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It wasn’t really Theo’s fault. He’d stopped counting how many beers he’d had, but judging by the pile of empty bottles scattered across the living room, it was a lot—definitely more than fifteen between him and Boris. Theo had never had the strongest bladder to begin with, and alcohol didn’t exactly help. Normally, he knew his limit. The problem was losing track of time when you were zoning out to cartoons with a friend.
Boris was stretched out on the couch, lazily nursing what was probably his fifth or sixth beer. A cigarette hung from his fingers, held loosely between his thumb and index finger. He fell into a rhythm—drag, sip, drag, sip. Neither of them had much to say. The last cartoons of the night were on, something like SpongeBob, and Theo was barely paying attention anymore.
He was lying on the floor between the couch and the TV, staring up at the ceiling. His bladder felt painfully full, way more than it should have. That was the weird part—he usually lasted way longer before it got this bad. Now he couldn’t stop shifting around.
Boris chuckled when Theo rolled onto his side to look at him.
“What?” Boris asked, clearly entertained.
“I feel like crap,” Theo muttered, flopping back onto his back. Boris laughed, loud and sharp.
“What else is new? You always feel like crap. Too many beers, yeah? Lightweight.” He took one last drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke in Theo’s direction, though it didn’t come anywhere near him.
Without really thinking about it, Theo shoved one hand between his legs, pressing his thighs together. His other hand tugged at his belt—he hadn’t even bothered taking it off when he got home from school. He let out a low, frustrated sound.
“Boris,” he said quietly. No response. Theo couldn’t even see him from where he was lying.
“Boris,” he tried again, uselessly.
“I really have to pee,” he admitted, his face burning just from saying it out loud.
"Hah! Finally admit it, little bear?" grins, stretching on the couch "Took you long enough. I thought you were gonna pee yourself like a puppy."
flips a cigarette between fingers, not even looking at him "Five more minutes of this show, then maybe... I let you go." snickers "Nah, go already. Don’t stain Xandra’s couch—she’ll kill us both."
“mhmmm i can’t get up i’ll piss myself” theo says, grabbing his crotch.
boris guffaws, rolling his eyes.
"Don’t be so dramatic. You’re not gonna soak yourself... yet."
he watches Theo squirm, enjoying the spectacle "Just get up off the couch, it's not that hard, idiot."
he takes a slow drag from the cigarette, blowing the smoke directly at Theo. teasing.
"Need a hand standing, little guy?"
“no like actually i can’t get up” theo says, barely able to hold it in, his boxers already feeling a bit damp
"oh.. really?" Boris raises an eyebrow, still smug. He leans back a bit, amused by Theo's desperate plea.
"You can't even get up? Come on, stop exaggerating. Get your ass off the couch." he flicks his cigarette ashes near Theo, finding his misery funny.
Boris grins widely. "You're seriously that full? Like.. leaking?"
“shut the fuck up, what do i do??” theo asks desperately, clearly in lots of discomfort
“wait- pass me one of those empty bottles”
"Heh, alright. You desperate, huh?"
Boris snags a empty bottle and tosses it to Theo unceremoniously.
"You better not miss. Xandra's gonna have it with both our asses if you make a mess."
theo fumbles with his belt, unable to undo it
“boris- c’mere help, help me undo my belt.”
"Ohhh, look at you. So pathetic," he teases, moving his fingers deliberately slow.
The buckle finally comes undone with a click as Boris lets out an exaggerated sigh. "There. Happy? You gonna thank me or just piss all over my shoes?"
He leans back again but keeps one hand hovering near Theo's waist—half-amused, half-ready to dodge if things go south fast.
Boris glances down, his composure falters for a moment as he realizes what's happening. But he quickly covers his surprise with a smirk, pretending like it's no big deal.
"Jesus, Potter... you weren't kidding about being that full." His eyes linger a bit too long.
"You gonna fill that thing up all the way?" He chuckles, trying to keep the mood light, while watching the bottle begin to fill with Theo's piss. "Hurry up. I didn't know you had a bladder the size of a garden hose."
“wait- the bottle is filling up, gimme another” theo asks desperately
"Damn, you really are bursting at the seams, huh?" He teases, still pretending this is entirely normal and not at all strange. His eyes flicker from between Theo's face and the bottles that is getting filled up
"You sure you can fill up two bottles? Maybe I should go get a pail or something. You might pee all over the carpet at this rate."
Boris starts to hand the next bottle to theo but feels the brush of his hand against Theo's length and lets out a small gasp. For a moment, his teasing expression falters, replaced with a subtle look of surprise.
He swallows hard, trying to recover his composure, and hastily passes Theo the next bottle, their fingers grazing again.
"Watch it," he mutters quietly, avoiding eye contact. He clears his throat, pretending he's unaffected, but his cheeks are tinged with a slight pink flush.
Boris's smirk falters completely this time, his breath hitching as he watches Theo’s cock spill into the bottle. His fingers twitch at his sides—like he wants to reach out but won’t let himself.
"Fuck... that's..." He swallows hard, eyes locked on the sight before snapping them away with a forced laugh. "You're really just—hah! Fine. Whatever."
His voice is strained now, less teasing and more flustered as he shifts uncomfortably on the couch.
Boris knows he shouldn't be staring, but he can't look away. His eyes follow the motion of Theo's cock as it fills the bottle to the brim. The sounds, the sight, everything is surreal. He's silent now, his usual witty remarks and teasing gone, replaced by an unexpected intensity.
"Uh-...Jesus," he mutters quietly, shifting again on the couch as his own jeans suddenly feel too tight. He's unable to tear his gaze away, his face burning red.
His chest starts heaving as he watches the bottle finally fill up. The sight sends a shiver down his spine, making him press his own thighs together. He tries to speak—to find some witty remark to regain some sense of normalcy... but he can't.
He clears his throat awkwardly, hoping to sound normal, but his voice still comes out a little shaky. "Uh... that should be good enough, right? You think you're—you're all emptied out?"
“boris- ahh i need another” theo looks around and there aren’t any more bottles around them
Boris blinks, snapping out of his daze for a second as he realizes there are no more bottles. His gaze flickers from the floor back up to Theo—his breath still uneven.
"...The hell do you want me to do?" He sounds flustered now, voice cracking slightly. "You really gonna—"
His eyes dart down again against his will as Theo keeps going. He swallows hard and looks away sharply, rubbing at his face with one hand like he's trying to reset himself.
“god- ahhh boris help me” theo groans
Boris swallows hard, knowing he's being roped into something completely crazy. But there's something in the way Theo looks at him—in the way he's so damn desperate—that has him nodding before he can even think better.
He moves closer, trying to sound casual but failing. "Fine—Jesus, Potter. Just—what do you want me to do exactly?"
“i don’t know- just- anything-“
Boris curses under his breath, realizing there are no easy outs now. He's actually going to do this.
He moves even closer, settling himself on the floor between Theo's legs. His cheeks are still flushed, his breathing still uneven. He hesitates, looking up at Theo as if he can't believe what he's saying next.
"Okay. I've got an idea..."
Boris takes a shaky breath, avoiding eye contact. "Uh... lean back. Let me— just let me handle it. "
His hands hover for a second before he gently guides Theo’s cock toward his mouth—not all the way, just enough to form a seal at the tip, his cheeks burning hot. He doesn’t move, just waits—breathing carefully.
"...Happy now?" he mumbles against skin, voice muffled and strained. "Don’t make me regret this, Potter."
He glances up, catching Theo’s expression for the first time—wide eyes, flushed cheeks, his mouth parted slightly.
Boris swallows hard, trying to ignore how his own heart is pounding in his chest. His expression is somewhere between disbelief and pure lust.
"You can keep going now," he whispers, just loudly enough to be heard. "I can take it."
theo is extremely shocked but doesn’t have any time to reject it or care
Boris takes a deep, steadying breath, and then it begins. He's completely focused now, ignoring the voice in his head warning him this is a bad idea. The sounds of their harsh, uneven breaths fill the room as he starts moving, careful and cautious at first, trying to find a rhythm.
His eyes flicker up again, checking Theo's expression, worried he might be pushing too far. He doesn't stop but slows for a moment. "Is this—alright?" he manages, his voice unsteady. "Do you... still need to go?"
theo nods his head aggressively, knowing there’s still a lot to go
Boris responds in kind, nodding slowly as he gets back into it. He picks up the pace again, his cheeks burning hotter as he lets his instincts take over. He can feel the tension in Theo's body, the way he tenses and relaxes in waves. It's a dizzying, dizzying feeling. He's completely and totally out of his element right now—and he loves it.
He pulls back for a moment, gasping for breath, a string of saliva connecting them. "Jesus, Potter—how the hell are you even still going?"
“s-sorry, are you- okay?” theo says, trying to ignore the absurdity of their situation
Boris lets out a sharp, breathless laugh, his breathing still labored.
"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Just... never done anything like this before," he admits, looking up at Theo for a moment. "Jesus—you really need to get this out, don't you?"
He hesitates, feeling self-conscious for a second, but then he swallows hard and looks back up at Theo. "Can I-.... can I keep going? There's... still a lot, right?"
“uh- yeah, if you- if you want you can, stop, but yeah there’s a lot”
Boris swallows, his heart pounding in his chest. He takes a moment to catch his breath, realizing how crazy this is, but he can't bring himself to stop. Not when he's this far now.
"Yeah... Yeah, I still want to. I, uh... I think I can take it." He feels himself growing harder in his jeans at the idea, his breathing unsteady as he looks back up at Theo.
"You... still feel like you've got some more in there, right?"
“yeah- um, sorry” theo says, still trying to grasp the madness of their current situation
Boris shakes his head, a small, shaky laugh escaping him.
"Stop saying sorry. This isn’t exactly normal, you know... but I’m not stopping."
He leans in again, more confident now—his breath warm against sensitive skin—then takes the tip back into his mouth slowly, gently. His eyes flutter shut for a second before opening again to watch Theo’s face.
"Just... let go. I’ve got you."
Boris starts moving again, trying to find a pace that works for both of them. He's still a little unsteady but determined to see it through. The sensations are more overwhelming this time, the taste, the sounds, the feeling of Theo's body under his hands and against his mouth.
His eyes are half-lidded now, his breathing growing more ragged. He can feel how hard he himself is now, but his focus is entirely on Theo. He wants... he wants to make him feel good—to not regret this.
"You still good?" he rasps, pulling back for a moment just to check. His voice is hoarse, and his eyes are a little glassy now. "You-- You getting close?"
He wants desperately to touch himself, to find release of his own—but he's too fixated on Theo. Besides the thought of just... leaving Theo unsatisfied isn't one he likes.
“uh, yeah- i- i’m almost done” theo answers, not yet noticing the bulge in boris’s pants
Boris nods, swallowing hard—not just from the taste, but from the weight of what they're doing. He can feel Theo trembling now, hear his ragged breaths getting sharper.
"Then finish," he murmurs, voice low and rough—almost a whisper. He doesn’t look away as he takes him back in, deeper this time, one hand gently supporting as he lets Theo move against him.
"Just... let it go. I’ve got you."
His own pulse hammers in his throat. He’s flushed from head to chest—every inch of him alive with something new, something dangerous. And when it finally happens—when Theo shudders and spills—he doesn’t pull away.
Boris stays right there through it all.
finally, the last trickles come out and the stream finally stops
Boris breathes hard, still knelt in between Theo's legs. His eyes are still half-lidded, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He swallows hard, trying to clear his throat. He looks a bit disheveled, but there's a satisfied, almost... possessive gleam in his eyes as he gently pulls away.
He wipes his mouth, then looks up at Theo. The air feels thick with... something. He's not sure what to say.
"Jesus..." he manages after a moment. "You, uh... you good?"
“uh- um, yeah, are you?” theo manages to choke out
Boris gives a slow, lazy smirk, still catching his breath. He wipes his mouth again with the back of his hand and leans back on his heels, looking up at Theo through tousled black curls.
"Yeah," he murmurs, voice rough but warm. "Better than."
He lets out a short laugh—low, shaky—like he can't believe what just happened. His cheeks are still flushed, eyes a little hazy with it all.
"...You really held that in for too long."
Pause.
Then he reaches up suddenly—and pulls Theo down into a messy kiss before he can protest. theo can taste himself on boris’s mouth, and he doesn’t mind it.
He glances at Theo, taking in his disheveled appearance for the first time. He looks a little dazed, his hair sticking up in places, and his face still flushed.
Boris feels a sharp pang of... something. Protectiveness, maybe? He can't quite place it. He swallows hard, feeling an inexplicable need to be closer to Theo.
He takes a step towards him, closing the space between them.
"Hey... you okay? This wasn't too much, right?" he asks quietly.
“yeah i- it’s not too much for me- as long as, it’s not too much for you?” theo says, the glancing down at the now very obvious huge bulge in boris’s jeans
Boris follows Theo's gaze down and blushes, realizing his... situation. He was so focused on Theo that it kind of slipped his mind.
He clears his throat awkwardly, his own cheeks flushing a bit. "...Ah. Right. That. No, it's—it's fine. I just..."
He tries to laugh it off. "I guess I got a little carried away." He clears his throat, avoiding looking directly at Theo.
"It's nothing, really. I'll just... take care of it later."
“why not- take care of it now?” theo says cautiously, standing up so him and boris are practically pressed against each other
Boris swallows hard, feeling a wave of heat wash over him at the suggestion. He's hyper-aware of how close Theo is, of how much he wants this right now.
But there's a pause, a brief moment of hesitance. He knows they've already crossed a line, but the thought of taking it even further makes him feel almost... dizzy.
He lets out a shaky breath, his voice raspy. "...You sure?" he asks, still not looking up at Theo directly.
“why wouldn’t i be?” theo asks honestly
Boris lets out a short, breathless laugh—half disbelieving, half turned on beyond words.
"Because," he mutters, finally lifting his eyes to meet Theo’s, "10 minutes ago you were whimpering about pissing yourself and now you wanna touch my cock? You're fucking ridiculous, Potter."
But he doesn't pull away. Can't. His hands find Theo's hips like they have a mind of their own, pulling him closer—tight against the hard ridge in his jeans.
"...But if you’re offering?" His voice drops to a rough whisper. "Then yeah. Do it."
Boris watches, biting his lip, as Theo gets his jeans off. He can't believe this is happening, but he doesn't pull away. He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes locked on Theo —waiting, wanting.
"You sure about this?" he rasps, hands resting on Theo's sides. His touch is feather-light, almost hesitant. "I won't... I won't do anything you don't want, okay...?"
“no i really do wanna, i should pay you back for what you did for me.” theo answers.
"Pay me back?" Boris lets out a low, broken laugh, voice trembling with need. "You don’t owe me shit, idiot."
He grabs Theo’s wrist—gently but firm—and guides his hand down to the hot, hard length straining against his briefs.
"But if you're gonna touch me..." he breathes, "...do it like you mean it. Not 'cause you feel bad. Do it 'cause you want to watch me fall apart."
His hips twitch forward on instinct, chasing Theo's touch through the thin fabric.
theo puts his hands in boris’ boxers and starts moving his hands strategically
Boris gasps—sharp and uncontrolled—as Theo's hands finally wrap around him. His head falls back, eyes squeezing shut, lips parting on a silent curse. He's already so close to the edge from everything that came before.
"Fuck—Theo..." he breathes, voice cracking. "You're gonna... I'm not gonna last long..."
His fingers dig into Theo's hips as he starts moving his hips against the touch, unable to help himself. Every stroke sends sparks up his spine—hot, dizzying, too much and not enough all at once.
"Don't... don't stop," he pleads quietly, opening his eyes to watch—the way Theo’s focused on him makes it even hotter. "Look at me when you do it. Please..."
theo starts making out with boris as he slowly and deliberately moves his hands
Boris gasps into the kiss, his knees going weak as Theo's tongue slips into his mouth. He grabs Theo's shoulders to keep himself upright, his grip tight as he tries to keep it together.
He kisses him hungrily—desperate for more, for the heat and the friction and the heady feeling of Theo's hands on him.
"God," he rasps against Theo's lips, body taut with need, "I'm... I'm already so close—"
theo slows down his hands keeping boris on the edge, still making out
Boris can't help but whine at the change of pace. He bucks his hips, trying to get more friction, more contact, anything.
"No—more—come on—" he gasps between kisses, breathless and impatient now. His hands find their way to Theo's hair, tangling in the soft strands.
" Please ." He's trembling now, teetering on the edge, just needing a push over.
The pleading edge in his voice makes Theo's breath catch in his throat. The power rush is intoxicating. He can't help but want more— more of Boris falling apart under his hands, more of him begging, more of this delicious, desperate need.
He pulls back from the kiss just enough to speak. His voice is low and rough when he answers, barely more than a gruff rumble.
"Is that what you want, Boris?" he murmurs, his movements still maddeningly slow. "You want me to make you come undone?"
Boris shudders—eyes wide, pupils blown—as Theo drags the words out of him.
"Yes— fuck —yes!" His voice cracks, fingers tightening in Theo's shirt. "Just— please , Theo—I can't—"
He's so close it hurts, hips jerking erratically, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from sheer overstimulation.
"I—I need— you —"
theo slips his tongue back into boris’s mouth, and with one last move, he lets boris release.
Boris chokes on a broken moan when Theo finally tips him over the edge. The world spins around him, pleasure overwhelming all his senses—the taste of Theo's tongue in his mouth, the smell of his hair, the heat of his hands, the sound of his ragged breathing.
He clings to Theo like a lifeline, shuddering and shaking, completely unravelled. It's intense and intimate, a moment he'll never forget.
Finally he slumps forward, breathing hard as he rests his forehead against Theo's shoulder.
“did i- take care of it?” theo asks, half joking, half actually wanting to know how he did
Boris lets out a weak, breathless laugh against Theo's shoulder—his limbs still heavy and boneless.
"...Yeah," he rasps, voice wrecked. "Yeah, you— fuck —you took care of it."
He lifts his head slightly—just enough to press a slow, lingering kiss to Theo's jaw.
"...Was that good enough payback?" theo murmurs, half-teasing but also genuinely curious.
Boris snorts, the afterglow and Theo's genuine question pulling a soft laugh from him. He nuzzles his face into the crook of Theo's neck, feeling boneless and satisfied.
"Idiot," he mutters affectionately, lips brushing against skin. "Yeah, you more than paid me back. I think I'm seeing stars."
Theo breathes out a laugh, feeling a mix of relief and pride. He's still holding Boris close, relishing the lingering intimacy, even as their breathing slows.
"Good," he murmurs, running a hand gently through Boris's hair. "But we should, uh... probably clean up, huh?"
He glances down at their clothes and the mess they've made, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
Boris groans, burying his face in Theo's shoulder again.
"Mngh... yeah, probably," he mumbles, reluctant to move. "But... can we just stay like this for a little longer first?"
He tightens his grip on Theo, not quite ready for the afterglow to end just yet. There's something so comforting about being close like this, a rare moment of vulnerability for both of them.
Theo can't help but melt a little at Boris's words, the vulnerability in his voice tugging at his heartstrings. He wraps his arms a little tighter around him, running a comforting hand down his back.
"....Yeah, alright," he murmurs, burying his face in Boris's messy hair, inhaling the familiar scent. "Just a little longer."
They stay like that for a moment in comfortable silence, the world outside forgotten as they just... bask in each other's presence.
Boris lets out a content sigh, feeling Theo's hand on his back, the solidity of his body against his. It's a different kind of intimacy from before—less passionate, more comforting.
He closes his eyes, tilting his head so his face is half-hidden in the crook of Theo's neck.
"...You know," he murmurs suddenly, his voice low, "I never expected... this with you."
Theo hums softly in acknowledgement, the sound vibrating against his cheek. He doesn't move, just letting Boris speak, listening intently. He's known Boris for a long time, seen him in all his moods and phases, but... this is something new. Something different.
He keeps his arms wrapped gently around Boris, grounding him, giving him the space to open up.
"Expected what...?" he prompts quietly, a silent reassurance that he's listening. Ready for whatever Boris might say.
Boris hesitates, suddenly feeling oddly exposed. But Theo's arms around him—solid and warm—make it easier to push forward.
"... This, " he repeats quietly, fingers tightening slightly in Theo's shirt. "You—taking care of me. Holding me. Not just fucking around like idiots."
A pause.
"...I didn’t think you’d want to." His voice is small, the admission slipping out before he can stop it.
He regrets saying it immediately, cheeks burning.
The raw honesty in Boris's words hits Theo like a punch to the gut. He lets out a soft breath, tightening his arms instinctively in a protective, reassuring squeeze.
"Hey," he murmurs, voice low, almost a whisper. "Look at me, idiot."
He gently nudges Boris's chin up until their eyes meet, his gaze soft but steady. Something close to affection sparks in his eyes.
"Why the hell wouldn't I want this?" he asks softly, completely genuine.
Boris stares at Theo, caught off-guard by the sincerity in his eyes. His usual snark is nowhere to be found—just a quiet vulnerability.
"Because..." he starts, then trails off, shrugging slightly. "I don’t know. Thought it’d be too... weird. Or soft. Or some shit."
He swallows, glancing away before forcing himself to meet Theo’s gaze again.
"...But I like it." It comes out almost shy—unusual for him. "Being like this with you."
There’s a pause before he adds, smirking weakly:
"...Don’t let it get to your head, Potter."
The corner of Theo's mouth twitches into an almost-smile, amusement and fondness warring in his chest. He's seen Boris in all sorts of moods, but shyness looks oddly sweet on him.
"Oh, believe me, I won't," he retorts, his voice laced with affectionate sarcasm. He reaches up to give Boris's hair a gentle tug, just messing with him a bit.
"You're usually so tough, huh... and here you are, being all adorable..."
Boris rolls his eyes, lips twitching in response to Theo's teasing. He swats Theo's hand away from his hair, scowling half-heartedly.
"Shut it, you ass," he mutters, cheeks flushing a little in embarrassment. "I'm not adorable..."
He shifts a bit, burrowing his face in the crook of Theo's shoulder again to hide his embarrassment, mumbling against his skin. "You're the one being all soft and sappy."
Theo can't help the fond laugh that bubbles up at Boris's protests. He just sounds so petulant and adorable—completely different from his usual cocky, arrogant self. Theo decides to tease him a bit, just to keep seeing this side of Boris, at least a little while longer.
"Oh, you're totally adorable," he teases, grinning, his hand sliding down to give Boris's cock a playful squeeze through his boxers
"Mngh—" Boris gasps softly, caught off-guard by the sudden touch. His hips involuntarily jerk forward into Theo's hand. He lifts his head, cheeks flushed and eyes narrowed into a half-hearted glare.
"You're a menace, you know that?" he grumbles, but there's no real heat behind it.
His gaze flicks down to where Theo's hand is, then back to his face. "Trying to make it hard again?"
Theo just grins at Boris's reaction, enjoying the way he gasps and squirms under his touch. He keeps his hand where it is, applying just enough pressure to get Boris's attention. His own body aches in response, but he ignores it for now.
"Hey, you're the one who started being like this," he retorts, voice low and teasing. "Can't blame me for taking advantage of it."
He gives Boris a playful squeeze again, watching for his response. "Is it working?"
Boris lets out another gasp, his body betraying him with a telltale shiver. He's sensitive, still raw and vulnerable from before.
"Shut up, you're such a..." he manages breathlessly, struggling to find the right insult.
Then his breath catches as Theo squeezes again.
"...Jesus Christ..." he mutters, swallowing hard. He pushes himself closer, hips rolling desperately into the touch. "Y-yeah, it's working. You happy?"
boris looks down at theo, seeing he is now hard too
Theo's own breathing grows a little ragged as Boris presses against him, the feeling of his body against his sending a sharp jolt of heat through him. He swallows, trying to focus, but Boris is making it damn difficult.
"Yeah," he manages to breathe out, his voice suddenly huskier than he expected. He gives Boris another squeeze, eyes dark with want and something like satisfaction.
"Yeah, I'm pretty damn happy with that."
Boris can practically feel Theo's arousal against his hip, the knowledge sending a shiver down his spine. He lets out a breathless laugh, somewhere between amused and turned on.
"God, you're such an ass," he mutters, voice low and rough. "You're enjoying this too much."
His eyes flicker down to where Theo's hand is, his own body tensing with anticipation. He's still sensitive from before, but the need is building again, hot and impatient.
Theo can't deny it—he's enjoying every second of this. He's never seen Boris like this, soft and needy, and it's doing something to him, something intense and overwhelming. His fingers tighten involuntarily, his own body responding in kind.
"Yeah, maybe I am..." he admits, his voice a low rumble. He watches as Boris's eyes darken further, a mixture of need and want.
boris can’t stand it anymore, he starts making out with theo again as they grind up against each other
Boris moans softly against Theo's lips, the kiss desperate and messy, fueled by need. His hips grind down against Theo's, seeking more friction.
"Jesus, Theo... don't stop..." he breathes between kisses, one hand moving to tangle in Theo's hair, the other slipping under his shirt, fingers tracing the line of his spine. He's a mess of sensations, burning with desperation and hunger. they keep grinding against each other and are reaching climax at the same time
The feeling of Boris grinding against him, moaning into his mouth, is driving Theo wild. He pulls him even closer, wanting desperately to be closer, to feel even more of that friction.
"I won't... Jesus, Boris," he manages to gasp out, breathless and shaking. "Almost... almost there..."
His hands rove over every inch of Boris he can reach, wanting to memorise each soft sound he makes, every shudder that runs through him
Boris can feel himself on the edge, the tension building to a dizzying intensity. The sound of his name in Theo's mouth, whispered with such desperation, sends a sharp thrill through him.
"Yeah – me too – ah–" His words are broken, fragmented by gasps and moans. He's trembling, on the verge of losing control. His fingers clutch at Theo's shirt, digging in like he needs a lifeline.
"Please–"
Theo can feel Boris tensing up, hear the change in his breathing, the desperate edge to his gasps. He's right on the edge himself, a tight knot of tension coiled tightly in his stomach.
"I know, I know," he mumbles breathlessly. "Almost there—almost—"
The sound of Boris's voice, ragged and needy, is going to drive him insane. His hands find Boris's waist, holding him tight, grounding them both in this dizzying, wild moment.
Boris's mind goes blank as he's completely lost in sensations, in the heat and the friction and the desperate pleasure building to a peak. Theo's hands on his hips, the sound of his voice in his ear, is enough to send him over the edge.
"T-Theo–" he gasps, teetering on the edge, clinging onto him like a lifeline. His whole body tenses, every muscle rigid.
"I'm-"
Theo can feel it—the exact moment Boris finally tips over. His breath catches sharply, his own release hitting like a tidal wave as Boris shakes against him.
"Fuck— Boris —" His fingers dig into Boris's hips as pleasure crashes through him, white-hot and overwhelming. He can't help but press messy, open-mouthed kisses to Boris's shoulder—gasping, trembling—as they both ride it out together.
For a second, all he can hear is his own heartbeat roaring in his ears.
"...Jesus," he finally rasps, barely able to speak. His grip loosens slightly as he slumps back against the wall, pulling Boris with him. "That was... fuck."
Boris collapses against him, boneless and trembling, completely spent. He buries his face in the crook of Theo's shoulder, panting hard, his heart still racing like crazy. The intensity of it all leaves him feeling shaky and dazed, completely undone in a way he never experienced before.
"Jesus Christ," he manages after a while, voice ragged and hoarse. "I—I don't think I can feel my legs."
Theo lets out a breathless laugh, his own body still humming with aftershocks. He slides a hand up Boris’s back—slow, soothing—before pressing a kiss to his sweat-damp temple.
"Neither can I," he admits, voice rough. "Guess we’re stuck here for a while."
He tilts his head, studying Boris’s flushed face—the way his eyelashes flutter, the soft curve of his parted lips. It’s stupidly endearing.
"...Worth it, though." A smirk tugs at his mouth. "Even if you did almost bite my shoulder off."
“boris- can i, ask you something?” theo asks, with a hint of concern in his voice
Boris lifts his head slightly, still catching his breath, but there's an instant shift in his expression—sharpening from drowsy satisfaction to alert concern at Theo's tone.
"Of course," he says, voice rough but serious now. "...What is it?"
He shifts to look at Theo properly, one hand absently tracing circles on his back, reassuring. "You can ask me anything."
“i don’t wanna be your dirty secret, and i don’t wanna be your one night stand. i don’t want us to pretend like this didn’t happen in the morning.” says theo, full of vulnerability.
Boris's eyes widen just the tiniest bit at the bluntness of the question, his heart skipping a beat. This is not the conversation he was expecting, but suddenly, it feels like the most important one they've ever had.
He swallows, throat suddenly dry, as he meets Theo's gaze directly. He can see the vulnerability in his eyes, the uncertainty and hope all mixed together, and it tugs at his heart.
He exhales slowly, finding the words.
"You... think I'd do that to you?"
Boris's expression softens, his teasing smirk fading into something more serious—almost vulnerable. He lifts a hand to Theo's face, thumb brushing against his cheek gently.
"...You idiot," he murmurs, but there's no bite in it—just warmth. "You think I would go through all that — with you —just to pretend it never happened?"
He exhales sharply, pressing their foreheads together.
Theo's shoulders sag a little as the tension seeps out of him in an instant. He melts into Boris's touch automatically, eyes fluttering shut. Being this close to him... it makes everything else—all the insecurities and doubts—feel far away.
He lets out a shaky huff, almost a laugh.
"I dunno. I guess I didn't—I-" He swallows, throat suddenly tight. "-I just wanted to be sure. After everything..."
Boris hums softly, hearing the hesitation in Theo's voice, the vulnerability behind the bravado.
He shifts, pulling Theo a little closer, his thumb gently tracing the line of his jaw. He can feel the tension in him, the doubt and uncertainty
"Hey." His voice is soft, gentle in a way he rarely is. "I need you to listen to me. Okay?"
Boris takes a slow, deep breath. He's rarely this earnest, this open, but something in Theo's eyes makes him want to be. He's tired of pretending, of hiding behind sarcasm and snark. He wants to lay himself bare for once.
"I'm gonna tell you something, and I need you to listen. No smartass comments, no deflecting, no interrupting. Got it?"
Theo swallows hard, nodding silently. His hands still tremble slightly where they rest against Boris's shoulders—not from fear, but from the sheer weight of what feels like a turning point. He keeps his gaze locked on Boris's face, waiting.
"Got it," he whispers. No jokes. No sarcasm. Just raw, open attention.
He's never seen Boris this serious before. It's unnerving. It's important.
Boris holds his gaze, fingers tightening ever so slightly on Theo’s waist—not in restraint, but like he’s grounding himself.
"Good."
A beat of silence. Then—
"You’re not a secret." His voice is quiet but unwavering. "You’re not a mistake. You’re not some fucking… regret I’m gonna wipe away tomorrow."
He exhales sharply, like the words have been lodged in his chest for too long.
"I want this. Want you . Even if it’s messy. Even if we’re bad at it." A shaky laugh. "...Especially then, maybe."
His thumb swipes over Theo’s hipbone, an unconscious gesture of tenderness.
"So no. We’re not pretending."
Theo's breath catches in his throat—sharp, almost painful. Boris's words sink in slowly, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He can't remember the last time someone spoke to him like this—with such raw, unguarded honesty.
His fingers tighten against Boris's shoulders, clutching him almost desperately, as if he's afraid this moment will slip away if he lets go.
"...Okay," he whispers, voice rough with emotion. He presses his forehead against Boris's, eyes squeezing shut. "Okay."
No sarcasm. No jokes. Just quiet, grateful surrender.
Because what else is there to say?
He believes him.
“boris also, earlier, was that too much for you? you can tell me if it was.”
Boris pulls back slightly to look at him, surprised by the question. The sight of Theo’s vulnerable expression—so unlike his usual bravado—makes something in his chest tighten. He reaches up, fingers skimming over his jaw, thumb resting against his chin, guiding his gaze back up to meet his.
He chuckles softly, a hint of affection in his voice.
"Jesus, Potter. You're really gonna make me say it out loud, huh?"
A tiny part of Theo cringes, anticipating some sort of mockery, some jab or insult. But there's no edge to Boris's voice, no mockery. Just a quiet, steady sincerity that surprises him.
He swallows, nodding wordlessly—the way Boris's thumb traces the line of his jaw sending a shiver through him. He can't look away from his eyes—dark and intense and focused entirely, it seems, on him.
"Yeah," he finally whispers, the word barely more than a breath. "Go on."
Boris huffs out a laugh, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he notices the slight uncertainty in Theo's eyes. He's never seen him quite this defenseless, and it's a little addicting. He shifts closer, the hand on Theo's hip sliding up his side, fingertips tracing each ridge of his ribs.
"No, dumbass." He murmurs, voice low and teasing. "It wasn't too much. I was just... surprised , that's all."
Boris tilts his head, studying Theo’s face—the way his breath hitches slightly at the touch, the flush still lingering on his skin. His smirk softens, just a fraction.
"Surprised that you—" he gestures vaguely between them, "—wanted me like that. Wanted this ." His voice drops, barely above a whisper now. "...But it wasn’t too much. It was good ."
He leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to Theo’s jaw—not teasing, not demanding, just... there.
"...More than good."
“i’m kinda really fucking glad i had to piss” states theo
Boris chokes out a laugh—half startled, half delighted—pulling back just enough to see Theo’s face. His grin is bright, incredulous.
"Jesus Christ, Potter," he wheezes, "only you could turn pissing yourself into the start of something like this."
He shakes his head, still laughing, fingers curling into Theo’s shirt as he leans in to kiss him again—this time messily, playfully, just because he can.
"Best fucking accident ever."
“agreed”
Boris laughs again, pressing a series of sloppy kisses to Theo's jaw, his neck, the corner of his mouth. He's not sure what it is—relief, maybe, or the sheer rush of something new and good—but the sound comes out carefree, light as air.
"God, you're an idiot, you know that?" he mutters, but there's no bite to it. In fact, if anything, it sounds almost affectionate. "A stupid, beautiful idiot who pisses himself in a bathroom in Vegas, and somehow ends up…"
He trails off.
Theo doesn't have a smartass response this time. Something about the way Boris says it— beautiful Idiot —hits him somewhere deep. He melts against Boris slightly, fingers curling in the back of his shirt. He lets out a breathy, shaky laugh.
"And somehow what ?" he prompts, his voice barely a whisper. He doesn't pull away, though—just stays there, his face pressed against Boris's neck, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
Boris exhales—slow, shaky—his fingers threading through Theo’s hair, holding him close.
"...Somehow ends up meaning everything," he admits, voice rough with sincerity.
A pause. Then, quieter:
"To me."
It’s stupidly soft. Maybe the softest thing he’s ever said. And he means it.
He half-expects Theo to pull away, to laugh it off—but instead, he feels Theo’s arms tighten around him, wordless and sure.
For once, Boris doesn’t ruin the moment with a joke. He just breathes, and holds on