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It all started with their washing machine breaking down.
The last week had been full of grumbles and complains shot from every direction (mainly Nicky) about how they'd all eventually run out of fresh clothes. Neil suggested they just use the washing machines from either Dan's or Matt's room, but Andrew had shot that idea down. He had no intention on communicating with his brother anytime soon, and even less desire to ask for help from him now that he had moved across the hall. When Nicky's incessant whining had finally annoyed everyone enough, Kevin had been adult about it and called someone to fix their faulty machine, announcing them that the guy would show up sometime Monday.
That had been Thursday afternoon, and it was now Saturday morning. Or - if you could call eleven AM morning.
Andrew rolled over on his side of the bed, unsurprised to find the other side empty. He heard the shower running, and rolled his stiff neck as he sat up. It was no common thing for Neil to end up in his bed. After his first week in their dorm and a few traumatizing incidents for their teammates, Kevin and Nicky had learned to always knock. Neil, being the prude that he was, flushed from head to toe the few times they had gotten walked in on, and Andrew would never tell anyone he cared enough to notice, but it was amusing.
He pulled his armbands on, threw a black shirt and pants in the mix, then made his way to the kitchen. He pottered around, grabbing milk and sugar as their coffee machine worked in a grinding noise that was too loud for having just woken up. It was also probably so starkly rackety because their own dorm was silent otherwise. That was when Andrew remembered that both Nicky and Kevin were out today - Nicky had hitched a ride with the girls to some shop or something else equally tedious, and Kevin was on his second attempt to patch up his relationship with Thea. This time, they'd met up at a Restaurant, and Andrew didn't care to waste his breath to tell Kevin that it was a hopeless dream.
He was pouring the freshly made coffee into two mugs when he heard the door to the bathroom open. There was some shuffling in the bedroom as Neil got dressed, and Andrew busied himself by mixing the milk and sugar into their cups. He looked up when Neil entered the room and almost dropped the mug he was holding. This...Andrew fucking hated this. Because Neil had no right - absolutely no right - after everything that man had done to him. After all of the things he'd made Andrew feel, after all the words he'd said that still haunted him in their reverence.
Thank you, you were amazing.
That one was a recurring nightmare, packed together with the panic he'd sworn he wouldn't feel when something inevitably happened to Neil, but felt anyway because he was weak and couldn't help it. It held a blinding rage as well, bright and dangerous like the electricity crawling off a broken wire. He remembered how his hands had acted before his mind could, how angry green eyes had eventually narrowed into fear, how hands that felt like hot irons on his skin had pulled him back.
I trust you
Was one of the ones that made him angry. He hated how stupid Neil was, how much of an idiot he proved himself to be for letting Andrew in when the only thing Andrew had ever known how to do was destroy things. He hated how he didn't want to destroy Neil. He despised with a ferocity that inevitably, he would be what poisoned Neil, and the other man would let him.
But, It's always yes with you...
That. That one was the most dangerous. It made him feel warm everywhere, like a furnace had been lit inside of him. It made him want things he knew could never be his. It made him want to sink his teeth into Neil's skin, but most terrifyingly, he wanted Neil to do the same to him. Andrew hated him because he made all of the things that were off limits ok - and a person with that much power over him...
"Andrew?" Neil asked, looking around in confusion. "What's wrong?"
What was wrong? Neil standing there in his fucking Exy jersey was what was wrong. His hair was moist but not wet - due to the condensation in the shower - messy orange strands curling around his temple and at the delicious curve of his neck. He was wearing the pair of short jogging pants that Andrew had seen him in that entire week, but that wasn't what had caught his attention. It was the way his jersey fit loosely on Neil, obviously too large around the arms, and had slipped down his shoulder, revealing a strip of scarred skin. It was the way the way Neil had number three plastered to his chest, and the name Andrew Minyard in bold orange lettering, as though Neil was really his-
"What the fuck are you wearing?" Andrew snapped, setting down the mug on counter so roughly some of it sloshed out.
Neil blinked, taken aback. He looked down at himself, then back at Andrew. "It was the only thing left that was clean." He crossed his arms across his chest and raised his eyebrows. "I can take it off, if you want? But fair warning - I've got nothing else to wear."
On another day, Andrew wouldn't have minded having Neil shirtless around him, but today was different.
His face betrayed nothing, set on its usual uninterested boredom, but inside of him his heart beat louder then church bells did. "Come here," He said.
Neil obliged, moving close enough that they were in each other's space and their breaths mingled, but didn't make any move to touch him. Neil studied him, and Andrew allowed it, those incessantly blue eyes working like the cogs of a machine. Andrew grabbed the part of his jersey that hung off of Neil's shoulder and gave it an experimental tug to see how loose it was. He traced a path up the side of Neil's neck with his finger, and that was when the other man decided to finally speak.
"You like this," Neil said, tone low. Andrew didn't have to look up to know that he was wearing a teasing smirk.
"Shut up," Andrew growled, putting his hand on the other man's mouth in hopes of wiping his smile - a smile that made him want to get down on his knees and show Neil that there was nothing to be so cheery about.
"I won't," Neil said, lips still curved, and gently took Andrew's hand down from his mouth, pressing a soft kiss against it. "Do you like seeing me in your clothes, Minyard?"
Their eyes met and - oh, Andrew was going to eat him alive. Thoughts barged in his mind unbidden, memories of Neil where he had been pressed to the mattress, chest heaving and panting, auburn hair messy and sweat licked, blue eyes staring up at him through a heady gaze.
Andrew pushed him back against the kitchen counter roughly with one hand on his chest, and Neil went pliantly. "I like seeing you without any clothes more."
Neil choked on his words and previous confidence, probably not used to Andrew being so forwardly sexual, but it was worth the blush that spread across the apples of his cheeks, and the sight of it made Andrew ravenous. He didn't waste time watching or talking anymore - he caught the back of the other mans neck and smashed their lips together in a searing kiss.
It wasn't gentle, and it definitely wasn't nice, but then again it wouldn't have been them if it was. Their mouths were hot as they slid together, over and over until all that was left in Andrew's brain was static. He fisted his hands in Neil's jersey (which was really his) and pulled him closer until they were flush together from beginning to end. Andrew had told himself a thousand times that he would get bored of this, that Neil wasn't something that could be real and that could last. But he found it impossible to get tired of the way Neil's mouth slotted against his, rough and unyielding, matching Andrew for every swipe and bite he made. He found it borderline insane to even think about letting this go when Neil's lips found his neck, each kiss leaving a trail of heat on his already hot skin.
Andrew's hands found the other man's hair, and they twisted in the soft red strands hard enough to make him let out a strangled gasp. Andrew let one hand fall from his curls and placed it on his abdomen, feeling the muscle there as it coiled and relaxed under his touch. He wanted to touch Neil everywhere at once, to map the world on his body, every ridge and bump, every star and constellation. But Neil had other ideas - his sinful mouth had moved under Andrew's ear, and he sucked roughly and messily, as though he wanted to take a bite out of him.
He couldn't help the hiss that left his mouth, the shiver of molten heat that ran down his spine, or the clench of his hand in the other man's head. "Enough," Andrew said raggedly, pushing him away.
Neil immediately stopped, infuriatingly unbothered, and Andrew really wanted to hate him for that. But that was the thing - he couldn't. He had tried, but Neil had pushed back with pretty words and an even prettier face, and when he had let himself be pliant and invited Andrew to take control, he knew he was a goner. He had been right to think Neil Josten was a hallucination at first. Because how could someone look at Andrew and understand? How could someone keep their hands in their pockets, or pull them away at the last second, or catch the hem of his jacket because they knew he didn't like to be touched. Neil didn't care. He did it all without question, all so he could have Andrew.
It made another frozen part of him crack each time he did it, and it was terrifying.
To silence his erratic thoughts, he slid his hands under Neil's shirt and ran his fingers over anything he could find. Neil's chest was toned, peppered with scars and scabs, and suddenly they were back in that kitchen, right before Andrew had left for Rehab. Neil had let him see and identify every part of him for the first time, and he remembers the way his body had reacted, even through the haze of the drugs. Andrew felt at the strong coil of the Neil's muscles, especially the ones in his forearms - long and lean, more subtle then his own were, but worth the praise either way. His hands ran down his skin until he reached his belt.
Andrew leaned up and whispered in the other man's ear; "Yes or no, Neil?"
"Yes," Neil said quickly and breathlessly. "Always yes," His hands twitched, and Andrew realized Neil wanted to touch him. He hadn't since Andrew had pushed him away, and was waiting for permission.
This man would be the death of him, Andrew decided. A second later, he was lowering himself on to his knees, keeping the eye contact all the while, and Neil threw his head back in order to attempt muffling a whine. Andrew's head was full of nothing and everything at once, but one thing he knew for certain was that he wanted to hear Neil make that sound again - he wanted to hear him scream. Before he could pull down the other man's pants though, Andrew grabbed his hips to keep him still, then brushed a feather light kiss right below Neil's belly button, then went for a long, jagged scar over on his hip. He only ghosted his lips over it at first, then licked a stripe right across the bruised flesh.
"Oh," Neil said shakily. "Andrew-"
"Shush, pretty boy." Andrew said dismissively, trying not to think about the way his pants tightened at the sound of his name coming out of his boyfriends mouth. He pulled the other man's pants down and caressed his naked hips, pressing his fingers into the skin. He took Neil in his hand and gave him a few lazy, languid strokes, pressing his thumb into the slick slit. Neil gasped, and his hand seemingly moved without his permission down to Andrew's hair, but stopped just short of it abruptly.
"Can I-" He choked out.
"Yes," Andrew told him, and took him in his mouth.
One of Neil's hand came down instantly, twisting in Andrew's blonde curls, while the other he put over his own mouth in order to muffle the heavy groan that slipped out. Andrew would never admit this out loud to anyone, but the way Neil was always so vocal when they slept together made him want to let out a few sounds of his own. Or when Neil grabbed his hair, pulling and guiding his mouth where he knew it felt the best, made an electric thrill sparkle over his scalp and all the way down to the further regions of his body.
Andrew did what he did best, and watched as Neil gripped the counter, hands whitening and gasps quickening. Andrew was used to being the one giving, since he wouldn't let any other man touch him down there with a ten foot pole, but it was different when he was doing it to Neil. Most times he did it to others only to get himself off, but with Neil it was - it was...more intense. Every time. Andrew told himself that he was just like all the others every god damn time, but somehow ended up enjoying Neil more then he ever enjoyed anyone else before.
Andrew had once told him that he was a side effect of the drugs, a hallucination his addled mind had conjured up to ward away the loneliness. But Neil Josten wasn't the side effect; he was the drug.
And Andrew always got addicted so easily.
He knew he was addicted now, as he peered up at the other man and saw his eyebrows furrow in pleasure, his soft mouth parted on a moan, the long line of his neck bared as he leaned his head back. Knew as Neil tightened his hands in his hair and gave a strangled gasp, hips stuttering and bucking forward.
Andrew grasped his hips and held them roughly, unmoving as a stone through every shudder and tremor. When Neil was done, Andrew rose and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked at his boyfriend.
"That was-" Neil started, then stopped. "I'll wear your clothes more from now on if that's what it'll get me,"
"Don't," Andrew said lowly, grateful that at least the other man would never know what was going through his head at the thought of him in more of his things.
He knew it was coming when Neil subtly glanced down and back up. "Do you want-"
"No," Andrew said instantaneously, the answer out of his mouth as sharp as a reflex. He was so hard his cock was practically throbbing in his pants, aching with need, but it usually didn't make a difference. Neil was looking at him with those wide blue eyes of his when he nodded, eyelashes impossibly long and coal dusted as he reached down to pull his pants back on. Andrew couldn't stop the jerky move of his hand as it reached out to stop him.
Neil looked at him, confused, unknowing of the battle raging inside Andrew.
Wanting was something Andrew had always unconsciously rejected. He learned very young that what he desired was of little consequence, that a bigger and stronger man would always have the upper hand - it didn't matter how many times he said "No" or "please". He understood quickly how it didn't matter that he wished for someone to finally take pity on him and get him adopted into a loving family, one that wouldn't pack him up and send him on his way the moment a "real child" came. The realization that no adults would ever look deeper into him came shortly after that as well, that they would always catalogue him as a misguided and rogue orphan, nothing more.
After Juvie, Andrew had stopped wanting wholly. Apathy had wrapped itself around him like a warm blanket and hadn't let go since.
But then, a different sort of wanting had started to peek through his bones, buzzing like static beneath his skin with the whole power of electric voltage. Recognizing that this sort of wanting only made itself known when he was around other men had been a knife to the gut, but what had been worse was acknowledging the lust itself. Drake had wanted too, and look how well that had turned out for Andrew.
When other men had started to want him too, rejecting their touch and the pleasure they could bring was a familiarity that eventually turned into a shield. Andrew didn't know what pleasure was - only the pain that came from it. He'd never let himself feel it, never let anyone get close enough to try.
He had never wanted it.
But now, as he stared at Neil's ruffled auburn hair, the crumpled Minyard jersey on his shoulders, suddenly want was a river overflowing his every vein.
Suddenly, he wanted, and wanted, and never wanted to stop wanting.
Andrew stepped forward, and he had to dig his nails into his palms to stop his hands from trembling. He could do this. He wanted this. His hand came down to press against Neil's back side, sweaty from all his heaving.
His voice was a rough whisper when he looked up into Neil's eyes. "Do you want more?"
Neil didn't understand at first, but when Andrew slid his hand lower down his back and the message was received, he hid his shock surprisingly well; there was a raise of eyebrows, a slight widening of his eyes, a tiny crease of his mouth, and then his face smoothed over like a river at dawn. He let out a breath, and Andrew waited him out.
"Yes," Neil said at last. He surged forward and captured Andrew's lips in a hot and bruising kiss, then pulled back just as fast, breath warm. "We'll do it any way you want,"
And Andrew - well, he was loosing his fucking mind. He'd been holding himself back, because he didn't trust himself to fully let go, but now he'd made the decision and Neil had once again let himself be led along. Without doubt. Without missing a beat.
Andrew was going to do this because he deserved it, and because Neil had said he trusted him. He had been giving Neil pieces of himself in small doses, knowing that every time Andrew kissed him or traded a secret in the dark, he poisoned the other man a little bit more. But Neil seemed to like dangerous things, seemed to like Andrew even more, so he was going to do this one thing for the both of them.
He was going to give Neil all of him.
"I fucking hate you," Andrew breathed the words into the other mans mouth, kissed them like a brand on to his lips. He meant for them to sound indignant, but instead they came out velvety and soft, like a caress.
Neil broke away, not by much, and brushed away a stray strand of blonde hair. "I don't mind,"
Andrew's control was a tiny, wavering thing. He'd been pulling at it since the moment Neil had walked into the kitchen wearing his jersey, all damp hair and bared collarbones. Now it came undone, and he gave a quiet groan as he sunk into the other man's mouth, pinning him to the counter again, hands fisting in his shirt, mouth greedily sucking bruises into the smooth skin of his neck.
"Where can I-" Neil started to grind out, but Andrew already knew what he was going to ask.
"Everywhere," He answered sharply, before he could change his mind.
Neil didn't waste any time after he was given the green light. They tumbled back towards their bedroom in a tangle of limbs, hand's sliding in each other's hair, lips sucking and biting, pulling and kissing at every patch of skin they could get to. But mostly, there was the weight of Neil's hands on his body, the steady warmth of them, the steady warmth of him. They explored slowly and languidly, light like the touch of a feather, and it made all of the difference because it helped Andrew forget a different set of hands, larger and rougher. He remembered when he'd felt Neil under his hands for the first time, how greedy he'd been to touch every bit of his skin, to map every scar, and wondered if that was what the other man was doing now.
In the doorway of their bedroom, Neil stopped and framed Andrew's face with his hands. "Thank you,"
His eyes were so soft, filled with a fondness that reminded Andrew of that day on the bus - the idiot had been staring at him like that then as well. He'd told Neil to look away, but he'd never been afraid of Andrew, and so of course he hadn't. He wasn't looking away now, either, but Andrew really needed him to.
"No," He answered, because he couldn't do this. He couldn't. He brushed the other man's hand's away. "Stop talking,"
Neil obediently went quiet, filling the silence by pulling their mouths together. The frenetic kissing and touching resumed, not unlike before, and they entered the bedroom in messy and jagged steps. Andrew gave him a slight push, and Neil fell back on the bed, chest heaving in anticipation, his pants now visibly tighter then before. He leaned back on his elbows and pulled Andrew down with him by the collar of his shirt, shuddering when their bodies met in all of the most right places. Andrew wasn't sure what triggered it, but one second he was mouthing at Neil's collarbone, his slick skin warm under him, Neil's hand's running over his shoulders, and then he was somewhere else entirely.
He was in a dark room, the gray curtains pulled all the way. His whole body was aching. Brisk and calloused hands felt like brands on to his skin. He was saying "please."
Andrew realized he'd frozen. He felt cold all over, but not only because of his haunting memories - Neil had retracted his hands and the warmth they brought. He had them planted on to the sheets, staring up at him, calm and waiting. Andrew still stood with his lips a breath away from Neil's collarbone, and he understood that Neil was giving him a way out. Andrew could get up right now.
But the want was stronger then the fear.
Neil only leaned up slowly and whispered in his ear; "Any way you want."
Andrew brought his lips back down to Neil's skin, and sucked a bruise hard enough to get the other man whimpering. The heat seeped back into Andrew as though injected through a syringe, and when Neil's hands slowly came back up to his body, he nodded. He sat up and slid off his black shirt, but when Neil started to do the same, he put a hand on his chest and pushed him back down on to the bed.
"No," Andrew's voice was rough. "Keep the jersey on,"
Neil didn't expect that, by the look on his face. But even the master of lies wasn't fast enough to hide the dust of red that coated his cheeks. Andrew felt a morbid satisfaction, seeing that.
And then things escalated at a concerning speed. They fell back on to the bed together, a flurry of kisses and pants, and when Andrew guided his fingers in between Neil's legs. The redhead looked at him, and understanding flashed over his face - Andrew would not be on the receiving end of this. That was a line he'd never, ever, cross, no matter what. Because it was different when he was the one instigating it - there was the security of control, of being able to stop whenever he wanted and pull away. Even if he'd never fucked anyone before. But that was the last of his concerns.
The first finger had Neil gasping. The second had him moaning outright, and for a startling second, Andrew was sure he'd hurt him, but then the other man let out another sound that could not be interpreted as anything other then a keen of pleasure. After that, Andrew's will grew, and he twisted and curved his deft fingers until Neil was gripping his forearm in a death grip.
"If you go on-" Neil said around a gasp. "Im going to-"
"Shhh," Andrew put a finger to his mouth and retracted the rest, watching the other man clench around nothing. "Not yet."
"What do you mean, "not yet"" Neil puffed angrily, sitting up. "I didn't take you for a tease, Minyard- oh."
Andrew had taken off his pants and boxers, and was giving himself a few slow strokes. He leaned down and grabbed Neil's jaw, forcing him to look up. "Do you understand?"
Neil nodded, and Andrew hoped he did. Because the only way that stubborn idiot was finishing tonight, was with Andrew inside of him.
The room felt feverish when they hit the bed for the third time. Andrew's skin had taken on a sweaty sheen, and he could feel the strands of his hair brushing his brow. Every nerve inside of him was on fire, and the next time he tried to convince himself into apathy, he'd have to try very hard to shove away the moment he pushed inside of Neil. Because it made him feel dangerously alive, and dangerously good, and that went against everything Andrew had built his life around.
Neil wound his hands in Andrew's hair, his sharp grunt of pain like the shattering of glass. Andrew's hand's had both snaked around his hips, the pads of his fingers digging into the scarred flesh, and he stood there, unmoving, trying not groan at the warmth of the man beneath him.
Neil brushed a kiss across his jaw. "I'm good,"
The feral lust that overtook him the moment he started to move felt like a sharp kick to the gut. It was sudden, and quick, and it took over his every fiber. There was panic, at first. There was too much skin touching, too much of a connection of his body to somebody else's. Then there was also the hidden fear that Neil wasn't enjoying this - Andrew felt like an idiot for doubting himself, because the redhead was shuddering and squirming beneath him, but when he'd been in Neil's position, all he'd ever felt was pain.
That thought was enough for him to grab Neil's arms and pin them to the bedsheets. It was enough that he was inside another person, that they were connected so intimately - he didn't need even more contact. "Don't move,"
Neil nodded, and Andrew gave a particularly sharp thrust which had them both grunting. With every roll of his hips, pressure tightened in his abdomen, and oh, this was better then anything. The feel of Neil around him, warm and wet, and so delightfully tight was too much. Slips of sound left his lips that he couldn't control, grunts and gasps and all sorts of other things that he'd never thought would willingly come out of his own mouth.
Andrew leaned down and bit Neil's neck, sucking a purpling bruise right beneath his ear.
"Oh my god..." He panted out, back arching.
Andrew spread a palm flat against his abdomen and sunk him back into the mattress. "What did I say about not moving."
Neil immediately flattened himself against the bed, and for a second, Andrew just watched him. Auburn curls sprawled over the sheets, a pair of deep azure eyes, half lidded in pleasure. A drop of sweat rolling down the span of his neck and into the dip of his collarbone, a full, pink mouth, cracked open in pleasure. Two scarred wrists, pinned to the mattress, chest covered in Minyard and 03. Andrew watched as the jersey rode up his hips to reveal his stomach, watched as Neil's body moved up the bed with ever thrust.
It sent a jolt through him, and he gripped Neil's hips, setting a rougher pace. His moans heightened, and Andrew himself felt the coil in his stomach being pulled taut a bit more every time he moved.
He threw his head back and closed his eyes. "Fuck," He murmured.
Neil must of heard him, because the sound he let out was the most sinful thing Andrew had ever heard. It should of been illegal for someone to sound so good, so sensual and rich, a resonation that sent fire flickering down his spine. Neil probably wasn't used to Andrew reacting in any way - especially to sex. The sounds he'd been letting out so far had already set Neil on edge, by the looks of it, but that word had him downright clenching, and Andrew's hips stuttered a bit.
"If you don't stop fucking whimpering," Andrew ground out as he leaned down and grabbed the side of Neil's face. "They'll hear us all the way to court,"
"Let them," Neil breathed, a small, lazy smile on his face. "I know you like it,"
Andrew rewarded that with a sharp slam of his hips, and Neil's mouth opened immediately. So vocal, Andrew thought. He crushed their lips together in a messy kiss to shut him up, and it didn't take long for him to sense that Neil was coming undone. His legs started to shake, his knuckles white as they clutched the sheets in a death grip.
"Fuck, fuck oh - fuck" Neil choked out, and then he was trembling and shuddering, Andrew fucking him through every gasp and whine.
While Neil's sounds had lessened after coming down, Andrew was doing his best to keep his in - and failing. He set a brutal pace, trying to reach the peak of his pleasure, and Neil yelped beneath him in surprise. Andrew grabbed both of his wrists and pinned them above his head in one hand, the other planted on the bed in order to support his own weight.
He came with a strangled groan, hips stuttering and jerking, spilling himself inside. He almost fell on top of Neil, but caught himself with his hands at the last moment, breathless and spent. Their faces were inches apart now, and Andrew kissed him deeply and slowly, then pulled out of him. Neil shuddered at the loss of contact, but fell back against the covers in a sweaty, satisfied flop.
"That was the best sex I've ever had," Neil told him, staring him dead in the eye.
"Shut up, Junkie," Andrew said, pushing down the satisfaction that confession brought him.
They didn't speak anymore after that, too tired to come up with something to say. Short after, he heard Neil's breaths even out, and knew that the other boy had fallen asleep.
I fucking hate that Jersey, Andrew thought, and he fell asleep to the memory of Neil underneath him, wearing it.