Archive of Our Own

"Scott," Wallace drawls, turning to face the man on his arm. "Where are we going?"

The drunk bunch walked hand-in-hand through the chilly streets of Toronto, tightly holding onto each other as if their lives depended on it. They were presumably on their way back to Scott's place, but they'd passed his house a while ago. He was just idly roaming around and dragging Wallace along with him wherever he went.

Wallace was hyper-focused on Scott's hand that was currently being held in his own. His palm was sweaty and clammy, and almost grungy to the touch. He would've found it gross if he wasn't so infatuated with him, but instead, he continued to hold it as they strolled back to Scott's house—or wherever they were headed at this point.

They were on their way back from a party—which took a lot of convincing to even get Scott to tag along to. Partly because Julie Powers was there, and Scott thought she was a real bitch.  There was plenty of drinking going on—mostly vodka shots and cheap wine. Low-end, shitty-tasting beers. Wallace really only wanted to go for the drinks, anyway. But what fun would it have been if he didn't drag Scott along with him?

They'd ended up smoking a bit of weed outside before ditching the function, so they were buzzed and had a mild high. Scott decided it was a great combination. He felt ecstatic and giddy for no reason in particular, practically frolicking his way home. That's probably how he'd accidentally passed his own house. His arms and legs felt like they were asleep, both heavy and tingly. 

"Isn't—y'ur house that'a way?" Wallace suddenly drawls, pointing back to a strip of houses they'd passed a few minutes ago. His head tilts in question as he turns back to Scott, who stupidly shrugs in response.

"Shit, I don'know.." He says, frowning as he fidgets with the hem of his jacket. 

"I think—I think tha'sit.." He mumbles, coming to a halt in the middle of the snow-dusted street, and stopping Scott with him. Jesus, were they really so drunk that they couldn't tell his own house apart? 

"Mm—kay." Scott mumbles, walking back to the building they'd passed, that was in-fact, his house. He recognized Scott's home better than he did himself, apparently. Wallace's eyes stay on him as he's getting dragged across the street, alternating between the back of his head and their intertwined hands.

He'd crashed at Scott's place plenty of times—most of which, they'd ended up doing things that they'd silently agree to never speak of again. Things that would leave Wallace's head spinning for days. He'd slept on the couch in the basement one time, but after one night of him mistakenly dozing off in Scott's bed, he'd just kept doing it. And Scott wouldn't ask him to leave, either. He'd awkwardly shimmy into the twin bed, half-laying on top of Wallace, as a result of the lack of room on his bed. They wouldn't really acknowledge it in the morning.

Scott stumbles up his porch's steps, and his hand lazily flies for the doorknob, twisting and pulling at it. The door was locked, which probably hadn't occurred to Scott yet. He was definitely a lot slower than normal when he was drunk, and his slight high definitely contributed. 

"Key. Where's m'key," Scott mumbles, face crinkling as he checks his pockets. He heaves a frustrated sigh before strangling the doorknob again. Wallace peers over, sticking his hands inside Scott's front pockets and rummaging through them for his house-key. He shoves his hands into his back pockets, and they linger. His hands go flat against his ass, and they're there for longer than they should've been, probably. 

"Wallace?" Scott slurs, quizzically looking over his shoulder. Wallace smirks, and has to keep himself from bursting into breathy laughter. He pulls his hands out of Scott's back pockets, cheeks flushed and rosy, and eyes squinting alongside his wide smile. He digs through his own pockets, and grabs a copper key out of them. 

"Oh, yeah. I have 'em," Scott shoots him a confused look, but he seems to forget about it seconds later. He seemed far too dazed to unlock his own door, so Wallace went ahead and did it for him. He yawns, extending his hand out to the door's lock, and carefully turning it to the left. One vehicle sat in the driveway. He couldn't remember if that was the only car Scott's family owned, and he didn't really care enough to ask. They're typically out of town anyway. He quietly turns the doorknob, and pushes the creaky door open. 

"C'mon," Wallace murmurs, ruffling Scott's shaggy, long hair with his free hand as he strolls inside. Scott stumbles inside with a dopey grin across his face, his fingers curled into the fabric of Wallace's heavy jacket. He momentarily glances down at Scott's latched-on hand, and discovers his knuckles beginning to turn white with the force of his hold. He smirks. Although they were trying to stay quiet, they ended up boisterously trudging up the stair-steps, and they were raising their voices a little too high for the time of night. It must've been a couple hours past midnight. Scott was practically panting by the time they reached the top of the stairs, and all Wallace could smell was the alcohol he'd downed in the earlier hours. He probably smelled it as strong as he did because of their close proximity. 

"Dude," Scott pipes up, turning his head toward Wallace as they approach his bedroom. He'd thrown an arm around Wallace's back to save himself if his legs suddenly decided to give out. "I feel, like, like I'm—tingling," He says, grabbing him with another hand for further stability.

Wallace hums in acknowledgment, kicking the door closed behind them as they walked inside Scott's room. He never heard it click shut, so it must've been cracked open still. Scott's knees buckle, and he dramatically drops to the carpeted floor, groaning as he hits the ground. He takes a quick glance around his bedroom, and it didn't look very different than it did the last time he'd come over. After a while, Scott wouldn't really bother to pick up or tidy the area. He knew that Wallace didn't care. 

Scott had a pretty nerdy bedroom. There were multiple comic books crammed into nightstand's shelf, and Sonic figurines displayed on a shelf above his headboard. It looked pretty much just the way Wallace had imagined it would when he saw it for the first time, and he'd grown pretty accustomed to it over the past times he'd crashed there.

Dozens of posters adorned his walls, and it was a decently messy space in general, with bulky pieces of furniture, and even more clutter on top of said furniture. Clothes were tossed around, and his nightstand was covered with plastic water-bottles and other random things. He had a CD player on top of his dresser that seemed to never collect dust because of how frequently he used it. He had a large bundle of discs sitting right next to the player, stacked in a decently unkept fashion.

Wallace would definitely keep his spaces a lot cleaner than Scott kept his, but he didn't really care. He liked Scott's bedroom, and he'd probably hate it if it was anybody else's. He liked it because it was so Scott. He'd be able to tell that it was his room without even being told, and that's what he liked about it. In simpler terms, he just liked Scott, and he also just wanted to fuck him. 

He looks down, and realizes that Scott's still laying on the ground, face down and completely still. He looked like he was playing dead, or something. 

"Dude, I'm so tired," He grumbles, turning over onto his back.

"I don't see why," Wallace murmurs, knitting his eyebrows together. "All you did was drink and lounge around at the party," He snickers and playfully kicks at his side.

Scott's attempt at an annoyed look blossoms into a cheeky grin, and he grabs ahold of Wallace's ankle with both hands, ultimately getting jerked back and forth with his attempts to yank his leg away. Scott sits upright on his knees, swaying slightly as he tries to balance himself.

Wallace watched as Scott slowly maneuvered his body into a sitting position, which took him lots of effort. He mindlessly places his hands at Wallace's thighs, grabbing them to stabilize himself. He looks up with an up-quirk of his lips. 

The two of them lock eyes, and a moderately erotic image flashes in Wallace's mind. His mouth was practically aligned with his crotch. He swallows hoarsely, trying to ignore the fact of the matter. Scott's eyes had began to flutter in a specifically provocative way, and it drove him off the wall. He could've been imagining it. Maybe he's hallucinating the look on his face, or something. Maybe it was the weed. He suddenly bolts up, and it snaps Wallace out of his sexy, gay trance. 

"Be righ' back. Need'ta piss," Scott says casually, patting him on the shoulder before absconding out the door, and leaving Wallace alone to short-circuit in the deafening silence of his bedroom. He'd go ahead and add this onto the long list of borderline lewd occurrences that they'd never speak of again. 

He drops his heavy-duty jacket onto the floor with a heavy sigh, and discards his shoes into the corner of his bedroom. He quickly reconsiders taking it off, because it was kind of cold. He strips himself of the rest of his clothing, tossing his tee-shirt into a random crevice of his bedroom. He opted against shucking his pants off, mostly because he didn't want Scott to freak out about it. He'd made the mistake of doing that before, and he got all flustered and red about it, telling him to cover up.

He slouches as he takes slow strides to Scott's bed. He liked his bed—it was really comfortable. Way more comfortable than his own. He had an abundant amount of blankets laid on his mattress, and much more pillows than he could've possibly needed. There were even some at the opposite end of the mattress, for whatever reason. His own bed had just one blanket and one pillow, so he liked to indulge plenty when he was over at Scott's house.

He takes a seat at the edge of the mattress, smiling to himself as he remembers the occasions that they'd shared it. The few times that they'd shared Scott's bed was a different kind of exhilaration and contentment for him. He loved that they'd wake up closer to each other than how they'd fallen asleep, and how neither of them chose to move until several minutes after waking up. But that didn't matter. It didn't mean anything, because Scott liked girls. He had a girlfriend, and he liked her. Loved her, even. He grimaces, and sinks into Scott's bed with a long, dragged out huff.

He wouldn't easily admit it, but it pissed him off. His mind was muddled with thoughts of Scott's stupid girlfriend, Envy Adams. Natalie, but lately, she was turned off about being addressed by her own name. Weird. She was the shit, even he could admit that. Her long, crimson-red hair, the soft and gorgeous features on her face. Her lips were nice and plump, and Scott probably liked that. He'd be able to understand why Scott was so infatuated if she wasn't such a major bitch. She was really pretty, and even Wallace could see it, despite how much he disliked her. But even if he wasn't gay as fuck, he'd still hate her. 

Even though he'd selfishly prefer if Scott wasn't with her, he'd hate her even more if she ever broke his heart. Because He's nice guy. Dorky and nerdy, yes, but for some reason, Wallace liked him that way. He must've been the farthest thing possible from what he considered to be his type, and strangely, he still felt this sort of yearning. He wasn't entirely sure for what. He didn't want to pursue a relationship with him, he knew better. He didn't know what he wanted. Maybe he just wanted to kiss him. Obviously, right? Because he thought about that happening a lot. He's persistently—and pervertedly—thought about fucking him since they met several months ago, during that lecture. He'd always chalk it down to being "somewhat attracted" to Scott, when he knows damn well that he'd jump at an opportunity to dick around with him. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as his cheeks redden. 

He drops his head onto the pillows on Scott's mattress, and sighs as his pounding head makes contact with the abundance of cushions. It was pretty soothing. He already had somewhat of a migraine from all he'd drank earlier. The weed almost aided as a numbing agent for a little while, but it didn't help for long.

He doesn't normally have full-blown crushes on guys. It was really only something he'd gone through in middle-school. In high-school and college, he'd typically just experience sexual attraction—not necessarily any feelings for anyone. And that's just the way it started with Scott.

In the beginning, he just wanted to get in his pants because he thought he was hot and cute. Pretty twink-y for a guy who's presumably straight. Long-story-short, he never did, and now he's willingly wasting his time by hanging out with Scott when he could be studying, and he's randomly barging into his house at ungodly hours of the night.

He got to his head a lot. Scott, as clueless and dense as he is, knew just how to get under his skin. How to make him squirm. And maybe he did it by accident, but he was still damn good at doing it. 

He turns over, facing Scott's lackluster nightstand. He sees a framed photo of Scott and Envy, arms around each other and beaming. He scoffs and rolls his eyes. He hastily grabs it off of the side-table, and brings it up closer. He squints, eyes closely scrutinizing the photograph with furrowed eyebrows. Scott looked happy. Really happy. And Envy, she wasn't wearing her usual bitchy expression.

She was grinning, and she looked gorgeous. Wallace's lips quirked upwards when he saw Scott's smile in the photograph, and he goes ahead and stares for a little while. He tenses up when he hears the door creaking open, and it's too late for him to act like he hadn't been staring at the picture frame.

"Heyyy, m'back, sorry I took—" Scott suddenly staggers back inside, his hands holding onto the door. He stops in his tracks in the doorway. Wallace looks up from the picture frame with pursed lips, and meets eyes with him. There was no point in pretending he hadn't been inspecting it, so he just sits there in defeat as they silently blink at one another. 

"—so long.." He practically mouths, his voice having been reduced to a mere whisper. He softly clicks the door shut behind him, and takes small steps towards his bed. His expression had changed entirely. It was kind of scary. 

"Heyy, buddy," Wallace clears his throat, slowly extending his arm back out to the nightstand and putting down the picture frame. "Are you okay?" He mumbles, slightly concerned for him. He was generally unpredictable when drunk, or even just intoxicated. He was undeniably a lightweight. 

"What'cha doinn?" Scott chortles playfully, his expression shifting to something cheeky instead of the unreadable one he wore a few seconds ago. He stumbles over to Wallace and leans over his bed, elbows resting on the mattress. The dim moonlight that came through the window shone upon his rosy cheeks, complimenting their soft pigment. Wallace thought he looked pretty. He doesn't find a lot of boys pretty. He turns to look at the photograph on the nightstand, and then back at Wallace with an expectant look. 

"I was just looking at, um," He starts, holding intense eye-contact with Scott. He looked immensely confused, and he was almost humored by it, considering he watched him put the frame down. "Your picture? The one of you and your girlfriend. Envy." 

"Oh, pshh. That, yeah." He scoffs, playfully waving him off. "S'me and Envy," Scott says nonchalantly, crawling into bed next to Wallace and settling the blanket over them both. Scott huddles close up beside him, likely trying to keep himself warm. Wallace began to nod off after a couple minutes. Silence fell upon them, and eventually, Scott was gazing at him. He was quiet and motionless, and just.. staring. He looked like he didn't have a single thought behind his eyes. 

Scott inches a little closer, propping himself up on his hands against the caving mattress. Wallace finally opens his eyes, and they widen a little bit. He could hardly think at all with Scott's face directly in front of his, getting closer by the minute—or second, he wasn't sure anymore. His bare body was only covered by a thin blanket. He really wished he knew what Scott was trying to achieve here. He's such a tease without even trying to be.

"Your hair's so longgg.." Scott drawls, his head tilting upwards as his eyes take a long gander at his grown-out locks. It had gotten pretty long, but he'd failed to notice until Scott pointed it out. 

"Yeah?" He whispers, brushing a strand of his own hair behind his ear. He hadn't really thought about it.

He cautiously extends a hand out, and he looks into Wallace's eyes for somewhat of an "okay," from him. His expression softens, and his fingers immediately make contact with his hair. He swirls a stray piece around his pointer, and delves his other fingers into his strands. In that moment, Wallace is confident that he's being mocked and teased by some higher power. He's constantly being hit with reminders and realizations of how much he really likes him, like this, for instance.

"Yeah, it's hair, guy. That's how it works. It grows." He sighs, stone-faced and monotone. He shifts his eyes up to Scott's hand, which seemed to be venturing further into his jet-black hair. His hair wasn't as long as Scott's, but it was definitely shaggier than he usually kept it. Maybe he'd keep it that way if it meant that Scott would play with it like this, and carelessly tangle his fingers into it like that.

"Yours is longer." He observes, fluttering his eyes shut soon after. "It's hot, though." He grins cheekily. "Suits you well, I guess."

"Oh, shut up," Scott smirks, flustered. He was gently combing his fingers through his strands, with his mouth slightly agape as he watched his own hand slip a piece of hair behind his ear. He was staring at Wallace like he was a fallen angel, or something. Like he was the prettiest thing he'd ever looked at. And it fucking stung. The fact that he only stared at him this way when he was drunk, and only got touchy when he'd had a few drinks too many. And that he'd look at Envy like that multiple times a day, all while completely sober. 

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Wallace asks lazily, glancing across the room. His eyes felt heavy and droopy as he shifted them. Damn Scott's scalp massage. 

"Mmm—yeah. A lot," Scott says truthfully, grinning lopsidedly. He was enjoying it much more than he should've been. But it was probably just the alcohol. Wallace's eyes had gradually lulled back and fluttered shut again. It felt nice. And he was too fucking drunk and high to pretend it didn't feel great. He wondered if Scott played with Envy's hair like this. Suddenly, it didn't feel as nice.

He watches with an expression that's probably something close to horror as he comes closer, and slots a knee in-between his legs. It was probably unintentional. He probably wasn't thinking. But regardless, he was in deep shit if Scott noticed his hard-on, that he just barely realized himself. He'd probably stopped breathing by accident. 

"Dude, I wish my hair was, like," Scott whispers, with his hand now fully in Wallace's hair. His hand was engulfed, and all his fingers were tangled in his strands. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for Scott to finish whatever he was gonna say. 

"This soft. 'Cuz, like," He begins, tilting his head in thought. "Envy's hair, s'all rough, ya know? Like—I dunno, s'not soft. I like yours." He was rambling. He was rambling about his hair, and he got the privilege and the pleasure of listening to the earful. 

"Don't tell'er, though," Scott chuckles, gesturing his pointer to his lips.

"We'll see." Wallace draws, half-smiling.

Wallace wasn't really surprised by that, considering how often she dyes her hair. Her ends were all scraggly and split—it looked.. fried. Not the best. It's this vibrant eye-sore of a color, and it quite literally looks like it would be harsh on someone's hair. Red looked good on her, though. If Wallace's gay ass thought so, then Scott definitely thought so too.

"And, uh," Scott pipes up again, waking him from the light slumber he'd fallen into. He blinks his heavy eyes open, and shifts them to Scott's face. His cheeks were all rosy and pink. 

"I like y'ur hands, too," Scott mumbles, using his unoccupied hand to loosely grasp at one of his. He desperately needed to adjust his pants. Somehow, falling asleep for, like, ten minutes didn't kill his boner any. 

"My hands?" He mumbles absentmindedly. He wasn't really paying attention anymore—he was too worried about his increasingly-prominent hard-on. It had grown from what could've been described as a half-chub into an aching erection in his underwear. 

"Mm—yeah. They're—they're all soft n' pretty," Scott mumbles, flashing him a little smile. He caresses it with his thumb, rubbing it up and down upon his skin. 

He nods. He looked like he wanted to say something else, and that's what finally caught Wallace's attention. The follow-up was probably gonna be something gay. 

"Like a girl's." Scott says, pivoting his stare from his hand to his face. He suddenly felt like he'd been put on the spot, or something. He was all choked up. 

"like a girl's," Wallace repeats to himself, scoffing. By this point, he was terribly flustered. It wasn't helping that he was hovering over him with a knee slotted right between his thighs. One clumsy move from Scott, and he'd surely be forcing a moan out of his mouth.

"In—in a good way. It's nice," He clarifies. Wallace's hands were kinda dainty. They didn't look like a girl's hands by any means, but they weren't necessarily manly hands. His hands are normal. His fingers were a little slender, but normal nonetheless. They were definitely softer than Scott's, considering his were all rough and callused from bass-playing. Maybe it just felt different to him.  

"Are her hands soft?" He asks, kind of regretting saying it at all as it slips out. Scott freezes, and suddenly appears to be deep in thought. He had this hyper-focused expression on, eyebrows knit together and all. "Uh. Envy's, I mean," He mutters. 

"Well... I don' know. I guessss," He murmurs, shrugging. His thumb remains on Wallace's hand, and drags it across his rosy knuckles. His hand was still loosely entwined with his hair, and his fingernails soothingly grazed his scalp. This would've been pretty relaxing if he wasn't too busy worrying about the tent in his pants. And if Scott wasn't practically on top of him, which was only contributing to his aching boner. His eyes are intently following the movements of his hand, and he lazily watches as Scott grabs him by the wrist. 

"Your fingertips, too," Scott whispers, closely examining the tips of his fingers. This was weird. He would've been totally pissed off right now if he wasn't completely drunk, and on the verge of being in love with him. He'd basically been fondling his hand for the last ten minutes, and aimlessly tugging at his hair, motives entirely unclear. And all he did was lay there and let him do it, not voicing a single protestation. Partially because he didn't really have one. 

"What about 'em?" Wallace finally asks, having grown impatient after the first few minutes of silence from Scott. He had a habit of doing that. Saying something outlandish, and not saying another word for the better half of five minutes.

Scott gently takes ahold of his fingers, and brings the tips up to his mouth, all while deliberately looking up at him and meeting his eyes.

He lightly presses a soft kiss to the tip of his index, and the insignificant gesture hit Wallace like a fucking truck. He kept doing it over and over, until he'd placed chaste kisses to each of his fingertips. It all happened too fast and too slow at the same time, and he was dumbfounded by the time Scott had lowered his hand back down to his lap. God, he was so whipped for this guy, it was concerning. He looks up, and he seems to have barely noticed that Wallace wasn't wearing a shirt anymore. Scott was still in the muggy clothes that he'd gone to the party in, and it seemed like he'd just realized that, too. He frowns.

"My clothes feel, like, sticky.. n' gross,"

"Take them off, then," Wallace says blankly. He always found himself stating the obvious to him. "Not sure what you're telling me for." He adds.

"But I don't wanna take 'em off," Scott whines, slouching. "M'too sleepy." He huffs, suddenly lurching forward and crashing his face into Wallace's chest. His heart was hammering now, and  Scott, being the dense fuck he was, probably still had no idea, and was oblivious as ever to his pounding heart.

"Dude," Scott picks his head up from Wallace's chest, and he appears to have come up with this grand idea, judging by the glint in his eye. "Take 'em off for me?" He says expectantly, flashing Wallace a crooked, but genuine smile. He knits his eyebrows together and sighs deeply, acting as if he wasn't literally dying to do this. He's thought about it a lot. An embarrassingly large amount of times, he's thought about doing just that. Stripping Scott of his clothing, and feeling him up with his bare hands. 

"Okay, lazy ass," He rolls his eyes, propping himself up against the head-board. The thin blanket falls from his mid-section, revealing his unclothed chest. Scott shimmies forward, and sits cross-legged in front of him, patiently waiting like a dog would for its owner. He swallows. His hands reach for the hem of his shirt, and carefully gather the fabric to pull up his torso. He rolls the hem between his pointers and thumbs, and absently stares down at the green shirt. He was stalling, and he didn't even know it.

"Are y'gonna take it off? I mean, like, I can do'it, if y'don't wanna," Scott drawls, swaying back and forth in a lousy fashion. His eyes stayed locked on Wallace the entire time, but Wallace's eyes were focused on his own hands, and the soft tee-shirt he held in-between his fingers. 

"No, s'okay, I'll do it," He says a little too quickly, minimally slurring his words. He cautiously pulls his shirt up, revealing his pale complexion and defined ribs. Scott was a fairly lanky guy, and kinda scrawny, too. Wallace thought it was hot, though. Of course he did. He stared at his mid-section as if it were a slab of raw meat, his eyes briefly glancing at every area that was exposed and visible. He fought himself from running his fingers along the ridges in his ribcage. Scott would probably freak the fuck out, so he didn't, for his sake. His eyes linger on his non-existent pecs for a little too long, and it takes him minutes to actually take it off. He pulls the shirt over Scott's head, leaving his hair mussed and tousled in the process. His cheeks were a beautiful shade of pink, and untamed strands of Scott's shaggy hair obscured his forehead, and either sides of his face. He stared for much longer than he could've gotten away with if he wasn't plastered. 

"Thanks," Scott says, flashing Wallace a wobbly grin. "And, uh, m'pants, too," He mutters, extending his legs out from their crossed position. If Wallace's heart wasn't pounding before, it is now.

"Mm—kay," He peeps. He takes a large gulp, and reaches for his belt buckle to unclasp it. He pulls and yanks at the buckle, growing irritated when it wont come apart. He was very drunk, and not really in any position to be taking off somebody else's clothes. His mind was foggy and shrouded, and he couldn't think straight anymore.

"I'll—I can help you," Scott hiccups, snaking his hands down to his waistband. His hands eventually work the belt off of his waist, with some of Wallace's help. His mouth hung open slightly as he stared down at Scott's waist, and he flashed him slow, drunken blinks. His fingers travel to the copper button, and delicately pulls it out of its hole. He finally hooks his shaky thumbs below the waistband of his jeans, and shimmies them off of his hips. He wore red boxers. Red ones. And despite his drunkenness, he'd probably remember that in the morning. His hand mistakenly brushes against his crotch as he pulls the jeans to his ankles, and he purses his lips when he hears a gasp escape the other's mouth. He could've been seeing things, but he was pretty sure Scott had a half-chub. He tosses them off the side of the bed, and he's met with intently gazing eyes. He had a subtle smile on his face, and his cheeks hadn't gotten any less flushed than they looked a few minutes ago. 

"D'you want me to take y'rs off?" He drawls, his lidded eyes shifting to Wallace's pants. He places a hand on his thigh, and looks back up at him. They were kinda dirty, and he obviously wasn't going to sleep in his jeans. He'd spilled a beverage on his thigh earlier that night, and hadn't yet considered entirely stripping himself of his jeans. He really wasn't sure what to say, as badly as he wanted him to. His hard-on hadn't exactly gone away, and that would probably be awkward as hell for Scott to be practically face-to-face with his clothed dick. Especially when he's hard.

"I don't—" He begins, only to be cut off by Scott, who was oddly eager to take his pants off for him. 

"S'that okay?" He murmurs, hands frozen on his zipper. Wallace bit his lip. He wasn't sure if they'd ever gotten this gay before. They'd had their fair share of gay moments, since Wallace himself was a gay man who undeniably had the hots for Scott, but not like.. whatever the fuck this was.

They'd wake up spooning from time to time, but that was different. It would happen sometime during the night where they're unconscious and sleeping heavily. He'd usually wake up with Scott's arms around him, and he'd pretend he wasn't awake until they were retreating back to his own sides. But Scott had never tried to take his pants off before, nor had he called his hands, "pretty," or sweetly kissed the tips of his fingers. Maybe Scott was just a gay drunk. 

"Go ahead." He breathes. In defiance of everything that told him not to, he says to go ahead. He looks up at the ceiling, and exhales through his nose. It didn't matter, really. They'd forget about it tomorrow.

Scott's fingers sluggishly unclasp the button, and fumble with the flimsy zipper  as he tries to tug it down. The room was quiet, and the atmosphere had grown moderately tense. He watched him in dead silence, completely still and motionless. His eyes were squinted in concentration, but his focus gradually grew into impatience and aggravation after the fifth failed attempt of unclasping his jeans. Wallace was humored by his short-temperedness, hardly able to stifle the smile blossoming on his face. He finally gets the zipper down, and seems to release a breath he'd been holding. He begins to pull his pants down, agonizingly slow. But he couldn't blame him. He was drunk, and his arms probably felt all tingly and heavy. His eyes were probably fighting to stay open, too. 

"Um. Thanks," Wallace mumbles, watching Scott as he drops his jeans off of the bed. He felt exposed—and cold. He'd slept in his bed plenty of times, but they'd never really slept together half-naked. It couldn't even be considered half-naked since they were both stripped down to their underwear. 

"Uh-huh," Scott absently replies, staring down at Wallace's pelvic region. He freezes for a second. He looked distracted and preoccupied, so he must've been focused on something. His fingers brush along his upper thighs, and tease the hem. He slips his pointer under it, and back out again, biting his lip. He must've been really drunk. Like, drunk out of his mind, because sober Scott would've never done that. He leans towards his body, and places a hand on his chest while the other continues to pull and tug at his briefs' band.

"Wallace," He huffs, looking up at him. 

"Scott." He replies, stone-faced and serious. He could already feel beads of sweat forming at his forehead, but in his defense, the room had gotten pretty warm. Or maybe it was his body's temperature rising, he wasn't sure. 

"Can I—mm, like," Scott pauses, squinting his eyes. He takes a minute to collect and gather his thoughts, and it felt like the longest minute of Wallace's life.

"I wanna kiss you." He says. Wallace nearly chokes on his own saliva when Scott says it, but his breath hitches instead. His eyes instantly widen, and he wonders if he's hallucinating for a second. 

"But, like, down here," Scott slurs through a murmur, palming at his upper thigh to indicate where. "S'that okay?" He asks sweetly, flashing him a look that he had a difficult time saying no to. It's not like he wanted to say no, anyway. 

"Yeah. Yeah, that's okay," He stammers, shifting in his seat. Scott gently places his fingers at the hem of his briefs, and slowly inches his face closer to his upper thighs. He mouth makes contact with his skin, and he slowly swipes his tongue across the inside of his thigh.

He'd tangled his fingers into Scott's hair, and tightened his grip when he began to suck at his sensitive skin. Wallace groans, and his back lifts off of the bed slightly. Gentle sucking at his skin turns into rough biting, and he'd let multiple sighs and huffs slip out of his mouth. He felt hot and drowsy, and the room was spinning. A pleasant heat coiled in his stomach, and it only became hotter as Scott continued to bite and nibble. 

"Jesus, Scott," He grunts, squeezing his eyes shut. He pulls away about a minute later, his mouth connecting to his thigh with a sticky string of saliva. He looks down at the glistening drool on his leg, and takes a long drawl at the purple, discolored blotches and bites that he left behind. Scott meets Wallace's eyes, and he looks frazzled and confused. His cheeks were a disgustingly dark shade of red, and his mouth hung open as soft pants repeatedly came out of it. He forgets to double-check if the door is even shut, because he's too distracted by Scott's face, and his mouth, and his hands. All of him. He couldn't tear his eyes away if his life depended on it. 

"C'mere," Wallace huffs, sliding his hands below his armpits and finally pulling Scott's body into him. Their mouths collide messily and they both wince and groan when their teeth clash together. Scott moans into his mouth, and the angelic sound goes straight to his dick. He slides his tongue into his mouth, and boldly licks across Scott's, forcing a breathy whimper out of his mouth. Scott was a pretty sloppy kisser. Their frenzied making out was definitely audible and moderately wet, and he was also kinda loud, considering Wallace wasn't even touching him. His moans were high-pitched and strained, and Wallace thought it was pretty hot. He liked it. 

Scott grabs his wrists and slides them off of his shoulders, slotting himself into his lap. He sat directly on top of his erection, and he grunts at the slightly painful pleasure. Scott presses his warm, huffing chest on Wallace's, laying his heavy head on his shoulder in the process. Wallace cradles the back of his head in his palm, and gently dips his mouth into the crook of his neck. He clamps his teeth down, biting and sucking at the area below his jawline. The action earned him an earful of moans and whines, and he loved to hear it. His adrenaline pumped wildly. It was an indescribable feeling to finally get sounds like these out of him, so intimately and so up-close. He felt lightheaded. 

His mouth was already sore from practically tongue-fucking Scott, and he was slacking off a little with the hickeys, but Scott didn't seem to realize. Based on the strangled sounds that repetitively slipped out, he was enjoying it plenty, and Wallace felt prided because of that. That he could make a guy, who's presumably straight, whine and cry out like this. He was being a little careless with his voice, and he seemed to have forgotten that there were other people present in the house. He sucked more vigorously, and sighed against his neck. He feels his body seize up, and he momentarily wondered if he'd came, based on the strangled noise that escaped his mouth right after.

"Wallace—ah—stop!—stop it," He stammers, pulling him away by his hair. His bottom lip quivered while he tried to catch his breath. His expression almost looked pained, or something of that sort. 

"Y'want to stop?" Wallace asks, winded. 

"No—no, I wanna—wanna keep going, I'm just—" Scott huffs, slouching in his lap and giving up on what he was gonna say. He continued to pant and breathe laboredly. He'd almost surprised himself with a teetering orgasm—since he'd never gotten off from, or had even been close to getting off from a few measly hickeys before. Wallace was obviously experienced, and he definitely knew how and where to bite and suck. It was different when another person took the lead like this, and when he knew just how to make him all noisy and desperate. His cheeks had managed to grow redder with embarrassment, somehow. 

"You're sensitive." Wallace mumbles, tracing his thumb along the indented bite-marks on Scott's lower neck and jawline. "I'm not surprised, though," He snickers. He had to hold himself back from reconnecting his mouth with Scott's neck, and just stared at it instead.

"I'm—I'm not that sensitive, m'just—horny. I'm horny." He admits, voice raspy and hoarse. It was likely a little worn already from being so vocal earlier. "Feels better when I'm drunk, though, y'know?" He smiles, picking his head up and gazing across Wallace's features. There was a provocative look in his eye, and it made Wallace tense. 

"Yeah," He licks his lips, swallowing down a thick wad of saliva. He couldn't describe the way he felt in that moment. Maybe irrevocable arousal. 

"Mm. Let's make out again," He mumbles, grabbing Wallace's face and adorning his cheeks with wet kisses. His lips eventually land on his mouth, and he's pressing a hard, needy kiss to it. He's getting as close as he possibly can, and he was still feeling like it wasn't close enough. His mouth grew sore after a few minutes, and he was huffing again within seconds. His tongue had basically explored the entirety of Scott's mouth, and he'd gotten a large earful of whines and whimpers from that alone. It was nasty and loud, and Scott's sounds likely could've been heard from outside the cracked door. 

"Mm—can y'touch me?" Scott breathes against his lips, smiling feverishly as he pulls away, just by an inch or so. His eyes were lidded and his mouth was widely parted, panting. 

"Sure, guy," He mumbles. "Handie?" Wallace asks, quirking an eyebrow up while he eyed Scott's face. His expression looked kind of funny. He looked alarmingly serene, like he was on painkillers, or something. Wallace mistakenly sways back and forth, attempting to sit up. The room was spinning again, and he suddenly had a hard time focusing on Scott's face. 

"Hm—uhh, yeah. Actually—can, um," He stammers. "Could you use your mouth?" Scott says, flustered. 

"Okay.. So a blow-job?" He says, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head sideways. 

"Uh, yes—yeah, that." He murmurs, averting his eyes from the smug stare that Wallace was flashing him. 

"As you wish." He says. He plants his hands at Scott's hips, gently pushing him off of his lap. By now, Scott had a full-blown erection instead of the measly half-chub he was harboring earlier. His hard-on was very obvious and visible, stretching the elastic of his boxers. He laid him down onto the mattress, and hovered over him. Scott looked up at him with an exhausted, but seraphic look on his face. The way his out-grown bangs fell upon his forehead, and stuck to his humid cheeks. He looked beautiful.

He slides down Scott's body, and faces the bulge in his boxers. He'd given guys head countless times, likely more times than he'd received it, but this time it was nerve-racking almost. His slender fingers toy with his waistband, pulling it back and snapping it against his pale skin. He took a couple minutes to admire his body, since it wasn't something he saw everyday, let alone this up-close. His stomach was slightly sunken in, and the more he paid attention, he realized how rapidly it was rising and falling. 

"Isn't your family home?" He whispers cautiously, shifting his eyes back up to Scott. He was biting his lip, seemingly in anticipation of Wallace's mouth on his dick.

"Um. I don't—I don't think so?" He pants, eyes repetitively glancing between Wallace's mouth and his cock. Either way, he didn't wanna pass up an opportunity to dick around with the guy he'd been crushing on for ages. It probably wasn't the best idea to take Scott's word for it, especially since he'd seen a vehicle in the driveway, but whatever. 

Wallace shrugs, and gently pulls his boxers down to his thighs, forcefully releasing his aching hard-on. His tip was already glistening with pre-cum, and Wallace briefly smiled to himself over that. He wraps his hand around Scott's cock, and closes his fingers around it. His thumb barely reaches his middle-finger when he closes his hand around him. 

"Jesus—wait," Scott splutters, curling his fingers into the bedding. He leans over to the side of the bed, and turns on the lamp on his nightstand in a rush. The light cascaded over Wallace's face, accentuating his features. His long eyelashes, and his eye-bags that somehow complemented his looks. His glossy, swollen lips. He could look forever, probably. 

Scott settles back into the spot that he previously sat in, and nestles himself against the pillows behind him, all while being watched by the man in front of him. He reclines, and stares down at Wallace, who was holding his dick in his unfortunately motionless hand. Scott decides not to refrain from extending a hand into his hair, and tousling it around with his fingers.

He was almost conflicted by how drawn he was to him in that moment. All of him—his pretty face, his droopy eyes, his soft hands. His cynicism and sarcasm that he'd pretend that he hated over and over again. It made him wonder what he looked like when he was a huffing mess, slowly recovering from the impact and exhaustion of an orgasm. How he looked when he was unraveled and vulnerable, sprawled upon freshly ruined bed-sheets. The way his chest would rise and fall after such a high. He hadn't even noticed that Wallace had started pumping him again. He was suddenly mesmerized, having forgotten about the hand on his dick, and his girlfriend, and only focusing on the charming man across from him. 

"What?" Wallace mumbles, brows knitted and cheeks red. His hand goes motionless again, and instead he just meets Scott's relentlessly staring eyes. He looks both pissed off and embarrassed, and he decided it was a cute combination. 

"Nothing," He says, relaxing into the pillows behind him with a faint grin.

"You're lookin' at me funny." Wallace slurs, his tone suddenly growing snarky. His eyes stay locked with Scott's for just a second more, and then he looks back down at his pre-slicked dick. He slides his hand down to the base, and teasingly ghosts his mouth over his tip. 

"Sorry," He blinks. "You just look—ah—really—pretty, tha's all," He says, struggling slightly to get his words out. He involuntarily rolls his hips, sucking in a sharp breath at the sudden warm, wet presence on his tip.

Scott felt awfully needy and desperate once he'd taken him in his mouth, like he'd been waiting all night for this. Hell, maybe even months for it, he didn't know. He slides his tongue up the length of his shaft, making him shudder and whimper. He'd probably been in his mouth for about a minute only, and he was already sweating and shaking. He couldn't keep any of the suggestive noises from slipping out, and he'd eventually just given up on being quiet.

Wallace seemed to like it, because the noisier he got, the harder he'd suck and lap at his dick. He applied pressure at the base where his hand was, and continued to bob his mouth up and down. He felt dizzy and lightheaded, and it was undoubtedly some of the best head he'd ever gotten. It made any other blow-job he'd ever gotten feel mediocre. Girls that he'd gotten with definitely didn't know their way around a dick. 

To Scott's misfortune, he slides his mouth off. He winces at the cold air that suddenly engulfs his dick, and groans at the loss of the pleasure he felt a moment ago.

"Like it?" Wallace asks with a shit-eating grin. It's like he knows he gives awesome head, or something. It felt great, and Scott was honestly enjoying himself, so he decided not to be snarky about it. 

"Fuck yes," He says, flashing him a dopey smile. He raised his hips in the air, eager to get his mouth back on his dick. "Keep—keep sucking me off," He forces out, eyes fluttering. His body was completely relaxed, and hardly tense at all. 

"Mm. Say please." He mumbles, snickering. Scott blushes at the demand, and purses his lips in surprise. 

"'Kay. Please, uh. Please suck.. my dick?" Scott says. It was kind of unsexy, and not in the horny and desperate sort of way that Wallace would've preferred. It was a confused, unsure kind of please.

"Okay, scratch that. Beg." He says, holding Scott's cock still. It continued to twitch and leak, desperate for any contact. He looked aggravated and impatient, but still listened to what Wallace was asking of him. He wanted this too bad to risk losing out on what's probably gonna be a damn good orgasm. 

"God—okay. Can you—um. Please, please suck me off, Wallace, I.. need it," He slurs, probably wallowing in embarrassment. It was degrading and humiliating almost, but it kinda turned him on in this sick, kinky way. "You—you feel so, so good, Wallace, please," He whines, throwing his head back against the pillows. "I want it.." He tries, frowning in frustration. 

"How bad?" Wallace asks, raising an eyebrow. He would've lost his hard-on by now if he wasn't being practically teased. 

"Wh—what?" He flushes. 

"How bad do you want it?" He says, huffing a breath of hot air against Scott's dick. He shudders. He lets go of his cock, and wraps both of his arms around his trembling thighs. 

"I—I want—" 

"Hmm?" 

"I want it—I want it so fucking bad, Wallace, please!" He whines, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Yeah?" Wallace says, flashing Scott a smug, squinty-eyed grin. He probably enjoyed taking Scott apart like this, and watching him tremble and leak below him as he ached for his mouth back.

"Yes! Fuck, please, just—mmmh!" He begins, cutting himself off by sinking teeth into his bottom lip. He'd suddenly taken Scott's cock back into his mouth, and began swirling his tongue around it again, and squeezing his hand around the part that wasn't in his mouth.

"You're—you feel—hahh—so," Scott tries, but he's beyond words at this point. He wasn't really sure what was making the head so incredible, but whatever it was, it was definitely working. 

"Good?" Wallace slides his mouth off, leaving behind a string of saliva. He pumps his slicked cock, and watched his face as he continued to lose himself in the pleasure. 

"Mmh—mm—ah, mhm," He hums, arching his back off the mattress. His breathy panting had started up again, and he was rolling his hips over and over. He jerked him at an angle, applying a slight pressure around his dick. 

"Feels better than your bitch-ass girlfriend?" He huffs, stroking him laboredly. They grew more and more erratic by the second. "Huh, Scott?"

"Jesus—fuck! Yes, it feels—fucking—" He stammers, feverishly curling his toes into the bedding.

"I've always wanted to touch you like this," He suddenly admits, nearly pushing Scott over the edge. He moans loudly in response to the statement, becoming more frantic with the hip-rolling and thrusting. His forehead glistened with sweat in the dim lighting, and there was saliva lewdly dribbling down his chin. 

"Does she get you this loud?" He asks. It was probably a genuine question, but that went over Scott's head. He assumed that he was just saying it to rile him up, but whether that was his intention or not, it worked. He shakes his head in response, eyes squeezed shut as he pants feverishly. The hand in Wallace's hair had tightened, and his knuckles had began to turn white with his firm grip. He kept his eyes closed, because the lewd image of Wallace sucking and jacking him off likely would've made him come.

"Have you ever begged her the way you're begging me?" He chuckles. This was amusing to him, somehow. 

"I've—I don't—hah—I don't know!" He stutters, thoughtlessly arching his back when Wallace slides his thumb through his tip's slit. Scott knew the answer. Wallace knew his way around a cock like the back of his hand, probably, and it made it all the more pleasurable. He couldn't recall ever getting this loud, or this desperate, or this hot with Envy. He could hardly think or comprehend anymore, and he might as well have been on another fucking planet. The hand in Wallace's hair had began to tremble, and his stomach was beginning to tense up. His gut felt boiling hot, and his legs indescribably weak. His mind was beginning to feel hazy, which was a clear indication that he was gonna be coming within the next minute or so. 

"You don't know?" He asks, seconds before taking him back into his mouth. He felt the sensation all over again, and it was undeniably overwhelming. He'd be lucky if he could even announce that he was coming. His eyes had welled up, and his mouth hung open erotically. A few stray tears had already gone down his face, accompanied by the saliva and sweat that also ran down his skin. His entire body appeared to be sweaty, and the parts of the sheets that his back laid on had grown damp. 

"Wallace! I'm—I'm gonna—" He grunts, furrowing his eyebrows as his mouth falls open. Wallace pulls away to speak, and his cock leaves his mouth with a satisfying pop. 

"Go ahead," He says. "You've been so good for me," He smiles, like he knew that it was gonna push Scott over the edge. He'd learned over time that he had a thing for praise without even having to take him to bed. 

"Wallace! Wallace—m'coming! I'm—I'm—hahh—fuck!" He whines and moans, writhing as he reaches his climax. "Wallace!" He desperately moans his name, wildly bucking his hips into his hand. 

He watches as his abdomen tenses up, and as his cock begins spurting hot, thick ribbons of cum. He worked Scott through it, and the sight of him coming was definitely pleasing to finally see after envisioning it multiple times. It would've gotten him off if he wasn't deliberately trying not to come. It was a pretty heavy load, and the jizz that didn't land on Wallace's face had pooled at his heaving stomach. It was a pretty pornographic sight, watching Scott's cum dribble down his sides. 

Like he was anticipating, it was a damn good orgasm. It was sticky and hot, and Wallace's increased pumping speed made it feel even better. He came down from his high after a few minutes of squirming and huffing. 

"Can you, uh," Scott begins, hardly able to form words. He hadn't even looked at Wallace again since he'd squeezed his eyes shut, so he hadn't noticed the cum splatter on his face either. He deliberately looked away while he panted and heaved. Wallace stared at him inquisitively, waiting for him to open his mouth back up. 

"Grab that? My shirt," His voice was all stuffy and small. It was hoarse and blown out from being so loud. He pulls his sweaty palm out of Wallace's hair, and gestures towards his tee-shirt on the ground. He leans off of the side of the bed, and retrieves Scott's neglected tee.

"You can—use that. To clean my, um," He says, heaving ragged breaths. He never actually got the words out, but Wallace understood anyway. 

He uses it as a cum-rag, which is pretty disappointing because it was a nice shirt. One of his personal favorites to see Scott wearing. He picks his head up. and flushes upon seeing the cum-splatter on Wallace's face.

"Jesus," Scott shudders, flustered. 

"You alright, guy?" Wallace asks, eyes on Scott's stomach as he mops the hot, sticky puddle of cum pooled on his stomach. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm—I just—" Scott stammers, biting his lip. "Was I loud? Like—like, really loud?" He asks reluctantly, wincing like he already knew the answer to it. Wallace flashes him a knowing expression, which sort of looked like, "duh" without him having to say it. 

"Jesus, I hope my parents aren't home." He says fearfully.

"Mm, I wouldn't rule that out." Wallace smirks, tossing Scott's cum-soaked shirt aside. The size of his load made him wonder when the last time was that he'd actually gotten off. 

"Oh, God. What'll I do if they heard me?" He mumbles to himself, bordering a crisis. He nervously combed a hand through his hair and shudders. 

"Hm, well," Wallace starts. "They'll know you got a damn good blow-job, then," He grins, giggling. He nonchalantly licks a stray drop of jizz that had landed at the corner of his mouth, and crashes against Scott's bare body right after.

"I love to hear you, though, Scott," He says. He presses a bunch of kisses to his neck before he could respond, and drops his head on his shoulder. To his surprise, Scott takes ahold of his face by his chin, and hungrily connects their mouths again. Scott thought tasted a little different than he did earlier, and it was likely from him taking his entire dick in his mouth. He kept feeling Wallace's hard on brush and grind against his stomach, and it turned him on all over again. He was all dizzy and lightheaded—but in a good way.

They hugged each other close to keep warm, because Scott's room was pretty fucking cold. The weather must've been somewhere in the mid twenties, and the big ass window in his bedroom wasn't helping with the temperature inside. He almost wished they hadn't stripped each other of their clothing, but the skin-on-skin contact felt pretty nice. Wallace's hands roam around his body while they kiss, and Scott's do the same. He pulls away, and looks him in the eyes like he's looking for something. 

"Can.. we, um," He mutters, averting his gaze. His mouth falls closed. He couldn't shake the want—the desire to go further. It was weird to him that he felt that way, because he'd normally get cold feet about going all the way, even with his own girlfriend. Maybe the alcohol was speaking for him tonight, and maybe it was even making outlandish decisions for him that he'd regret later. Whether the drinks were responsible for it or not, he wanted this. Badly, desperate and needy in a way that he wouldn't normally get. 

Wallace stares at him with a neutral expression that slowly grows to be impatient, and he opens his mouth again. His cheeks were horrendously red, and only one thing came to mind, really. 

"You sure you wanna go there?" Wallace says, raising an eyebrow as his cheeks grow flushed. 

Scott nods, admiring his chest as he runs a clammy hand down it. Despite the generally crude nature of asking for sex, he somehow looked entirely innocent as he alluded to it. Staring at him through the entirety of his blow-job must've gotten him thinking about it, because before then, he could actually think about something else. This was all he could think about now. He wanted to know what he looked like when he was being pleasured, and the kind of sweet-talk—or dirty talk—he'd get from him. The thought of it made his hard-on ache. 

"Scott," He huffs. "You don't wanna have sex with me." Wallace says matter of factly.

"I—I think that's what I want," He mumbles. 

"You like women, don't you?" He asks, cocking an eyebrow upwards. Scott felt like he was being cornered with the question. He quickly felt defensive, and he probably shouldn't have felt that way if he really did only like women. He didn't say anything because he was at a loss for words. 

"You're just drunk, guy. We're drunk." He says, planting his hands on his shoulders and firmly looking him in the eyes. He always managed to handle things like this so maturely. Scott frowns. He had always denied liking men, and even though he assumed he was in denial at first, he chose to eventually just believe him.

"That's not—it doesn't matter!" Scott groans. He blushes furiously, and his eyebrows furrow. He was definitely really drunk too, but Scott handled alcohol differently. He was an emotional, horny black-out drunk who would forget everything by morning. He was the kind of drunk to do things that he probably wouldn't do sober. Like give hickeys, for example. He'd always taken Scott for a painfully vanilla guy, but the bites and bruises he left on the insides of his thighs kind of indicated otherwise. Wallace normally wouldn't forget things, but he also didn't have a shit memory like Scott. He'd wake up with a pounding headache and a moderate hangover, and complain about how terrible he feels all day. 

"It's the alcohol, guy. Trust me."

"Wallace," He whines, grabbing Wallace's wrists. "I want it," He says with a slight desperation, returning the stare with a more serious expression. He keeps getting closer, and it freaked him out a little. He sounded all loopy and drunk.

God, he couldn't even deny how badly he wanted it. It was probably the dangerous combination of horniness and drunkenness, which always ended with them doing things they'd probably regret later on. Scott had never taken his clothes off, nor had he ever asked to be railed, but he'd also never been drunk like this. Practically falling over on the way home, and stumbling through every doorway he had to walk through.

He wasn't supposed to care about stuff like this, is the thing. He'd never given a shit if any of his one-night-stands saw other people, or if they only got with him for a quick fuck. But something about the idea of a one-night-stand with Scott didn't sit right, because he wasn't just some nobody. He wasn't just some guy that he picked up at the bar, and selfishly took home for his own pleasure. He was the guy that he'd wound up hopelessly attached to, and he was the guy who's house he'd show up to every weekend that he wasn't busy, just to hang out and play video-games. He'd buy him things for no reason, mostly just because he wanted to. He liked Scott. He like liked him, in the way he would've crushed on a guy in middle-school. And he was pining hard. 

"Well, you wanna know what I think, Pilgrim?" He says, smiling gently as he traces his fingers along Scott's pale, bare chest. The subtle up-curve of his lips seemed insincere, but he didn't seem to pick up on it. Instead, he nods eagerly in response.

"I think you only want me when you're drunk and horny." He says, letting his roaming hands fall from his upper torso. Scott looks taken aback almost, like he couldn't believe that was the assumption. Crestfallen, even.  

"I want you all the time," He huffs, lazily roping his hands around the older man's neck. The scariest part was that his tone lacked reluctance, and he sounded completely honest and raw. His eyes fluttered as he spoke, like he was fighting to keep them from shutting.

"I always do." Scott says, tone lacking lust and horniness. Like by wanting him, he means hand-holding, or little pecks to the cheek. Or spooning in bed, and kissing each other goodnight. Like brushing their teeth side-by-side, huddled close together in front of a bathroom mirror. Not that he wanted Wallace just for his body, but for him as a whole. He would've found it in him to appreciate his words if he wasn't totally buzzed. He nods in acknowledgment, but really, he was still doubting everything he'd just said. 

Wallace scoots away from the headboard and reclines his head onto the pillows, taking Scott down with him. His hand had found its way back into his hair, and it was repeating the combing and scratching gesture from earlier. Even though they weren't doing anything sexual at the moment, it still felt so intimate and raw. The two of them lying flush against each other almost entirely naked, one of which still recovering from a wonderfully impactful orgasm. So wonderful that he was already wanting another one.

He ponders Scott's words for a moment. They obviously couldn't have meant much, being that he was drunk out of his mind right now, and the weed definitely could've been contributing to the nonsense leaving his mouth. It irked him, almost. That Scott never would've said anything like that if he was sober.

"I think about it all the time, you know." Wallace admits, huffing. Maybe he'd regret saying it later, but he'd worry about it later. There was no point in pretending he didn't anymore, or in acting like he wasn't hopelessly hung up on Scott. He had him wrapped around his finger without even trying. He shuts his eyes and exhales deeply. He continues to comb through his hair, stopping momentarily when Scott picks his head up and inquisitively tilts it to the side.  

"About what?" Scott mutters dumbly, flashing him dazed blinks. He was genuinely clueless, already having forgotten about their short-lived conversation that consisted of sex, and other lewd things. His memory really was terrible. Wallace opens his eyes, and stares at him, firmly and sharply. 

"Fucking you into your mattress, Scott." He says, shrugging casually and letting his eyes fall closed again. He feels Scott's body tense up and freeze, and he can suddenly feel a smirk tugging at his lips. Maybe he had Scott wrapped around his own finger, too. The threatening smirk blossoms into a full-blown smile as he remembers how Scott was begging and whining for him earlier. It was hot as fuck, honestly. 

"Oh. You—okay. Yeah, tha's cool," Scott splutters, behaving as if he's having a mental malfunction. His eyes dash all around the dark room, and they seem to land everywhere except for Wallace's face. His cheeks were practically glowing red in the dark room. 

"All the time?" He murmurs, blushing furiously. He presses his thumb-pad against Scott's warm cheek, and gently rubs a circle into it. 

"Yeah, guy," He flashes a wobbly grin. "Since I met you." He says, twirling a piece of Scott's ginger hair around his pointer finger. 

"Yeah?" Scott mumbles, grinning lopsidedly. 

"I think about it, too," Scott admits, tracing his fingers along Wallace's collarbones. He scoots forward on top of him, and cradles his head with the back of his hand. "About, um," Scott mumbles, eyeing his lips. 

Wallace flashes him slow blinks, patiently waiting for whatever was going to come out of his mouth. 

"Doing it with you." Scott huffs, averting his eyes. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, and opens his mouth like he wants to say something else. He's visibly hesitating and fighting to just keep his mouth shut. There's either gonna be a whole lot to talk with Wallace about tomorrow, or a whole lot to forget about and discard into a dark crevice of his mind. 

Wallace was lightheaded. It was almost fulfilling hearing him finally admit that. After all the come-hither looks he'd shot him, sometimes while he was sober, and even jokes he'd occasionally make that alluded to sexual acts between them. Though the jokes mostly only occurred while Scott was drunk, he still made them. He'd been staring, kind of in awe, and kind of trying to register what he just heard. 

Scott suddenly crashes his mouth against Wallace's, and he's quickly easing into the desperate and needy kiss. He immediately shoves his tongue into Scott's mouth and forces a whimper out of him. His cock was practically aching in his briefs. The crude noises that were leaving Scott really contributed to his hard-on. There had to have been a sticky spot of pre-cum staining his underwear by this point. After a few minutes, Scott was already panting into his mouth. It was almost like he wasn't used to making out like this because of how easily and quickly he lost his breath. Wallace was very much used to it, and didn't have to break away for air until long after Scott had to. 

"Wallace—can I—" Scott mumbles against his mouth, pulling away so he can speak. "—Can I tell you something?" He huffs. His lips brushed against Wallace's when he spoke. He didn't leave much of a gap after he'd broken their mouths apart—he left just enough of a space to speak. 

"Tell me," Wallace breathes, quickly connecting his mouth back to Scott's. He wasn't really listening—he was far more interested in kissing Scott. It's not like this was gonna last forever, anyway, as much as he'd like for it to. He slyly pokes his tongue into his mouth, and he jolts. He pulls away again to speak.

"I've—I always think—" He's cut off by Wallace's mouth again, shamelessly interrupting whatever he's trying to say. His mind was too hazy to think properly, and he'd ultimately ended up forgetting what he was trying to say. His senses were practically filled with Wallace. His hands begin to roam Scott's bare body, and stop at his ass. Wallace leans forward, slipping a hand below his underwear in the process, their mouths staying connected. Scott whimpers at the sudden contact, and shudders once he's pinned between Wallace's elbows. His head lands on the pillows at the foot of his bed, and he places his hands on Wallace's chest that was hovering over him. 

He'd become a sweaty, whining mess within seconds. An abundance of sloppy kisses were being pressed to his jaw, and down his neck to his collarbones. It was overwhelming—in a good way. He was in a world of pleasure and serenity. He'd never really realized how much he liked when somebody else took the lead, and got all rough and feely. Envy didn't like it rough. They wouldn't make-out that often, and when they did, it wouldn't necessarily get rough or heated. It was boring. He liked doing it with Wallace a whole lot more than he thought he would. Because it had definitely crossed his mind before, and he just didn't anticipate it being this.. good. This sexy, and this hot. 

His slides a down Wallace's body, and palms at his clothed boner. Based on how he felt through his briefs, Wallace was probably a little bigger than him. He never would've pictured himself practically clawing at another man's dick, like, ever, but there he was. He hooks his fingers below his waistband, and tugs. 

"Can I take 'em off?" Scott breaths, swallowing hard. His fingers tremble in place. The adrenaline and excitement of it all was finally getting to him. 

"Sure, baby," Wallace says, grinning against his jawline before littering more bites and kisses onto it. 

He clumsily works his briefs off of his waist. They were undeniably soiled, but Scott didn't seem to register that he'd came in his own pants. He hurriedly shimmies out of his own after getting Wallace's off and discards them. He was erect all over again, tip glistening and leaking. Wallace stations himself onto Scott's lap, causing their unclothed dicks to collide.

"Fuck!—ughn, Wallace!" He groans, closing his jaw and sucking in a sharp breath. His stomach clenches upon the contact between their unclothed cocks. He was so severely turned on that his dick was almost in pain. 

Wallace chuckles above him, groaning and stifling any other noises that threatened to escape his lips. He ground himself on top of Scott, rolling his hips in a circular motion.

"Ah—that's—fuck, that's—good!" Scott splutters through a whine, desperately writhing below him to cause more friction. His hands gripped at the tops of his thighs, fingers deeply curling into his skin.

"You wanna—ah—try something?" Wallace huffs, shifting his eyes to Scott's with a small up-quirk of his lips. Scott nods frantically, bangs vigorously drumming against his forehead. 

He grabs ahold of their dicks without warning, and gives them both a few strokes. Scott whimpers, and bites his lip to stifle the sound. He stared in captivation, mouth hung open and panting. He slides his hand up the two of their cocks, stopping just before their tips. He suddenly presses their members together in a swift motion, and quickly circles them against each other. 

"Hahh—fuck!—ah, Wallace!" He groans, back arching involuntarily. He hears the man on top of him snicker, and he's hit with another wave of arousal. He continues to rub their tips together, carefully going around in circular motions. "Don't—don't stop! It's so—that's so—shit!" Scott stammers. Wallace wasn't half as noisy as he was being—it was embarrassing, almost. 

He suddenly lets go of their dicks, and Scott's back immediately straightens itself out. He falls against the mattress with a sigh, and a heaving chest. 

"I said—I said I wanted you to—keep going," He mutters, struggling between pants. 

"You don't want me to fuck you?" Wallace asks cynically, lurching forward. Scott's eyes widen a little, and he presses his mouth into a thin line. 

"I—no, I want you to," Scott murmurs, running his hands up his body, and planting them on his shoulders. He left behind red crescent marks on his thighs. "Please," He sighs, allowing his head to fall back against his pillows.

"Yeah, yeah," Wallace says. "Mm, you have lube?" He asks, sweetly combing his fingers through Scott's sweat-dampened hair. 

"Uh-huh, It's uh, s'in the.." Scott begins, stopping mid-way. "S'okay, I can get it," He huffs, squirming out from below Wallace's grasp. He crawls over to the top of his mattress, and rummages through his nightstand's top drawer for it. He acquires the small bottle, and momentarily stops in his tracks. He catches a glimpse of the framed picture of him and Envy, and gets this terrible sinking feeling in his stomach. He swallows down the lump in his throat, and decides to wave off the guilty feeling he got. He reaches for the photo, and faces it down on the wooden surface.

"Don't wanna voyeur for Envy, huh, Scott?" He giggles groggily, scooting closer to him. 

"Stop it," Scott huffs. There was a trace of genuine anger and distress in his voice, but Wallace practically failed to pick up on it since he was so drunk.

"Hey," Wallace starts. "I'm just messing with you, buddy," He slurs, getting up-close and personal and throwing an arm around his shoulder. His hot breath tickled his skin with their close proximity. Scott's eyebrows furrow as, "buddy," leaves his mouth. They'd already explored each other's bodies about three times in the last hour and a half, and Wallace was calling him buddy. But why should he care?

"Here," Scott mumbles, reluctantly handing him the bottle and rolling over onto his mattress with a huff. The comment about voyeurism had him feeling guilty and conflicted. His relationship with her had been rocky lately, but he wasn't sure if that was a justifiable reason to be doing this. Maybe it was different. Maybe it wasn't really cheating if he wasn't getting with another woman.

"I don't have, like, condoms, or anything.." Scott whispers, fidgeting with his hands. 

"Why would we need condoms? I don't sleep around that much, guy," Wallace says, amused and half-smiling.

"I—I don't know!" Scott argues, flustered. There was no need, really. It's not like he had enough sex to pick something up. He begins to inspect the small container of lube, and a humored smile begins to pull at his lips.

"What? What's funny?" Scott asks, dazed and loopy. 

"S'almost empty," He giggles, shaking the remnants of the lubricant in the bottle. "You jack off a lot?" He asks, smirking.

"Shut up! I've had that for—like, ever." He rolls his eyes. Wallace lets out an amused Scoff, and 

"Scott," Wallace says sternly. "You want this, right?" He asks, shooting him a serious look. But Scott was so un-serious about it.

"Yeah." He breathes. "I want you." Scott mumbles, pressing his pointer-finger into Wallace's chest to accentuate his expression. It felt so odd to say out loud, let alone to a man, but he'd worry about it tomorrow, or whenever his conscience decided to bother him about it. He was grinning chastely, hence the lewd situation and position they were in.

"Uh-huh," Wallace says, blank faced. He still wasn't buying it, as much as Scott had already stroked his ego. 

Prior to this, Wallace obviously assumed that he only liked women. He was always really adamant about it. "Dude, I'm not gay!" Is what he'd tell him, definitely enough times to have gotten it through his head. He almost felt lucky to be in Scott's bed, touching him wherever and however he wants to. He hadn't hooked up with many other guys who insisted that they were straight. 

"You're so drunk," Wallace smirks. "I don't think I've ever met a guy who's as much of a lightweight as you are."

"Yeah, whatever," Scott rolls his eyes. He watches while Wallace squirts some lube onto his fingertips, and spreads the thick substance across his fingers with his thumb. Scott watches with wide eyes as he reaches his hand out further, and he protests when his fingers are mere inches away from his hole. 

"Wait!" Scott tenses up, twiddling his fingers together nervously. "I've never, um—I've never, like, done anything there before.." He says. 

"It feels good, right?" He asks hesitantly.

"You'd be surprised." Wallace smirks. "Try not to yell, though, okay?" He winks, and a faint blush rises to his cheeks. He wasn't entirely sure what he meant, but he'd understand in the next few minutes, probably. He furrows his eyebrows, continuing to wonder. He'd gotten pretty loud earlier, but he wasn't yelling, only out of pure reluctance. He wasn't trying to contribute any more to the sore throat he'd likely have tomorrow.

"I don't think I'll—" He begins, just to be cut off my two cold fingertips pressing against his entrance. "—Jesus!" 

It was cold. So cold. 

It felt.. odd, but not in a bad way. Different, because it was something he'd never felt before. His fingers teasingly circled around his hole, transferring the slippery lubricant. He was trying not to squirm—it was definitely a sensation that made him want to. His bedroom had grown hot and muggy, and his skin had gone all warm and humid. It was a weird feeling for his ass to be biting cold, and for the rest of his body to be sweltering, inside and out. He must've been hot to the touch, almost like he was fetching himself a fever.

He gasps, clenching his hands as Wallace's fingers press themselves about halfway inside him. His gaze kept shifting between his hand and his eyes, likely making sure he wasn't causing him any pain. They prod his insides further, and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. 

"S'that hurt?" Wallace asks, curling his fingers experimentally. 

"Uh—I—I guess, a little," He stammers, hot and sweaty. "But—it's a good hurt, I like it." Scott huffs, trying to relax. He was incredibly tense, even though he wasn't lying about liking it. It stung a little, but he wasn't not into that. It turned him on a little more in a way that he couldn't explain. 

"Huh. Kinky now, are we?" Wallace grins. He drives his fingers out, roughly thrusting them back inside and curling his fingers forward. His slender fingers slam and curve into his prostate, and his entire body seizes up. He mistakenly lets out a lewd, piercing shriek, and involuntarily arches his back. 

"Yeah, I told you," He blanks, flashing Scott an 'I told you so' look. "That's your prostate, by the way." He says, slowly scissoring his fingers to stretch him. He slips in a third finger, which took Scott by surprise. He hisses through a clenched jaw, cheeks red and eyes twinkly. His body was still recovering from the intense jolt of pleasure he'd felt about a minute prior. He'd never experienced anything like it before. It almost made him feel conflicted that he's never tried anything down there until now.

"You ready for me?" He says, suddenly sliding his fingers out. He was probably stretched enough by this point. Scott groans at the loss, and drops his slightly-arched back against the mattress with a huff. If his fingers felt that good, he couldn't imagine how good his dick would feel. 

"Yeah. I think," He sighs, turning his cheek onto his pillow. He was still panting from the extensive pleasure he experienced a few minutes ago, hardy able to collect his thoughts. He wasn't really thinking about what Wallace had asked him either—he was kind of absent. 

Wallace hums in response, grabbing the bottle of lube off his nightstand. Scott lazily watches as he lathers himself with the lubricant. He strokes himself a few times, evenly distributing the slick, slippery substance. He was almost awe-struck by how he wasn't noisy at all. Maybe he'd gradually trained himself not to be after all the alleged hook-ups that he'd tell Scott about. He'd zoned out after a bit, and he ended up just staring off. 

"Hey," Wallace pipes up. He quickly harbors Scott's attention. "You still want to do this, right?"

"Yeah, 'course I do," He murmurs. He wasn't completely sure, but he didn't wanna back out now. Not after the surge of pleasure he felt a little while ago. He never let up easily when it came to hook-ups, or sex in general. He was a nervous, self-conscious guy who would get in his own head about it. He wasn't really a fan of the way his own body looked, and he didn't like for other people to see him naked like this, or even shirtless. Wallace seemed to take a liking to his body, though, so he didn't feel as antsy about it. 

It was weird. He thought Wallace was hot—and he didn't find guys hot, aside from hot actors like Lucas Lee, or something. He'd never find himself wanting to stare, or wondering what they looked like under their shirts, or even under their pants. He's thought about Wallace that way plenty, even when he's completely sober. The fact that he was gay got to his head in a way. How they could potentially end up doing, "things," because he liked men. And as for Scott, he thought he was good looking when he first met him during a lecture.

Until meeting Wallace, he was pretty confident in his sexuality, and that he only liked women. But tonight changed things. Maybe they changed when he met him, but he didn't know anymore. He doesn't wanna think about it. He finally snaps out of his thoughts, and his eyes widen at Wallace, who was suddenly grabbing his calves and raising them up in the air.  

"Whadd're you doing?" He slurs, flushed. 

"What do you think I'm doing?" Wallace squints, confused by Scott's confusion. Scott had to have been one of the most innocent, dense guys he'd ever gotten with.

"Wait—but—shouldn't I, um, lay down? Like, on my stomach?" He stammers, heart hammering and cheeks tinted a deep red. He suddenly felt all nervous about having sex. By all means he still wanted it, but he could hardly keep himself from breathing heavily.

"If you want to," He shrugs. "But I wanna watch you, obviously," He says casually, pulling both of Scott's legs on top of his shoulder and forcing a yelp out of him. 

"Okay. Okay, thas' fine," He shudders, biting his lip. He felt awfully exposed, a whole lot more than he'd ever felt when doing stuff with girls. He wouldn't let his guard down like this, or get vulnerable like he is now. He props himself up on his elbows, and lifts his head from the pillows so he could watch too.

He watches in anticipation as Wallace aligns his tip with his hole, and bites his lip when it presses against it. He was feeling so many different things at once, and it was overstimulating. Wallace's hot tip against his ass, which was cold from the lube, and the warm contact between his calves on his shoulders. It was a position he'd never been in before. It was a little uncomfortable and straining, but he liked that he'd be able to see Wallace's face through it all. 

He suddenly makes eye-contact with Wallace, and for whatever reason, he's hit with a surge of arousal. He was practically jittering with anticipation and queasiness. He shifts his eyes to Wallace's hips, and then his dick, and then his thighs. He notices the dark hickeys he'd left on his inner thighs, and he can feel his face turning red. Which was concerning, because he didn't think it could possibly get any redder than it already was. 

"You're shaking." Wallace observes, his expression landing somewhere between humor and concern.

His eyes flick to Scott's unclothed cock, and his eyebrows raise a little. He looked painfully hard. It stuck straight up, curving slightly towards his face. He was probably a little over average in overall length and girth, and Wallace was about the same, if not a little bigger. It was rosy-red and throbbing, yearning for some kind of stimulation, because the tip against his ass wasn't making him feel pleasure, necessarily. He was practically edging Scott, who was already looking frustrated by the lack of penetration. He was doing this on purpose, almost entirely just to get a rise out of him. 

"I'm—I'm okay. Can you put it in already?" He asks shyly, panting. It was a lewd sight, seeing the heavy-breathing mess he'd become. His legs were sprawled open and thrown over Wallace's shoulders, and he had discolored blotches and bites forming on his neck. He'd never really taken Scott for a guy who had a high sex drive, but maybe he thought wrong. Maybe the drinks were influencing him.

"So bossy." Wallace huffs. He firmly plants his hands on Scott's hips, just below his waist. He thrusts forward without warning, and the action elicits a sharp gasp out of Scott. He begins to steadily plunge in and out, and his trembling had grown more severe, specifically in his legs. He had to bite his own lip in order to stay quiet. Scott was tight, understandably since he'd never experimented in that region before. 

"Ever—fucked around with a guy before?" Wallace mindlessly asks, continuing to pump into him.  

"Mmm—ah—no," Scott whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut. 

"No?" He mumbles, thrusting into him with further vigor. Scott frantically shakes his head in response, gasping and grunting as he does so. "Just me?" He asks, voice low and raspy.

"Y—yes, yeah, I'm—I've never—" Scott attempts, ultimately fumbling over all of his words. He couldn't properly form any thoughts, not with Wallace's dick up his ass. It was an entirely new sensation that he couldn't stop thinking about since it had been shoved inside him. He felt too full and not full enough at the same time. 

"Never b—been with—" He tries through moans and gasps. His rough thrusting was beginning to get to him, because his words became more slurred by the second. Wallace was definitely turned on by this. He loved that Scott was beyond words, even from that lousy blow-job he'd given him earlier that he seemed to love so much. "W—with a—fuck!"

"S'okay, baby, I understand you." He mumbles, voice low and raspy. 

"Wallace—Wallace—" He groans, sounding as if he's trying to catch his attention rather than just moaning his name. His fingernails dig into the tops of his shoulders, making him wince in pain.

"Kiss me," He whines, attempting to lean forward and meet him halfway. His chest rapidly rose and fell, and he was panting into Wallace's mouth once he'd crashed it against his. He fervently intrudes his mouth with his tongue, and after a few seconds, their chins and lips are slick with spit and saliva. Scott really liked making out. It had become obvious after the fifth time of him suggesting a make out. 

"Fuck—Scott," He grunts, breaking themselves apart so he can breathe. "You're tight," He huffs. His hole was hot as well, only contributing to the pleasure. His pace was a little clumsy, considering he was drunk. It hadn't quite grown erratic yet, but it probably would soon. He pulls away, and takes a glance at Scott, whose mouth was agape and slobbering. Wallace presses a quick kiss to his jaw line, and his mouth falls open again. He was just saying whatever was on his mind, by now.

"You feel as good as I thought you'd feel." He mumbles, lips brushing against his neck. "Tight, 'n hot," He says, words ghosting his ear. His hair stands up. He could hear Scott's gasps and whimpers grow trembly with the praise. "Squeezing me," He groans.

"Hahh—fuck! Faster, please!" He begs, lewdly arching his back. Dirty talk did plenty for him. Based on his reaction, he's convinced that he could've gotten off on dirty talk and praise by itself. Maybe it was whispering it into his ear that got to him. He speeds up his thrusts, and begins to wildly fuck into Scott. He was being undeniably rough, but he seemed to be into that, which was surprising for his first time with a guy. He slams into his prostate a good few times, and it ears him an earful.

"Wallace!" He forces out, sinking his bottom teeth into his lip. 

"Yeah?" He huffs, shifting his eyes up to his face. A few stray tears had fallen down his cheeks, and he was drooling messily. Drops of saliva were on his chest and chin. 

"When—when—shit!—me and Envy do it—" He starts, frenzied and feverish. "I'm—fuck!—I—I think,"  

"Hmm?" Wallace hums, practically rocking his body with his rough, quickened thrusting. He bit his lip hard to keep quiet. 

"I think—I think about you! I'm—I always imagine you—" He gasps. Tears were beginning to prick the corners of his eyes. "I imagine you—hahh—fucking me!" He cries out, voice wobbly and on the verge of breaking. 

Something changes in him when he hears that. He wasn't sure if it was his fervent tone that did it, or the undeniably sexy trembling and shuddering in his voice, but his stomach began to feel really hot, as if there was something boiling in it. His legs get shaky, and his thrusts begin to grow frantic and maniacal. 

"H—uhh, fuck," Wallace moans, letting a noise slip. After a few more good pumps into Scott, he was already fighting back an orgasm. Scott's legs had locked themselves around his shoulders, forcing him to stay in place. 

"Holy shit, I've—I've wanted this for—mmh—so long," Scott mutters, voice low and raspy from overusing it. Wallace felt the exact same, although he couldn't voice it through his haze. He'd fantasized about getting in Scott's pants since the day they met, probably. It was exhilarating to finally get to do these things with him. 

"Me—me too," He huffs. 

"I'm—I'm close. Open your legs," He huffs, giving his hips a squeeze to alert him. He seemed to completely ignore him, and only closed his legs tighter. Scott's entire body suddenly tenses up, and he arches his back, way sharper than it was previously curved. It was hot. 

"I'm—I'm gonna come! Wallace—Hahh—Jesus—fuck! You feel—you feel so good!" He splutters, gasping for air. He ground his hips upward into Wallace, desperate to get in a last bit of friction before he released. 

"Scott—" He grunts, rocking him back and forth with his vigorous thrusts. He rams into his G-spot with the last few thrusts, and Scott shrills. It's lewd and nasty, and it's more than enough to push Wallace over the edge. He spills inside him, spurting a warm, heavy load into Scott.

"M'coming! I'm—I'm c—coming—" Scott sobs, face wet with tears and sweat. It was possibly one of the most intense orgasms he's ever had—far more intense than the one he had earlier.

His cock spasms and disperses a large spurt of cum, causing the sticky substance to hit his face and his stomach. Some of it probably got into his hair, which was gross. He was desperately moaning out his name, and warm tears had began to roll down his cheeks. Wallace thrusts into him as he rides out his orgasm, and limply falls against him after he's pulled his spent cock out. Scott's stomach was all sticky and wet with his own fluids, and Wallace had unfortunately transferred it onto himself by stationing himself on top of Scott. His head was lying on his pillow, faced away from his direction. 

"Look at me," Wallace huffs exhaustedly, grabbing him by the chin and turning his face towards him. His flushed cheeks glistened with sweat and tears, and his nose was all rosy from having cried during the sex. "Are you okay?" He mumbles, heaving slightly. He was the one doing the fucking, and Scott somehow looked even more exhausted than he was. 

"Yeah, I'm okay. I was—I was overstimulated, I think," He pants, shutting his eyes again. Although he'd just been ruined and deflowered, he looked beautiful. Maybe Wallace just thought so because he was really gay, but he was somehow more enamored with him than he was before they fucked. He'd had plenty of sex without any actual feelings for the person he was sleeping with, so he wasn't really expecting to feel any sort of change after having sex with Scott.

"Sorry," He says, sympathetic and remorseful. He twirls a piece of Scott's hair around his finger, and lovingly combs it behind his ear. 

"Wallace," He whispers, peeling his own heavy eyes open and gazing at the man on top of him. 

"Yeah, guy?" He huffs, eyes shifting down to Scott's parted lips. He was pretty sure that he was in love with Scott Pilgrim. And if he wasn't in love, he was definitely bordering those feelings. 

"Next time," He begins, chest quickly rising and falling. "I wanna—I wanna make you feel good," He blabs, tantalizingly running his hands up Wallace's sides. He was totally out of it, and likely just saying whatever was coming to mind. 

"Scott," He mumbles, inching his face a little closer to him. "You made me feel great, baby," He smirks, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

"No, I mean—I wanna fuck you next time," He rambles. Sober Scott would've never said anything like that. He's far too bashful and sheepish. But Wallace was kind of into drunk Scott's boldness. 

"Uh-huh," He rolls his eyes. He'd totally chicken out if it ever came down to it. "If you want there to be." He shrugs, brushing his bangs away from his forehead. 

"I do." Scott mumbles. He shifts below Wallace, writhing in the uncomfortable feeling of semen and other bodily fluids drying on his stomach. He brings a hand up to his own face, and knits his eyebrows together when his fingers land on the cum splatter on his cheek. His cheeks flush. 

It was undeniably some of the best sex he'd ever had. He'd never hooked up with a man before, so he didn't really have anything else to compare it to aside from the times he'd gotten with women, and even those times didn't amount to this. He'd never gotten quite as loud and needy as he did tonight, and he'd never found himself spluttering a garbled slough of words as he came and spasmed. He was utterly winded by the time he'd regained consciousness. He'd definitely blacked out for a second. It must've been the slight high accompanied by a good, thorough buzz. Or maybe it was just Wallace's dick, he wasn't really sure. But it was damn good. If he'd even be able to remember it tomorrow, he'd probably be thinking on this for a good, long while. About how much he enjoyed it. About where they stand after this.

He felt different. And even if he didn't completely remember it all in the morning, he'd definitely remember the odd feeling he had right now. Admittedly, he'd think about Wallace a lot, even before they'd hooked up. He'd always come to mind right as he was finishing, and for some reason, it would always make it more intense, and cause him to cry out a little louder. It had happened several times too many, and he'd always just brush it off. He'd had heated dreams about him a number of times. He'd wake up drenched in his own fluids, and he'd be wallowing in embarrassment and confusion on his way to the bathroom. 

"Hey," Wallace mutters slyly, pulling Scott out of his thoughts. "Has my name ever slipped out while you're having sex?" He practically jolts at the question. If there were any liquid in his mouth, he definitely would've choked on it. 

What?

He says it casually, as if Scott had sex all the time. He didn't. 

He wasn't really expecting a question like that. It could've been anything, but it's not what he was anticipating. It was outlandish and lewd, which was totally Wallace. He sighs. It most definitely had happened before, and it was one of the only reasons that him and Envy were currently in an argument. Why he was out partying with Wallace instead, and taking him home instead of his own girlfriend. Maybe that made him a bad boyfriend. Going out and fucking around with the guy she was worried about, it probably wasn't the best idea. He had a really bad habit of thinking with his dick. 

"Maybe—maybe once," He gulps. A small smile breaks out across his features, nervous and wobbly.

The occurrence was really random, if he's being honest. Him and Envy hadn't had sex in a while when it happened, and they didn't have a lot of it to begin with, so he was naturally pent up. His mind simultaneously wandered to one of the things that tended to intensify his orgasms, and that thing was.. Wallace Wells. His incessant flirting was kind of getting to him, but he wasn't going to admit that. It annoyed him at first, and it gradually turned into something that he found hot. During sex, he'd imagine being ridden by Wallace instead of his girlfriend, and he'd always end up coming in just a couple minutes—which is a lot quicker than he'd been finishing prior to his thoughts about Wallace.

The last time they'd fucked, he'd made the mistake of shrilling his name, and that's how he'd gotten himself into the petty argument. The fact that he'd cried his name out had gotten him thinking about it. Way too much. Maybe he got a little too into it—he didn't mean to moan Wallace's name like that. 

"Maybe?" He flirtatiously cocks an eyebrow. Like he knew, or something.

"Yeah, maybe," He waves him off. "Has mine?" Scott mumbles. He wasn't sure why he felt so compelled to ask, and even more compelled to know. He knew that Wallace was gay. And he obviously liked him if he went as far as taking him to bed tonight. 

"Oh, I don't know," Wallace shrugs, smirking. "It doesn't really matter." He huffs. Scott rolls his eyes. He wasn't sure if that meant that he had or that he hadn't. He must've been pouting, because Wallace cracked without him even having to say anything else.

"It—" Scott stammers. "It does matter." He whispers. 

"Okay. Only with all my hookups." He says, gazing at him with a smug, but serene expression. 

"All—all of them?" He mumbles. He wasn't sure why he found that so hot. 

"Uh-huh," Wallace nods, twisting one of Scott's hairs around his finger. He looked up at Wallace, and his stare shifted between his lips and his eyes. He was concentrated on Scott's locks, and he was preoccupied with curling his fingers around his strands.

He could only feel yearning. He could only feel like he wanted Wallace even more, even though they'd just had sex, and he was still laying on top of him. Naked. He wanted to spoon him as he fell asleep, and he wanted to kiss his forehead, and he wanted to see him smile. God, maybe he was in love. Because it sure fucking felt like it. Scott sighs, and subconsciously leans into the hand that was combing over his scalp, just to grimace a couple seconds later.

They were still dirtied with cum and sweat, and despite the ungodly hour, Scott really wanted to take a shower, or at least clean himself of the bodily fluids all over him. He hated the hot, sticky feeling against his skin. It was already drying and getting stuck in his body hair, and it would smell horrible in the morning.

"Hey," Scott opens his eyes. "We should probably get cleaned up, right?" He whispers, gazing up at Wallace. Although the last thing he wanted to do was get up, he'd rather take care of it now than tomorrow.

"Oh. Yeah, we probably should." Wallace says, groaning as he lifts himself up from Scott's body. His eyebrows furrow at the loss of Wallace's warm body, and instinctively sits up to chase after the heat. 

"Take a shower with me?" Wallace mumbles. He must've read his mind, or something. 

"God, yes," Scott shudders, and climbs out of his wetted bed.

He awkwardly looks around for his own underwear as he watches Wallace search for his. The room felt a lot colder when their bodies weren't pressed up together like they previously were. Scott momentarily looks back at his bed, and his eyes widen at the stained, ruined sheets. It was easy to catch a glimpse of since his lamp was still on. They'd probably end up crashing in the basement, or something. Sleeping on the bare mattress was an option, but the fluids had likely already leaked through the bedsheets. A combination of saliva, sweat, cum, and tears. Surprisingly not vomit, since Scott was a lot more susceptible to puking when he was drunk.

"Can I borrow your boxers?" Wallace mumbles, stone-faced and monotone. He'd joked about that before, but Scott was almost entirely sure that he was being serious. It was kind of hot.

"Yeah, 'course," Scott huffs exhaustedly. "I'll lend you a shirt, too," He yawns. He traipses out the door behind Wallace, and aimlessly reaches out for his hand in the dark hallway.

He could hardly walk in a straight line, and his legs were still shaky and wobbly from having been prodded, penetrated, and jerked in such sensitive areas. And from the alcohol. He grabs at the bathroom's doorframe, and slips inside behind Wallace, whose ability to walk was much better than his. He shuts the door and flips the light on, and immediately rushes toward the shower faucet to turn it on. The tile on the ground was undeniably cold against their feet, and it wasn't helping Scott's jittering and shuddering. He impatiently shuffles in place as he waits for Wallace to turn the water on, and grows even more impatient when the flow of water isn't immediately warm. 

He blanks for a minute. He can hear the shower water running and hitting the porcelain bathtub floor. He wasn't sure why he suddenly felt all sheepish and bashful. He was crossing his arms, and absently staring down at his flaccid dick. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip as he waited for the water to heat up, getting lost in thought all over again. The idea of them showering together made him feel all queasy and nervous, like they hadn't just had some of the most passionate sex Scott has ever had. Skin on skin contact, rapidly heaving chests, grinding against one another, kissing between thrusts. Thinking about it made him feel all dizzy and lightheaded. It made him swoon. Showering together couldn't have been more intimate than literally fucking, so he wasn't sure why he felt like it was. It was no big deal. 

Maybe it was because he wouldn't do stuff like that with Envy. He'd never really jumped in the shower with any girlfriends he's had, because the few times he'd had sex didn't really result in as big of a mess as this did. His bedsheets were totally ruined, and he'd surely have to come up with some excuse to get new ones, because those stains weren't going to be coming out easily. He'd be lucky if they weren't already soaked through entirely. 

"M'freezing, man," Scott shudders, hugging himself. The cum that was stuck to his stomach had grown cold and uncomfortable, and he was dying to get it off of him already. The bathroom had grown slightly warmer due to the steam that was beginning to form in the air. 

"Oh, you poor thing," Wallace teases, and mockingly quivers his lip. Scott's eyebrows furrow and his eyes roll. 

"The water's already hot." He huffs, awkwardly shuffling in place. He didn't really have any clothes to take off, because him and Scott had absconded to the bathroom completely naked.

It was kind of surreal almost. That he was about to jump in the shower with Wallace Wells, a good friend of his that he'd definitely placed in questionable fantasies and scenarios in his mind. A number of times, actually. Wallace had undoubtedly done the same—because he'd actually admitted it. And somewhere amidst their drunken haze, Scott had admitted it too. That he'd imagined the lewdest things happening between them, blurting it out in a frenzy. 

"Scott." He says.

"Yeah—yeah, sorry," He mumbles, gracelessly stumbling up to Wallace's side. Scott hastily pulls the shower curtain open, and jumps inside in a hurry. He immediately melts into the warmth of the water, and the tension in his shoulders was relieved in an instant. The trickling water hits his hair, and it's flattened and dripping within seconds. It was moderately mussed from what had ensued earlier, causing it to look extra shaggy. 

Wallace climbs in behind him, and shuffles up closer to Scott, which was also where the water was flowing the most. He was practically dozing off below the water, because he was groggy and tired. And totally drunk. He intended to reach for his shower loofah, but Wallace's hand was ghosting over his shoulder, and ultimately urging him to cling to his body instead. The idea was absolutely enticing, and he decided that he'd go ahead and wash his body after enveloping him in his arms. 

"God. Please—c'mere already," Scott shudders, despite the burning heat of the water hitting their backs.

Wallace smirks at this, and wastes no time snaking his hands around Scott's waist, and ultimately settling them at his ass. Scott sighs into the contact, and his own arms entangle themselves around Wallace's neck. They stood below the running shower-head for a moment, motionless and exhausted. Scott picks his head up from the shoulder he'd laid it on, and quickly glances at the bites and blotches he'd left on his neck. He shouldn't have felt so prided by it, but he did. He loved that he'd left him marks, and that they definitely wouldn't be gone by the morning with how hard he'd sucked at his sensitive skin. That was the lasting evidence that tonight happened.

He groans softly when Wallace's hands slither away from his lower back, and over to the bottle of soap sitting on the shower ledge. He pumps it into his hand a couple times, and his fingers find their way into Scott's hair. The action earns a soft gasp out of him, and it causes a dopey grin to break out on his own face. He was almost alarmed by how easily Scott could make him smile like an idiot. He was grinning from ear to ear by now. He massages his fingers into the red-head's scalp, and gently works his way through his strands.

"Wallace," He moans chastely, lips brushing against his wetted neck. His hands come to a halt, and he shifts his gaze down so he can listen.

"Mm," He hums. 

"Could you—is this something you could get used to?" Scott asks. It was quite the random question, which was only an indication of his overthinking. He'd blurt the most unpredictable things whenever he had a lot on his mind, but it happened so often that it almost became predictable. If that makes sense.

He ponders for a second, continuing to comb his fingers through Scott's scalp. He presses his own lips into a thin line. He knew that it was something he'd be able to get used to, so easily. He'd rather take Scott to bed every Saturday night over any of his hookups, and there's nobody else he would've wanted to have been in the shower with instead. He wouldn't have started washing anybody else's hair without being specifically asked to, and even then, he wouldn't be willing. He didn't wanna spoon in anybody else's bed. To put it simply and bluntly, he wanted Scott. The redhead gazes up at him, and he swoons. 

"Because—because I think I could get used to it. This, y'know?" Scott whispers, shifting his eyes down to Wallace's bare body. He'd noticed that Scott was really fascinated by his body, for some odd reason. He wasn't the biggest piece of eye-candy, but he did have what some people would call a slutty waist, and his protruding ribs added a eye-catching contrast in appearance to his mid-section. As far as he knew, Scott wasn't physically attracted to men's bodies. But hell, what did he know anymore. Up until tonight, he was convinced that he'd never get him to fold. 

"And, um," He stammers. "I don't know—maybe we could do this—like, again, or something." He mumbles, lowering his head down onto Wallace's chest. He had a habit of continuing to ramble when he didn't get an immediate reply. Wallace's mouth falls open as his fingers continue to comb through his scalp. 

"We should—" Scott begins, and is ultimately cut off by Wallace. It was smart of him to put an end to his tangent, otherwise he would've kept going on and on. Not that he didn't love to hear Scott's voice. 

"Slow down, guy," He says. "I'd love to do this again. Okay?" Wallace slurs, groggily blinking his eyes. There was something so relaxing about running his fingers through Scott's strands, his hands surrounded by his red hair.

"I'm not just, like, another hookup to you, right?" Scott mumbled against his chest. Wallace wasn't sure why he was getting all sentimental on him—he wasn't even an emotional drunk. Just a horny, gay drunk who would tend to forget everything by the morning. 

"Don't insult yourself like that, Scott." He furrows his eyebrows. "You're way more than a quick fuck to me, baby." He hums, cradling the back of Scott's head. He just wanted to hold him. He was totally one to shit on lovey-dovey things when he didn't have feelings for someone, and he was all over it when he did. Except he didn't just have "feelings" for Scott. He was pretty damn sure he was in love with him, whether it was because of the alcohol or not. 

"Have you—have you ever jumped in the shower with any of your hookups?" Scott murmurs. Wallace actually wasn't sure, but it had probably happened before. He was kind of a slut for sex and dicking around in general, so there were numerous occasions in which it could've happened.

"Maybe once or twice." He huffs.

"I'd rather be in the shower with you, Scott. I know you're wondering." He rolls his eyes, entirely knowing of what he's getting at. He was practically getting jealous over a man that he wasn't even in a relationship with.

"I'm totally not wondering," He huffs. "I don't care." He shrugs. He totally cared though, as much as he tried to make it seem like he didn't. 

"Oh, alright," Wallace chuckles. "If you don't care, maybe I'll hit up the bar tomorrow night." He can almost feel Scott tense up in his arms, and he's suddenly being glared at with this desperate look. 

"Don't," He groans. "Come back to my house." He pouts, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his lips. Wallace smirks into the gesture, and starts to rinse the shampoo out of Scott's hair. He hadn't really gotten to washing himself off, and it had already been somewhere around twenty minutes that they'd been in the shower. The warm water was inviting, and the fact that he got to be in the shower with Scott was even more inviting.

"Mm, maybe," He teases. He was totally joking, but he liked to get a rise out of him over stuff like this. It just proved that he really was into him if he got jealous over something like that. Scott always stroked his ego without even trying. 

They bask in the warmth for a little while longer, and finish cleaning themselves up. It was so late that they likely weren't gonna get any real sleep. The sun would've probably been coming up in a couple hours or so, and they'd probably have to crash in the basement. Because Wallace surely wasn't going back to his place in the frigid weather, and he wasn't going to sleep in Scott's now cum-soaked bed. The two of them sneak out of the steamy bathroom, and slip back into his bedroom. Scott rummages through his nightstand's drawer for a couple pairs of boxers for the two of them. They had fairly similar builds, so there wasn't really any worry that they wouldn't fit. 

He grabs some clothes out of his closet, and watches like a deer in headlights as Wallace puts them on, as if he hadn't seen him naked all night tonight. He just really liked to stare, that was all. He finally slips his own clothing over his head, and awkwardly stood in the middle of his bedroom, scratching the back of his head.

"We should probably crash in your basement." Wallace mumbles, shoving his hands into his sweat pants' pockets. Or technically Scott's. He knew how small it was, but they didn't have a lot of options. And not only was it small, but it was extremely uncomfortable, even just to sit on for an hour or so while they played video-games. 

"Dude, the sofa in the basement is even smaller than my bed." Scott states, cautiously making his way for the door. He wasn't wrong—they'd probably wake up stacked on top of each other. It was a little more than half the size of a twin bed, which was what Scott had. They both fit into it fine, but he wasn't sure if they'd be able to make do with something that was half the size. 

"Yeah. It'll be hot." Wallace grins. It wasn't like they hadn't woken up on top of each other in Scott's bed on an occasion, so it didn't really matter. And he wasn't gonna pretend that he didn't like the idea of sleeping in such a crammed space with him either. 

Their trip down the stairs was just as boisterous as the trip they made coming up, still clumsy in their movements and steps. The stairway down to the basement was moderately creaky, and they created their fair share of noise as they stumbled down that one. The basement was quiet. And fairly empty, only having a few pieces of furniture in the whole thing. There picture-frames hung above the sofa, and the wall going down the stairway. The couch was cluttered with empty chip-bags and controllers that hadn't been put away, and Scott was in no mood to do any tidying up right now. He absentmindedly kicks the clutter away, and crashes onto the uncomfortable sofa with a long, dragged out sigh. 

Wallace looked around the room for a moment longer. The last time he'd been in the basement, he'd been invited over to play video-games with Scott and his friend. And his girlfriend. He hated her then, and he hated her now. But he almost felt a little bad for her knowing that her boyfriend was all over him tonight, and desperate to get into his pants. He didn't feel bad enough, though, and it brought a genuine smirk to his face. They bickered and bantered every time they were around each other, and caused a rift in the atmosphere whenever there were other people around to hear their arguing. She'd typically get all weird if him and Scott ever got too close, and it was totally because she knew he was gay. It wasn't like he was going to try anything—at least not in front of her. 

She acted pretty jealous of them, even though Scott was adamant that he was straight. Tonight definitely said otherwise, so maybe she had more of a reason to be than he thought. Wallace would get jealous too from time to time, but the behavior he displayed was never that of a jealous person. All he really wanted was to see his best friend happy, and maybe get in his pants. But he didn't want that more than the latter. 

"Wallace," Scott groans. "Come here." He huffs, lazily blinking his eyes. He sluggishly extended his arms out, waiting for Wallace to saunter over and topple onto the couch with him.

He was a whole lot needier when he was drunk, but Wallace wasn't opposed to that. Maybe he liked catering to him and pampering him. Scott definitely liked it, because he had yet to hear a complaint about all the times that he would treat him to dinner and buy him things unnecessarily. He quickly slips off of the couch so he'd be able to lay down without being squished by Wallace. Their overall difference in weight and height wasn't huge, but Wallace was definitely the taller one of the two of them, and Scott was lankier and lighter. Scott groggily climbs on top of him after he's crashed down onto the sofa, and practically straddles him in the process. He settles on top of him, and his eyes drift shut as Wallace's fingers begin to comb through his damp hair. He probably knew how much Scott liked it, because he'd do it a whole lot. 

Scott reaches off the side of the sofa, and grabs a stray blanket that had been tossed onto the ground. The basement was slightly warmer, but not warm enough to sleep without a blanket. The fact that they were fresh out of the shower made the room feel slightly colder. He pulls the hefty sheet on top of the couch, and messily settles it on their stacked bodies. 

"We should probably talk about this, Scott. It doesn't have to be tonight." Wallace suddenly says, causing Scott's heart to sink a little. Maybe it was his tone that did it. It was probably best for them to talk about where they stood after this, especially since Scott was.. technically in a committed relationship. And says that he's straight. He totally loved tits, but apparently he was into dick too. Who knew?

"Why?" Scott asks, stupidly and densely. There were numerous reasons as to why they should, but he didn't want to. He'd always opt to postpone having to face his feelings. He really didn't wanna talk about it. Not even now, under the influence, when it would've been easiest to talk about it. He doesn't even have to use his brain when he's drunk. 

"Because I don't want us to pretend that this didn't happen in the morning. We've done that before." He huffs. They'd never explored each other's bodies the way they did tonight, but maybe they'd gotten sensual and slightly intimate on an occasion or two. They didn't talk about it in the morning, and failed to ever acknowledge it again until now. Scott knew what he was referencing when he said that, and it definitely contributed to the lump in his throat that he was sporting. His mouth went dry. 

"I'm—I'm not gay.." He says, reluctant and hesitant. Wallace wanted to roll his eyes and scoff at that. He had to be, to some extent at least. He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen anyone enjoy something so much, and that's even accounting for his hookups, and the random men that he'd bring back to his dorm who seemed to love the sex. He for sure knew that Scott liked guys and girls now. And if not, then he likes girls and Wallace Wells, and possibly snarky men whose personalities and mannerisms are reminiscent of Wallace Wells. 

"I just.. like you. You're like, hot, I guess.." He murmurs shyly. "And—and you can be rough," He stammers. Wallace blushes a little when he says it. Scott definitely wasn't vanilla. On another occasion that they'd had some drinks, he mentioned how Envy hated it rough. She hated rough make-outs, and any sex they had was painfully vanilla and kind of boring.

"And you make me feel good. And you're.. really nice." He mumbles, voice cracking and blooming into a breathy yawn. Scott probably would've regretted saying all of this in the morning. Exhaustion drives the conscious mind to admitting things sometimes, and Scott was now a victim of just that. 

"I think you're real hot, too, guy." He smirks. He almost felt a little bad when Scott made the remark in regards to being nice. He wasn't nice because he wanted to get into his pants necessarily, he just liked him. He wasn't gonna be a bitch to a guy he was into unless he wanted to ruin his chances. He'd seen Envy be an ignorant bitch to him on multiple occasions, and the relationships he'd been in before her weren't exactly serious ones. Maybe he was just starved of kindness, and possibly touch, since he was getting so easily turned on tonight.

"Men are kind of hot, I guess, but I don't wanna do stuff with other guys. Just you." Scott rambles, sleepily slurring his words with shut eyes. Wallace's hand in his hair had practically lulled his eyes closed. A pleasant heat rose to Wallace's cheeks.

"Just me?" He repeats, dumbfounded. He couldn't believe everything that he was admitting to right now. Alcohol is one hell of a drug, and Scott should know that, considering how often they've been going to parties where they'd ultimately just end up drinking the whole time. 

"Yeah, just you." Scott sighs contentedly, digging his face a little deeper into the crook of Wallace's neck. His lips brushed up against his skin with every single word he mouthed. His lips curve upwards. He's glad that Scott hasn't experimented with any other men, and he's even more prided by the fact that he immensely enjoyed the sex and the oral. Scott didn't even have to tell him how much he enjoyed it to know that he did, because his spasms and expressions insinuated as such. 

"Hey, Wallace?" He whispers.

"Yeah, guy?" He replies, fighting to keep his eyes open. He was probably way more exhausted than Scott was. Sex was a workout. 

"I'm.. I'm really glad we did this. I liked it. I like you." He slurs, words becoming increasingly more sloppy and incoherent as his sentence comes to a finish.

Maybe he'd regret it all tomorrow, and maybe it would cause some sort of rift if their relationship, but that didn't matter. It didn't matter now, when his arms were tightly wrapped around Wallace's body, and his body was slowly rising and falling against his. His relationship with Envy is likely gonna go to shit once she finds out about this. He still liked her. Hell, maybe he loved her. He wasn't in any place to finalize the assumption right now, not when he was drunk and deprived of sleep. 

"Me too." Wallace smirks, tightening his arms around Scott's neck. Scott's mouth goes dry suddenly, and he tenses up a little bit. Wallace isn't entirely sure what prompted it. 

"Wallace," He whispers. 

"Yes, Scott?" He tiredly groans. He was a fan of Scott's voice, especially when he used it to vocalize his pleasure, but all he wanted to do was sleep right now. 

"Envy doesn't have to know, right?" He mutters, voice trembly and wavering. His tone had gone serious instead of the serene, care-free tone he harbored a few minutes ago. Wallace's eyes blink open, and he sighs. She'd immediately know if she was present in a room with them. Even before they slept together, they'd always throw each other glances and sneaking stares. He forgets to respond to Scott. He didn't know anymore. He knew he was basically Scott's mistress for the night, but he was too drunk to care. 

"Does this make me a bad boyfriend?" He mumbles, playing with the hem of Wallace's—or technically Scott's—shirt. the short answer was yes. Cheating while you're in a relationship would generally make you a bad partner, but Wallace felt like he didn't have a say in anything, despite his judgmental nature. Scott initially came onto him, yes, but chances are, he wanted it far more than Scott did. It was something he'd dreamt about on multiple occasions, and there was no chance that he was going to pass up sleeping with Scott Pilgrim.

In all fairness, he was technically cheating on Envy. Hell, he'd been fucked and blown by another person in the same night, and he was already thinking of the next time they'd be able to do it. He'd admitted to picturing Wallace during sex with his own girlfriend instead of her, and that he'd thought about doing it with him for a long time. Maybe it was just in the heat of the moment that he'd spluttered all those things, impulsive and meaningless. 

"I'd break things off if I were you." Wallace whispers, sighing deeply. He hated Envy's guts, but he still had morals. He'd actually feel bad about tonight if he cared, but he could only feel glad and accomplished that tonight happened. A part of him wanted Scott to end things with her for his own sake, but somewhat for Scott's and Envy's sake also. 

After the long-awaited hookup with Scott, he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to continue taking random men home to his dorm. Because tonight he learned that sex was astronomically better when it was with someone he actually had feelings for. Taking men to bed was great, but he'd take being in Scott's bed instead any day.  It almost pissed him off. He had no idea what was so special about the guy. A few seconds passed, and then minutes, and then he wasn't sure how much time had passed anymore. Scott's breathing had grown even and steady against his chest, and his mouth finally stopped running off and rambling. It always seemed to move faster than his brain could. 

Scott had gone quiet, but he wasn't asleep. Wallace mindlessly drummed his fingers against the redhead's back, allowing his eyes to finally lull shut after fighting against it for so long.

"I will." Scott croaks, yawning in the process. It was almost like he'd said it to pacify his own thoughts on the matter, because Scott wasn't always quick to act upon an issue that needed to be addressed. He was particularly big on waving things off and pretending they're irrelevant, and he's probably doing that now. Wallace kind of knew this, but he couldn't really find it in himself to care right now. 

"Okay. I'm goin' to sleep now." Scott huffs, letting his eyes fall shut. Thank God.

"I love you, Scott." Wallace bats off the urge to say.