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Andrew’s palm is flat against Neil’s scarred abdomen, fingers brushing against the fine hair that trails past the waistband of his trousers. He pushes, pressing Neil’s hips against the wall, so that all of him is flush against the solidness behind him, and Andrew suppresses the urge to bite the pink lips in front of him that drop open in an inviting sigh. His other hand is beside Neil’s head, curled in a fist against the wall, letting Neil’s hair caress over his knuckles at the slightest movement he makes, and again he finds himself suppressing an urge to have his fingers uncurl from a fist to make a new one in the auburn mess and he resists, even as Neil tips his head, lips quirking in something that resembles a smirk, light and a little mischievous.
Andrew stares at him impassively as his fingers trace under his shirt the familiar bumps and divots that is Neil’s lower torso, they were careful in their route, gentle and soft as they reach to his hips and sides and then ribs and then back down to his navel, a weird comparison to the light Neil sees flicker in his eyes, a fire he sees often when they’re alone like this, as one.
“You’re teasing me,” Neil says, feeling the fire crackle in the wake of Andrew’s hands and fingers across his skin. Want is an emotion Neil had forbidden himself from feeling when he was on the run, life before Palmetto, he couldn’t want anything, or anyone, that kind of greed leads to mistakes and mistakes leads him to death, or something worse, his father. But now, his father gone and his feet fully grounded in Palmetto, with the Foxes and now officially Neil and not Natalie or Nathaniel, Neil indulges the greed. His want for Exy, his want for Court, his want for friends, his want for family, his want for Andrew. He takes and gives with what he can. And he will take anything from Andrew and give back anything he is allowed.
“I don’t tease,” Andrew replies, his voice level, monotone almost, as he moves to the junction to Neil’s throat, “Yes or no, to leaving a mark?” And the hot breath matches the flutter in Neil’s stomach as it cascades across the shell of his ear and down the nape of his neck.
“Thought that was my thing,” Neil turns his head for easy access, “Having a neck fetish.”
“I’m borrowing it,” He was close enough for his lips to caress the sensitive spot that makes legs feel like jelly and Neil’s soft gasp stirs something primal in Andrew’s gut, “Don’t make me repeat my question, junkie.”
“Yes,” Neil says, an involuntary desperation seeping through his words, but Neil doesn’t feel shame so he doesn't try and recover, especially as that chunk of skin is now between Andrew’s teeth, biting and sucking, tongue podding and feeling. Against the wall, Neil balls his hands into fits behind his back as soft noises tumble from his soft lips, arching into Andrew’s touch as he shifts so now both hands are exploring the paths of skin underneath his shirt, always ever stopping at his ribs before they whip back round to his back, to his sides, to his hips, dancing around to what lies on Neil’s chest, as if Neil has never given him permission before to touch them, touch him. “You can touch my chest,” Neil says, back curving more so into Andrew’s hands, “If you want.” He adds just in case.
Andrew detaches himself, satisfied with the mark that would peek just slightly above any collar Neil wears, and looks at Neil, checking him over for sincerity and genuine permission, “I don’t have to.”
“You don’t, no,” Neil agreed, “But I want you to if you want to.” Neil recalls the first time Andrew laid hands on him, that wasn’t violent and full of threat, when Neil took off his shirt for the deal they made. He had bandages wrapped around his chest, so tight that it was suffocating. Purple bruises lined the edges of his skin where the bandages dent, those marks circling his torso and under his armpits, too tight, but secure. That was more important than his health. “Injured, again? What scar will that leave?” Andrew had taunted, mistaking the bandages as an injury rather than as a means to hide. Neil remained silent and, this time, Andrew didn’t care for Neil’s silence because he was more intrigued with the bullet wound shaped scar on his shoulder, his thumb pressing in the centre of it. That, Neil could answer for. Then when they kissed for the first time, properly, Neil shared the deepest part of him, something he vowed he would never ever share willingly to anybody ever. “Natalie,” He said when Andrew’s face was mere inches from his face, “Natalie was the first name I was given,” And he studied Andrew’s face for anything, for something, but it remained the same, bored.
“Is this a round of our game?” He asks after a moment of silence. Neil shakes his head. “Then why are you telling me?”
“Because I trust you,” When that wasn’t the answer Andrew was looking for, he added more honesty, “And I just thought you should know before…” Before they kiss again and Neil prays to some God that they do, “I just thought you wouldn’t want someone who doesn't have everything a normal guy has. I thought you liked guys so-”
Andrew rolls his eyes, hand falling over Neil’s mouth, “My sexuality has very minimal conditions,” He stares at him impassively, bored, “Are you a man?” Neil, with Andrew’s hand still over his mouth, nods, “Look at that, conditions met.” Neil starts talking, muffled from beneath the barrier of a hand but Andrew presses harder in retaliation, “Blahblahblah,” he mocks and Neil gives him a look, his shoulders slouched in exasperation, “You know nothing and I want nothing.” And when he removes his hand, he adds, “Yes or no?” and kisses Neil’s breath away at the confirmation.
And now they’re here, a couple of months later, Andrew staring at Neil with his warm hands on his skin. “I’m sure,” Neil replies to the silent question dancing around Andrew’s face, “Yes until it becomes no, yeah?”
Andrew was content with that and he nudged Neil’s jaw with his head and bites and licks and kisses across the canvas of Neil’s throat as his hands dip and drive themselves up until both hands cup Neil’s breasts in his palm. It’s rare to have Neil without his binder on (something that Andrew gifted him alongside his armbands post-Baltimore so that the unsafety of bandages are gone, a matching black) but Andrew takes advantage of this rare moment and carefully squeezes the flesh in his hand, feeling the softness of the skin and the hardness of Neil’s nipples against his palm. The tender hold had Neil gasping lightly. This tenderness was something that Andrew initially starts with, testing the waters of Neil’s mindset of having him be open like this, exposed in a way that he wasn’t used to, how he was allowing Andrew with this trust and Andrew trying his best to portray his thankfulness of being handed this, like Neil has done for him many times. He hopes he gets his point across when he hums against Neil’s skin and gives an experimental pinch to his nipple that slips between his index and middle finger. Neil’s throat was filled with responses, gasps and whines alike. That’s one thing Andrew enjoyed discovering about Neil, his sensitivity, with his fingers gently twisting the buds and how unashamedly Neil is in vocal appraisal, it makes Andrew’s cock throb.
“Andrew,” He sighs, face flush, “Andrew,” He says, again when Andrew pulls away from his throat, Neil’s eyes falling instinctively on Andrew’s lips, feeling that want, that need.
“Yes or no?” Andrew glanced at Neil’s own lips with intent enough for Neil to understand what the question was for.
“Yes, yes,” and Andrew surges forward, all teeth and tongues and kisses Neil like he hates him, like he wants to crawl in his skin, like he wants to tear it off. Neil openly moans in Andrew’s mouth, hungry for it, greedy, and it's contagious, this greed, because Andrew wants to consume every part of Neil, pushing his face and neck against the other man, Neil pushing back, tongues wet enough where it’s becoming sloppy, the noises obscene and a beautiful backing track to Neil. Andrew’s gentleness becomes rough, hands that caress now grab at the other’s chest, needing to feel, to know. Fingers that were delicate now apply the kind of pressure that makes Neil’s legs become weak and voice choppy with pleasure
“Waist and up,” Andrew finally says against Neil’s mouth and it was on instinct that his hand slid into the back of the blonde locks and held it with intent, nothing rough or harsh but secure, letting Andrew know that he is there and he is staying, for as long as Andrew wants him too. His other hand found itself running down Andrew’s bicep, over his armbands and then gently slotted it over Andrew’s hand that grasped a breast, closing around it, making Andrew hold on harder, tighter, like he wants Andrew to hold onto him like he wants him there, like he is staying.
“Not made of glass,” Neil says, Andrew nipping at his jaw, watching Neil’s dazed eyes and swollen lips through half lidded eyes that make Neil’s breath hitch, “Give me what you want. Take it.”
Andrew kisses lower until he’s at his collarbones and his teeth fit over the bone like he was made to bite it, “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Then he licks a strip up Neil’s jugular, “Don’t swing, never swung,” Then Neil’s earlobe is between his teeth, “Have you ever even thought about sex before? Know what it is?” He says that as if Neil has never fucked himself against Andrew’s thigh, as if Andrew has never gathered the slick from his heat to use as lube to jerk Neil off, as if Neil has never closed his eyes and listened to the sound of Andrew jerking off against him until he came on his thigh in the shower.
“Do you think I’m stupid?”
“Yes,” Andrew replies, easy.
“Of course I’ve thought about sex,” It was hard to find frustration when he was pressed against the wall like this, trapped between the solidness of the structure and the solidness of Andrew, it makes thinking hazy, the good kind, “I’ve thought about it before but it was just something neutral, boring even. Until you.”
Until you.
It was laughable, Andrew’s fleeting thoughts declared, how someone as broken as Andrew can make sex to someone as broken as Neil seem appealing.
The thought brought a disruption to his flow, “I hate you,” He says, “I hate you,” He says again, hoping this time it sounds like he means it and then his teeth and lips go back to consuming Neil piece by piece, flesh by flesh. Along the way, Neil tosses off his shirt completely and he grinned when Andrew made a low noise at the back of his throat. “I’m going to blow you, yes or no?”
The words go straight to Neil’s t-cock and he almost moans at it. They’ve never done that, even after that declaration in Eden’s, it was a path of trust, for Neil, for Andrew. Andrew was only ever jerked Neil off or fucked him stupid with his fingers, but he held off on the question of sucking Neil off as they practiced boundaries, as Andrew learned more about Neil’s body, what he liked, what he didn’t like, as Andrew learned more about Neil and his identity, what it meant to him, what suited him. Andrew listened, whether it was verbal responses from Neil himself with the hours they dedicate to the roof or in the spare hours of their away games bus rides, or through his body language, and he was patient, he was interested and he was curious. And now he is faced with the conclusion that he wants to eat Neil, in more ways than one, like as if he has never been so starved for a cock in his life. It was truly pathetic and Neil is to blame. “Yes, yes,” Neil nods along to his own words, more frantically that he was initially intending but he eager to get his point across, “Yes,” Because he doesn't know what else to say, too caught up in the sensation of Andrew’s lips wrapping around his left nipple, suckling softly, gently scraping his teeth against the sensitive bud as the other hand creeps down Neil’s stomach one more time to finger across his waistband of his sweatpants. Neil cradles the back of Andrew’s head as he sucks on Neil’s chest, panting above him. Andrew doesn’t take his eyes off of him, not for a second, blinking up at him through his eyelashes as he was latched.
“You’re so beautiful, Andrew,” It was airy, like a whisper, like he meant it. Andrew doesn’t acknowledge it apart from kissing the other side of his chest and dropping fully to his knees. Neil moved his hand so it rested on Andrew’s cheek, his thumb stroking patterns across his cheek bone before it circles over his eyebrow and back round again. Andrew hums and leans into the hand, cheek pressed against the heel of Neil’s palm, seeking comfort in the familiar patterns of bumps of scars from his past and calluses from his hard work on the court. Neil smiles down at him, watching Andrew lean forward, his fingers untying the loose loop of Neil’s strings of his sweatpants, and then kiss down his navel, kissing over the hair on his abdomen, his happy trail, kissing down and down, pulling Neil’s boxers and pants down with him. Anticipation gnawed at Neil, seeing Andrew pull his pants off, Neil stepping out of them and kicking them away before he is pressed against the wall once again.
Neil felt out of breath, breathing laboured as he looked at Andrew looking at him. Staring at the throbbing t-dick in front of him, having to swallow the saliva forming in his mouth. “You’re acting as if this is your first seeing me,” Neil ran a hand between his thighs and pulled it, spreading himself open in front of Andrew’s face and Andrew could see the glistening slickness coating him. Neil’s hand travels further up, palm bumping against his t-dick that startles a moan out of him before going up and over the mound of his pubes and settles it back at his side.
Andrew’s never sucked a dick like this before, nothing in the articles and books about transgender people he researched spoke about their sexual experiences, how to please a transgender partner, but logic was there and Andrew will rely on that.
He gets his hands on Neil then, holding his hips. He presses a kiss to his hip bone and kisses along his skin until he gets in between Neil’s thighs. “Still a yes?” He asks, looking up again. Neil’s gaze flick between Andrew’s eyes and then to the proximity of his lips. Neil nods enthusiastically. Andrew clicks his tongue, “Words.”
“Yes, it’s still a yes.”
“Good.” He praised and he didn't waste an extra second as he sucked Neil into his mouth, tongue swirling around along the couple of inches of shaft. Neil has been on hormone blockers since he was 13 and testosterone since he was 15 (Mary taking Neil’s transition in full stride, maybe not due to support but it assisted them in their hiding, if Nathan was looking for his wife and daughter, no one would look for a son and mother. Though nothing lasted, they were unlucky enough that they caught wind of Neil’s transition.) so his growth and bodily changes were more advanced for his age. His t-dick protrudes from his cunt, just shy of two-inches, maybe a little over, hard and inviting as Andrew sucks.
Neil curls in on himself, hands on Andrew’s shoulders, mouth agape in silent moans as he watches Andrew suck his dick as if it was the real thing, bobbing his head with movement, making obscene sounds. Andrew blows him like how he kisses him, wet and sloppy, licking strips up him, coating him in warm saliva. Then he presses himself against Neil, nose in his pubes as if he was deep throating him, his mind clouded with the scent of Neil and something dirty in Andrew wants more.
They shift and Andrew throws a leg over his shoulder, Neil pushing his hips forward, arching off the wall to make Andrew’s job a little easier. Though, he doesn’t expect Andrew’s tongue to dip south. It circles Neil’s hole and he groans into him at the taste, pulling Neil’s hips properly onto his face. Neil uncurls and throws his head back, it thumping against the wall as Andrew gets bored of the teasing and fucks his tongue in Neil. It was a strange sensation, Neil concluded in the haze of his mind, but it’s a sensation that makes him crave more, that has his toes curling and wanting more of whatever it is Andrew is offering. Andrew doesn’t slack with the effort, curling his tongue, pressing himself in, feeling Neil’s walls clench around him as he whines above him. Andrew watches it all, drinks in the view of the man above him as he devours him from the inside out. The curvature of Neil’s marked throat, his chest inflating and deflating with his laboured breaths, his lips falling open to the tumbles of moans and sounds and sentences that are incomprehensible. Then Neil looks down to Andrew, blue eyes blown with lust and desire, his eyes more black than blue with the wideness of his pupils. “Feel s’good, ‘Drew,” He manages to utter, a hand moving over Andrew’s forehead and pushing his hair out of his eyes and holding it so he can stare into them without obstacles, “You make me feel-” He hummed as Andrew dragged his tongue back northward, making a display of it as it catches, with intense purpose, the underside of Neil’s t-dick, still holding that eye contact, even when he envelopes Neil again, “S’good, s’good,” His hole clenches around nothing and he whines, “Fingers, fingers, inside,” Neil almost begs, “If that’s okay.”
Andrew hums against him and the sensation sends a shudder down Neil’s spine. A hand leaves a hip and comes to replace Andrew’s mouth as his thumb and index finger jerk him off. Neil sees in the low light of the room how Andrew’s lower half of his face is covered in his wetness and he watches Andrew run his tongue over his lips for a taste. Neil groans at the sight and Andrew mistook it as annoyance. “Impatient,” Andrew bites out, but gets back attached to Neil again before either can say another word, bobbing his head in faster, shallower movements. His fingers drag against his folds between Neil’s thigh, then circling his hole when he reaches it.
“Thought you said you didn’t tease.”
Andrew pulled off and kissed the same spot on Neil’s hip, “I lied.” He replied against the flesh of Neil. Neil opened his mouth for a retort but it fell into a moan as two fingers fitted inside him with ease. Andrew often likes to start off slow, fucking Neil with intention, fingers curling in a ‘come-hither’ motion at a pace that isn’t gratifying enough to be pleasurable but enough for it to feel good and then slide back in and out until Neil is whiney when he says his name. Today is no different.
It’s warm and soft inside Neil and for a heartbeat Andrew imagines it was something else inside Neil instead of his fingers, but that thought was banished before it could unravel. His fingers avoid with purpose the spots that make Neil screw his eyes shut and goes with a slow, agonising pace of thrusting in and out. Shlick, shlick. Neil flushes more above him at the noise, evidence of his desperation, his greed for Andrew, surrounding them in the quiet of the room. Annoyance ebbs at Neil at Andrew’s games, so he circles his hips and fucks down when Andrew’s fingers fuck up to make it rougher than it is. He hopes it provides Andrew the encouragement he might need, but Andrew watches the display, amused and entranced with the flow of Neil’s hip, the stuttered rhythm he creates. It’s uncoordinated and amateur, and the drawn out whines flushes an arousal through Andrew so unexpectedly that he had to move his free hand from Neil to grind his hard, clothed cock into it, just so he can ease the need for some friction.
“‘Drew,” He sighs, moans, eyes flickering between Andrew and where they’re connected, “Fuck, Andrew, fuck,” And then Andrew realises he can’t resist Neil for much longer. His cock is wrapped with his tongue and lips, suckling and bobbing in a rhythm that is now matching his fingers, faster paced, pressing his face against Neil when he thrusts in and sucks harder when he draws back. Neil’s hips are twitchy, the thigh over his shoulder shakes as the other weakens, but he can still stand.
His moans replicate hyperventilating, they’re faster and louder, with the pitch high enough to know he’s close. His hands don’t know what to do, they hover above Andrew, switching to hover above his head, his shoulders, before they drop to his sides and let the nails embed and imprint in the wall behind him. Andrew, without stopping pace, snags a wrist and places Neil’s hand in his hair and that was consent enough for Neil to hold, knowing that was something he needed, something to ground him. Maybe that was something Andrew wanted too, to be held. “Andrew, close, Andrew,” He warns and Andrew resists the innate impulse to roll his eyes, as if he couldn’t feel the throbbing of Neil’s walls of the imposing climax. Still, he keeps everything consistent, the pace, the sucking, the way Neil likes it when he is close. He keeps the accuracy of his fingers perfect, all in tandem with his mouth and Neil has a mantra of his name on a loop, like it was the only word he knows and, right now, maybe it is. And, fuck, what a beautiful display it is, seeing Neil like this, teetering on the edge of cumming, yearning for the release, for Andrew. The thought of Andrew being the one and only person to have seen and will ever see Neil like this is a thought that makes him groan with a mouthful of dick, eyes fluttering in the back of his head, for just a moment and a moment alone that Neil misses. Yet he feels Andrew on him, eating him like a starved man.
Neil tears his eyes open and he cums when he makes eye contact with Andrew. The twitching across his body seizes, all muscles tensing as his jaw slacks in a moan that's silent, breath caught in his throat as he gushes over Andrew’s tongue, his hand, his clothes. Unbothered, Andrew fucks him through it, aware of not accidentally overstimulating but enough for Neil to feel the full effects of his climax.
Neil gasps when he regains the ability to breathe. He moves the hair that sticks on his forehead, pushing it back as he did with Andrew. He watches Andrew detach from him, kissing across his hip. A distraction to any unpleasantness that comes with Andrew removing his fingers fully. It leaves Neil empty and he makes a small noise when they do leave him.
“That was,” Neil was still catching his breath but he spoke anyway, through a grin splitting his face, “Amazing, you were amazing.” He cradles Andrew’s jaw and carefully tugs him up from his knees. Andrew goes up willingly, not before slotting his dirtied fingers in his mouth and sucking them clean, “Dirty,” Neil says, grin getting bigger, nose bumping against Andrew’s.
“Tastes good,” He replies with a small shrug and meets Neil halfway into a kiss. It’s slow now, the kissing, soft, holding a different meaning to the foreplay. Though, they will never admit to what the difference is. Not yet.
“Are you wanting to get off?” Neil whispers against his lips, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. Andrew checks himself over mentally and when nothing came up as an alarm, he nodded.
“Close your eyes.” And Neil did, “Yes or no, to kissing you whilst I jerk off?”
“Yes.”
Andrew kisses him, tongue and all, and Neil listens to the buckle of Andrew jeans come undone, then the button, then the zip and then the short rustle of clothes. An excitement fills Neil when he feels the fast-paced jolting movement against him, slicking noises accompanying it and Neil moans at the self drawn image he has in his head of Andrew jerking off in front him. Andrew returns the noise with a soft one of his own, maybe not a moan, but a soft sigh into his mouth. “Yes or no, if I can,” He makes a noise again and continues to kiss Neil, “If I can cum on you?”
“Yes,” It’s happened twice before, all in the shower so the action isn’t new but the environment is, “Yes, cum for me, ‘Drew.” With his free hand, Andrew brings it up to Neil’s head and presses their mouths closer together, fingers gliding in his curls and tongue gliding against his teeth. When Andrew stills and pants in Neil’s mouth, Neil nips at Andrew’s bottom lip before he kisses his neck and shoulders, eyes still closed as Andrew’s cum paints his abdomen.
Andrew’s head falls on Neil’s shoulder, breathing and tucking himself inside his boxers. He reopens his eyes when Andrew pulls away and he keeps his on Andrew’s face.
“Thank you,” Neil says.
With a frown, Andrew replies, “Don’t make it a thing for thanking me for a blow job.”
Neil grins, “I’ll try not to,” then shrugs, “No promises, though.”
Andrew kisses the grin off his face.