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All The Stuff

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It starts the same way as usual.

 

It's mid-afternoon on a Saturday, and they're making out lazily on Evan's couch, whatever B-Grade monster movie Connor's picked out long forgotten, credits rolling. Evan's sprawled out underneath Connor, hands carding through his hair, and he's enjoying the little noises Connor makes as his nails drag along his scalp.

 

Connor pulls back from Evan's mouth and shoots him a cheeky grin, and Evan knows how this part goes, because it always goes the same. Not that Evan's complaining; he loves this part.

 

Connor will say "Bedroom?" and Evan will go "Yep," and they'll clomp up the stairs to Evan's room, practically running, shucking off shirts along the way and Connor will be laughing at how eager Evan is as he trips over his own feet, and then they'll fall onto Evan's bed, still clothed from the waist down, and grind together until they come in their jeans like the horny eighteen-year-olds they are. Sometimes, if Evan's feeling particularly bold, he'll reach into Connor's underwear and stroke him until he shudders and whines and falls apart and Connor always reciprocates but Evan doesn't do it for that reason, he does it because Connor deserves to feel good, because he wants to be the person that gets to make Connor feel good.

 

But he doesn't want to do any of that today.

 

Well, he does. He obviously does. But he also wants...other stuff. More stuff. The whole thing, all of it. All the stuff.

 

And he wants it with Connor. He only wants all the stuff if it's with Connor.

 

So when Connor gives him that cocky little smile and goes "Bedroom?" as he always does, Evan doesn't say "Yep."

 

"Actually. Wait. Um. So can I like--Can I ask you something?"

 

There's a tense silence, and Evan adds, "It'snothingbadthough!" because he can't handle seeing the sudden panic that's slammed its way into Connor's eyes.

 

Connor's still eyeing him warily, but his shoulders relax a little.

 

"OK, shoot."

 

Evan suddenly can't speak. His heart is in his throat and his mouth feels like it's full of sand. His fingers twitch, and he finds himself fiddling with the hem of Connor's t-shirt, a nervous habit he's never quite been able to break, twisting it between his index finger and thumb. He can't look Connor in the eye.

 

 "Ev," Connor's voice is gentle, but laced with underlying concern. "Ev, you're freaking me out."

 

"I--"

 

He mentally congratulates himself for managing to say something, then immediately chastises himself for the fact that he's only managed one syllable, and fuck how the hell is he going to manage sleeping with Connor, actually doing this, if he can't even talk about it, can't even choke out the words. He's an adult now, he should be able to—

 

"Evan, whatever it is I can fucking take it, OK? I'm not a little kid, I can fucking--" and oh no oh no oh no, of course Connor still probably thinks he's trying to break up with him, even though he's said it's nothing bad, because that's how Connor is, he still finds it really hard to trust and paranoia is kind of his default and Evan knows that and fuckfuckfuck he needs to say something he needs to fucking spit it out and he needs to do it now.

 

"I want all the stuff," Evan says.

 

 

If Evan ever met himself, he would punch himself in the face.

 

 

"You want...all the stuff." Connor repeats.

 

Evan inhales shakily.

 

 

"Yes. Yeah. With you. I want...more. More than what we normally do. I want to...I want all the stuff."

 

 

The penny drops, and Connor's jaw drops too, which would be funny in any other situation. He flushes bright red, and the tip of his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

 

"Wow," he breathes, "Wow, um. Yeah. OK. Yes."

 

"Y-yeah?"

 

"100% yes."

 

"C-cool. OK. Awesome."

 

" So. Um. Bedroom?" Connor asks again, and this time Evan goes, "Yep," and they go through the motions they always do, they peel off shirts as they clomp up the stairs, and Evan trips over his own feet, but it feels different this time. Anticipation has settled in Evan's chest, a light and fluttery sort of feeling, not quite as all-consuming as anxiety but still enough to make him a bit shaky. Evan realizes Connor's feeling it too, because he asks when Heidi's gonna be home, and he already asked Evan that hours ago.

 

Evan knows, better than anyone, that overthinking fucking sucks, so he takes it upon himself to distract Connor as best he can.

 

He tugs Connor forward so they’re standing chest-to-chest, and kisses him, sucks the swell of Connor’s bottom lip into his mouth and bites down on it, gently at first and then harder, and wraps his hands around the back of Connor’s neck, under his hair, and Connor kind of mewls into the kiss and Evan’s brain completely short circuits at the sound. Connor’s trailing his fingertips up Evan’s spine, barely the ghost of a touch, then moving, slow and deliberate, to his shoulders and biceps and down his sides, and Evan shivers. He sinks his fingers back into Connor’s hair, pulling a little as he deepens the kiss into something fierce and desperate. When Evan opens his eyes, just for a split second, he immediately notices goosebumps on Connor’s shoulders. He’s pretty sure he’s got them, too.

 

Connor breaks the kiss, but keeps his face so close to Evan’s that he can feel their lips brush together as Connor speaks.

 

“Have I told you recently how fucking beautiful you are?”

 

Evan feels the protest on the tip of his tongue, the urge to insist that he’s not and that Connor is the beautiful one, but Connor’s been wanting him to work on accepting compliments, even if they definitely aren’t true, so instead he buries his flushed face against Connor’s chest to hide his embarrassment.

 

“I guess not in a little while?”

 

“Then I’m a total piece of shit. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

 

Evan tries to laugh it off, but it comes out too breathy and sounds more like a sigh.

 

He wants Connor to kiss him again, but he doesn't. Instead he takes Evan by the hand and walks them both over to Evan’s bed. He falls backwards onto the mattress, pulling Evan with him, so they’re both lying side-by-side on their backs, knees bent and feet brushing the floor. Connor’s still holding his hand.

 

"So, have you thought about...um...how you'd like to do this?"

 

Evan’s looking up at the ceiling, but he can feel Connor’s eyes on him.

 

"Um. Yeah. I've given it some thought." Evan licks his lips, then cheekily adds, before he loses his nerve, "I've...given it more thought than is probably considered normal, actually."

 

Connor guffaws at him, and throws an arm over his face in embarrassment.

 

"Oh my god, you fucking horndog. Wait till I tell Jared just how thirsty--"

 

"Don't you dare!" Evan yelps, and Connor laughs again.

 

"...So, what's the verdict?"

 

Evan decides that honesty has been the best policy so far.

 

"Well...when I said 'all the stuff', I really did mean…all. So. Yeah. However you, um. Want me. Is fine by me."

 

Connor's moved his arm from his face and he's looking Evan in complete awe.

 

"Are you serious?"

 

"Dead."

 

Connor takes in a shaky breath, and goes "OK. OK, fuck," and Evan feels dizzy as he realizes just how overwhelming this afternoon is for Connor, too. And how much he wants Evan.

 

 

He wants Evan.

 

 

"I think...maybe this time you could. Um. Top me? If you want?" Connor says it like it's a question.

 

 

Evan thinks he might pass out.

 

 

 "OK," he croaks.

 

Connor leans forward and takes Evan's face in his hands and kisses him again, and he can feel the tremors in Connor's fingers against his cheeks.

 

"Stop freaking out," he murmurs against Evan's lips, and Evan responds with a very mature, "No, you." He feels Connor's mouth curve into an amused smile.

 

They keep kissing, slow and languid, and Evan finds himself rolling so he’s hovering over Connor, propped up on his arms. He pulls away from Connor's mouth to drag lips and teeth and tongue down Connor's neck instead, and Connor gasps, tilting his head and aggressively shoving his hair out of the way to give Evan better access.

 

Evan had almost forgotten how much Connor likes having his neck kissed.

 

He stays there for a while, suckling Connor's pulse point, biting down gently on his earlobe, simply to listen to Connor's breathing hitch, before sinking lower, leaving a smattering of kisses down Connor's sternum, his rib-cage. He sucks a bruise into Connor's stomach, and Connor whines, and his hips buck helplessly into empty air.

 

 

Which is. Um. Really fucking hot.

 

 

So Evan grabs Connors hips with both hands, just to make sure he doesn’t move too jarringly and knock out all Evan’s teeth, and kind of mouths his way down the bulge in Connor’s jeans, and he’s not sure if that’s a weird thing to do or not, but decides he doesn’t care because Connor goes, “Mmmffffuck,” and he thinks it might be the best thing he’s ever heard Connor say.

 

He reaches for the button on Connor’s jeans, then realizes he’s not actually asked permission yet, and says, “D’you mind if I—” and Connor says “You fucking better, oh my god,”, so Evan does.

 

He works Connor’s jeans down to his knees, and Connor sort of wriggles until they’re all the way off, and Evan really wants to try that thing with his mouth again, now that there’s only the thin barrier of Connor’s underwear between them, but he’s suddenly fascinated with Connor’s legs, somehow even paler than the rest of him, long and lithe and beautiful. He skims his fingers down Connor’s thighs, past his knees, as far as he can comfortably reach, and Connor’s whispering, going “Ev…Ev, Jesus,” until Evan has to stop, and pull back for a second, because he genuinely thinks he might hyperventilate.

 

 

Evan sits back, straddling Connor’s thighs, and takes a few deep, steadying breaths.

 

“You good?” Connor asks. He reaches out and squeezes Evan’s hand.

 

“Yeah,” gasps Evan, “Yeah just. Needed a sec. You’re like. Mmm. Wow. Yep,” and Evan’s not even really sure what he means by that, so he can’t blame Connor for laughing at him.

 

“You’re still wearing pants,” Connor comments with feigned nonchalance.

 

“I should…probably not be, right?”

 

“I mean, hey. You do you.”

 

Evan strips off his jeans and tosses them in some vague direction, then resettles himself on Connor’s legs, and everything’s suddenly way more intense, because he can feel a lot more of Connor’s bare skin against his own.

 

 

“So you, like…know what you’re doing, right?”

 

“I mean…if you’re asking if I’ve um. Done this before then. I uh. Obviously haven’t. B-but theoretically, I um. I know what to—how to…I’ve done my research, I mean.”

 

“Research meaning porn?”

 

Evan makes a sort of strangled affirmative noise, then immediately thinks about punching himself in the face again.

 

“Should I even ask how often I’d find the phrase ‘long-haired twink’ in your browser history?”

 

Connor smirks as Evan splutters in indignation, stammering “Oh my fucking god, Connor.”

 

Connor grins and opens his mouth like he’s about to continue this line of thought, but shuts it quickly when Evan reaches forward and slowly trails his hands down Connor’s chest, pressing down firmly on the hickey he’s left on his stomach, then sliding back up again. He sighs and his eyes slip shut as he basks in sensation, then he seems to come back to himself, and decides that he wants to be touching Evan, too, and then he is touching Evan. He grips Evan’s knees, one in each hand, then slowly slides up, thumbs caressing Evan’s inner thighs, and it takes Evan a while to realize the moans he’s hearing are his own.

 

Connor runs his fingers over the waistband of Evan’s underwear, and says with more tenderness than Evan’s ever heard from him, “You can still back out if you want, you know. At any time. At any time. I won’t get like…shitty with you, or anything. You know that, right?”

 

And there’s not a chance that Evan’s backing out, he wants this more than anything, but he understands the weight, the importance of what Connor’s just told him, so he nods.

 

“You too. Obviously. And you, um. You need to tell me if I’m fucking anything up. Or if anything doesn’t…f-feel right.”

 

And Connor goes “Yeah,” and with that, they’re tugging each other’s underwear off.

 

It’s kind of awkward because Evan’s still sitting on Connor’s legs, and then his foot gets all caught up and he has to shift around a bit, but they eventually manage, and then Evan’s back in what’s quickly becoming his favorite spot, straddling Connor Murphy, except this time he feels Connor’s naked cock rubbing deliberately against his own, and he grinds against him with a shaky moan because.

 

Fuck. Fuck this is so much better without denim involved.

 

Connor ruts up against him, eyes closed and gasping, then his hand shoots out and wraps around both of them, and Evan’s never before been so thankful that Connor’s got really long fingers. Connor strokes them both for a while, and Evan thrusts desperately into Connor’s hand, whimpering “ConnorConnorConnor,” and Connor’s telling him that he’s beautiful, that he’s gorgeous, Evan, fuck, and Evan’s already close.

 

He quickly reaches down and pulls at Connor’s fingers, and he lets go instantly.

 

“Fuck, sorry,” he says, breathily, “Sorry, was that…? Sorry.”

 

“Have you like…got my script, or something?” Evan teases, and Connor laughs a little.

 

“No, but was that…not OK, or—?"

 

“If you’d kept going there’s no way I’d be able to stop from. Um.”

 

Connor gets it. He smirks at Evan, almost arrogantly, but his flushed cheeks give him away.

 

“So. You do have like. Lube and condoms, right?”

 

 

Evan fumbles around in his dresser drawer for everything as he answers, and as each word tumbles from his mouth he tries to will himself to shut up, to stop fucking talking, Evan, but he’s apparently in a sharing mood today.

 

“I bought everything like. The first day we made out on the couch. Like, after you left I just immediately…I mean it was still very much wishful thinking back then but—”

 

Connor cackles with laughter, choking out, “Oh my fucking god, Evan, you absolute fucking sleazy—

 

“No—” Evan begins to protest, but he quickly realizes he’s got nothing to follow up with.

 

“OK but no. Let me get this straight. You actually went into a drugstore and bought condoms and lube? You actually interacted with a cashier while buying items that can literally only be used for sex, that’s what you’re telling me?”

 

Evan fiddles with the cap of the lube and mutters, “…Amazon.”

 

Connor laughs again.

 

“S’pose I should be flattered,” he says, grinning up at Evan, and despite himself, Evan finds he can’t help but grin back.

 

“You should be. I wouldn’t purchase 'only for sex items' on Amazon for just anyone, you know.”

 

He’s obviously joking, but Connor’s face suddenly turns serious.

 

“I know,” Connor says, all honest and open and so matter-of-fact that Evan’s heart skips a beat.

 

 

Evan gets back to business. He pours out a little lube onto his fingertips and rubs them together to warm it, then shifts so his hand is between Connor’s legs. He’s not entirely sure how to get started, so he brushes a few feather-light kisses to Connor’s hipbone, and once Connor’s squirming underneath him, his breathing erratic, Evan presses his finger against Connor’s hole and caresses him there for a while. Connor’s mumbling Evan’s name like he’s in a daze, and Evan continues to kiss Connor’s hip, sometimes moving up towards his belly or down towards his thigh, and then his finger just. Slips in.

 

Evan quickly shoots Connor a look to see if this new development is OK, but Connor’s eyes are closed, and back arching slightly, and he’s still murmuring Evan’s name. As gently as he can manage, Evan slides his finger out, then back in again, and Connor gasps. He explores Connor carefully, watching his reactions as he strokes, clumsily, before deciding to try for a second finger. He meets no resistance at all, and continues slowly opening Connor up, taking mental note of every spot that makes Connor hiss and sigh, wondering if he can commit it all to memory.

 

He might not be able to remember every detail, but he knows he’ll remember Connor’s reaction, possibly for the rest of his life, when he accidentally crooks his finger upwards.  

 

A moan pours from Connor’s mouth, his entire body visibly jolting, and his thighs begin to quiver.

 

“Oh fuck,” Connor moans. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuuuck—”

 

Evan stares at Connor in awe.

 

“Is—is that your--?”

 

Yes!” Connor cries, “Evan—”

 

It’s only then that Evan notes that his fingers are still pressed against Connor’s prostate, and he’d been so focused on the expression on Connor’s face, he’d barely noticed that he’d been rubbing it in small, firm little circles.

 

He keeps going, completely entranced by Connor’s increasingly frantic moans, the way his eyes flutter and his legs shake, the way he’s grasping at Evan’s sheets like he’s in desperate need of something to anchor himself, the way Evan’s name continues to surge from his lips. His cock is bright red, glistening with precum, and Evan grabs the base of it with his free hand and squeezes, and it’s only then that Connor’s gasping, “Stop, stopstopstop—” and this time it’s Evan’s turn to pull away. He eases his fingers out of Connor carefully, and is about to apologise, because that’s what Evan does, but Connor fixes burning hot eyes on him and says, “Holy shit you need to fuck me now before I die.”

 

 

Evan’s not about to argue with that. Fuck.

 

 

His hands are shaking so badly he can hardly believe he’s able to open the condom and roll it onto his dick. He’s almost worried he’s about to have a seizure with how much he’s trembling. Connor’s absolutely not helping at all, because he keeps running his nails over Evan’s hipbones, which is Extremely Fucking Distracting and only makes him shiver more.

 

He slathers extra lube onto himself, so pent up that he nearly climaxes right then and there even though he’s barely touched himself.

 

He lines himself up, which takes a few tries and some help from Connor, and of course he apologizes about that, and Connor shushes him affectionately. He takes a moment to just let his eyes rake over Connor’s face, appreciate every feature. His lips are parted and there are dimples in his cheeks and beads of sweat in his hairline.

 

 

His eyes are so fucking blue.

 

 

Evan pushes in, inching forward slower than slow, pausing here and there so Connor can adjust, until he’s fully seated inside of him and oh my god oh my god oh my god it already feels so fucking good.

 

He squeezes his hand tight.

 

“You alright?" Evan manages, trying hard to stay still, and Connor whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, and chokes out, "Yeah, I'm...good, really good..."

 

"Can I..?" Evan asks, and Connor nods and says "Yeah," his voice thready.

 

Evan pulls out halfway before sliding back in, then repeats the motion, moving slow and gentle, and the friction, the movement almost makes him want to cry.

 

Connor hooks his legs around Evan’s waist and digs his heels into Evan’s ass.

 

“More,” Connor groans, and Evan picks up speed, rolling his hips into Connor, and Connor must really like that because he cries out, and digs his heels in harder.

 

Evan can hear almost continuous moaning, but he’s not sure who it’s coming from anymore. He thrusts faster, harder than what he thinks would be comfortable for Connor, but Connor’s meeting him thrust for thrust and moan for moan. Everything is white hot and shimmering. He feels dizzy, feels close, but he really really wants Connor to get there first, and then suddenly realizes that he’s got hands, and he reaches between them and wraps his fingers around Connor’s dick.

 

And that’s literally all it takes, the barely-there pressure of Evan’s fingers, and suddenly Connor is coming, his back bowed, his mouth open and eyes clenched shut, head tilted back in a silent scream as his body convulses uncontrollably.

 

Evan’s not far behind him.

 

And holy shit it’s good. It’s so fucking good. The best.

 

 

He stays hovering over Connor for a moment, still inside him, both of them choking in shuddering breaths. He brushes a few strands of hair out of Connor’s sweaty face, and Connor opens his eyes, then, looks right into Evan. Not into Evan’s eyes, into Evan, like he’s seeing absolutely all of him, every atom.

 

 

His tilts his head up and kisses him. Every atom.

 

 

Evan eases out of Connor, ties off the condom and tosses it. Takes a moment to clean up the mess on Connor’s stomach, bats his hands away when he tries to take the damp cloth from Evan to do it himself.

 

He snuggles back into the too-small bed next to Connor.

 

There’s so much he wants to say.

 

How fucking good that was, how much it meant to share that experience with Connor, how beautiful Connor is.

 

Mostly, he just wants to tell Connor that he loves him. They've not...actually ever said that before. It's been something unspoken, something they've both just known, but been too scared to say. And Evan really wants to say it now.

 

But the room is peaceful, and quiet, and warm. Connor is holding his hand. And part of him doesn’t want to disturb this moment, this perfect snapshot.

 

He’ll keep that thought for later.

 

They have time.

 

They have so much time.