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~Wednesday Night~
Rich is stressed.
He's overtired and on edge.
His schedule has been absolutely insane lately.
Oh, and it doesn't help that he's flippin' nauseous thinking about tomorrow's flight.
Currently, Rich is in Vancouver, sitting anxiously at a hotel bar. This is the first moment in two weeks he's been able to do anything but eat, work, and sleep. Although his body is finally relaxing, it takes his mind little while longer to catch up. He's still racing, words and images swirling rapidly inside his overstuffed brain. Staring blankly at his beer, he doesn't drink it yet. Rich is so out of it, he doesn't even notice the not-so-discrete wink the sexy little bartender just shot his way.
Taking a deep breath, Rich lifts the glass to his lips and closes his eyes as the ice cold toasty flavor floods his mouth. He can do this. Tonight, Rich will sleep soundly and tomorrow Rob will meet up with him and everything will be fine.
His thoughts wander...
Robbie.
There's a convention this weekend in San Francisco, a mere two hour flight from Rich's current location. Yet, Robbie is flying all the way to Canada, for no other reason than to join Rich and make the trip together. He feels a warmth, one that has nothing to do with alcohol, spread up and down his spine as he thinks of his friend.
Rich feels so lucky.
Of course, Rob can't do this every time Rich has to fly somewhere, but whenever he can he does. In the beginning, Rich used to shrug him off, argue that he's a big boy and can do it all on his own, but Rob always insists. Robbie invests his precious free time and hard earned money in his best friend's well being. Rich feels his face go hot thinking about being that important to someone.
So Rich doesn't fight him anymore. He doesn't fight it because there's no question that when Robbie is sitting next to him, hundreds of thousands of feet up in the air, Rich breathes better.
His phones buzzes in his pocket. Like some freaky wavelength, he knows it's Rob. All the message contains is a photo. An embarrassing photo of a very drunk Rich that Rob will never let die. It was during the early years of their convention days, one of the first times they truly got wasted together. It depicts Rich in a very compromising position, wearing one of Osric's more eccentric cosplays.
It looks much better on Osric.
Another message comes in.
ROB: in all these years you've never been able to top this moment? I'm disappointed.
Rich grins when he replies.
RICH: you couldn't handle another night like that, old man. I'm doing you a curtesy.
ROB: old man? You're older than me!
RICH: by like 17 days!
ROB: still counts, OLD MAN. Anyway, you ready to get fucked up!?
They continue texting like this for a while, mainly discussing their plans for the weekend. Rich laughs a little as he finally looks up from his phone to sip his beer. He glances at the bartender and notices she's staring at him. When she realizes he sees her, she goes red and immediately rushes to say, "Sorry!"
He's about to switch gears, turn on the charm and give her the old Richard Speight special, but then she continues with a nervous laugh, "I-I was gonna give you my number...but I couldn't get myself to do it..."
That's not what he was excepting. Why couldn't she give him her number? A momentary panic sets in, does he have a booger? Pit stains? Bad breath? His face must give away how lost he is, so she elaborates further, "Who is she?"
Now Rich is really confused. She? She who?
"On the phone...I've never seen someone look that in love with a person just by texting them..."
What the fuck?
"Wha?" Rich says quietly. He feels stupid. He's only been texting Robbie.
When he doesn't answer, she looks embarrassed and says, "Oh, I'm sorry, I've overstepped! Here, have another one...on me." She slides a fresh beer to him before scurrying away to help someone else.
Rich chugs that drink like a parched man dying in the desert, trying to think about anything else. Anything. He laughs to himself manically, looking slightly insane. But he doesn't care. Because if Rich is certain of one goddamn thing in his whacked out life, no matter what the fangirls may think, he's not in love with Rob Benedict.
~Thursday Afternoon~
The seat belt is tight on Rich's lap, fucking too tight. His jaw is tense, his vision is narrow, and his mouth is dry. He thinks about the many oxygen masks and life rafts hidden away 'just in case.'
However, the plane takes off without a hitch, signifying that the hardest part is over. Rich comes back down to reality to the sound of Rob's beautiful voice. He's singing a tune, low and private, just for Rich.
"It's rare I get to say, everything's gonna be okay..."
Rich breathes out a shaky laugh and smiles on instinct when he recognizes the melody. Turning his head to the left, he makes eye contact with those baby blues. Rich feels his entire body relax, because although Rob is the anxious one majority of the time, in certain situations he grounds Rich. They always seem to balance each other out. Eventually, Rich's grip loosens significantly on the hand that's crushed inside his own--- wait what?
They're holding hands.
Rich panics and pulls away, but Rob clutches him harder. There's no words, which is weird for them. All that's left is the silent confidence of Rob's strength saying this is okay. For a split second, Rich believes it and allows his hand to be held. Rob's hand is lined with masculinity. Calloused and worn form years of playing guitar, Rich likes the feeling of it.
The way Rob is looking at him is earth shattering, making all those terrifying feelings from last night's internal crisis come rushing back. Was that bartender right? No, of course not, she doesn't even know them. Sure, what he and Robbie have is special, Rich would have to be blind, deaf, and brainless not to know that. But, are they in love? Probably not...
Rich tugs away again and this time Rob let's him go. Instantly and irrationally, Rich wishes he didn't because Rob looks so disheartened, hurt. But by far the worst part is how hard Rob is trying to hide it. Rich sees right through him though, knows Robbie better than any other human on this planet and right now a part of him is closed off.
It's gonna be a long weekend.
~Thursday Night~
The long trek is finally over, Rob and Rich arrive at the check in counter of their hotel around nine o'clock that evening. Tired or not, Rich feels himself already starting to get excited. There's a buzz in the air that oozes with convention hype. As soon as he gets to his room, Rich plans to strip naked, take a hot shower and head down to the restaurant.
After a while of standing aimlessly at the front desk, Rich picks up on the fact the woman helping them looks distressed. Rob must sense it too because he starts pacing a little.
"Everything alright?" Rich asks with a smile.
She looks up at the pair of them and takes a deep breath. "We apologize, there seems to be some kind of mistake, we only have one reservation..."
"What?" Rob pipes up, his voice cracking as he turns to Rich for backup.
God, he's cute...shit, focus!
"Meaning you only have one room booked for us?" Rich is trying to remain calm. He's traveled enough to know that mistakes happen. Everything will work out.
"That's correct. One room for the two of you," she confirms.
"Well, can we book a second one now?" Rich suggests.
So much for walking around naked.
"I'm afraid we're entirely sold out. You see, there's a convention going on this weekend and everything's been booked for months."
"Robbie, did you hear that? There's a convention this weekend!" Rich laughs sarcastically.
Rob chuckles a little and shifts his attention back to the woman, "Well, we can share I guess."
Rich's eyes widen, glancing back and forth between Rob and the woman. This can't be real life. This cannot be the weekend he has to share a room with Rob, not when everything is so fucked up in his head. They've shared rooms before and of course had plenty of conjoining ones too where the door never made it shut. But this time is different and Rich feels like he suffocating.
"Heh, wait a minute..." Rich starts to say weakly.
"Okay, let me get you your room keys," she sounds relieved.
"Rich, what's the matter? It's no big deal." Rob looks suspicious, trying to read his friend.
"Here you are! Have a nice stay!" Her voice is rushed and fake as she gives both cards to Rob.
When Rob hands one of the keys to Rich, their fingers to brush slightly, causing Rich to jump and mumble, "Yeah, no big deal..."
Heading upstairs, Rich mentally calms himself down again, finding comfort in the fact that they'll be so busy they won't even be able to spend much time in the room anyway. And of course there'll be two beds.
No big deal.
However, when they unlock the door to their room, it becomes very clear why it is actually a big deal, the biggest fucking deal in fact.
King sized and threatening, it sits smack dab in the middle of the room. One. Fucking. Bed.
~Really Late Thursday Night~
"Rich, just get in the bed," Rob whines for the millionth time. He's already tucked under the covers and changed into his pajamas. "You're freaking me out!"
As the night goes on, all throughout dinner and unpacking, Rich has felt his sanity slowly slipping away. How can he be this infatuated with Rob after one single passing comment from a stranger? Time isn't making things better, it's making him fall harder. Suddenly, Rob is the hottest fucking thing in the universe and Rich feels like he's been warding off a dangerous Viagra boner for the past two hours. It's as if every move the man makes is done solely to taunt Rich, to seduce him. Rob's voice, his eyes, his solid yet petite frame. It's all too much.
At the moment, Rich can't stop thinking about the way Rob looks in those damn pajamas. They're loose, yet somehow show off everything he's got going on under there. His pants cling liberally around his waist, low enough for two chiseled hip bones to be visible. Peaked nipples can be seen through the thinness of his gray t-shirt. Why are his nipples so hard, anyway? Rich really wants to go jerk off, but instead he just stands there awkwardly, fully dressed and paralyzed at the edge of the bed.
"Rich, please! You look like you're about to jump out the window. Just tell me what's been going on. I've been more than patient this entire fucking day! Do I smell or something?" Rob is pouting magnificently.
Great, now he's wondering what Rob smells like.
His defensive brain quickly fires off a smart ass reply, "Can't jump out a hotel window, remember that time we tried--"
"RICH."
"Fine!" Rich yells, crawling into the bed and laying down on top of the covers.
"What are you doing?" Rob looks almost scared.
"Going to sleep," Rich lies.
"In your clothes?" Rob's voice is getting more and more high pitched.
"Yeah, I always sleep like this..." Rich almost laughs.
"No you don't!"
"How do you know?"
"Because you're not...a serial killer!"
Rob is really freaking out and Rich needs to pull himself together. Robbie hasn't done anything wrong and definitely doesn't deserve this behavior. Rich is being immature and feels like bad friend. Hoping for the best, he goes to the bathroom and changes.
Rob is eyeing him warily, not saying a word as Rich eventually slips into bed next to him.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me..."
"Whatever, man, get some sleep," Rob says, clearly still annoyed. He clicks the lamp off and tugs the blankets closer to him, leaving Rich with much less than half.
Rich doesn't dare complain. Laying on his back, he closes his eyes and tries to sort through his thoughts. He fails. He's too distracted by Rob's proximity. They're so close, Rich can feel the heat radiating off him.
Rich decides to give into his own mind, to succumb to the comfort of his dreamscape. There's nowhere else to run. He starts to wonder what it would feel like to kiss Rob, his lips would probably be so warm and responsive. The fantasy snowballs into something much more explicit, beginning to imagine what it would feel like to have Rob beneath him, naked and writhing in pleasure, so open and willing. What it would feel like to flip them over and feel Rob on top of him, giving the younger man full access to worship him.
What it would feel like if Rob were in love with him too...
~Friday Morning~
"Hey, uh, buddy?" Rob's voice is a low rumble, something Rich feels more than sees. "Rich?"
"Mm, Robbie..." Rich sighs contentedly, he's warm and safe. Tightening his arm, he pulls the body in front of him closer. Instinct demands him to take a deep breath, to inhale the scent he's most longing for. Rich bucks his hips forward slightly, trying to get closer and closer---
"Ohh," comes out of Rob's mouth, the sound undeniably sexual.
Rich snaps out of his twilight haze, "Rob?"
No answer.
Upon being fully awake, it becomes painfully obvious how little space there is between them. Rich is spooning Rob as protectively as he can, their fingers interlaced over Rob's chest, his nose buried in Rob's fluffy curls, his hardening cock nestled snugly against the cleft of Rob's ass.
Lightning fast, Rich springs from the bed. Bolting to the bathroom, he doesn't look back, he can't. Rich is cursing himself, he knew sharing a bed was a bad idea. That dreaded line was crossed and now Robbie probably thinks he's a creep. He needs a cold shower.
The water is abusive, way too cold, but Rich needs it to be that way. A subconscious punishment. However, the pain makes him think clearer, going over and over what just happened. There's one detail that gnaws at him, one thing that he can't stop obsessing over.
Robbie moaned.
Rich did not imagine it. As creative as he is, there's no way he could make up a sound so perfect. So unique, so erotic, so desperate, so Rob.
A thousand new questions are born. Could the moan be as simple as natural response? Feeling another man's arousal must have some sort of biological effect, especially during a sleep state. Rob could have easily been dreaming, thinking about someone else.
It doesn't add up. Rich's brain presented it's case, but now his heart is taking a stand. Rob was awake, he said Rich's name, he liked it...
Stepping out of the shower, he looks at himself in the mirror. Rich definitely feels a tad more refreshed and determined. It's Friday morning, convention time. It's time to let go of all this for now and give the fans what they deserve, a fully focused Richard Speight Jr.
Time to be the motherfucking Master of Ceremonies.
~Friday Night~
The day passes quickly, as most convention days tend to do. Introductions, autographs, photo ops, singing, dancing, all packed into one day. Only to be repeated again tomorrow. Rich is proud to say his on stage chemistry with Rob was not affected in the slightest. Being professionals, as well as best friends can be a challenge. But nothing ever gets in their way, not even one of them falling in love with the other. Rob and Rich are meant to be together, in some ways or maybe even all the ways.
Thankfully, Rob doesn't acknowledge what happened this morning. On the other hand, not all acknowledgement is verbal. Maybe he's imagining it, but Rob seems to be bending over more often, deliberately and unnecessarily. And like the poor sucker he is, Rich has stared every single time. He's confident that at this point he could sculpt a replica of Rob's ass that would make Michelangelo jealous. Also, Robbie seems to be standing closer to him, on stage and off. A subtle enough change that would go unnoticed to strangers, yet cause palpitations for Rich.
Fucker is teasing him.
Karaoke is out of control. The fans appear more eager and backstage seems more stocked with alcohol than usual. He's lost count of the tequila shots they all indulge in before, during, and after the show. In other words, Rich gets drunk fast. A personal reward for the shit storm his brain has been putting him through the last few days. He needs this release, partying like the rockstar he should have been.
Heading back to his room, the room with one goddamn bed, Rich tires to walk as straight as he can, but the walls are fuzzy and tilted. Robbie is just up ahead of him, still singing loudly with his elbows looped around Kim and Briana's, a girl connected on each side.
Rob looks fucking hot, all loosened up like this. A drunken thought pops up, making Rich more confused than ever. Is he attracted to other men? Is he gay? Rich sinks deep into thought, but he's too drunk to come to a conclusion. Plus, Rob's perky ass is very distracting. Again.
Rob's ass...has he?
Has Robbie ever been with a guy before? Rich is his best friend, how have they never discussed this? He should ask him. Right now.
"Heya, Robbie! Gotta ask you somthin'..."
A part of Rich knows this is a very bad idea. Piss drunk and horny for his best friend are the main ingredients for the bitter cocktail of regret.
Rob whips around to look at him, a thick layer of sweat coating his tanned skin, "Mm?" Abandoning Kim and Briana, he practically skips over to where Rich is swaying. The girls giggle and keep walking, eventually disappearing into their own room and the end of the hallway.
"Richard! Richard Speight everyone!" Rob shouts, cracking himself up. Apparently, introducing Rich to the empty hallway is hilarious.
"Thank you? Thank you!" Rich plays along, pretending to wave and shake hands with a door knob.
Rob misjudges his step and slams right into Rich, their chests pressing together as Rich catches him. Rich is immediately on the alert, because he's pretty sure even with the copious amounts of alcohol he's consumed tonight, his dick is still interested.
"Whaddya wanna ask me?" Rob bats his eye lashes and starts doing this little wiggle thing. Rich is going to die, his brain is about to send it's last synapse if Robbie doesn't stop gyrating.
"Uhh," Rich stammers.
At the moment, trying to remember anything but his secret burning gay love for Rob seems like an impossibility.
"Just say it, Rich..." Rob says poisonously.
He has to be doing this on purpose.
Rich staggers forward and pushes Rob up against the wall. Rob squeaks out a pretty little noise that has Rich holding back a moan of his own.
Rich goes blank. What did he want to ask him again?
Oh.
"Heh, uh, ever squeeze a...a hot dog up between your buns?" Is what comes out.
Real smooth.
Rich is cringing and Rob looks torn between bursting out into laughter and finding the brain power to understand the question. His fingers find the belt loops of Rich's jeans and yank him forward, their crotches bumping together with surprising force, "Are you asking me if I've ever been with a man before?"
Intoxicated or not, Rob's eyes are fierce. Faces only inches apart, they're both already half hard. Rich knows his own body language betrays him, he's breathing louder than Darth Vader and his eyes are probably darker than a black hole.
"Yeah, I guess I am...for a friend of course," Rich answers automatically, smirking as best he can.
Rob hooks his hand around the back of Rich's neck and whispers directly into his ear, "I have."
Rich nearly collapses, because when he blinks, Rob is gone. His warmth, his eyes, his bulge. All gone. Rich spins around to see where he went, lost and needy. Rob is walking away, appearing much too controlled and sober, leading the way to their room.
To their bed.
~Stupid Late Friday Night~
Rich is in absolute shock. He's still really fucked up and the room won't stop spinning. He's going to be so hungover tomorrow. There's a soft glow from the nightlight because Robbie doesn't like total darkness.
Rob lays next to him. Curled up around a long pillow, as if his world hasn't just been turned upside fucking down. Before getting into bed, he made sure to give Rich a glass of water and some Advil. Not a peep from him since.
Bastard.
How is he expected to sleep like this? Frustration doesn't even begin to cover it. Rich wants to touch himself so badly. He hasn't, not once since he realized his feelings for Rob. Judgement still impaired, he starts palming his mostly soft cock through his pants.
It doesn't take long to stroke himself to full hardness, especially once his hand slips under his clothes to clasp around his bare length. He pretends it's Rob touching him with those strong, talented hands. The imagery is more than enough to have him moaning.
Rob stirs.
Shit, he's got to be more quiet.
After a few seconds of not breathing, he begins pumping again, this time a little faster. He just needs to come, an orgasm will do him a world of good. This time he pictures Rob going down on him, imagining the wetness of his mouth. He wants it more than anything in the world.
"Rob..." Its a whisper in the dark, barely audible.
There's a growl of frustration to his right. Rob's long pillow goes flying and lands somewhere on the floor. Rob is fidgeting, but Rich doesn't look at him, he doesn't stop the rhythm of his hand either.
The room is eerie quiet now, the only sound remaining is the obscene slap of Rich's hand. There's no hiding it anymore, Rich's cock is aching and he needs to keep going.
The knowledge that Rob is awake, listening to him, makes the whole thing so much hotter. Rich tries not to moan but he can't help the tiny gasps and groans that slip out.
Rich could use some lube, jerking off dry is never the best way. So he kicks things up a notch, allowing his left hand to stray. He finds his own nipple and tweaks at it roughly, the sensation pulling the loudest moan from him yet. God, he wishes it were Rob's teeth nipping at him instead.
"Robbie, ahh..." It's a little bolder this time.
"Fuck," Rob grunts.
There's more movement. The bed dips and bounces until Rob finds a new position. So far gone past reason, Rich finally looks over at him.
Rob is on his back, shirtless, fucking up into his hand almost violently. Rob is still mostly hidden, the blanket covering him from the waist down. But Rich isn't greedy, this is a gift. Rich can see the little pool of sweat gathering in the hollow of Rob's collar bone. He can see the taut muscles flexing in Rob's working arm. The way Rob's bright eyes finally flutter shut as he cries out Rich's name.
Rich wouldn't look away from this if his life depended on it. His own cock is leaking liberally now and he's so close. He wants Rob to look at him, wants to feel his eyes burning into him, to show him what he's done to him.
"Please..." Rich actually begs. He's never begged during sex before, that's not how Daddy rolls. But Rob does things to him nobody else ever has, and if Rich must be reduced to a begging mess, so be it.
"Robbie, c'mon, please..."
Rob turns his head, giving Rich what he wants, what he needs. They make eye contact and Rob's breath hitches, his mouth falling open into a tiny 'o'. The heat in Rich's belly is boiling, taking him higher and higher towards the goal. Stripping his cock harder and faster, he risks, "Let me see you."
Rob obliges, kicking the blankets off hurriedly and revealing his cock. "Fuck," Rich sighs. Contrasted by the soft glow in the room, Rob's cock looks angry. Long and throbbing, Rich knows he's about to come any second.
Right on cue, Rob arches his back and moans, spilling his release all over his stomach. He's panting and watching Rich the entire, waiting.
Rich wants to shuffle closer, lick the come clean off Rob's beautiful body. Better yet, he wants to kiss Rob while he comes. But something holds him back, an unspoken rule that forbids him from touching Rob, from making this real.
When Rich finally comes, he prevents the unforgivable words from leaving his lips. Riding out one of the most intense climaxes of his life, he screams them internally.
I love you, Robbie, I love you so much.
Rich melts into the mattress, eyes still glued to Rob's as he tries to regulate his breathing. He can't move, not yet, so he decides to revel in the moment and study Robbie's face. Much too quickly, Rob is starting to look uneasy, his features contorting into something that looks a helluva lot like regret.
No, no, no, no, no.
Rich does not like where this is going. Just tell him. Rich thinks frantically. But nothing comes out. Rob rips his disappointed eyes away and slides his pants back up. Before Rich can even stutter a pathetic 'wait,' Rob disappears into the bathroom.
~Saturday Morning~
Due to some strange miracle, the convention Gods must have stepped in and forced Rich to sleep through the rest of the night. Three hours is better than nothing. The sun hasn't even risen yet, not even a crevice of light peeping through the curtains. Rich groans, his head is pounding. And it's way too early to be running this late.
Glancing to his right, he sees that Rob, facing away from him, is still asleep. Rich takes a deep breath. Being sober allows a litany of repressed emotions to rise to the surface.
Last night was real.
All of it. The good, the bad, the sexy. He knows they need to talk about it, but Rich doesn't know where to begin.
However, Rich does know one thing for sure. He's not just in love with Rob, he's crazy, stupid, scary in love with him. There's no chalking it off to being a horny drunk or just some lusty pipe dream. Rich feels the desire to be with Rob even more so now. He wants to take care of him, make him feel good. Emotionally, mentally, and physically.
If only he could tell Rob all this, he'd never have to see that heartbroken expression again. Instead, he let Rob go to bed thinking Rich just used him to get off. He fueled Rob with a reason to regret it. Rich is going fix this, he's going to tell Rob how he really feels, eventually...
At the moment, their lives demand something else. Something that leaves them no time for a therapy session. Plus, Rob's going to flip out if they're late. So for now, they'll have to carry on--
Hold up, carry on? Did Rich just parallel his life with Supernatural? He's in too deep.
"Robbie, hey, wake up," Rich says soothingly, shaking the sleeping man's shoulder gently.
Rob makes a disgruntled noise and blows him off. It's out of character. Rob is the one that wakes up first. Rob makes the coffee. Rob's the one that has to harass Rich for a half hour to get his ass out of bed.
Rich swallows the uneasy lump in his throat and removes his hand. "Rob--"
"I'll meet you down there."
The words are cold and vacant.
"Right, sure, cool, fine..." Rich babbles.
Maybe Rob just needs some space.
~Saturday Afternoon~
Rich feels like the walls are closing in, all the air in his lungs being vacuumed straight out, leaving him empty. Rob is not his right now. He's not his best friend, he's not his brother, and he's certainly not his lover. He's his co-worker.
Rob is acting.
Going through the motions for the sake of the audience. He's looking through Rich, not at him and it hurts. It hurts more than anything Rich has ever experienced.
He fucked up.
~Saturday Night~
The rest of the day is excruciating. Thank the Lord for his handler, working overtime to keep him on track and remind him where he has to be at what time. He's too distracted stalking Rob. Trying to get that man alone is harder than shooting a torpedo through the two meter opening of the Death Star's reactor core.
The passing hours make Rich feel numb, hopeless without the constant support and love from his friend. He thinks of ambushing Matt in between panels, ready to tell him everything. But he doesn't. Rich knows he needs to handle it alone.
The concert is bittersweet. Robbie performs his heart out, that divine voice echoing in Rich's ears long after he's stopped singing. Rich can't help but swoon watching him, a true artist born to be admired.
Up there on stage it's easy to forget what happened. Then Rich remembers everything and it feels like someone knocked the wind out of him. The thought of ruining his relationship with Rob makes Rich want to throw up. He can't live without Robbie. Especially not now.
There's still time...still hope.
Rich decides to use all his pent up stress in a positive way. Wailing on his guitar, he plays with a passion he hasn't had in a long time. Every time Rob sneaks a peek at him, Rich gains another sliver of confidence.
Afterwards, Rich heads back to their room first, giving Rob an opportunity to be alone with his bandmates. Needing to hold onto whatever is left of his dignity, he wants Rob to come to him. When he's ready. Rich is done following Rob around like some desperate drug addict.
He waits.
For over two hours.
The door creaks open slowly, Rob hoping to slink in unnoticed. Too bad, Rich is wide awake and ready to spill his guts like the sap he is.
Rob walks towards the desk to deposit his bags. He notices Rich is awake, but doesn't make eye contact.
"Can we talk?"
Rob looks flighty, like he might bail right now and go bang on Matt's door.
"Don't leave, give me a chance."
Rob releases the breath he's been holding and kicks his shoes off. Sitting on the bed, he stares down at his own restless hands neurotically.
Here goes nothing.
"I don't regret it," Rich opens with.
"I do." Rob's first words sting.
Rich thinks he better cut to the chase, because they could talk in circles for hours about misunderstandings and petty bullshit.
"I'm in love with you."
That gets his attention. Rob gives him his eyes, so vulnerable and trusting when he says, "You are?"
"Yep."
"I thought--"
"I know what you thought and I'm sorry. I should have told you last night. Things have been...intense lately..." Rich explains.
Silence.
"Do you...ya know...love me too?" The part that Rich would rather avoid, the part that might break him.
Rob looks dumbstruck. "Is that even a question? Rich, I've been in love with you since the moment I met you. You're everything to me."
Rich wants to shrivel up and die. The moment they met? He can't even remember how many years ago that was. Rich has no reply that could possibly live up to that.
"I guess I just got used to it. I knew I would never have you so I learned to live with it. But these last few days you've been so weird and sending me some really mixed signals," Rob continues honestly.
"My brain feels like it's been one giant mixed signal since Wednesday night," Rich sighs.
"What happened Wednesday night?" Rob asks, scooting closer.
Rich tells him all about the bartender and her unnatural perceptive skills involving his love life. Rob looks fascinated, blushing when Rich concludes with, "She knew I was yours, even when I didn't."
Rob takes in the information, smiling as he confirms, "Mine?"
"Yours," Rich smiles back as he caresses the curve of Rob's cheek. The prick of his stubble is foreign, only now is Rich aware that he's never kissed someone with a beard. Whole body thrumming with excitement, he leans in.
Rob stiffens and jolts back, "I- uh, I haven't, umm actually kissed anyone, that wasn't acting, in a really long time."
Rob's doing that thing where he rambles and stutters, his voice getting higher and higher with every half a word.
It's gonna be fun shutting him up.
"Good," Rich closes the gap and kisses him, sweet yet sure of himself.
Nervous or not, Rob is ready for the ambush, welcoming Rich's lips enthusiastically. The feeling of Robbie kissing back so eagerly sends a shiver all the way down to Rich's toes. He thumbs through the thick bristles, the slight tickle it causes against his lips feels invigorating. Tilting his head, Rich deepens the kiss and wraps his arms around Rob's torso. He squeezes him closer, needing to feel as much of the man beside him as possible. Rob's hands fly into Rich's golden hair, carding through it shyly.
"Open," Rich whispers, kissing the corner of Rob's mouth.
Parting his lips just a bit, Rob gasps when Rich pushes his tongue inside impatiently, taking what he wants. Rich claims him hungrily, tasting and licking every inch.
Crawling on top of Rich, Rob straddles his waist and surges forward. Rich becomes locked in place when he hits the backboard of the bed. Rob sweeps his own tongue inside Rich's mouth, pulling at the older man's hair on a whim.
"Ahhh..." Rich is panting, his dick filling fast from the searing pain that begins in the root of his hair. "You like this?" Rob's voice is barley recognizable, rough and deep as he tugs again.
"Fuck yeah, don't stop, pull it again..."
Rob does, hard, and Rich moans unashamed. He can feel how hard Rob is even through his jeans. The coarse fabric causes extra friction against Rich's pajama pants when Rob starts grinding. Everything feels rushed, a part of Rich wishes they would slow down, take their time and explore each other, but there's no stopping it now. Building towards this for years, they've reached their boiling point.
Desperate kisses, pretty noises, and powerful hips, have Rich on the brink of coming. Not like this, Rich thinks, he needs more.
"Wait."
Rob let's go of him, sitting back and admiring the mess he's made of his friend. Rich meets his stare and does the same. Irises normally airy and blue, Rob's pupils spread like ink behind heavy eyelids. True bedroom eyes. Pink cheeks blossoming, his lips are swollen and wet with Rich's saliva.
"Let's fuck," Rich blurts out.
"Yeah," Rob agrees, already grabbing at Rich's shirt.
Before long, clothes are a thing of the past, both men clawing at each other until the other is naked. Rob is looking at Rich like he just found Nirvana. "Rich, you're so beautiful..." he breathes out, eyes roaming wildly.
Trying to hide his blush, Rich grabs Rob and kisses him again. They fall backwards, Rich laying flat on his back with Rob on top of him. Their nakedness is very apparent now, two sensitive cocks brushing against one another deliciously.
"What do you want?" Rich husks out, hands massaging the smooth landscape of Rob's back.
"Fuck me," Rob answers without thought, leaving Rich's lips only to trail more kisses along his jaw and down towards his neck.
Rich groans, traveling hands moving lower to capture Rob's ass, kneading his perfectly round globes.
Rob's kisses continue their way down Rich's body, flicking out his tongue, just once, over both his nipples. It's not nearly enough and Rich is about to complain, but then he realizes where Rob is headed.
Settling in between Rich's legs, Rob looks up and tells him, "Wanted this for so long..." He wastes no more time, licking a long stripe up the hard shaft and sucking the head into his mouth on the first go.
Rich lets out a high pitched noise that he'll deny making until the day he dies. Rob smiles, his lips stretched so wide around him. The warmth of his mouth encases more and more of Rich's cock as he slides all the way down.
"Holy fuck," Rich whines, cupping the side of his face as Rob starts to bob up and down. Robbie's mouth is glorious, already the best blow job Rich has ever received.
But as good as this is, Rich still needs more. He wants to touch and taste Rob too, give him equal pleasure in return.
"Robbie, turn around. Gimme that ass..."
Rob moans, eyes twinkling when he understands what Rich is suggesting. Pulling off only for a second, Rob repositions himself so his ass is lined up with Rich's mouth.
Rob sinks back down onto Rich's leaking cock, his mouth liquid fire. He sucks a little faster this time as he drinks down the spit and pre-come. The sounds Robbie is making are sinful, Rich using all of his willpower not to fuck up into that hot cavern.
Rich has never been with a guy before, but he's had anal with a few chicks. This should be no different. A butt's a butt, right? Wrong. This is his Robbie, and Rich wants to make it amazing for him.
Rich hasn't been nervous in the bedroom since he was sixteen. Getting his act together, he pulls Rob's cheeks apart and exposes his entrance. Lifting his head up, Rich places a kiss right onto the pucker. Rob makes more sinful noises, the vibrations going straight to Rich's cock.
Fuck, that's hot.
Rich continues kissing the area until his curious tongue finally pokes out. Swirling it in and around the tight circle, Rich is instantly enamored with Robbie's specific taste. His licks grow bolder, coaxing Rob into relaxing by lapping at his softening rim. Suddenly, Rob adds his hand, jerking Rich's cock in time with his mouth.
"Ohhh," Rich moans directly into Rob's hole.
Rob's hips begin thrusting slightly, rubbing his drenched cock head onto Rich's chest. Taking the hint, Rich closes his hand around Rob's length and pumps it evenly, a slow massage.
Outside, the world could be ending bloody, Rich wouldn't care or notice. He takes his time eating Rob out, eventually forcing his tongue completely inside. Hungrily, Rich stabs in and out, thoroughly coating Rob's inner walls with his warm saliva. Rob tenses and squeezes his muscles, trapping Rich's tongue in place.
So tight.
Rob and Rich never really had much use for verbal communication, both men learning how to keep the other right on the edge. It goes unsaid that this is not how they want to come.
Rich adds a finger to go along with his mouth. Stretching him carefully, Rich attempts to mask any pain with his skillful tongue. Rob is making a sloppy mess of Rich's cock, dripping with spit, there'll be no need for lube. He adds a second finger, then finally a third, all working relentlessly to open Rob up nice and wide.
"Rich!" Rob cries loudly. One word says it all, Rob is ready.
God, Rich does not want to pull away from this, but the promise of what's next is too good. Rich plants his hands on Rob's marble sculpted hipbones and flips him onto his back, practically throwing him. Legs spreading naturally, Rob searches Rich's eyes as he prowls over him. Their eye contract provides comfort, there's nothing weird or awkward about it, just pure trust.
Rich pins Rob's arms above his head and holds them there, adrenaline doing wonders for his strength. "That was so fucking hot," Rich pants, before initiating a kiss rough enough to bruise Rob's already puffy lips.
Rob uses his legs to pull Rich closer, squeezing them like a vice. His breath hitches when he feels the tip of Rich's cock nudge at his entrance. "Rich..." Rob repeats, this time much quieter.
"You sure you're ready? Need any lube or--"
"Richard." This third time is more of a growl, a warning. Rich bites back a moan, Robbie saying his full name is inexplicably sexy. "I'm wetter than the best pussy you've ever had right now, so fuck me." This time Rich does moan, he's always been a slut for dirty talk.
Pushing forward, Rich reconnects their lips, hoarding every breath, every sound Rob makes as he enters him. Rob's wrists jerk under Rich's weight, wanting to break free. Not yet though, Rich keeps him agonizingly still.
His dick is being strangled to death, Rob's ass has to be the tightest fucking thing he's ever been inside. Once bottomed out, Rich breaks the kiss to breathe properly. He feels like he might hyperventilate, it's too good, too tight.
"Let me go, wanna touch you...please," Rob croaks. He begs so pretty Rich has to give in.
As soon as he releases him, Rob's hands shoot back into Rich's hair, gripping it and pulling him down for another kiss. "Move, Rich, fuck me...c'mon," Rob eggs him on, hips bucking in an attempt to get things going.
Rich drags his cock back, causing Rob to hiss at the burn. The first few thrusts are slow and calculated, trying to make sure Rob experiences a minimal amount of discomfort.
Rich feels his heart thundering, this is so intimate, so loving. Beneath him, Rob is so alive. Rocking slowly, Rich is suddenly overwhelmed with the memory of almost losing Rob to his stroke. The stress of getting him to the hospital in time, the torturous wait to see if he'll pull through. It must have taken ten years off of Rich's life. But here Robbie is, years later, looking up at him with vibrant eyes, heart beating and blood pumping.
He'll never take it for granted. Shaking with raw emotion, Rich tells him, "I love you."
"Love you too," Rob replies easily, like they've been saying it to each other for years.
Rich picks up the pace and nuzzles his face in Rob's neck, he doesn't want him to see the tear that's about the slip out. He's already made himself look like the world's biggest sap, there's no need to provide Rob with any more material.
"Robbie, goddammit, so good..."
To say Rob is loud would be an understatement. Even during sex, Rob manages to make his voice musical, his mewls and whines coming together to create Rich's new favorite song.
Rob clings to him, yelling for Rich to go faster, to fuck him harder. So Rich does, pouring every bit of himself into this moment, the best moment of his life. Finding a steady rhythm, Rich pounds him brutally, fucking into Rob with animalistic fervor.
Rich feels himself getting close, his cock throbbing dangerously. "More..." Rob pleads, hands groping Rich's ass, attempting to shove him deeper.
Before the idea can even formulate fully inside his brain, Rich is putting his plan into action. Slipping his arms under and around Rob's back, Rich pants, "Hold on."
Making sure to keep his cock buried, Rich maneuvers them so Rob is sitting in his lap. Rich relaxes against the headboard as he takes control of Rob's hips. "This better?"
Rob looks dazed, nodding as he starts rising up, only to slam back down. "Now you can ride my cock as hard as you want," Rich grunts, fingers pressuring bruises into the pale skin of Rob's waist.
"Ahh," Rob wails, throwing his head back as he bounces. Rich is literally seconds away from exploding, feeling rather pleased with himself that he's made it this long.
Strained in between them is Rob's neglected cock. Rich grabs it, stroking in time with Rob's movements. Kissing him again, Rich says, "C'mon, Robbie, show Daddy how much you love him...come for me..."
Best decision ever, because Rob screams and seizes up, coming hard on Rich's cock. Long white ropes paint Rich's hand and chest, so warm and sticky. Rob's hole contracts impossibly tighter, milking the cock inside him as he comes.
"You kinky bastard," Rob half laughs, weaving his hands back into Rich's honey silk hair. Blunt, yet deadly, fingernails graze across his scalp, giving Rich chills. "Your turn..." he continues, yanking a handful so hard Rich sees stars. His head falls back and further exposes his neck.
"Come inside me, Rich..." Rob's lips demand, before sealing them over his throat and biting a possessive mark. The whole time, Rob never stops riding him, his hole ready and waiting for Rich to fill him up.
"R-Robbie!" The name tumbles from Rich's lips over and over as he finally comes, chanting it like a prayer.
He forces Rob off his neck in order to kiss him, "Mine, all fucking mine..."
"Yours," Rob begins to slow down, lips pecking every inch of Rich's flushed face.
This is the craziest orgasm Rich has ever had to come down from. Last night's almost seems lame in comparison. It takes Rich much longer than usual to catch his bearings.
"I can't believe that just happened," Rob muses, resting his head in the crook of Rich's neck, right below the already blooming hickey.
"I can't believe you never told me about your daddy kink..." Rich chuckles.
"Oh, shut up or I'll pull your hair again!" They both laugh, the atmosphere changing into something more lighthearted. "Let's get cleaned up," Rich says with a smirk.
It doesn't take long for them to snuggle up, clean and cozy, under the blanket. Rich settles flat on his back, sighing contently when Rob nestles his head on his bare chest. Rob drapes his arm and leg lazily over Rich's entire body, the two men slotting together perfectly.
Rich is exhausted, this weekend has really taken a toll on him, in more ways than one. Despite the delirium, there's a new feeling being born within him. Anticipation for everything yet to come. His life is different now, the best kind of different. The kind of different that has him excited to wake up at the ass crack of dawn tomorrow. Because tomorrow means more Robbie, more of this addicting feeling called love.
~Sunday Morning~
Rich wakes up sweating camel balls. He inhales deeply and dramatically digs his way out from beneath the mountain of heavy blankets. Cuddling all night has one drawback.
Rob emerges from his own heat coma and reaches for the bottle of water on the nightstand. He takes a big gulp and automatically passes it to Rich.
"I blame you, you're like a friggin' furnace!" Rich chides playfully, downing the remaining water.
Rob smiles, "Are you saying I'm too hot?"
Rich has no witty come back, his brain feels fuzzy. Waking up to the person you love is unlike any other experience. Smiling back, Rich leans in to kiss him. Morning breath be damned, Rob's mouth is still wonderful. Rich loves the simplicity of this, being able to kiss Rob whenever he wants, knowing he's his.
"Not gonna be able to keep my hands off you today..." Rich admits, already rubbing his way suggestively up Rob's thigh.
"Then don't," Rob skips the foreplay and shoves Rich's hand onto his half hard cock.
"Mmm, you don't care? Ready to to tell the whole world?" Rich says lowly, cupping Rob's balls and rolling them sensually.
"Rich, I've loved you too long to hide it now," Rob says seriously, his crystal eyes demanding that Rich understand.
"Good, I don't wanna hide it either," Rich leaves one last kiss on Rob's forehead before releasing his crotch and heading to the bathroom. "Shower?" He adds with a wink.
Rob grins and hops off the bed to follow him.
Showered, dressed, and hand in hand, Rob and Rich head down to the green room. Ready to wrap up a convention they'll never forget.