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Andrew’s teeth crack through the cheap drugstore variety sucker. His eyes are trained on Neil’s wincing face, his own expression perfectly blank. There’s defiance in the action as he chews on the hard candy as loudly and purposely as he can.
“That’s not good for your teeth.” Neil had said, like he was parroting some advice he’d heard once upon a time. As if he had any standing to tell anyone what was good for them, when he was a walking trash bag of poor life choices and toxic coping mechanisms.
Was chewing on these things going to fuck up his teeth? Probably. Was Andrew going to listen to his situationship tell him what was good for him? Never. He’d work his way off his addictions how he wanted. Currently that involved nicotine patches and copious amounts of crappy candy. Sometimes gum. Sometimes a pencil. Or the straps of a racquet - his gloves, his phone. On several occasions Neil’s fingers, because the idiot had tried to take something out of Andrew’s mouth.
Twisting the stem from his mouth, Andrew flicks it across the space between them. He’s lounging on the lower bunk, Neil sitting at the desk. The spit slick piece of rolled paper catches Neil squarely in the cheek, right in the middle of a scar.
Andrew swallows the crushed bits of hardened sugar down and then speaks in a droll, uninterested voice. “Unless you’re offering to be a chew toy, shut up. Your opinion is unwanted and unappreciated.”
Tucking both of his arms behind his head, he stretches out on his back and closes his eyes. He trails his tongue along his teeth to make sure there’s no remnants of candy between them to annoy him. He knows the relief will only last a few minutes before he needs something else to fight off the longing for a cigarette.
“And now you don’t have anything to chew on. Good job.” Neil drawls as he bends over to pick up the masticated stick, flicking it into the trash. He then leans back in his chair, giving Andrew a dry look. “You’d probably leave scars, and I think I’ve got enough of those.”
Andrew cracks up an eye. “Your assumption that I don’t know how to bite without breaking skin is both cruel and unfounded.” He announces, and then closes his eyes again.
“Never said you didn’t know how, just that you probably wouldn’t.” Neil says.
Stretching out his leg, Andrew hooks one ankle over the opposite thigh. It’s an attempt to keep himself spry without putting in too much effort. He’d be cleared for light work on the court soon, and he knew both Neil and Kevin were chafing as they counted down the days. And they called him the addict. He didn’t know why he put up with either of them.
He didn’t know why he was also counting down the days. It pissed him off. He thumps his leg back down onto the bed.
“Come here.” Andrew demands without bothering to motion to where he wanted Neil to go.
Neil pushes up from the desk, dropping his pencil onto his coursework without any hesitation. He crosses the space to the bed and sits down on the very edge. Andrew ignores the curl of pleasure he feels when Neil follows his orders without question. The complication of being trusted was something he often went to war with himself over. It was not a thing to take lightly when given over to him by someone like Neil, whose trust did not come easy.
Andrew doesn’t move for a moment. He lets the silence linger, long and drawn out before he finally sits up and takes in the sight of Neil in front of him. No part of them is touching - Neil respecting his boundaries. That burns through him like pleasure too. He lifts a hand, curling his fingers into copper strands, and slowly drags Neil’s head back at an angle that shows off the line of his throat. Neil makes a small, punched out noise in the back of his throat. Andrew’s eyes rove over the stretch - the way Neil’s Adam’s apple dips when he swallows, the patch of skin beside it that looks perfectly biteable.
His eyes flick to Neil’s face, and in an unbothered tone he asks, “Yes, or no?”
The answer was always the same, but Andrew still wanted to hear it.
“Yes.” Neil’s reply is quick, eager.
The allowance settles warm in the pit of Andrew’s stomach. He pretends it’s only arousal and nothing more. He pulls on Neil’s hair a little harder as a reward. He liked that he never had to restrain Neil, it was just something Neil happened to enjoy. Andrew waits another half minute, taking his time to decide exactly where he was going to sink his teeth in first. The juncture beneath Neil’s ear would sting. The stretch of Neil’s throat, where a thick vein now stuck out on the side, would leave a vivid mark. But the patch of skin between neck and collar would throb. Neil licks his lips like he knows what’s coming. Andrew scrapes his teeth over the spot as a tease, then he turns his face and bites right into the side of Neil’s throat just shy of too hard.
Neil’s body tenses and he hisses out a sharp, “Fuck.”
Andrew holds the bite until the coil of tension snaps and Neil starts to relax. When he lets go, he cranes Neil’s head to the side by his hair so he can better display the damage. He analyzes the shape of his own teeth imprinted on Neil’s skin. He likes what he sees a whole lot more than he’s willing to admit to himself.
Neil’s skin is already flushing red, beginning to raise around the pin pricks where his incisors had dug in. Andrew swipes his tongue across his teeth like he’s chasing the taste of Neil on them.
He turns Neil’s head back towards him and asks, “Again?” He was feeling mildly generous.
Neil is half-lidded like he’s in a daze. “Yes.” is his immediate answer.
Andrew has to make a decision now on how much effort he wants to put into this encounter. The answer was always more than he should. He lets go of Neil’s hair and sits back, like he won’t be doing anything more. He could just leave it like this, with Neil’s yes buzzing between them. Neil wouldn’t complain. He’d just go back to his desk and pretend to do his coursework. Andrew could take a nap.
He slides off the bed to stand in front of Neil, eyes narrowing intently. Then he plants a hand directly into the center of Neil’s chest and shoves him back onto the bed.
“Hands over your head.” He instructs, and waits for Neil to follow his order before he plants one knee then the other onto the mattress.
He sets himself astride Neil’s hips and takes in the landscape before him. His hands encircle Neil’s wrists first, giving them a firm squeeze as a reminder. Neil was not allowed to touch unless given permission. Andrew didn’t know yet what kind of mood he was in today. Leaving one hand loose around Neil’s wrist, he plants the other on the sheets next to Neil’s head. Digging his knees firmly into the mattress, he stretches up and selects his next patch of skin to bite. He sinks his teeth into the soft inside of Neil’s arm, just above the curve of his elbow, applying a slow, deep pressure. Neil inhales sharply, his legs moving restlessly.
Andrew pulls back to inspect his work again. He lets go of Neil’s wrist, only to reach down and drag his fingers over the fresh marks he’d just made. Then he pushes his hands beneath Neil’s shirt to ruck it up over his chest. It’s tempting to leave a series of crescent marks around an erect nipple, but Neil would like that too much. This wasn’t currently about Neil’s pleasure. Deceptively gentle, he rakes his blunt nails down Neil’s stomach, before he slips down and bites into a scar near Neil’s ribs.
Neil only makes another soft sound in reply, which isn’t satisfying enough, so Andrew digs his fingers into the spaces between Neil’s ribs just to be an asshole. That gets more of a wheeze out of Neil. Andrew shifts back to sit on Neil’s legs, bending himself nearly in half so he can place the next bite on his stomach. Getting his teeth in solidly here was more difficult. Neil was toned, and Andrew hadn’t chosen a spot with much curve, but he made do. He doesn’t linger there, but the next one he digs deep into the jut of Neil’s hip on the same side.
Neil’s head jerks up off the bed as he lets out a louder, “Fuck.”
That singular word - the emphasis behind it and the way it rasps out - it does something for Andrew. He feels the first lick of real heat start to build, making a bid for his attention. He plants his feet on the floor so he can bracket Neil’s legs with his own. What kind of mood was he in? Did he want to reward Neil for behaving? Did he want to follow the path he’d started down towards the obvious conclusion? Or did he want to take that damn nap he’d been thinking about?
He watches Neil silently, eyes narrowed on the rise and fall of his chest. Neil’s face has flushed with color, his cock tenting his shorts. All of him is stretched out like an offering. Andrew curls his fingers over Neil’s knees and shoves them wide apart. He drops down to fit between them. He knows what the sight of this will do to Neil, but he also decides that isn’t his problem to care about. He chooses his next point of contact, his nose brushing against the inside of Neil’s thigh, above his knee, as his only warning before he bites him again. This time, he straddles that edge before he’d break skin.
Neil’s muscles clench, and he smacks his palms against the wall as he curses. “Jesus fuck.” His breaths burst out of him harder and faster.
Andrew holds the pressure, counting steadily in his head to ten before he finally eases off. The skin is already flushing a bright red. He presses a thumb into the mark, smearing the saliva left behind. Neil had said he had enough scars, but there’s a perverse sense of satisfaction in the idea of putting one more on him like this. Proof of himself on Neil that wouldn’t fade.
“Still think you have enough scars?” He asks, his tone dull and observational.
It’s not really an offer, but it’s also more than just an idle curiosity. He props his chin on the opposite thigh, looking up at Neil to track his face. Neil was an adept liar, but he still had tells that Andrew had become good at picking up on. Micro-expressions that he didn’t think Neil was even cognizant of.
Neil has to take a second to calm his panting before he replies, a half laugh bursting out of him. “If it’s you, I think I’d be okay with it. It’d be refreshing to have a scar I like looking at.”
Andrew knows this is honesty. Neil seemed to have little to no reservations with him, which was frankly stupid. Andrew would never admit, even at gunpoint, that this was part of Neil’s charm. He wasn’t going to commit to such an action today, but it was something to think over. There might come a time when he gave into the desire to lay claim to Neil like that.
Without a reply, he turns his face and bites down on the opposite thigh.
Neil’s whole body jerks this time, and a higher pitched noise rushes out of him. It’s that sound that really gets to him. The way it expands and catches. The near whine on the exhale. His brain spins it over on repeat, and Andrew comes to the realization that he is also getting hard. It would be amusing to leave Neil like this - worked up and wanting. Forced to re-wire his focus away from the horny buzz and back to homework. He could leave it, but Neil’s dick is also kind of right there, begging for attention.
Andrew curls his hands around both of Neil’s thighs, using that point of contact to lift his body upwards. He makes a deliberate show of where his mouth is going next, his teeth bared in a false threat of violence as he hovers over the line of Neil’s cock under his shorts.
Neil looks down at him, his eyes wide, and all he says is a breathless, “Oh god.” Like he’s bracing for the inevitable pain to follow.
Andrew gives Neil the blandest look he can muster. “Your lack of self preservation is, as ever, sickening.”
Neil’s brain was fucked to a level that proved more strange and unusual the longer Andrew was around him. Not only was Neil not arguing the possibility of Andrew biting him there, his dick had given Andrew an enthusiastic nod of approval.
“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” Neil points out.
“Freak.” Andrew hisses, a curl of affection in his tone that he refuses to acknowledge.
“You like it.” Neil shoots back.
“I hate you,” Andrew insists, a sneer on his lips.
He doesn’t bite Neil. He doesn’t linger over Neil’s crotch any longer either. Instead, he slides his way up and up, until he’s bracing himself on his hands over Neil. He leans in until their noses are almost touching.
“Stick out your tongue.” He orders.
Neil opens his mouth and does as he’s told. Andrew bites down on his tongue, half tempted to make Neil bleed. He decides at the last second that he doesn’t want to deal with the consequences of that in his own mouth, so he tilts his head and pushes his own tongue deep into Neil’s mouth. The kiss is slow and measured, before he catches Neil’s lower lip in his teeth and worries at it until he can feel how it’s grown swollen.
Andrew plants his knee into the bed again, taking some of the weight off the injured side of his body. He holds his hand out in front of Neil’s face when he pulls back.
“Spit.” He tells him, dragging Neil’s face to the side with a thumb on his cheek.
When Neil follows through, Andrew pulls his hand back and crashes their mouths together again. It’s a brief distraction as he dips his arm between them, shoving shorts and boxers down enough to free Neil’s cock. He curls his half-slick hand around him, setting a rough and quick pace.
Neil whines, long and low, his thighs shaking as he digs his heels into the bed. His knuckles are white from how hard he’s pressing them against the wall. Andrew hates that he likes this side of Neil - gasping, and whining, and squirming for him. Neil is all but undone by nothing more than a hand job. He also hates that he likes how Neil only shows this side of himself to him. Andrew knows what that means. He understands the depth of it. While some days he can acknowledge it all quietly to himself, today he isn’t feeling introspective. So he doesn’t touch Neil with kindness. He chalks his hand over the head of Neil’s cock and back down again with insistent strokes.
He breaks the kiss only long enough to growl out, “My hair. Nowhere else.” before plunging into another greedy kiss.
Neil’s hands leave the wall instantly, flying down to bury calloused fingers into Andrew’s hair. He doesn’t tug, or pull, or grip too hard. He just keeps them buried there, digits twitching whenever Andrew’s hand catches him just right. Andrew bites back any possible noise he might make.
The trouble with this, was that no matter how much he told himself not to like Neil’s touch, he craved it. Even as it made him want to claw his own skin off sometimes. His desire was always at war with reality and picking it all apart was too exhausting and unfulfilling. Still, there was Neil, and Andrew never knew what to fuck to do about him. He was the only person that could touch him without violence hijacking his system every time.
Andrew bites at Neil’s mouth again, the kiss going messy and uncoordinated. Neil was close, and Andrew had to decide if he wanted to prolong it, or just get it all over with. He draws back, getting a good look at Neil’s debauchery - his flushed skin, his swollen lips, and the raw want in his eyes. He was a satisfying sight. Andrew drops his head back to Neil’s neck and digs his teeth into the first bite he’d made.
Neil lets go of Andrew’s hair with one hand and slams it against the wall, his back bowing as he spills over Andrew’s hand. A tremble starts up in Neil’s limbs as his orgasm lingers. Andrew can taste the slight tang of iron on his tongue. He’s broken skin, and he can’t help swiping his tongue over the wound. He pulls back to look at the damage, the only points where he’d pierced skin being along the indents of his incisors. Some bruising has already started to settle in. Andrew feels a smug sense of satisfaction that he wipes off his face before Neil can see it.
He ducks his head away from Neil’s hand still in his hair and pushes himself back up to his feet. Neil is a complete mess. It’s a good look on him, but Andrew pulls his indifferent stare into place as he looks down at his cum spattered hand. He should make Neil clean it off. He’d enjoy watching that, but he’s become aware of how uncomfortable his own erection is, now that he’s not using Neil as a point of hyper focus. He wipes his hand off on the front of Neil’s shorts, purposely catching his palm over the part of Neil’s dick still caught beneath fabric. Neil twitches like he’s been shocked, his spent cock jerking in oversensitive protest.
Andrew walks away, disappearing into the bathroom.
“Can I help?” Neil calls after him, his voice husky and wrecked.
The only sounds beyond Neil’s panting breaths are from Andrew opening a cabinet in the bathroom. He appears in the doorway shortly after, tossing a box of bandaids and a tube of antibacterial cream at Neil. He aims it right at Neil’s crotch and doesn’t stick around to see if it lands.
“No.” He says, before firmly shutting the door behind him.