Work Text:
“Just hire a house sitter,” Kevin tells Andrew over the phone.
Andrew blinks. “A house sitter.”
King stares up at him with wide, bright orange eyes and swishes her tail from right to left. She sits on her haunches in front of the roll of paper towels she tore to shreds while Andrew had been at his most recent away game. Behind that, there’s a destroyed trash bag hanging half out of his kitchen trash can. A shattered ceramic mug. Water soaking the floor from the dispenser in his fridge door—he has no idea how she managed that.
“Don’t you mean a cat sitter?”
Kevin sighs like Andrew is being difficult. “Not when someone literally tried to break down your front door last week. If you recall.”
Andrew rolls his wrist to feel the weight of his knives shift in his armband. “Not an issue.”
“Yes, because you were home. Who’s to say the next guy who wants to steal your Fender doesn’t follow your patterns and waits for you to leave?”
“You leave my Fender out of this.”
“A ton of the guys on our team have house sitters, Andrew. It’s not weird. They can watch your cat and keep an eye on everything else to make sure one of your outlets doesn’t short-circuit or something.”
“My brother is the one with OCD,” Andrew reminds him. “I do not think about these things.”
“You know what? I’ll have Justin call his guy. You can set up an interview with him. I’ve heard he’s cheap. Who knows—you might get addicted to the concept once you come home to a perfectly clean house.”
Andrew doesn’t bother with a goodbye before he ends the call. Right now, he’s faced with a mess of an apartment and a cat who has been subsisting off a gravity feeder of dry kibble for three days. He’s considered getting King a sibling, but he also can’t imagine coming home to this, two-fold. As he gathers the tattered remains of the paper towel roll, he thinks the most forbidden thought he’s ever had: perhaps, Kevin Day is right.
He doesn’t give a shit about his Fender. Not really. He cares about his cat, and the principle of the entire thing. Andrew fought long and fucking hard for a space to call his own; something unbreakable, unbeatable, and immovable. He keeps his home locked tight with a motion-detected alarm system and outdoor cameras. His self defense skills are top-notch. He will not allow his agency to be violated if he can help it.
In that same vein, the idea of allowing a stranger to spend multiple days and nights within his home is terrifying. This is his space. He doesn’t even bring hookups home.
King wraps around his ankles as he fiddles with the remains of the trash bag. No doubt, she’s swallowed some of the plastic. He found a few spots of vomit where he thinks he saw bright blue bits. It wouldn’t have happened had he been home. Blockages occur quickly and he could have arrived at a much more grim scene.
He knows it’s for the best, and he knows Kevin is right, and it stings like a knife in his side.
Andrew connects his phone to his speaker system and drowns out his thoughts with loud, obnoxious music.
The annoying thing is that Kevin is usually more right than he is wrong, no matter how much Andrew wishes he could deny it. Even when they were in college together, and Kevin had been pushing and pushing for Andrew to be a better goalkeeper, he’d seen what Andrew needed in his future. The only way to get what Andrew had always wanted was to have zero money problems, and the only way to get that was to capitalize on his unnaturally advanced athletic talents.
So, yes. Kevin is objectively correct, but that doesn’t mean Andrew has to like it.
An hour later, once the kitchen is fully mopped and King is sleeping peacefully atop her cat tree, Andrew checks his phone. Kevin has forwarded the message Justin sent—info for some guy with no website and no social media presence. Just a name followed by a number. Justin swears by him, and he won’t need the guy much longer, because Justin’s about to move in with his longtime girlfriend.
Andrew glances at the clock. Four o’clock on a Friday afternoon. It’s bitchy, but it’s technically acceptable to call someone about work.
The phone rings once. Twice. Then, the line clicks, and a raspy voice says, “Hello?”
And oh fuck, that’s not fair. That voice is the most unfair thing Andrew has ever heard.
“Neil Josten,” Andrew says, not quite a question.
“Speaking.”
“I heard you’re in the industry of house sitting for professional athletes.”
A pause. “Who gave you this number?”
Paranoid little fuck for someone trying to run an independent business. “Justin.”
“Tell Justin I don’t take charity cases,” Neil’s cold voice responds.
Then, silence, because Neil has ended the call.
Andrew very nearly laughs as he opens his text messages and types to Kevin, Your man thinks I’m a pity fuck.
Kevin responds, I’ll talk to him.
–
Andrew’s phone rings three days later with Neil’s number flashing across the screen.
He didn’t save it to his contacts, but Andrew’s eidetic memory has him recognizing it instantly. Kevin had shut up about a house sitter, and their next away game series isn’t for another week, so Andrew had put it out of his mind entirely. At this point, he could care less about the actual job.
It’s the man on the other end of the phone he finds worthwhile.
Andrew has done some follow-up research on Neil Josten, of course, because he’s a nosy bastard at the end of the day. As far as he can tell, Neil popped into existence on a random day in 2005. There are no birth records, no parents on file, no family members to speak of. The only thing tying Neil to reality is his high school senior year’s transcript and diploma.
It would be enough for most people to silence the call and send it to voicemail, but Neil has been a splinter in Andrew’s mind, festering away. How did Justin even find this man?
Andrew is helpless. He answers the call. “Is rent finally due?”
“I charge three hundred a night,” Neil says without acknowledging the quip. “Minimum is two nights, maximum is a month. I take care of up to three pets, no exotics. And I only do I-9s.”
Andrew earnestly cannot tell if the man is joking or not. “I-9s.”
“I protect myself.”
“Who protects me when a burglar murders you?”
“That’s what a contract is for,” Neil says, like Andrew is stupid.
Oh, he’s a treat. “Fine. I need you next week. We’ll be away for five days.”
“I know. I have Justin’s schedule. My last shift for him is this weekend while he’s moving.”
“So, perhaps you already know our flight leaves at eleven on Monday night,” Andrew says. “Be at my house by eight.”
“Text me the address,” Neil says, “Mister Minyard.”
Andrew’s stomach swoops low as the call ends, both with the knowledge of his name and the way Neil’s voice dips. With luck, Neil is nowhere near as attractive as he sounds.
–
He’s not lucky.
Neil is on his doorstep by seven-fifty-five on Monday. It trips one of Andrew’s motion sensors and flicks the porch light on, shining brightly down on Neil Josten’s figure. When Andrew shoves King away from the door and opens it, he actually begins to wonder if the universe is playing a cruel trick.
In front of him stands the most attractive man Andrew has ever seen. His skin is tan and scattered with scars, his jaw is cut sharper than glass, and his auburn hair shines almost red in the light. From beneath a slightly-curled fringe, a pair of electric blue eyes stare at him. Andrew is momentarily lost in the sheer saturation of them. Neil adjusts a ratty duffel bag over his shoulder and gestures at the door.
“You want to let me in?”
Andrew pushes his attraction down as far as it can go. “That’s no way to talk to a customer.”
“Sorry. I don’t have great manners.”
Bastard. Andrew feels a tug in his gut. He dutifully ignores it and opens his door a little wider, careful to keep King away with his shin. “She likes strangers.”
“I don’t,” Neil says as he steps over the threshold. Briefly, he glances around the foyer. Above them is the balcony for the second floor, and before them is an entryway to the kitchen and dining room.
Cat toys litter the floor, and Neil gently nudges a ball away from his heel. It rattles with a bell and King dashes after it, entranced.
“She’s the reason you have a job,” Andrew says. “You can sleep in the guest room. It’s the first door upstairs to the right.”
Surprise briefly flashes across Neil’s immaculate features. “I’m fine with a couch.”
“You want to be in my house for five days, alone, and break your back on the couch?”
“No, I—never mind. Got it. Guest room.”
Andrew brings his phone out of his pocket and shakes it. “Text me if she starts acting weird.”
“What’s her name?”
“King.”
Neil raises a brow. “Interesting.”
“What was interesting was going to the vet on her fifth birthday and finding out she was spayed, not neutered,” Andrew says dryly.
“Yeah, it’s too late to change at that point.”
“Mm.” Andrew travels light, and his singular carry-on suitcase sits by the front door. He’s already locked down his bedroom and written instructions for feeding King. Ninety percent of him doesn’t trust Neil, down to his molecules. Ten percent of him can’t resist seeing what comes next.
“Don’t throw a party while I’m gone,” Andrew says as he grabs his keys from the hook by the door. “Be a good boy. Bed by eight. Eat your vegetables.”
Neil tips his chin. “Don’t lose to Virginia.”
Dismal irritation brews in Andrew’s chest. “If exy games are in my Youtube history when I get home, I’m not paying you.”
Neil smirks. “Is that in my contract?”
“Thin ice, Josten.”
His heart is pounding by the time he leaves.
–
N: Where’s your blender?
Andrew blinks at his phone. It’s been two days since he left Neil Josten alone in his home. Beside him, the hotel aircon kicks on with a rattle. He cannot fathom why Neil would possibly need a blender.
A: I don’t have one.
N: You don’t own a blender???
A: What would I blend with it?
N: Smoothies, soup, sauce, etc.
A: No such luck. Go get Jamba Juice.
N: Fuck you
It startles a snort out of Andrew. There is no way Neil spoke to Justin like this—then again, Justin probably has a fucking blender. Andrew is about to ignore the insult when his phone buzzes again.
N: Sorry
N: Long day
N: Do you ever feel like you’re going backwards
Andrew stares. He reads the message over and hovers his fingers over the keyboard. Instinctually, his walls slam up and he straightens his spine.
A: No.
–
On day four, his phone vibrates again.
N: King is on counters?
A: It’s fine
N: Gross
A: I wipe them down
N: I charge extra for cleaning
A: So dont clean
N: 🤮
–
Andrew knocks on his own door to announce his presence as a courtesy before he unlocks it himself.
King bounds around the corner of the kitchen the moment she hears the door shut. She chirps and meows and curls around Andrew’s calves like she’s never seen him before. He glances around and sees no evidence of vomit or broken glass. She starts purring as soon as Andrew scratches her ears.
Neil’s footsteps are loud enough to indicate he’s trying to be respectful by making himself known. “She did fine. And I restocked your fridge.”
“That wasn’t in the contract,” Andrew says. He would have remembered requiring someone to pay to keep themselves alive in his home.
“I know. But I basically ate all your actual healthy food, and you need, like…one fruit.”
“I am not paying you to be a nutritionist.”
“Seriously. An apple, maybe. One per week? One per diet coke?”
Andrew points at the door. “You have two minutes.”
It’s obvious Neil is trying to bite back a grin when he moves towards his completely-packed bag sitting by the foyer table, and it does all sorts of unnatural things to Andrew’s heart rate. He’s tempted to physically retaliate, to punch that stupid face in, but Neil speaks first.
“I’ll see you next week,” Neil says airily. “Andrew.”
When Andrew wanders back into the kitchen, a sealed box containing a blender sits atop his counter next to a bottle of Lysol.
–
N: I found your college highlights btw
Andrew slams his head back against the plane seat and ignores the way Kevin glares at him from across the aisle. Neil had blessedly left him alone for most of the time they were away at their game against Boulder, only to smack him in the face on the flight home. Neil didn’t seem like a fucking fan, but he supposes everyone hides it well when they want something.
A: Typical fanboy
N: Watching you make some of these saves is insane
A: Flattery gets you nowhere, Josten
N: I think the most fucked up part is that you’re ten times better than this
A: Come again?
N: You’d be unstoppable if you actually tried
A: I’m paying your salary. I must be trying a little bit.
N: Just think about it
A: In your dreams.
–
N: Didn’t realize you still talked to Aaron
A: How could this possibly be your business?
N: You got mail. Pretty sure it’s a wedding invite
A: It’s a baby shower invite. He’s already married
N: The media always made it sound like you hated your family
A: Media does that. It makes for better TV
N: Tell Kevin I hate him
A: You don’t have to tell me twice.
–
Andrew says nothing to Kevin.
–
A: How do you know Kevin?
N: Is he talking about me?
A: No.
N: It’s not important
–
When Andrew arrives home after his next trip, he’s welcomed by silence.
It’s unusual for King to not greet him at the door. Cautiously, Andrew toes out of his shoes and pads into the kitchen across marble tile. When there’s no sign of her by her empty food bowl, Andrew has to swallow his panic. Neil has been caring for King for weeks—he wouldn’t drop the ball now. Andrew keeps up his search, and only when he pokes his head around the corner to the living room does he see it.
Neil is curled up on the couch, dead asleep, with King languidly lounging in his arms. She blinks blearily at Andrew for a moment, chirps, and stretches before she leaps off the couch to greet him.
The movement startles Neil awake. His right hand shoots under the decorative couch pillow like he’s reaching for something, but seems to quickly recognize his surroundings. His wide eyes fall on Andrew and his expression falls into something of forced neutrality.
Neil’s cheek is red from rubbing against the rough fabric of the pillow. He brushes it absentmindedly. “I lost track of time.”
“Have you been sleeping on the couch?”
Andrew explicitly remembers Neil’s shock when he was initially told he could sleep in a guest room. Neil glances away, embarrassed, and says, “It’s just what I’m used to.”
“I have a hard time believing Justin didn’t give you a room.”
Neil furrows his brows, which is entirely too cute for his own good. “You are the first person to ever offer a room.”
Andrew can’t believe it. How could someone hire Neil and expect his best work while he’s crashing on a couch like a homeless college student? He shakes his head and motions for Neil to follow him. “Let’s go.”
Curiously, Neil traces Andrew’s footsteps as he walks behind. Andrew leads them upstairs and into the guest room, which is entirely untouched. Subconsciously, Andrew had been keeping the door closed when Neil isn’t sitting; he gave the space to Neil and intended for it to be his.
“I would rather you sleep in here,” Andrew insists. “You can leave the door cracked. King likes the bay window, anyway.”
Neil stares into the room but never crosses the actual doorway. His face is drawn tight and reserved, his jaw clenched. “I don’t remember the last time I had a room to sleep in.”
Andrew gazes up at him. Neil is making good money from sitting for Andrew, but it’s really only enough to afford the bare necessities in this city. If it’s Neil’s only gig, he’d have trouble paying rent and bills without foregoing groceries.
“You don’t have an apartment,” Andrew says, and it’s a statement rather than a question.
Neil shakes his head and keeps his eyes on the ground. “It’s a long story. I just…need to be ready to run. Can’t do that if I’m on a lease.”
The offer tumbles from Andrew before he can stop it. “Stay here.”
Neil stares at him. “What?”
“Shut up and don’t let me notice you,” Andrew says, “and you can stay here while I’m home.”
He reaches towards his pocket and pulls out his keys. Andrew starts detaching the house key. He had an extra made for Nicky, but didn’t have time to give it to him before Nicky left for Germany, so he’s got another key for himself lying around somewhere. Andrew pulls Neil’s palm up and deposits the key square into the center.
“I’m deadly serious, by the way,” Andrew mutters. “Don’t let me notice you.”
Neil’s eyes are far away. There’s something so distant in his gaze that Andrew thinks he might be lost to a full flashback. But then, awareness returns, and he wraps his fingers around the key. “Thank you.”
“Shut up,” Andrew tells him, and turns to walk away.
–
N: How did you know you were gay?
Andrew pauses brushing his teeth. He quirks an eyebrow at the text; they haven’t gotten personal in quite a while. It’s been a month since Neil has been living in Andrew’s house full-time, and it still feels odd to get to know each other.
A: Why? Are we questioning something?
Andrew rinses his mouth. The selfish part of Andrew is begging Neil to be questioning something, but he chews on that and swallows it dry.
N: No
N: Maybe
N: Sorry this is weird
A: I kissed a boy in juvie and liked it.
Neil’s response bubble pops up, then down, then up, then down. Andrew watches it, his breath caught.
N: I’ve only ever kissed girls. It didn’t impress me
Andrew stares at his reflection in the hotel bathroom mirror, his eyes practically glowing in the harsh fluorescents. He watches as his own cheeks are dusted with a flush. He hasn’t had a hookup in months, and Neil is hot, and they’re hundreds of miles apart, anyway.
He finishes getting ready for bed and forces himself to calmly flip off the lights and settle into the sheets. A slice of light from the street cuts across the ceiling, and Andrew traces it with his eyes before he finally pulls out his phone and is greeted by another text.
N: I was watching your pride magazine interview
A: ?
N: You look so confident and it’s crazy how you’re so sure about it
A: Men are hot. That’s why I’m sure.
N: What’s so hot about them?
A: Look in the mirror.
It’s bold. Perhaps too bold, but Andrew is somehow more confident than ever in the darkness of the hotel room. He’s relatively sure his attraction to Neil is an open secret by now, anyway.
N: Me?
N: Oh
N: You like me?
A: I’m a gay man with eyes.
N: I never thought of myself as hot before
A: You’d be unstoppable if someone taught you how to dress to your strengths.
N: What are my strengths
A: Eyes. Long legs. The scars are intriguing.
This pause is longer.
N: Intriguing how?
A: You’re a mystery. Scars are a clue. They might help explain why you don’t have any parents.
Neil is quiet for a long, long time. Andrew almost dozes off entirely when his phone buzzes loudly against the spring mattress.
N: Should have known the crim major would check me out in more ways than one.
Andrew smirks.
A: You’re a package, Josten. Enjoy it.
-
Their texts continue like that for another two weeks before Andrew finds it completely unbearable.
He knows most things about Neil Josten and it still isn’t enough. Andrew always gets the sense that Neil is either lying or omitting certain truths that would completely alter a memory. Neil likes exy, perhaps a little too much, but he doesn’t act like a fan, even though he can recite all of Andrew’s college stats from memory. Neil never went to university and barely graduated high school, but won’t explain where he lived before Millport, Arizona. Neil’s parents were abusive and his father created a vast majority of his scars, but his mother has long been out of the picture and he won’t say what happened to her.
They don’t talk about Andrew’s attraction. It’s like Andrew never even mentioned it. Neil doesn’t make any moves, so Andrew assumes the feeling isn’t mutual and continues on with his life. He’s too busy during the season to really focus on hookups, but he doesn’t stop looking when Kevin guiltily drags him to a bar after a game.
This all changes, though, while Andrew is at some sponsor dinner with the rest of his team.
His phone buzzes with a text. He reluctantly has to keep an eye on Neil’s messages, just in case something bad actually happened or if King is hurt. At Kevin’s questioning look, Andrew mouths house sitter to him, and Kevin shrugs with indifference before glancing away.
Andrew finally looks down at the text and almost chokes on his breath.
Neil sent him a fucking picture.
And not just any picture. It’s practically a fucking nude; a mirror selfie, taken in Andrew’s bathroom, with a black towel wrapped precariously around his waist. His shirt is off. Andrew has the urge to excuse himself back to his hotel room so he can imagine tracing Neil’s scars with his tongue.
N: Finally used your steam shower.
Andrew takes a deep breath, spends thirty solid seconds pretending to pay attention to the sponsor presentation, and then types his reply.
A: Do you send shower pics to all of your employers?
N: Just you.
Are they flirting? Surely. But it’s been weeks since Andrew mentioned his attraction. Why act on that now? And why’d he have to wait until Andrew left the house? Selfish bastard.
A: Interesting
A: I don’t recall you asking if you can use my shower.
N: I’ll knock $100 off your bill this week?
N: It’s a very nice shower.
A: You are a menace.
N: I might have made the water too hot though
Another picture comes through. Neil has taken one over his shoulder, still in the mirror, to show off his back. His shoulders are a delightfully flushed pink—an indication that he kept the water scalding. Andrew has to consciously try to keep his expression neutral; Neil’s muscles are lean and defined, sculpting around his prominent shoulder blades. Freckles dot the spaces in between a few scars. One looks like an intense road rash, and the other on his shoulder looks like the imprint of a hot iron.
The temptation to ask is a sin on its own.
A: I hate you.
N: Am I making you uncomfortable?
N: Genuine question btw
N: Seriously
A: Only you would ask if it’s okay to send half nudes to someone who already said you were attractive.
N: I hope not lol
N: So this is ok?
Andrew reads the message again and again. He has fully lost track of the sponsorship presentation. Kevin is rolling his eyes, but he’s not trying to read Andrew’s texts over his shoulder, which is a blessing.
No one has ever asked Andrew if it’s okay to send him nudes. In his experience, hookups just assume it’s warranted. Andrew has grown used to it. Now, he wonders why he let that be his norm. He also wonders if this means he and Neil are starting something they can’t take back.
A: Yes.
N: Noted (:
Andrew finally locks his phone and turns it face-down on the table.
He’s so fucked.
–
N: You said my scars were interesting
N: Do you want to know how I got them
A: You said your father did most of it
N: I basically spent my life running from him with my mom
N: She was with me until she died and I was on my own for a while. Eventually my uncle caught up with my dad and executed him. By then he had added a few more scars.
N: He was a bad man with a lot of power and I’m glad he’s dead
A: It’s okay to be glad abusers die
N: It doesn’t bother you?
A: I have my own scars Neil
A: You know that
A: You know too much about me to not know that
N: I’ve never told anyone any of that before.
N: But I think I trust you
A: Stupid
N: Yeah
N: King says hi
–
Andrew is on the private red-eye flight home, wide awake and thinking about Neil.
After their shower pic incident, Neil has been relatively quiet. It doesn’t feel like a reprieve, though—it feels like he’s planning something diabolical. Andrew is embarrassed to admit he’s lost sleep over it.
It’s…different to exchange these kinds of texts with someone who blatantly and vocally intends to respect his boundaries.
Andrew has alluded to his past in previous texts, but nothing beyond the simple nature of his abuse. Nothing he hasn’t said on a podcast interview, if he’s asked about mental health and PTSD, which isn’t uncommon after his diagnosis was leaked in a tabloid a few years ago.
And it’s not like he spends more time than necessary on men who disrespect him. He doesn’t tolerate jokes about it, or attempts at open discussion. He’ll block someone at the mere mention of his brother’s trial, despite it being years ago. But for the sake of staying sane and meeting his own needs, he tolerates an unprompted nude or a presumption of participation.
He doesn’t know what to do with Neil.
And, speak of the devil—his phone vibrates. He curses the private airline for including free wi-fi. He should have turned his phone on airplane mode and left it alone, but part of him had been hoping for a Neil text. Pathetic, really.
N: Do you have sex a lot?
Well. Okay.
Andrew looks across the aisle at Kevin, who is fast asleep. The rest of the team is silent. Andrew is grateful that this jet is one seat to a row.
A: That’s forward.
N: Just curious.
A: I’m sure.
A: Not really. I don’t tend to get close enough to anyone for that.
N: But you fool around?
A: Yes sometimes. I have needs.
Andrew holds his breath.
A: And toys if I need more than what I usually get
Neil seems entirely virginal in his experience so Andrew isn’t sure if he’ll understand the implication. Andrew has only ever had consensual penetrative sex twice, and has never allowed anyone to top him. He thinks about it, of course, in the comfort of his own bed. His toys are for him and him alone.
N: Never used a toy before
If anyone can see Andrew’s toy stash, it should be Neil. The thought passes unbidden through his mind. Neil has been a permanent fixture in Andrew’s life for months, and he’s hot, and he’s been flirting with Andrew on and off. It’s the closest Andrew has ever been to anything long term.
So, sure. Why not?
A: I have some if you want to try
Andrew’s lip stays caught firmly between his teeth. The plane hits a bump of turbulence and he tastes iron.
N: Where
Jesus Christ.
Andrew glances again at Kevin’s sleeping form. The aisle is completely dark and the skies outside are pitch black. The sun won’t rise for another three hours because of the time difference. He has time to toy with Neil more than he probably should. With his heart rabbiting in his chest, he replies.
A: In my room, right side nightstand.
He pictures Neil, shirtless and sleep-ruffled, rolling out of bed and wandering to Andrew’s room. Andrew has kept the door unlocked for weeks now, so Neil will be able to enter without a fuss. He’s probably fumbling through the dark with shaky hands attempting to find his prize. A text comes through moments later.
N: The black one?
A: If you want. Use lube and go slow
N: Talk me tjrough it
N: Please
Andrew has to clench his teeth to stop a groan. Neil’s words send heat straight to Andrew’s cock. That toy has been inside Andrew more times than he can count, and Neil is currently holding it and asking Andrew how to fucking use it on himself. Andrew knows it well—thick, on the shorter side, because he enjoys the stretch and not the depth.
A: Are you sure?
N: Yes
A: Lie back on the bed
He hopes Neil gets the hint and splays himself across Andrew’s silky sheets, rather than going back to his own room.
A: Take your sweatpants off, yes or no?
N: Yes. Shirt on though
A: Ok. Start slow and think about someone attached to the other end of it. You want to build yourself up. So touch your body before you touch your dick at all
N: I don’t know who to think about lol
Fuck. Fuck. He shouldn’t. He really should end this conversation now. But Andrew’s mind is clouded with heat and lust and the safety of hundreds of miles.
A: Think about me
Neil’s answer comes nearly instantly.
N: Okay
This is a monumentally bad idea.
A: If I were there I’d get you worked up first and kiss you
A: Once you start panting I’d have you lick my palm so I could start stroking you slow
A: It’s only going to work if you really want it
N: I do
A: Are you hard Neil?
N: yes
A: Touch yourself and picture my hand instead
Andrew is painfully hard inside his jeans and he shifts awkwardly in his seat to relieve the pressure. Somewhere down there, Neil’s got his fingers wrapped around his hard cock, eyes fluttering shut as he pictures Andrew taking him apart.
A: I want to put my mouth on you, y/n?
N: Y
A: You want me to suck you off until you come down my throat?
N: Fuck Andrew yes
God, Neil would sound so fucking good saying that in real life. Andrew tries to keep his breathing under control, but the image of Neil’s voice echoing those words in Andrew’s ear makes it difficult.
A: Get the lube and get your fingers ready
A: When you feel okay use your one finger to tease your hole like I would if I were there, slow
A: Start fucking yourself on your finger and think about how mine are so much thicker.
N: You’re make me so fucking hard.
Okay. Enough is enough. Andrew unbuckles himself and adjusts his cock inside his pants. He’s as quiet as he possibly can be as he makes his way towards the cramped bathroom. It’s not the most shameful place he’s jerked off, but it’s not the most glamorous. It’ll have to do, he thinks, as he locks the door and stares at his phone at another Neil text.
N: You’re so hot
N: Never thought that about anyone before
A: Have you thought about me sucking you off before?
N: Yes I can’t look at pics of you without thinking about it
A: What about me bending you over?
N: Fuck
A: Get on your stomach and put lube on the toy
Andrew pictures Neil rolling over and arching his back, perfectly situated on his knees to take the toy as deep as he can. He finally puts a hand down his pants and wraps his fingers around his cock, and nearly gasps because he didn’t realize how hard he’d gotten. He has to encircle his fingers around the base to make sure he doesn’t come before he can walk Neil through this.
A: Relax all your muscles
A: Go slow
N: It won’t fit
A: Yes it will.
A: Think about how bad you want my cock
The image of Neil in his mind drops his jaw and releases a choked sigh as the toy slides home. His cheeks are bright red and shiny with sweat and tears, and drool drips from his lips onto the sheets alongside his cock. His vision only intensifies when he thinks about Neil breathing Andrew’s scent, imagining how Andrew is the one splitting him open. The definition of sin.
N: its big
A: I know
A: Keep going
A: You need to find your prostate
Is Neil crying out as he finds it? Is he rolling his hips back into it, needy for more? Andrew’s hand moves faster, stroking himself to the image, knowing he’d place a hand on the small of Neil’s back to help him relax.
N: I thinkg I found it
A: Keep fucking into it
A: I want you to try and cum like that
N: you feel so good inside me
Andrew bites the flesh of his other palm to stay quiet. How the fuck did Neil manage to waltz into his life, just like that, only to become this?
N: imcl ose
A: Don’t touch yourself
N: you should
A: I am
A: Fucking dry because I couldn’t wait
A: Thinking about how tight you are
Neil’s response bubble pops up and immediately disappears. He’s probably seeing stars right now and milking the toy inside him, wishing it were Andrew, spilling across Andrew’s sheets at the idea of it. Andrew wonders what Neil sounds like—if he babbles, if he’s quiet, if he moans loud enough for neighbors to hear. Andrew wants nothing more than to find out.
N: Have to clean your comforter
A picture comes through. Neil’s cum is pearlescent against Andrew’s black duvet cover, in long, thick ropes next to the toy which is shiny with lube. Andrew has to dig his teeth into his shoulder when he comes, hard. He manages to aim blindly towards the toilet, but it strikes him so suddenly and violently that he doesn’t care if he misses. Panting, with his vision spinning, he types his response.
A: I think I’m in the mile high club now
N: You’re hilarious
N: Two more hours until you’re home though
Andrew raises a brow, though Neil can’t see it, and stares at his phone. The local time when he lands will be 6:30 in the morning.
A: Bit early.
N: I don’t care
N: Need you
N: No more teasing
A: I don’t get a nap?
N: Not until you fuck me
Andrew’s head knocks back against the bathroom door as he pants and stares at his mess. Neil Josten is going to fucking kill him.
–
Neil has already texted Andrew that he’s in the bedroom before Andrew gets home from the airport.
He still says hello to King when she runs up to him. It feels a bit like he’s awaiting an execution. When he glances up towards the stairs, he can see his own bedroom door cracked open with light pouring through. He was exhausted on the ride home, but he’s wide awake at the sight of it. Six thirty in the morning be damned.
“Don’t think about cockblocking me,” he mutters under his breath to King, who responds with a mew and runs off again.
The journey upstairs is unnecessarily long and slow. When he pushes his bedroom door open wider, he sees Neil, curled up under a freshly-washed duvet looking small and vulnerable. He looks up from his phone, lip caught between his teeth. His gaze tracks Andrew as he closes the door behind him.
Neil swallows hard and tries to break the tension with an easy, “I swear this isn’t just a way for me to get a free place to stay.”
“Mm.” Andrew stalks forward and rolls his silver suitcase next to his closet. He’s normally the type to unpack the moment he gets home, but this time, it’ll have to wait.
“I meant what I said,” Neil says. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I didn’t even know I liked guys until you.”
Andrew raises a brow at that. “Is that why you asked me about it?”
“Well.” Neil shrugs. “That, and I wanted to flirt with you. And I had no idea how to do it.”
And that’s unfairly adorable. Andrew shrugs off his button-up and shimmies out of his jeans until he’s in his boxers and undershirt. Neil watches him, almost hungry, like a predator stalking its prey. It occurs to Andrew that, while Neil’s shown Andrew his body, Andrew hasn’t returned the favor yet.
Andrew climbs onto his bed and pulls back the covers to find Neil is wearing a tank top and tiny briefs that leave little to the imagination. He licks his lips and says, “You handled it just fine.”
“I feel like I owe you,” Neil nearly whispers.
“Owe me what?”
“I don’t know. More truths, I guess. I’m still just some random guy off the streets who stays at your house for free most of the time.”
“I didn’t ask.” Andrew reaches forward and waits for Neil’s nod to cup his cheek. “But you can consider yourself in debt. I don’t charge interest.”
Neil’s lips quirk. “Well, that’s good. I do intend to stop being your sugar baby eventually.”
“Shut up,” Andrew says, and kisses him.
Neil’s lips are as soft as Andrew had imagined time and time again. He isn’t inexperienced so much as he is tentative, daring to meet Andrew’s lips with the tip of his tongue. Andrew responds in kind, pulling him closer by the back of his neck and brushing the baby hairs there until Neil shivers.
Andrew pushes him back. Once Neil is against the pillow, his hair framing his face like a halo, Andrew dives back down. This time, Neil reaches up to tangle his own fingers in Andrew’s hair. His kisses are a little more eager, a little more urgent. Andrew swings a leg over his hips until he’s straddling Neil and kissing him within an inch of his life.
He could kiss Neil for hours. Hell, maybe they do kiss for hours—Andrew loses track of time lost in how Neil tastes and how his hot breath fans across Andrew’s cheeks. It’s sweeter than he pictured. Too sweet to match what he knows Neil wants.
Andrew tilts his head to the side and deepens the kiss, escalating until it’s filthy. Neil starts to wiggle his hips impatiently, and only when Andrew adjusts his position does he feel how hard Neil has become.
The line of his cock is prominent against Andrew’s ass. The idea that there are only two thin layers of fabric between their skin is intoxicating.
“Want you,” Neil practically whines against Andrew’s lips.
Neil is already opened up for him, isn’t he? The toy is nowhere to be seen, but Andrew had picture proof that Neil had taken the whole thing to the hilt. “I want you in my mouth first.”
“Fuck,” Neil breathes out. “Andrew. Yes.”
It sounds just as good as Andrew knew it would.
Andrew slides down Neil’s body, kissing over his tank top as he moves. He moves slowly enough for Neil to stop him when he lifts the fabric to trace a scar across Neil’s belly. Neil stares, eyes hooded, chest heaving with breaths. He jolts when Andrew presses his tongue against what must be a bullet wound.
Agonizingly, there’s so much to learn about Neil that it overwhelms Andrew in waves. Text conversations don’t do his backstory much justice. He wants to crawl inside Neil Josten’s skin and stay there until he’s memorized every moment of his life. He badly needs to understand how a flighty, unpredictable, untraceable nomad ended up in Andrew’s bed for good.
With trembling fingers, he tugs on the waistband of Neil’s briefs until they wrap around his thighs. Neil’s cock springs free and slaps against his stomach; it’s perfectly average in size, but Andrew has never seen anything more alluring in his life. His mouth waters at the sight of Neil’s tip already weeping, just from a few kisses.
He glances back up at Neil to be sure. “Still yes?”
Neil nods. He’s flushing, but his eyes are clear. “Yes.”
He jerks like he’s been shocked when Andrew licks a stripe up his shaft. At first, Neil raises a hand as if to shove it back into Andrew’s hair, but seems to think better of it and grips the sheets instead. Andrew wraps a hand around the base of Neil’s cock and brings him into his mouth. He moves his head down, down, until Neil fills his mouth and his senses completely.
“Jesus,” Neil mutters. “Andrew—”
Neil is so responsive. Every kitten lick, every hollowing of Andrew’s cheeks, every flattening of his tongue has Neil arching his back and nearly ripping the sheets between his fingers. Neil gasps and whimpers and moans, unashamed. Andrew feels Neil throb in his mouth and knows he should stop before Neil comes, but it’s a herculean effort to do so.
“Close,” Neil babbles. “Close, close.”
He looks dazed and debauched when Andrew pulls back. His taste is lingering and Andrew never wants it to leave his tongue. Andrew pulls his briefs completely off and takes a deep, assuring breath before he removes his own boxers and undershirt.
Neil’s icy gaze roams Andrew’s body without shame. Andrew is still wearing his arm bands, but other than that, this is the most naked he’s been in front of anyone in a long time. He’d be more embarrassed if Neil didn’t look like he wanted to devour Andrew whole.
Andrew reaches for the night stand. The lube is back in its place, right next to the toy that has been entirely washed. Andrew’s mouth goes dry as he pictures, once again, the girth of it stretching Neil to his limit.
He pulls back and lubes his cock, and Neil is watching so raptly that Andrew is surprised he’s aware enough to nod when Andrew asks if he’s sure.
Neil keeps his tank top on. Andrew doesn’t ask why. A yes when Neil sent his shower picture is not a yes forever, and he knows that. He makes it clear without words.
Andrew pushes a pillow under Neil’s hips, which earns him an eye roll. Andrew deadpans and says, “You will thank me.”
“Don’t you need to—” Neil gestures at his lower half. “I don’t know. Prep me?”
“Do you want me to prep you?” Andrew asks. “I’m not as big. You should be ready enough.”
Neil shifts his hips. “What if I can’t take it?”
“Then you can’t. I don’t pressure. But I think you want it badly enough that you can.”
Something dark crosses Neil’s features. He licks his lips. “I want it.”
“So, put your legs up. On my hips.”
Neil does. His hole is still puffy and a little wet from his earlier session, but Andrew still applies more lube just in case. He lines up his cock and a shiver wracks his spine when Neil twitches against him.
“Relax,” Andrew reminds him, brushing his hair away from his face. “Deep breath out.”
Neil follows directions beautifully. On his exhale, Andrew pushes inside of him, and has to shove his face into his shoulder to keep his composure.
He’s so tight. It’s nearly painful. He looks down at Neil to find he’s tensed up again, muscles straining and teeth clenched. Andrew drags his palm down Neil’s ribcage to his hip and lifts him, soothing him.
“You’re okay,” he says, though he’s not sure why.
Neil shakes his head. “Won’t fit.”
“It will if you stop tensing up.”
Neil takes another deep breath and Andrew watches as he relaxes all of his muscles from his shoulders down. Andrew takes advantage of his exhale once again and pushes further until he’s halfway inside. This time, Neil’s jaw goes a bit slack, and he’s only tense in his hips.
“Little more,” Andrew murmurs.
Finally, Neil is lax enough for Andrew to bottom out. He’s like a hot vice around Andrew’s cock, shivering and shaking. Hazily, he stares down between them to see where he and Andrew are connected. His cock twitches against his stomach.
“Better like this,” he mutters. “N-not on my knees.”
Andrew leans down to kiss him, quickly and chastely. “Push up a little.”
Neil does, and Andrew adjusts his hips, and he knows he’s hitting Neil’s prostate when Neil cries out and digs his nails into Andrew’s back. “Fuck.”
Andrew focuses on the point where their bodies meet. He doesn’t fuck Neil so much as he grinds into him, slow and hard, again and again. Neil’s ankles hook around Andrew’s waist and he scratches deep into Andrew’s spine. He’d be worried about Neil breaking skin if he cared.
“Faster,” Neil chokes out next to his ear.
Andrew picks up speed and follows his instincts, shoving his face into the crook of Neil’s neck. Neil’s cock rubs between their stomachs and throbs with his pulse. Without thinking, Andrew sinks his teeth into the skin above Neil’s collar bone, desperate to mark him or claim him or something. Neil shouts his name, shivers and shakes under him, and comes undone far faster than Andrew anticipated.
The idea of Neil coming so soon with such little effort has Andrew’s vision tunneling. He pulls out and stares at Neil clenching around nothing, and starts stroking himself to completion while Neil regains his consciousness.
His peak hits like a firework, and he nearly doubles over from the intensity. Andrew’s cum paints Neil’s chest and catches in the fine hair above his cock. Neil moans weakly, like he’s trying to offer encouragement but forgot how to speak.
They’re both panting hard when Andrew collapses against Neil’s chest. The mess between them is uncomfortable and sticky, but Andrew is too busy trying to inhale Neil’s scent. He wants to do this again and again and again and he can, and that knowledge is so overwhelming that it almost has him running away.
“Now you can nap,” Neil says against the shell of Andrew’s ear.
Andrew rolls his eyes. He pulls back to memorize Neil’s expression—fucked out and exhausted, freshly recovering from an orgasm.
“Do I still have to pay you?” Andrew asks.
“Not if you feed me,” Neil says. “And you’re okay with me getting an actual job.”
“You don’t want to be my kept mistress?”
“I mean, if you insisted, I guess I would concede.”
“Shut up,” Andrew says. “Come with me to my next game.”
Neil grins lazily. “Okay.”
Andrew accepts this with a nod and a kiss. Distantly, he realizes he’ll have to get used to coming home to King’s messes all over again. He decides he’s okay with that once Neil kisses his neck and tells Andrew he’s beautiful.
He hates when Kevin Day is right.