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People say habits start because the brain loves shortcuts. When you repeat something often enough, your brain looks for ways to save energy and puts that action on autopilot. It doesn’t care if the shortcut helps or hurts you, it only cares that it’s fast. It starts with a trigger: something that sets you off. Maybe you’re bored, you spot a bag of chips on the counter, or you’re about to watch your favourite show. Then comes the action: you do the thing almost without thinking. You grab the chips, open the bag, and start eating. Finally, there’s the reward: a little burst of pleasure or relief.
The chips taste good, and the boredom fades for a moment. Your brain loves that feeling, so it links the trigger and the action even more tightly. The more you repeat the loop, the more automatic it becomes, and that’s why stopping is so hard. But chips would be good in this case, anything would be better than the bad habit he had now. Dean knows this better than anyone. The need to be near Charlie has become its own loop: trigger, action, reward. A public debate finishes; they grab drinks. Charlie laughs, Dean drifts closer, searching for that clean, expensive scent clinging to his collar.
Dean is in love, or he likes to think he is. The tension between the two satisfied something carnal within Dean, it made him want to sin beyond the point of no return. Every time Charlie looked at him with those alluring eyes, how they shone under the neon lights like the stars on a clear night, it only lured Dean in deeper.
“Hey, Dean?” Charlie’s voice cuts through the music. Dean looks up, caught where he had been quietly zoning out. Another reflex he can’t unlearn: always answer Charlie first. Dean gave Charlie a small smile, as if quietly asking him to ask his question, another habit he has fallen privy to. Charlie smiled when he realized Dean looked up, and asked his burning question. “What does ‘fetus’ mean in Latin?”
Dean paused, a little caught off guard by the question. He set his drink down, tilting his head as he pondered the question for a few seconds. ‘Fetus’ in Latin? He shrugged, he doesn’t know Latin, how would he know? Was this meant to be a rhetorical question? “I’m not sure, what is it, Charlie?”
Charlie’s smile only widened, the kind of smile he never lets anyone else see due to being made fun of during a debate. Oh, how Dean loved the way his lips curled, how they raised to reveal his rows of teeth. That was a smile he would die for, and damn anyone who thought it was ‘creepy’. “It means little human being.”
Dean huffed out a quiet laugh, he knew better than to argue with Charlie on this kind of thing. He sat up in his chair, patting Charlie’s back with clear amusement in his own eyes. “Come on, what happened to the ‘no debating while drinking’ rule, huh? Save that for the stage.” Dean slurred slightly, his fingers tingle with excitement as they linger on Charlie’s back.
Dean bites his lip as Charlie laughs, raucous and endearing. His eyes soften, his hand slowly slides down to his mid-back before he finally pulls away. Shame filled his heart, but the other man’s laughter seemed to soothe the worst of it. Dean laughed along, yet it was quieter than usual, like it was a sound only Charlie was allowed to hear. Sometimes Dean wishes he could take a picture, to fully engrave the moment into his mind, to be able to sketch the scene behind his eyelids. He wants to be able to close his eyes and still be able to see the love of his life laugh like they both didn’t have a care in the world. Their responsibilities faded from view with each drink, the lines of love and lust began to blur.
Maybe they are one in the same, love and lust. You can have lust without love, but you can't have love without lust. Charlie is straight, and Dean doesn’t know what he wants anymore. But something within both of them begins to crumble, something needy begins to resurface. It’s almost funny how quick Dean’s mind can switch from overwhelmingly sweet thoughts about Charlie, to ideas of how he can bend the other man over. His teeth on Charlie’s neck, finger tips gripping at what he could grab, his tongue tasting that enticing pale skin. The image of Charlie’s legs over Dean’s shoulders? That was his tipping point. His jeans began to become tight, and clothes began to seem like they were smothering him. He couldn’t be here, couldn’t be near Charlie, or else he would do something stupid.
He excused himself, saying he needed to use the bathroom. The bar wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t empty either. Dean was hoping, praying, there would be no one there. He walked away before Charlie could question him, Dean pushed the door of the bathroom open, scanning to see if anyone was there before opening a stall and trapping himself inside. He unzipped his pants, his hand grabbing his cock like he wished it was someone else. He imagined it was Charlie’s hand, ignoring the guaranteed shame he would feel when he was finished, he just couldn’t ruin their friendship over something stupid as lust. His lips fell open as he slowly began to pump into his own fist, his head falling back against the stall’s door. He raised his other hand, putting a fist to his lips to stop him from making noise. And, for once that night, he finally let his mind wander with complete abandon.
He was crossing a line, even if Charlie would never know it. The problem was, Dean did. And the next time Charlie laughed, or threw an arm around him, or leaned close to talk over the music, Dean would remember this and wonder if the guilt on his face was visible to anyone else. But all he could think of was Charlie's mouth around his cock. He didn’t seem to hear the bathroom door swing open, his drunken haze chasing the pleasure from his own hand like he needed it to live. Soft moans escaped his lips, his saliva coated the fingers covering his mouth as gentle footsteps began to walk towards Dean’s stall. There were a few moments of silence, only the sounds that could be heard were Dean’s whimpers, before a familiar voice called out.
“Dean?” Charlie’s voice came through the crack of the door, and Dean’s heart stopped in his chest. Dean quietly gasped, his hand pausing for a moment, before slowly continuing. He was so close, he couldn’t stop now. If he was sober, he would have stopped and lied, saying he needed to piss. But Dean was too drunk, too needy. Charlie wasn’t an idiot, he knew what Dean was doing, but he couldn’t find it in him to feel embarrassed about it.
“Do you want help?” Charlie asked, and Dean felt like his whole world came to a stop, his heart rattled against his ribcage like a bird begging for freedom. Did Charlie really mean it? Should they really do this? Dean didn’t have time to think about it logically, since his hand was already unlocking the door. Charlie slipped inside, his hand being quick to replace the hand on Dean’s cock. Dean grunted, his eyes closing from pure pleasure. Dean raised his hands, placing them onto Charlie’s arms, and letting his head fall and rest on Charlie’s shoulder. His fingers curled around the other man’s sleeves, his hips jutting into Charlie’s hand.
Dean’s breath was hot against Charlie’s neck, his tongue finally peaking out to get a taste of that beautiful skin he has wet dreams about. Charlie quickens his pace, whispering gentle nothings into Dean’s ears, Dean felt like his head was spinning and he couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol or whatever this was. Dean came, his eyes rolled back with a quiet groan, his sounds muffled by Charlie’s shoulder. White spots danced around his vision, his mind going blank as his body shook lightly from his orgasm. Even if he came on the other man’s hand, he still kept moving, not stopping until his cock twitched with every movement.
“Are you good now?” Charlie murmured as Dean’s hands slowly began to uncurl, and he finally let go of the younger’s twitching cock. Dean, still recovering from his orgasm, could only form out a tiny ‘mhm’. Charlie hummed in response, before turning Dean around and pulling the man’s pants down to his knees. Dean put his hands on the wall, arching his back like he knew what was coming.
Charlie rubbed Dean’s cum onto his little unplucked hole, testing the tightness with his middle finger. Dean tensed, sucking in a breath at the intrusion, but he couldn’t look back. This position was embarrassing, it had his cheeks flushed. Charlie’s finger inched in slowly, making Dean’s body tremble from the unfamiliar feeling. Dean didn’t know how to feel about it, it was new and odd, but he couldn’t help but like that it was Charlie doing it. Charlie spit on his hand and used it as lube, removing his hand which led to Dean whining in response. Charlie was quick to shut him up though, shoving his own hardened cock into Dean’s ass.
Dean cried out in shock, the pain was unimaginable, but he couldn’t help but arch his back against the other man’s cock. Charlie put his hand over Dean’s mouth so he didn’t make a single sound as he bottomed out, and began to pound into him without hesitance. Dean’s eyes flooded with tears, pain and pleasure mixing hand in hand in a way he didn’t know was possible. He didn’t try to run, he was happy right where he was, being used by the love of his life in a bathroom stall.
Dean’s whimpers were muted by the hand covering his mouth, and Charlie’s grunts were animalistic and loud. He was going fast, in a way that Charlie’s cock hit Dean’s G-spot a few times. It was blinding from how good it felt for both of them, Dean’s once flaccid cock was back to its hardened peak, he knew he was close again. He grabbed his cock, jerking himself off as Charlie continued to slam into him.
Charlie himself was getting close too, and a few more seconds of this had him cumming right into Dean’s ass without a single word. Dean came shortly after, his asshole tightened a few times, as if attempting to keep every single drop within him. They stood like that, breath mingling and their pants were the loudest thing in the bathroom. Charlie moved after a few moments, slipping out of Dean and using some paper to clean himself up, before passing some to the other. He helped Dean come, but that doesn’t mean it should be anything more than that.
Charlie left first, Dean could hear the tap turn on and Charlie washing his hands, as if to clean the sin off, and then the bathroom opened and closed. Charlie left. Dean’s shoulders slumped, the shame and fear began to settle in. Was what they just did right? Dean was gay, that much was confirmed by the scene of events that just happened, but he knew Charlie was straight by a long shot.
Dean stayed there for a few more moments, cleaning himself up for the outside world. His movements were almost robotic, and when he finally stepped out of the bathroom the environment of the bar seemed different, like everyone knew his sin–as if they could smell the shame and sex radiating from his pale skin. He sat down next to Charlie, who seemed to go on with his life like nothing happened, not a single thing betrayed what they had done in the bathroom. Dean had sobered up quickly, and he decided it was time to go home. But, just as he was about to announce his leave to his companion, Charlie slid a drink towards Dean.
Charlie didn’t look at the other man, he didn’t dare, but he stared off at his drink like it had personally offended him. He picked the cup up for a second, gently swirling it in his hand to watch the liquid ripple against the glass. He paused for a second, before finally drank the entire thing, and spoke with that same gritty voice he used during debates. “You know I'm not one of those-...”
“Me neither.” Dean replied after Charlie had trailed off, lying through his pearly white teeth. He drank his own shot, already signaling the bartender for yet another round. The bartender nodded, already pouring the drinks. Charlie looked at him with a look of questioning, as if surprised Dean was supposedly straight. Charlie’s shoulders relaxed just a little, he didn’t bother to justify his actions in the bathroom, didn’t bother to dig deeper on why he did what he did. He was straight, so was Dean apparently. He decided to bring up the mood, not wanting the mere quickie between two friends. “If you really aren’t a fag, go ‘round and pick a girl up.”
Dean almost tensed at the slur, but the alcohol in his system made his body lazy to move. He sighed, knowing if he didn't do this then Charlie would tease him endlessly. He looked around, and spotted a good-looking girl. He sent an apprehensive look to Charlie, before getting up and walking up to the girl and her friend that sat next to her, and leaned against the table. He didn’t really know where to start, his mouth moving before he could say anything as his gaze directed to the girl’s friend.
“My friend over there likes you, said he’d buy you a drink.” Dean blurted out, and immediately regretted it, what else was he supposed to say? He didn’t know how to flirt, he was gay and in love with his straight friend, he was doomed from the start. He swallowed thickly as the blond girl shifted from Dean to Charlie, who was watching them with a curious look. She smiled, blushing slightly, he was her type just from looks alone.
She stood up, walking towards Charlie without giving Dean a second glance. Charlie straightened as the girl approached, his grin widened as he motioned for the bartender to pour her a drink. Dean felt something sour rise in his throat. He’d offered her up on a silver platter, and Charlie was actually taking it. Dean stayed frozen, fingers tightening around the edge of the table. He looked at Charlie for a few moments, before fully deciding to leave.
Dean paid his side of the check, and finally headed out. He hoped Charlie would call out, ask him to stay just a little longer and push the girl away, but it was a childish wish he was stupid for letting cross his mind. He went home by taxi, and by the time he was in his bed it was well into the early hours of the morning. He tried to sleep, he really did, but the events of tonight ran through his mind nonstop. How Charlie jerked him off, and then came into his ass like he was trying to breed him, those animalistic grunts would never be forgotten.
He sat up from his bed, the sun only beginning to peek through the blinds as he rubbed his eyes. He hasn’t slept a wink, and he spent the entire time pacing around in the living room as he thought about what happened. Dean sighed quietly, going to his desk and sat down. He should do some work, he had to go live today, even if he really didn’t want to be. It was his job. He opened his emails, going through them before noticing one offering a job in Utah.
He bit his lip as he read through the email, it was a perfect opportunity to get away, even if he would be doing work anyways. How would Charlie respond? How would he feel if Dean was so far away? Would he even care? Dean shook his head, trying to get the thoughts of Charlie out of his mind, Charlie wasn’t gay. He said so himself. Dean’s hands go quick to work, already making a professional reply. He was going to accept this, and he was going to get away from Charlie before he could want him again.