Archive of Our Own

Bl-l-lp. His iPod dings. He sneaks a peek at the screen before pocketing it again, and quick.

switch_hatter: On my way

He swipes the message off and goes back to Angry Birds, bouncing his knee.

When he and Taylor split at the end of senior year, he'd been both disappointed and relieved. Disappointed because she had been great, driven and dedicated in a way he wasn't about... Pretty much anything except basketball. He liked that about her. But relieved because she had also had… Rules. All kinds of rules for him that he hadn't known he was breaking until he broke them, and then she had rules for how she would act once he broke them, and rules for how he could get back into her good graces after. It was like, like that guy who did the experiments with the dogs. Or on the dogs, or, whatever. He slept through that class. Point is, he felt like she was training him like a dog most of the time instead of treating him like a person. He had been pretty relieved when they broke up and he realized he didn't have to follow all of those stupid rules any more. He'd spent all summer wearing socks with his sandals out of spite.

But it turned out the habit was kind of useful. He started thinking of things as sets of rules, when he needed to.

Like at home:

1. compliment mom’s shoes and dad’s cooking and they won’t notice how you haven’t cleaned your room yet.

2. go to bed by 10:30 on school nights

3. don't smoke when the girls are home, they will rat you out.

Or in the Locker Room:

1. don't look at other guys junk

2. if you do, expect to get towel-snapped or worse.

3. take home your dirty clothes at least once a month so mom can wash them.

4. seriously, don't look, what are you, some kind of fag?

Then came his freshman year of college, and he had some, shall we say, realizations about himself, and now he has a whole different set of rules to follow.

Chad's Rules for Being A Fag:

Okay, maybe it's not the most "politically correct" title, so sue him. He's not one of those... sparkly theater kid fags. He just... Kinda likes doing them sometimes. Whatever.

1. no dates, just hook ups. get in and get out

2. don't talk longer than necessary, especially in person. just get down to business.

Pretty self explanatory - he'll talk on Grindr just enough to make sure the guy's not a serial killer, but when they're in person, he's got better things to do with his mouth. Thankfully, most of the guys he meets don't seem to mind.

3. no basketball players (no matter how good they look in the weight room)

He's amended that one to be able to include guys on other teams, especially away games. It doesn't count if it's an away game. (Except Berkley. No guys from Berkley, ever.)

4. no white guys

Okay, this one's kind of a joke, but he did sleep with a guy last year who kept calling him Tiger Woods, so, like, he's started to be a bit more discerning about who he takes to bed.

Everything else is kind of negotiable. He's come around on a lot of things. A lot of things. He’s even been re-thinking his "no dating" rule after dinner with the cute girl from World Religions had been a disaster.

He's not sure what to expect from this new guy, though. switch_hatter had tapped on him last night, complimenting his arms and asking if he wanted to do some 1:1. Not the most creative compliment, but the guy's profile said he was a professional theater kid, so Chad was a little surprised he knew the lingo. Okay, so maybe he's still got those high school clique boxes in his brain, but a year of being bi or whatever isn't enough to rewrite history.

Anyway, it turns out switch_hatter is funny and surprisingly easy to talk to. He's just here for the weekend, something about visiting a friend on campus, but she's busy for the night and he's looking for some fun.

DL_dribbler: cool

Very cool, Chad. He's playing it so cool. He's usually nervous before an... Encounter, but this feels different, at least a little. He angles his screen away from the ghost who's sitting beside him and scrolls up to their earlier messages.

DL_dribbler: ok - would u rather do edward or jacob

switch_hatter: I'd rather do cedric diggory

DL_dribbler: oh my god

DL_dribbler: what r u too good for twilight

switch_hatter: I am, in fact.

switch_hatter: I'm surprised you're not

DL_dribbler: my ex-gf made me see it :P

switch_hatter: I see why she's an ex, that must've been torture

DL_dribbler: eh i can stand to watch a bunch of hot ppl on the big screen for 2 hours

switch_hatter: Fair enough

They'd actually been talking, which was surprising for a guy who claimed to only be here for the weekend, but it wasn't... Bad, really. So despite his rules, Chad had kept up with it. They're more like guidelines anyway.

Earlier:

DL_dribbler: so like

DL_dribbler: r u actually a switch? lol

switch_hatter: Technically, I'm vers. Not really into the S&M stuff, but it sounds better this way

switch_hatter: and I've played some b-ball in my day

DL_dribbler: o yea? u got game?

switch_hatter: Yeah I got game ;)

DL_dribbler: so ur saying... whips and chains dont excite u?

switch_hatter: ?

DL_dribbler: ? rihanna's new song

switch_hatter: Ohhhh

switch_hatter: ROFL no they do not

DL_dribbler: uncultured

switch_hatter: Says the guy who's probably wearing basketball shorts right now

DL_dribbler: if u wanted 2 know what im wearing u could just ask ;)

And later:

switch_hatter: I have one for you

switch_hatter: How would you feel about bottoming?

DL_dribbler: u fr?

switch_hatter: Yeah, Mr slyly asking if I'm a switch. Very subtle.

DL_dribbler: uh yea im game

DL_dribbler: very game

switch_hatter: Sweet

DL_dribbler: lit

He goes back to Angry Birds for real for a few minutes, but keeps one earbud out and looks up every time the door opens. It's late but not late-late, the Skunk is still open, so there's enough people around he doesn't really stick out. He just isn't sure who he's looking for, either, besides a white guy who may or may not be wearing a hat. He nods to Christian who's on his way to the computer lab. Then, who comes in behind him but Ryan Evans?

He does a double take, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. But he'd know that fashionista a mile away, even hidden beneath a surprisingly casual white sweater. The hat helps, though, from a distance.

"Chad?" His former enemy says, stopping in his tracks. His cheeks are a little pink, although that could be from the fact it actually got down to freezing now that the sun's gone down.

"Hey, man," he says, waving him over before he can think better of it. His date can wait two minutes.

Ryan approaches slowly, like he's waiting for a bear trap to snap shut.

"What're you doing here?" Chad asks, smiling.

"Oh, uh, my semester's already over, so I'm just, uh, visiting a friend." He shifts on his feet.

"I didn't know Sharpay went here."

He scoffs. "I could have other friends," he says, a little defensive, "Lots of East High go here." It's true, Chad's run into a handful of his high school classmates around campus, but they've basically all opted to ignore each other by some silent, tacit agreement.

"Do you, though?" He asks, quirking an eyebrow.

Ryan purses his lips.

Chad laughs.

"She's... Doing classes part time while she student teaches for Darbus during the day," Ryan mutters, rocking back on his heels. "She's in the show tomorrow night."

Chad grins. "There it is. That's cool, man," he tries to sound genuine.

"Uh, thanks. What, uh, what are you up to?"

"Oh, I'm just — right, actually, one sec," He pulls out his iPod and angles it away, tapping out a quick message.

DL_dribbler: ran into an old friend brb

Bl-l-lp. The familiar chime comes from not Chad's iPod, but Ryan.

Chad's eyes go wide.

Ryan's expression drops like a stone. Very carefully, he takes his phone — what looks to be the new iPhone, because of course it is — out of his pocket and glances at it, frowning. When he looks back up, Chad is trying not to stare.

"Uh," the jock stammers, his face getting hot, "Are you, uh..."

"Yup." Ryan says, clipped.

"Okay. And you're here to —"

"Yup."

He nods. "Right. Okay."

"Hang on," Ryan says slowly, his eyebrows pinched together, "Taylor hates Twilight."

Chad bursts out laughing. "Really, dude, that's your takeaway here? And Twilight is actually a really good —"

He crosses his arms, "Okay, well, forgive me if I'm a little surprised the guy I've been talking to is..." He trails off, looking away.

"So hot?" He says with a grin. "We knew that, though."

Ryan lets out a surprised laugh and looks away. "Look, uh, we don't have to — I mean, I'm not gonna, like, tell anyone…"

"Hey, I'm not — I'm not that stupid kid any more." Chad huffs a little defensively. He glances around because unfortunately it kind of matters to him. But thankfully, no one around them gives a shit. "I'm sorry, though," he says softly. "About… You know." He had kind of been a tool when they were kids, acting like he — and the other members of the basketball team — were going to get sick with some kind of gay cooties or something if Ryan got too close to them. Yeah, not his proudest moment, looking back.

Ryan just shrugs. "Water under the bridge."

"Thanks," he says, feeling obscurely relieved. He picks at a hangnail.

They lapse into silence. He kind of expects Ryan to make a joke, or start laughing at him, or something. Something Chad might've done during his douchebag era. But… he doesn't. He just looks at him, thoughtful and serious. Measured. Chad's heart dribbles in his chest and he kind of flushes from the attention. Ryan smirks like he can tell.

"I mean..." The blond angles himself forward every so slightly, so they go from two guys standing near each other to... Something else, something a little more intimate. "I'm still game if you are."

He blinks. He doesn't have a rule against fucking guys he knows. Not explicitly. If anything, he'd let someone like Ryan be the exception to that rule if he had it, considering he was one of the guys who made him realize he liked guys.

"Um, okay," he says, biting his lip. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm game."

Ryan grins.

Chad was gonna take him to Des; they’re still open this time of night but even if they weren’t, he has a master key and an agreement with his coach that he can come in and practice or lift any time, day or night, so long as he doesn’t abuse the privilege. Fucking guys in the empty locker room is totally not abusing the privilege, it’s… Morale boosting, or something. Hell, at least it’s exercise. He needs to keep up his cardio.

But, anyway, that was before he knew he was gonna be doing Ryan freaking Evans. It feels, uh, uncultured to let someone as classy as Evans fuck him in a dirty gym locker room, so after a minute of debating with himself, he says fuck it, and leads him to Addy. Alpha Delta Chi, the fraternity house. Which is kind of breaking a rule about not bringing guys home, and it may not be much classier than the gym, honestly, but at least he has his own bed and a door that locks. He figures Ryan deserves that much, at least.

His roommate, Jonah, is almost never around, either, especially on weekends. He's pretty religious, and the church on campus has a potluck on Fridays to encourage students to consider putting their energy into more pious activities than binge-drinking, or something. He's kind of a weird guy, but he's cool. He was one of the few who actually joined the frat for the brotherhood. He's fine with gay people, too, at least he claims to be.But either way, yeah, he's usually out for the night, so Chad has the room to himself.

It’s pretty quiet for a Friday night at the house, with some music going but no big party yet. It's close to finals week so the real ragers won't start 'til Saturday. For now, Mark and Ty’Shaun are playing Mario Kart in the living room. Temi is greening out on the couch beside them.

“Hey, man,” Temi says, nodding.

“Sup,” he nods back, “This is Ryan, uh, a high school buddy. Ryan, my brothers.”

Mark pauses the game – Ty’Shaun swears – and daps him up.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Chad wavers, wondering if he should say anything else, but decides not to. He's not-not out to them, but he doesn't need to give them all the gory details. Besides, David has his girl over every weekend and the whole house knows what she sounds like when they get down to business, so. Whatever. Whatever!

With a shrug, he leaves his brothers and leads Ryan up the stairs. His room is the third on the left. The door creaks open.

“So, uh, here we are,” he says, gesturing. He kicks his shoes off and winces at the mess; he hadn’t been expecting to bring anyone back here, so the bed’s unmade and his desk is covered in notebooks. He kicks some dirty underwear under the bed. “Sorry, I, uh, wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

Ryan shrugs. “No problem.” He gestures to the TV hanging on the far wall. “Should we put on Twilight? Will that get you in the mood?”

He rolls his eyes and swats at him. He wants to say he’s already in the mood, but the words get stuck in his throat. Ryan looks good, even in the shitty lighting of the frat house, with the House Party poster staring from the door behind him and the hole in the wall where a blacked out Temi kicked a football and his foot followed. He looks distractingly good. Chad had kind of always thought so, even as a kid. He just hadn't always known what it meant. Troy had been distracting, too.

Ryan must notice his hesitation because he drops his arms and takes a step closer, smiling softly. His hands land on Chad’s hips. Chad's suddenly glad he chose to throw on some actual jeans and not just basketball shorts.

“You good?” Ryan asks, searching his face, but not like how he'd checkout a stranger, more like he's checking out someone he knows. It makes Chad feel seen rather than just looked at.

He swallows. “Yeah,” he nods, glancing down to Ryan's mouth. "Yeah, I'm good." His lips look soft, untouched by the winter cold. He wonders distantly if he wears chapstick, one of those little gay things that Chad’s never done that he should probably re-evaluate.

Ryan is a couple inches shorter than him, but not much, so he only has to tilt his head up a fraction before they’re kissing. It’s kind of awesome; Ryan definitely knows what he’s doing. They had all assumed he was a virgin throughout high school; who was gonna fuck then fag, anyway? But he’s clearly had some practice since then. Maybe college has been good for him. It’s certainly been good for Chad.

Ryan pulls him closer, grinding. He feels Ryan's dick hardening against his hip. Yeah, this is way awesome. He slides a hand up into his hair, knocking his hat to the floor.

“Um, actually,” Ryan pulls back, wincing, “The hat stays on.”

Chad stares at him. “You’re fucking with me.”

He hesitates, then breaks out into a grin. “I’m fucking with you.”

He rolls his eyes and messes up his hair for good measure. Ryan laughs and he feels it vibrate through him. His hair is kind of crunchy on top, like he's put some product in it, but it's soft underneath. They go back to kissing and the rest of the world disappears.

"You still down to bottom?” Ryan asks a little while later, palming at Chad’s ass.

A thrill zings through him. He hasn’t done that a lot — he only topped at first, and once most guys found out he could top, they kind of expected it. Which he doesn’t mind, really, but sometimes… Sometimes he just wants to get fucked, you know? Like now, with Ryan’s hands slipping down into the crack of his ass, he kind of really, really wants to get fucked.

“Yeah,” he pants, arching into the touch, “Yeah, totally.”

Ryan grins and nips at his throat.

“Alright,” he says, tonguing at the cord of muscle in his neck, “Game time.”

Chad pushes him back so he can hop up on the bed; it’s lofted and there’s no real sexy way to get up on it. He flops back against the pillows. That’s another thing Taylor was good for, helping him appreciate the creature comforts. He has like half a dozen pillows on his bed; most of his brothers look at him like he’s insane for it, but he’s comfy, damn it.

Ryan just stands back watching for a moment. Admiring the view, maybe. Then he follows his lead and climbs up after him, kissing him down into the pillow. Chad slides a hand up his back, pulling his undershirt out of his jeans, and Ryan helps him get it the rest of the way off.

“Dude,” Chad says, his eyes skating over the newly-revealed skin. He’s paler underneath. Chad never really expects guys to be white all the way down. But he looks good, a hard plane of muscle on his stomach and a light smattering of chest hair. “You’re kind of ripped.”

Ryan laughs. Chad feels his muscles jump and twitch under his fingertips.

“Yeah, dude. Believe it or not, jocks don’t have a monopoly on muscle. You try practicing a dance break a hundred times a week.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles, pulling his own shirt off. He knows he looks good — he doesn’t spend four days a week at the gym for nothing — but he still feels weirdly shy when he sees Ryan looking at him, his eyes roaming over him like he likes the view. Thankfully, he doesn’t leave him hanging for long and attacks his neck with his mouth, before sliding both hands over his biceps, squeezing, then wandering to his chest. Chad’s hands trail down to his ass, pulling him closer. Ryan’s metal belt buckle digs into his stomach a little, snagging on his happy trail. That’s one of those things he still doesn’t really get about fashion: belts.

What he does get, though, is how to pull them off. He undoes it and Ryan grins and shimmies out of his pants, pulling his boxers off too and tossing them away.

Chad swallows and lets himself look. Ryan looks good enough to eat, with light, soft hair trailing from his navel to his dick. His pubes are short but not absent, he must manscape or something. His dick is nice, kind of long but not too wide, and flushed pink like it’s blushing. His balls are cute, too, round and mostly even. Is that weird? Whatever.

Chad goes to reach for Ryan's dick and pauses. “Uh,” he jerks his head, “Lube is in the top drawer.”

Ryan nods and leans over, digging around in the drawer for a minute before muttering, “Aha!” and tossing him the lube. He also tosses a strip of condoms and an — action figure? Oh, right, that’s the bobblehead he won at a basketball fundraiser at the end of last year. He kinda forgot about it. “The fuck?”

“What, is that not what you wanted?” Ryan asks, deadpan. "It was in the drawer."

Chad rolls his eyes. “Not really, no.”

"No judgement, man, whatever helps you get off."

"I'm not —" he scoffs, stifling a laugh, "I'm not getting off on a bobblehead that looks like me. I'm not that much of a narcissist."

"Sure you're not."

Chad swats at him again.

Ryan chuckles and studies the bobblehead for a moment, then tosses it back into the drawer. While he’s getting settled, Chad rolls the condom on. That's one rule he always follows: condoms and lube.

There’s something strangely familiar about it when Ryan crawls back over and kisses him. Maybe familiar isn’t the right word, but, recognizable? This is someone Chad knows, has known for years, at least in the periphery. He’s so used to being into a guy for a night, or even an hour, and then doing his damndest never to see them again. But now he has Ryan here, kissing down his chest, then even lower, to his stomach, it’s familiar even in its unfamiliarity. He thinks he likes it. His dick definitely does.

Chad groans, tilting his head back, his hair cushioning him. Ryan swirls his tongue in his belly button, then swipes it along his happy trail. His dick springs free of his jeans fully and Ryan doesn’t pause, just starts mouthing at the base, working his way up to the tip with licks and kisses. Chad’s hand goes to his hair.

When Ryan gets to the tip, he glances up, smirking, before closes his lips around his sensitive head. Yeah, that’s the Ryan Chad knows. Smug in a way that's a little infuriating because he deserves to be, because he's so damn good at what he does. It's dangerously attractive, especially for someone like Chad who might, possibly, get off on competition, a little bit.

Chad lets out a breathy moan. Ryan sinks his mouth down further on his cock. His hands rest on both of Chad’s hips, holding him more or less in place. He’s definitely done this before, with how smoothly he swipes his tongue along the underside of his cock while sucking, which, yeah, duh, of course he has. But the reality of it, of Ryan having had other guy’s dicks in his mouth, and now Chad’s is — is — kind of dizzyingly hot. Getting to see a whole new side of him is hot. He bucks his hips shallowly, trying to get Ryan to go deeper without choking him. He feels him smirk around him, pulling off far enough that only his head remains in his mouth. The rest of it is cool with spit. 

Ryan pauses, adjusting, then in one swoop he takes the whole thing. Chad feels his head hit the back of his throat and nearly comes from that, until Ryan does it again and again, his head bobbing like — well, like a bobblehead. A sexy bobblehead. He bites back his laugh and instead focuses on the warm wet suction of Ryan’s mouth. A couple minutes later, Ryan's hand is snaking down between his legs, brushing his balls and creeping further, to the crack of his ass. He shifts his hips to give him better access, which has the stellar side-effect of thrusting himself deeper into his friend's mouth.

Then Ryan pulls off, and distantly Chad hears the lube click open and fart. Ryan swears.

Chad laughs. "I forgot to warn you that thing leaks like a motherfucker."

Ryan winces. "I, um, I got some on the sheets," he admits sheepishly, holding the bottle high up so it drips down his arm instead.

"Oh, no problem, man." He shrugs.

"Cool. Sorry."

Chad chuckles. Ryan grimaces and sets the lube carefully aside and gets back to work. His hand, now slick, ghosts over the cleft of Chad's ass. Gingerly, he presses a finger in.

Chad usually doesn't make a lot of noise during a hookup, especially when they're in Des or somewhere else semi-public, but that's more a habit than a rule. Tonight, there's music bumping and Mark has started yelling about Ty'Shaun cheating him on Rainbow Road, so he figures it's safe enough to make a little sound. It's just Ryan, anyway, who's not exactly known for being quiet.

“Fuck,” he groans, fisting the sheets, as Ryan scissors two fingers inside him. “Fuuuck.”

Ryan kisses his dick again before swallowing him, so he's working him from both sides, like some sort of crazy hot surround-sound fuck machine. Every thrust brings Chad deeper into his mouth, every grind brings him further down on his fingers. When Chad wrenches his eyes open, Ryan’s eyes are closed, his eyelashes fanning his cheeks and his cheeks hollow, totally zen like there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. That makes Chad nearly nut right there.

He kind of wants to thrust deeper into his mouth just to see if he can take it, but that feels rude, so he bites his lip to try and hold back. Unfortunately — or very fortunately — Ryan is kind of awesome at this, so Chad only lasts another minute before his balls are pulling up and he’s panting, “Hey – I’m –”. Ryan just holds him down while he bursts into his mouth.

The come down is intense, like sinking a winning half-court shot in the last three seconds of the game, which he did his first semester at U of A, thank you very much. He feels just as electrified and out of his mind with pleasure, especially when Ryan adds a third finger.

Chad peels his eyes open again. If he hadn't just come, he'd be on the edge just from the view: Ryan is watching him with a look of steely determination, his cheeks flushed pink and sweat gathering at his temples. He's fisting his own cock slowly with his free hand, stopping every few strokes to squeeze the base like he needs to let off some of the pressure or he'll explode before they even get to the good part. Which is flattering, to say the least. This close, Chad can see the barest hint of freckles falling over Ryan's neck and shoulders.

Ryan seems to notice Chad staring and startles, the hand on his cock faltering. His cheeks get even more pink. It's a good color on him.

"Hey," Chad says, reaching down and trailing a hand over Ryan's bicep, "Come here."

Slowly, Ryan goes. He brackets Chad's head with his elbows, peering down at him. His eyes are a dark blue and crinkle at the corners when he smiles. His canines are sharp and a little crooked, which is the last thing Chad expected from Mr My-Daddy's-Richer-Than-God Evans. It's so endearingly human that Chad just has to kiss the smile out of his mouth. His tongue explores the shape of those sharp canines slowly, carefully.

Ryan tucks one of Chad's curls behind his ear. Their dicks are sliding around, sort of against each other but not fully grinding. After a moment, Chad reaches down and pulls on Ryan's dick. It's hot as hell and twitches in his hand. Ryan makes a surprised, choked off sound against Chad's tongue.

"Showtime, bae," he murmurs, shifting his hips up.

Ryan grins. He scoots back and settles on his heels, stroking his dick a couple times. Chad wonders what he looks like jerking off, but he tucks that thought away for another time. For now, he just watches, hypnotized, as Ryan lines himself up. He feels his head nestle against his hole and can't help the sharp gasp that gets yanked out of him.

Then, Ryan pushes inside. He takes a moment to get used to the feeling, then grabs Chad's hips and sets a pace. Chad should've guessed that the guy who choreographs shows professionally can set a rhythm, but actually feeling it is something else. He's steady, smooth and measured, and Chad already feels like he's going to come again. Give it a few minutes and he just might. He's been fucked a couple times before, even done it to himself on nights he's had the room to himself and was feeling experimental, but this blows them all out of the water. Home run, game point, touchdown.

Ryan collapses down on top of him, attacking him with his mouth, all while keeping time fucking him. Chad responds eagerly. He hasn't done it like this before; He doesn't have a rule against it, it's just that the other times he's gotten fucked were hot but impersonal. The closest he got was when a point guard from Utah State wrapped his arm around him and held him there, back to chest, and kissed up his neck. This feels different for a lot of reasons, but mostly because it feels personal, like Ryan is kissing him, kissing Chad Danforth, not just the hot basketball star from an app.

He kisses back. Ryan pants into his mouth. He wraps an arm around Ryan's neck and pulls him close, their tongues sliding together. Ryan slips out for a second and has to sit up to get himself back in, and once he does Chad tilts his hips up and wraps his legs tight around his hips, keeping him close. What's that saying, keep your friends close and your ex-enemy closer? Being inside him is probably, like, the closest he can get.

"Yeah, yeah, baby," Chad mutters against Ryan's cheek. "Give it to me, oh, Ryan, yeah." He cringes. He doesn't usually use the guy's name, if he even knows it at all, but then again it's not every day he's getting fucked by Ryan Evans.

Ryan's hips falter, then he pistons even harder inside him, fucking a moan right out of Chad's mouth. Chad tilts his hips to meet Ryan's thrusts. Ryan grins down at him. Chad squeezes his hole experimentally, and Ryan makes a high, keening sound. Oh, he likes that. He does it again and Ryan huffs a laugh, his hips stuttering.

"Uh, uh," Ryan pants, making breathy sounds right in Chad's ear. "Yeah, Chad, fuck." He shoves his tongue in his ear after a moment. The sound is staticky, too close, but it feels amazing, so he lets him keep doing it.

Chad squeezes Ryan's ass. "Come on, baby, come on."

Ryan licks his earlobe and the spot where his ear meets his jaw, and takes the challenge, speeding up. The bed is creaking under them, knocking against the wall. He's pretty sure their shadows are dancing against the shade over the window, so they're probably giving a show to anyone who happens to be walking behind the frat house right now. He's surprisingly not embarrassed, too far gone to care. He only cares about the angle of Ryan's cock inside him, the way the guy's mouth curls up on one side like he can't help but smile about it. Like he likes what he's doing as much as Chad does. Chad pulls him in for another kiss for that. They're kissing when Ryan tips over the edge.

"Fuuuck, Chad," Ryan groans into his mouth.

That's a new one, feeling a guy come inside him. Feeling Ryan Evans come inside him. He likes it, though. He likes it a lot. He feels a lazy, tired pleasure rising in him, too, not enough to come again but enough to enjoy it as Ryan pants into his mouth. He squeezes again and Ryan hiccups a moan.

"Mm," he shakes his head, "Too much."

"Sorry."

"All — good," he pants. He kisses him, pulling out of him with a wet pop. He leans over the side of the bed and tosses the condom into the trashcan.

"Bombs away," Chad chuckles.

Ryan snorts, then turns to look at him. "You need any more help?" He asks, gesturing to Chad's semi.

"Mm," he thinks for a moment, "Gimme ten minutes."

"'Kay."

He opens his arms. Ryan goes easily.

Ten minutes later, they're both asleep.

He wakes up naked, sweaty, and with the lights still on. Jonah hadn't come home at all, which he's eternally grateful for. He doesn't really want to test just how cool the guy is about gay people. Not at — 6:24 a.m.? Jesus, it should be a crime that he's nineteen and used to waking up before 7. On any other weekend, he'd be at the gym right now doing weights. As it is, he's currently trapped under a cute boy who's using his chest as a pillow. He's never had a guy spend the night before. He doesn't mind the weight, though. He doesn't mind the view, either.

He falls back asleep and wakes again at the more respectable time of 8:43. Ryan is tapping away on his phone.

"Hey," he murmurs, his voice sleep deep.

"Oh, hey," he puts his phone down, "I'm just letting Sharpay know I didn't get murdered."

"There's still time," he shrugs.

Ryan laughs, then leans closer, "Mm, I'd rather do something else if it's all the same to you."

He grins. They kiss for a while, lazy, not leading to anything, just to enjoy the company. He hasn't kissed like that since Taylor.

"You hungry?" he asks a little while later, when Ryan's stomach growls, "I have an extra meal swipe."

"Yeah, I could eat."

"Cool." He pauses, staring up at the water line on the ceiling. "So, um… How — how are you?"

"I'm good," he chuckles, carting his fingers through his chest hair, "How are you?"

"I'm good," he can't help but grin. "I'm really good."

"Good."

He swallows. Their legs are tangled together and he can feel the heat radating off of Ryan, mingling with his own. He rubs a slow line up the curve of his back. "Would you, uh, wanna do this again some time?" He asks in a small voice. "Or, like, maybe, uh, get dinner somewhere?" He cringes, feeling so lame. Normally he wouldn't bother asking, but then again, nothing about the last day or two has been what he expected.

"Chad Danforth!" Ryan says, mock-scandalized, "Are you asking me on a date?"

"Maybe? Yes?" He says, wincing. Maybe there are people worth bending the rules for.

Ryan laughs, pressing a kiss to his chest. "I'd be honored."

He thinks distantly that maybe his high school self had been right all along: rules are bogus, who needs 'em? Maybe it's better to embrace the unexpected. He throws his arm over Ryan's shoulder and tries to noogie him. Ryan squirms and swats at him but doesn't pull away.