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Eugene stared blankly at Keith.
Keith Habersberger was that guy at school. The one who was tight with everyone. Unlike Eugene, his unique qualities only enhanced the attaction to him. They were polar opposites: where Eugene reveled in his solitude, Keith reveled in the attention. BFU was a private university: made specifically for film, theater, and music majors. Currently, Keith was dressed in a large orange overcoat that draped against his knees with a single button right underneath his sternum, black jeans, black shoes, and a bright blue shirt peeking beneath the folds of the orange jacket. Normally, he would look pristine. Normally, he would be surrounded by hoardes of loving people. Abnormally, he's standing, ruffled in front of Eugene's door. Abnormally, he's carrying a small body in his arms, well, more like acting as a crutch, one arm slung over his shoulder and the unidentified man's head tucked atop Keith's pec. Unfortunately, Eugene had a fair idea of who that unidentified man was.
"Can I help you?" He asks, quirking a carefully plucked and made-up brow, cocking his hip out. Still in his ballet outfit, though his make-up never faltered to compliment his outfit, he wore a leotard tucked femininely over his black tights with his half-jacket knotted over his waist. He was about to shower in the suite's bathroom, his suitemates were out after all, when he was interrupted.
"I believe this is yours." Keith jostled the man, and once the snapback-clad head lolled back, Eugene let out a heavy sigh.
"Don't make him my problem." He said curtly, though his fingers were itching to take Zach from Keith's arms and shake him into sobriety.
"I think you made him your problem," the taller man jostled him again, before sighing irately as Zach's head fell forward again. "Look, Zach's a good guy and tonight, but he's not good, I mean like right now he's not so good. Like tonight, he draped himself all over Ryan Bergara, just because Ryan's hair was pushed back like-," Eugene scowled, though jealousy burned through his body. No, Zach, wasn't allowed to do those kinds of things, but he also made it clear that it wasn't Eugene's place to say or do anything about what he wanted.
"Not. My. Problem." He insisted, stepping forward menacingly.
"C'mon man," Keith whined, "this whole break-up thing is really hard on him."
"I didn't break up with him." Eugene snarled. "Now, go."
Keith was quiet for a minute.
"You really want me to take him back to my place?" He arched a brow, the drop in his octave giving way to more salacious desires.
Eugene's blood ran cold. When he and Zach were a thing, he comforted himself over the fact that Keith was straight. However, the rumor mill at a small institution moved fast. Since they stopped talking a week ago, Zach was attached by the waist to Keith. He'd heard via Gadiel, the chismoso bastard, that Keith was even experimenting since his break-up. He swallowed hard.
"No," Eugene grabbed the smaller man quickly, taking him by the shoulders, drawing him close to his body. "Now get out of my room."
"Laters man," Keith grinned triumphantly, closing the door as Eugene half-carried, half-dragged Zach into his room.
When it was dark like this, Eugene's heart raced. The first time they kissed was in a dimly-lit hookah bar, lips sloppily tracing each other's jaws, lips, necks, while hands roamed like wildfire over each other's bodies, underneath shirts, over jeans/skirts. He swallowed hard at the memory of Zach, half-laying beneath him on the couches of the hookah bar, eyes hooded, lips red, looking very fuckable. Eugene winced at how very wrong that word felt in his mind. Maybe the first few times, being with Zach was more like fucking him. But it turned slow, gentle, passionate. They were having sex in order to be close to each other, fulfill that burning need to be with the single person they wanted. Sometimes, it felt needy even, with Zach's hands carving a path through his hair, pulling, and his small hot little mouth panting against his neck. Eugene quickly through Zach onto the small loveseat he had in his room. Staring down at the prone man, he studied him. Clearly black out drunk, not even a little sober, snapback pulled backwards, white vee-neck shirt, dark brown bomber jacket, black jeans, dark brown Timberlands laced up his ankles. There were dark stains on his white shirt, making Eugene sneer disdainfully as he stepped back and turned on one of the lamps in his room.
Eugene leaned towards a more modernistic style of living. He argued against the administration, saying they were oppressing his artistic needs when they insisted he keep the bed frame given. They bent, the way he expected them to, and he put in his extra large twin sized bed, black covers, low to the floor, white dresser, black vanity with golden embellishments, lamps scattered strategically where he knew he'd need them including one by his nightstand, a grey small loveseat with no armrests, and a desk by the bathroom suite. He kept the university's mahogany desk with drawers and kept it all tidy, organized, neat. He dried his clothes on a rack, hung up his clothes on a theater rack, and was consistently the most fashionable, admired man on campus. He used all his clothes, just styled and paired them differently. However, lately, he ignored the bottom drawer of his dresser where he knew the clothes in there were too small; too different than his own. He seated himself atop his desk, trying to figure out how to handle this situation.
Truth be told, he was still burning with jealousy over the Ryan comment. He knew Ryan and Zach had American Terrorism in Film together, that they frequently got lunch and partied often, and he abhorred it. To his knowledge, although Ryan Bergara and Shane Madej's relationship was clear to most, Ryan vehemently denied the existence of any aforementioned relationship. Eugene heaved a sigh and stood, grabbing a cup from the bottom drawer of his vanity and heading towards the bathroom to fill it with cold water. He could air dry the grey covers of his loveseat tomorrow.
Promptly he dumped the water onto Zach's face, and watched gleefully as Zach abruptly sat up, sputtering water.
"What the hell man?" Zach shouted, wiping water from his face. "This hat-" Eugene cut him off.
"You got it thrifting, don't lie to me." He huffed angrily. Zach's eyes widened comically, and he had half the mind to laugh. Seeing Zach, being with him, was all too easy for Eugene. It was like falling into old habits, wanting to touch him all the time, smile at him carelessly. He pushed the urge down, master of control that he was.
"Eugene," he breathed out, he groaned as he shifted into a sitting position. "Fuckin' Keith." He breathed out, annoyance painting his tone.
"What're you doing here?" Eugene said, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Would you believe me if I said I was just passing by?" Zach asked, lifting his head and smiling impishly. There was a slight slur to his words.
"Goddamnit Zach, you're still drunk." Eugene cursed and turned on his heel, glass still in hand and headed towards the mini-fridge.
"If I'm drunk then you're still the prettiest man I ever saw." Zach whispered, thought it was more of a stage-whisper. Eugene said nothing, tried to ignore the thrumming race of his heart.
"Drink this." He thrust the glass of water at him, watched bemusedly as he slurped the water fast. "Then call your roommate because you're not my problem." He turned on his heel to start grabbing his sleeping kimono and make-up remover.
"Don't wanna." Zach carelessly said, putting the empty glass on the floor, and letting his head fall back against the cushions.
"I don't care what you want." Eugene growled. "What you want stopped mattering to me when you left after I told you not to."
"It got too real, too fast and I got too scared." Zach answers, eyes closed, grimace planted firmly on his face. Eugene's heart stops in his chest.
There are times when love is just burgeoning between someone's ribcage. The heart beats heavy when you're with the very person who inspired feelings of unforgiveable love. Such was the predicament of the two men just a few feet apart.
"Why didn't you just stay?" Eugene muttered. "I was scared, too." He didn't add, still in, to the end of that.
"Because if I stayed that night, I would have stayed every night."
Eugene didn't know what to say. Here were the very words he'd been needing to hear.
"What makes you think I would have let you?" He snaps back. "I don't just fucking do this for anyone. I don't just let anyone sleep in my bed, eat my food, wear my goddamn clothes, Zach." He hissed his name out like a curse.
"I don't like the way you make me feel." Zach quietly responds. "I feel like I always want to be with you. I hate it when you put your hands on Quinta, and when you stage-kiss other guys, I hate that I'll never understand your pretty mind. I hate that I don't know if you really like me or -," Eugene lunged towards him, straddling his lap and cupping his cheeks in his hands.
"I don't want them, any of them. It's just you, you fucking monkey shit." He pressed his forehead to Zach's.
Before he knew it, Zach's lips were colliding with his. It was messy, but crazy good. Finally the fire burning inside him was seeping into Zach, he thought as he roughly cupped the back of Zach's hair, tilting his head back while his tongue glided against Zach's. Saliva trailed after Eugene as he moved his lips down to Zach's neck, kissing and biting, sucking hard. Zach wasn't idle by any means, jerking his hips sloppily upwards, his hands clutching the back of Eugene's leotard.
"More, more, please," Zach whined, his back arching as Eugene rubbed over his nipples. He slid his hands into Zach's pants, thanking whatever deity was up there that Zach's pants were so damn loose. Eugene's mouth moved down to over Zach's nipples, licking and sucking them through the shirt. "Eugene, please." Eugene's cock tightened at the neediness in his voice, palming over Zach's own rapidly hardening dick.
Eugene released him quickly, getting up and adjusting himself through his leotard. Fuck it, he thought undoing the buttons of his leotard and slipping the straps off his shoulders before divesting himself of his tights, too.
"Get on the bed, damnit." Fun as it was to get Zach worked up, Eugene had more scandalous things on his agenda for the night. Quickly Zach stripped, throwing his clothes on the floor, rubbing himself through his boxer-briefs. "Take those off too, you won't need them." Eugene gave him a wolfish grin. Zach nodded fast, his cheeks flushed, and stripped. Eugene bit his lower lip, fisting his own cock as he watched Zach quickly pump his dick. He grabbed Zach by the back of the neck again, kissing him roughly, before sliding an arm behind his shoulders and carefully laying Zach on the bed, the thud resounded in his head, like a fucking song.
Their cocks brushed against each other and Eugene jerked his hips forward, finding a niche between his legs. They continued kissing, Zach's hands clawing at his back, one of Eugene's hands slipping underneath Zach's ass to lift him upwards.
"Don't make me wait," Zach moaned, "I want this, you."
Eugene was tempted to ask him if he was serious when a chill fell over his body. He sat up quickly.
"You're probably still drunk." Eugene declared, standing, wincing at the painful erection he was sporting. "We can't do this when you're drunk."
"Aw Eugene are you serious?" Zach whimpered, perching himself on his elbows.
"I'm not doing this while you're drunk." Eugene insisted, moving over towards his dresser. His hands finally grasped the handle of the bottom dresser to pull it open. He found a pair of sweats and a shirt and tossed it towards the bed. He put on his own boxer-briefs and tied the waist to the kimono.
"You're serious," Zach said, awestruck. Eugene rolled his eyes. Zach grinned and grabbed the clothes. "Okay, well, I'm still going to want you in the morning."
"Fine by me." Eugene muttered, turning off the lamp and ready to head to bed before remembering to shower. He let out a curse, and grabbed a towel. "You're drying my loveseat in the morning." He said pointedly.
"Where are you going?" Zach asked, eyes wide as he paused in trying to dress himself. It was painful how cute he looked, Eugene thought, heaving a sigh.
"Shower."
"Come back soon," Zach gave him a flirty wink and Eugene barked out a laugh.
In the morning, they would talk seriously about what happened, but not until after Zach clambered ontop of Eugene and woke him up with an obligatory apology blowjob. Before cumming in his sweet little mouth, they clumsily reached for the lube in the nighstand drawer, and slid his tight little ass over Eugene's cock. It was almost sweet the way Eugene craddled his head while pistoning his hips upward, urged on by Zach's moans and whimpers while he pumped his dick in his hand until he came all over Eugene's chest, and Eugene followed soon, coming with a shout and leaving a brutal mark on Zach's chest. They cleaned up with Zach's discarded shirt, and he cradled Zach's head to his chest.
"I really like you, Eugene," he whispered, "and I get sad when you push me out, but it's okay."
"This isn't going to perfect." Eugene replied, running his hand up and down Zach's back.
"That's fine." He whispered in reply before dozing off again. Upon being assured that Zach was asleep, Eugene pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
"I really like you too."