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They've kissed indirectly before, sharing cigarettes and weed and drinks. They've gotten physical, aggressive and shoving and pinning each other to walls and floors.
Never like this, though. Never with Justin's lips on his in that old abandoned house, hands fisted into his jacket to keep him closer than they've ever been and mouthing at him desperately.
Richard shoves him away.
"Dude," he whispers into the space between them.
Justin doesn't say anything. He just kisses Richard again, like that'll be enough to convey whatever the fuck is going through his head.
Richard tries to shove him again but Justin's hands catch his. He threads their fingers together and forces them down to Richard's sides, forces him to wait for a moment and let himself be kissed. Justin isn't any good at it but his eagerness is obvious, and when his tongue slips against Richard's, Richard flinches, but that only gives Justin more leverage against him.
He wrestles Richard to the floor and straddles him, putting all his weight into pinning him as he keeps kissing.
"Justin," Richard growls, yanking his hands out of his grip. "What the fuck is your problem?"
"You," Justin hisses back. "You're such an asshole, how can you — you'll touch me, pet my hair, hold my face, but you're still afraid of what people would think," he says, angry at Richard and himself and the world.
Richard's face scrunches angrily, and he tries to shove Justin off of him again.
"You're being stupid," Richard spits. "It's not like that."
"Then why'd you get so upset about me and Lisa?" Justin spits back, slapping his hands away. "You don't even like her."
"So?" Richard laughs. "That doesn't mean you should fuck her."
"Why not?" Justin says, a blatant challenge.
Richard's frown worsens.
"She's not good enough for you," he says, still fighting. "She's a slut, she'll fuck anyone."
"So are you mad that she doesn't want you, or mad that she wants me, Richard?"
"Shut up," Richard scoffs, but... He's starting to avoid eye contact. Justin is getting to him. "You can do better."
"Yeah?" Justin prods.
"Yeah."
"Who could I do better with, then?" Justin asks, trying to lead Richard to the answer himself.
"Anyone else," Richard says, trying to avoid the obvious.
"Yeah? What about that girl from my math class? Brittany?"
Richard's face twists all over again, and Justin smiles.
"No, because you don't want me with anyone else," Justin says for him. "You want me."
Richard doesn't say anything. He keeps struggling for a few more moments, then sighs, and relaxes his arms. He lets Justin pin his wrists beside his head, and Justin beams triumphantly over him.
"You want me," Justin repeats.
Richard says nothing.
Justin lets go of his wrists and sits back, and Richard just lays there in defeat.
"You want me," Justin says again, teasing, and Richard throws a punch from the floor.
Justin doesn't expect it and it connects well, right between his nose and his cheek. It stings.
"I want to beat the shit out of you," Richard finally says, scooting back quickly to get his legs free from under Justin. "I want you to stop talking about stupid shit."
Despite the pain, Justin laughs.
"You're mad because you're a faggot just like me," Justin says. "You're too worried about your image, Richard."
Richard gets out from him enough to stand, leaving Justin on his knees, one hand covering his hurt face.
"I don't give a shit what people think of me," Richard says, nearly shouts, and Justin shouts back.
"Then why do you spend so much time making sure you look good in the morning, huh?" he yells. "Why buy designer shoes and do your hair if you don't care what people think?"
Richard's hands ball into fists, and Justin is briefly worried he's gone too far, and this is the end, getting beaten to death by his only friend.
"You're just like everyone else," Richard scoffs. "You're just jealous because my family is well-off."
"Yeah, I'm jealous you're a spoiled little rich boy," Justin says sarcastically. "Admit it," he says. "You care too much."
"I don't care," Richard says, as Justin stands to face him again.
"Then what's stopping you?" he goads. "If you want me so badly, why not?"
Richard swings again, but Justin knows it's coming this time and steps back, puts his arms up to block it. It still hurts where his fist collides with his forearm, but it hurts less than a second punch to the face.
"Why not?" Justin asks again. He's under Richard's skin now, he knows he is.
"I'm not a faggot," Richard says, fists still tight. "I like girls."
"You can be half a faggot," Justin points out.
"Shut up," Richard yells, and shoves him back.
"You shut up!" Justin yells back. "All this talk about being free and you can't even let go of how people look at you," he says. "Maybe we should call it all off if you can't handle it."
Richard freezes.
"You don't mean that," he says carefully.
"I do," Justin doubles down. "If you couldn't even handle being a fag, how would you do under scrutiny that you killed someone? I'm calling it off."
"Don't —" Richard starts, and steps closer. "Justin," he pleads, all puppy-dog eyes. "Don't."
Justin acts immune and shrugs, looking away.
"I just don't think you're ready if you can't even admit you want me."
Richard lunges for him then, and Justin shuts his eyes tightly against whatever pain will come, but none does; instead, Richard is grabbing his face and kissing him, as hard as he can and with everything he's got. Justin grabs him back, fisting his hands in Richard's jacket again and holding on tight.
Richard kisses like he means it, now, pulling back and reconnecting to kiss Justin over and over, and when Justin opens his mouth to suggest he use his tongue, Richard is already pressing it in alongside his.
Justin can't help the small noise he makes, and Richard pulls back.
For a moment, Justin thinks that's it — they've kissed, and Richard has proved Justin's point, so that's good enough, right?
Instead, Richard pulls Justin's hands off of his jacket so he can shrug it quickly off his shoulders, and then his hands are going for the buttons on Justin's flannel shirt.
Oh.
Justin kisses him again while Richard works on his buttons and Richard nips at his lip, almost hard enough to bleed, and Justin doesn't try to hide the noise he makes at that. His shirt gets unbuttoned and pulled off his shoulders, and then he's pulling the hem of Richard's shirt up and tearing it off, and then things are kind of a blur as they kick off shoes and undo jeans.
Clothes are everywhere by the time they're both sinking to their knees, and Richard breaks away.
"Wait," he says, and Justin's heart sinks.
Richard rearranges their clothes into a vague blanket to keep them from laying directly on the floor.
Oh. Romantic.
He's fine letting Richard take the lead now, throwing him onto his back and climbing over him, one leg between his and their cocks pressing together in the middle. Richard is so warm, and the heat of his palm when he reaches between them and takes them both in hand makes Justin whine.
"Should have done this earlier," Justin says, as Richard buries his face in his neck to kiss and bite and leave bruises. "Could've been doing this all along," he adds.
"Shut up," Richard breathes into his neck.
Justin smiles at the vaulted ceiling above them. He can always tease Richard later. For now, he wraps his arms around Richard's shoulders and brings him up to kiss again, unable to get enough of him now that he's getting him.
Richard stops fumbling with them both and takes just Justin, instead, jerking him off quick and desperate, and Justin bites at his mouth. Richard is sweet, trying to make Justin cum first, but it could also just be because he wants to savor it when he jerks himself off onto Justin's belly.
Either is fine by Justin, as long as Richard is here.
Richard stops kissing him to look down between them and watch Justin's cock in his hand, and Justin can't help doing the same. It's so strange to see someone else's hand around him — he'd be self-conscious if he was with anyone but Richard. As it is, he just huffs, breathing faster and faster as Richard touches him and works him up, and soon he can barely stand how good it feels.
"You should stop if you don't want me to cum," Justin warns, voice shaky.
Richard swallows heavily.
"I want you to," he confirms, quiet, like a secret. "It's fine."
That's as close to saying it out loud that Richard's gotten, and Justin isn't going to take it for granted; he kisses Richard one last time before it's over, his mouth barely making the shape around moans about oh, Richard, it's good. He cums onto his stomach and chest with a pained noise, one that Richard kisses right off his lips; he can feel Richard's eyes on him the entire time as he cums, pulse after pulse of white spilling onto him because of him.
His thumb ring digs painfully into his throat as he cuts off Justin's breath — not enough to stop it, but enough to make him struggle.
Justin doesn't fight it in the afterglow; it's either play, or he dies happy.
Richard smears Justin's mess off onto his fingers and uses it to start stroking himself, and that's — wow, that's gross, but Justin isn't not into it.
Richard puts more weight into the hand keeping him pinned by the neck.
"I hate you," Richard says, as casually as talking about the weather. "You're right, okay? I still care what people think of me."
Justin's airflow stutters, then stops, as Richard slowly leans more weight onto him.
"It's you," Richard admits. "I care what you think of me."
He strokes himself faster and Justin can just barely hear it over the pounding of blood in his ears. He should grab Richard's wrist, slap at his hip, do something to let him know he can't breathe, but instead he just... Allows it.
"You happy now? Hearing me say it?" Richard asks, a growl, and Justin can't say anything.
His fingers twitch, his body screaming for him to fight back or get away or try something, anything as his vision begins fading at the edges, but it's mind over matter; Justin slides a shaky hand up to Richard's hip and squeezes, saying, I am yours to do whatever you'd like with, even if that means killing me right here and now.
Richard kisses his nearly-blue lips as he cums with a groan. His mess feels even hotter than Justin's own, somehow, like lava being poured over his stomach, and just as heavy.
He finally lets go of Justin's throat and he gasps for air like a drowning man, barely able to get it around Richard kissing him over and over and over.
He kisses back more and more as his body stops panicking, hands grabbing wherever they can on Richard's body to pull him closer, and it's a miracle they don't become one single being with how hard they press together. Richard is content riding out the aftershocks grinding into the cum on Justin's belly, and Justin is content letting him.
They don't stop kissing.
They don't stop kissing for a long time, until their shared body heat is no longer enough and they're both shaking with cold together in the abandoned house. They don't stop kissing until Justin pulls away with a shiver and won't let Richard chase after his mouth.
They don't stop kissing until Justin wraps himself as much around Richard as he can, both arms and the leg that's not pinned, and hugs him close, basking in the feeling of so much skin-to-skin human contact.
Richard moans softly into his shoulder.
"I'm cold," he complains, and Justin laughs.
"Me too," he agrees.
They still stay there a while longer, until the cold is truly unbearable, sapped away with the setting sun.
They help each other get redressed. There's a comfortable silence between them, one borne of intimacy. Neither of them can stop smiling, and it only gets worse every time they catch each other's eye and smile harder.
"So," Justin finally, eventually says, when they're both dressed except for the jacket Richard has opted to toss over his arm instead of put back on.
"So," Richard says too.
Justin waits for him to go on, but he doesn't, looking down at the old wood flooring.
"We should do that more," Justin says for him. "If you want to."
Richard nods slowly. He can't look Justin in the eye for longer than a second without breaking away, smiling and looking shy and acting like Victorians who have just had a first kiss, like they didn't just lay down and writhe and cum together.
It's cute.
"Yeah," Richard says quietly. "I'd like that."