Go on." Brett breathed then, and Eddy pressed himself against him over and over, his movements harsh, feverish, until he threw his head back and screamed as he came hard into his dress pants, his warmth spreading through his underwear and the cloth.
"Oh fuck." he said then, as he came back down to earth. He wobbled once, and Brett was grinning as he took his hand, pulled him to the bed, pushed him on it. "God, Brett. I'm sorry... you said... I couldn't..."
Brett hand was on his thigh as he sat down on the bed next to him. He squeezed softly.
"That's quite okay. That was beautiful." His eyes were impossibly large, and they seemed to float. He was clearly a little buzzed from the alcohol he'd had. Was that making him bolder?
Suddenly Brett's hand was under his bum and he flipped him over so he was on his stomach. Then he ran his hands over his back, over his bum.
"You see." he whispered in his ear, his warm breath a carress again. "I love watching you come and I have all night. Would you like a massage?"
Brett's hands were resting on the small of his back, and Eddy tried to catch his breath. Could this day possibly get any better? Then he nodded.
"Yes, please."