Chapter Text
“You’ve really never had anyone kiss you like that?”
11:50 pm, the clock on Rob’s side table displays.
“No.”
“I’m delighted to be your first.”
Andrew leans his head against a pillow as Rob spoons him in his bed. No moonlight nor artificial light leaks through his window; only the dim glower of Rob’s digital clock he could see, and that barely. Rob’s head rests only a few inches from the back of Andrew’s, just so he could feel the warmth of the older one’s breath through his hair and down his neck. It was soothing, almost sedative, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of excitement from that first kiss. To Andrew’s dismay, they spent their time afterwards idle, only rising from the couch to move to the bed; apart from a fleeting, unsatisfactory kiss from Rob before they relaxed into the position they’re in now.
“Do you love me?” the younger one questions softly.
Rob takes a moment to reply, sensing the naivety of this question and considering how to answer it. “Of course I love you,” he decides.
“… Really?” Andrew seems unsure of the reciprocation.
“I promise, sweetheart, I’ll always be there for you,” Rob reassures the younger, squeezing his waist for emphasis. Promise is a nice word, and so is sweetheart, therefore it feels authentic.
Andrew felt at the time, somehow, this is what love is meant to be like. Rob holding him so comfortingly, carefully producing friction against his back and sides, just so. He’d find eventually, that love can stretch far past the possibilities of nonchalant cuddling.
Andrew sits atop a lawn chair on the balcony of his apartment, admiring the setting sun in all its glory. It happens to be the last warm night of the summer, so he’d better spend it wisely. He always wonders how clouds manage to look surreal as they do, regardless of how messily they’re painted across the sky. Lightly brushed against the dusty pink and orange of the late evening were a few spots of navy blue clouds, leftovers from the partly sunny day before. The orange on the horizon shifts to yellow, then to pink, then to blue and purple as Andrew raises his head up. Just beyond his field of view were glittery beginnings of the night sky, early stars taking their place in the heavens.
As Andrew lets his mind wander, he thinks about school. This past session was a drag, as per usual. Rob didn’t talk to him as much as he would’ve enjoyed during choir, and this bothered him to no end. His mind kept wandering to that night the day before last, when he’d fallen asleep in Rob’s arms and woke up in the same position. Rob drove him to school that morning in his old, janky car with worn leather seats and a defective ABS. It was really the best time he’d had in years.
“See you later,” he told Andrew, at the same place they had met. Rob passed him a light kiss on the nose, and off he went, leaving Andrew alone again. Through first, second, third period, all he could do was replay the night in his head. Taking his thoughts captive were Rob’s eyes, the particular way he smiles at Andrew, his hair and his dimples and his glasses… Andrew leans his head against the lawn chair’s back and sighs. Someday, he wishes, I’ll get Rob all to myself.
“Hey, bud, whatcha doin’ out here?”
Andrew’s head shoots up. He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep, and the night was fully upon them, stars glimmering in the pitch-black sky. “Enjoying the breeze,” he answers quickly.
His dad chuckles, throaty and cheerful. “At the stroke of midnight?”
“I must’ve taken an unplanned nap,” Andrew notes, matching his father’s tone.
He laughs again, fully entering the balcony and sliding the door behind him.
Andrew’s dad is tall and sturdy, not too lean and not too beefy. His five o’ clock shadow captures his jawline in just the right manner, and the way his jet-black hair swings around his neck confirms his formerly held Great Haircut. A man almost deprived of his physical glory, and still thriving. He’s wearing a shirt vertically striped light blue and white, and matching pants. He’s also barefoot, but Andrew knows that’s often so.
“How was your night with that Rob you texted me about?” he asks.
“Good,” Andrew answers, not too keen on revealing the nature of their relationship to his own father.
“That’s nice. You thinking about seeing him again?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s exciting. I’m glad you’re opening up to people, kiddo.”
“I’m not opening up to people. He’s just lucky.”
Andrew’s dad shakes his head in dismay. “Right, then. Get to your bed, please, you have to wake up early tomorrow.”
His son sighs and stands up, dusting himself off.
“Night, dad,” he mutters as he slides open the door and trails back into the apartment. When he reaches his room, he flops onto the bed and shuts his eyes, almost immediately falling into stupor, yet again.
“I’m really trying.”
A promise, he mumbles, driven nearly to tears. Andrew knows he’s not good at sex, but he’s trying. He’s trying because he loves Rob, and Rob loves him, and this is what it feels like.
Actually, it feels more like what he imagines death feels like. Painful and bittersweet, because he knows this is a moment that can’t last. Awkward, because he doesn’t know what he’s doing, as if the glistening slobber on Rob’s dick doesn’t display that perfectly.
“Come on, you can do better than that,” Rob eggs him on, not quite aggressive, but enough for Andrew to convince himself to take in the older’s length again.
I am not going to gag, I’m not going to gag, I’m not going to gag.
He gags, practically regurgitating Rob’s dick as he pulls back.
“How pathetic do you have to be to try three times to give me a blowjob and fail all three times?” he questions, a strained look painting his face. Rob peers down as Andrew plants his face on the soft fabric of the bed. The younger one chokes out a sob.
From the perspective of Rob, the situation was embarrassingly sexy. The plain idea of Andrew trying to fit his cock in his mouth and just failing made it harder, and it likewise became harder to contain his arousal.
“Here, I have an idea,” he tells Andrew, who lifts his head up from its depression curiously.
“I want you to try your very best, and I’ll help you this time,” he murmurs, curling his lips into a small smile, which he made an effort to look genuine. Andrew makes a noise of acknowledgement to this, unsure of how this ‘helping’ is going to play out.
Rob cups Andrew’s face in his hands, and guides his dick back into the younger’s mouth. Andrew begins to suckle on it again, as Rob places his hands behind the boy’s head.
When he inevitably can’t take the itching at the back of his neck and begins to gag, Andrew’s head is held there helplessly. When he squirms in discomfort, it remains in place thanks to Rob. He opens his own mouth in an attempt to express his discomfort, but he feels saliva drip over his bottom lip and he can’t talk anyways, so he closes it again, defeated.
Despite Andrew’s incapability to get him off, Rob practically beams down at the boy as he lets small grunts emerge from his mouth.
“Come on, keep going…” He murmurs, pushing Andrew’s face further into his crotch and letting his leg grace his shoulder. Andrew whines in response, struggling harder to pull back yet again, and yet again failing.
This cycle repeats itself until Rob cums, quite weakly and without warning. Nonetheless, Andrew chokes, and is released from Rob’s grip. He pants heavily on the floor, spit dribbling out of his mouth and tears forming at the corners of his eyes, as he hacks up a mixture of Rob’s cum and his own mucus.
“I’m gonna vomit,” he moans ashamedly, squirming up to the trash can sitting beside Rob’s bed.
Rob is simply an onlooker, putting his dick back into his pants as Andrew spills his insides into the container, taking in a copious portion of air every time he heaves, till he’s unable to throw up again. He looks upwards to Rob after this occurrence, who mutters, “Take your time.”
Nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t the cause of Andrew’s vomiting spell.
“You told me… You told me…” he breathes, fully formed tears now running down his face. “You told me this would be great…”
Rob frowns. “You’re a beginner, Andrew, I can’t stress this enough. You don’t know what you’re doing, so of course it’s not going to be great.”
Andrew doesn’t have much to say in response, so he lets out a strained sob. “My throat hurts.”
The elder one has to fight the urge to call him pathetic again as he glowers at Andrew. He sighs, leaning downwards to place his hand on the other’s shoulder. “Come up here, and we can go to sleep. Okay?”
Rob’s eyes meet Andrew’s and he nods, standing up shakily and letting himself melt into Rob’s embrace, letting Rob snake his hands under his shirt and up his back, offering one last kiss which Andrew accepts eagerly. Rob lulls him to sleep with back rubs and soft murmurs of endearment, letting him forget about this pain and embarrassment for the time being.
The digital clock on Rob’s side table reads 12:03.