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Where It's Always Been

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"I don't know, Saader, it's—this is too weird." Nick shifted uncomfortably on the bed, half-afraid to look directly at the TV.

Brandon's hand was warm and steady on his knee, his thumb rubbing circles into the side, brushing over the inside of his thigh, calluses rasping against the hair.

"It's not that weird," Brandon said softly, soothing, like he was trying to calm Nick down. Probably because he was. Nick was tense all over, flushed hotly red, feeling awkward and too big for his own skin.

"It's a little weird," Nick argued, trying to keep his focus on Brandon, solid and warm and right there pressed all up against his side, comfortable and casual in sweats and an old Jackets tee, and not on Brandon on the screen; just as soft-voiced and implacable, but a whole lot more naked.

"C'mon, you seriously never did this before?"

Brandon was a little skeptical, eyebrow raised, and Nick wasn’t sure who Brandon thought he had been sleeping with before, but this was definitely all new to him, thank you very much.

"Can't say that I have," Nick said, aiming for dry, and landing somewhere short of that if the way Brandon's hand tightened on his knee momentarily was any kind of indication.

He got the feeling Brandon had thought talking him into doing this in the first place would be the hard part—so to speak—and that watching the tape after something of a foregone conclusion. Nick wasn't so sure. He'd never really stopped to wonder what it would look like when he's been having sex; the sex itself was more than enough of a distraction.

"But—okay, look. I'm not going to push you, but—fuck, it's so hot, Nick. We're hot, I want you to get to see that, too. The way you sound," Brandon shivered, a short sharp shock that went right through him and set off sympathetic shudders for Nick too, and Nick realized, abruptly, that this wasn't any kind of academic or pure curiosity for Brandon. Brandon was getting off on this, obviously hard in his sweats, and shifting his weight as he tried to make sure Nick was good with all of this, like he was trying to play it cool and not pressure him.

Nick had pretty much figured that maybe Brandon was checking off some boxes, a sex-related bucket list or whatever, just something he wanted to try. He hadn't known that Brandon would react this strongly, his eyes wide, mouth partly open as his breathing sped up. Nick heard himself moan on the screen and that pulled his attention back there, glued his eyes to it as he watched Brandon from about an hour ago drag short, blunt nails down his chest, over his hips and down his thighs, studiously avoiding his dick.

Okay, that was—he hadn't known, quite, that he'd arched up under Brandon's hands, didn't think it had been so obvious that he'd tried to move just enough to get Brandon to brush the side of his palm over his dick. Hadn't known that the camera would pick up the faint sheen of moisture that was precome beading at the tip of his cock as Brandon teased him, or the slight traces of saliva from the exquisitely painful minute that Brandon had sucked his dick for before starting to record. Nick let his hand drift to his lap and got some pressure on his dick in the there and now, because now that he was thinking about it he wanted to do all of that again.

"You're so hot," he breathed, leaning harder against Brandon, leaning in a little as if that'd help him see the TV better, like he could get a better angle than the one they'd set the camera up on if he just shifted his weight some.

He heard Brandon inhale slowly, and his hand tightened again on Nick's thigh. "Are you kidding? Nick, fuck, look at you."

Nick felt a little awkward about doing that; he'd never been the type to want mirrors on the ceiling or to want to watch himself. That said, he's been near-hypnotised in the past, watching his dick push into Brandon's body, sliding in where he's so hot and so tight. He didn't think that was quite the same thing, though.

But Brandon asked him to, and Nick will always try anything Brandon wants him to; he's been pleasantly surprised more than once that way.

So he let his eyes move from Brandon on the screen to take in more of what he was doing—what he had been doing—and it was...

Not quite as awkward as it had seemed at first.

He was probably redder now than he had been then, but on screen he was naked, spread out on the bed under Brandon, and the way the flush had spread down his chest as well as over his face was clear, picked up perfectly by the camera. Nick was sweating, both of him. He reached up to rub the back of his neck, feeling fresh sweat spring up around his hairline, and he bit his own lip when Brandon on screen finally, finally bent down and got his hand and mouth back on Nick's dick. Nick remembered, vividly, how that felt. How good Brandon's mouth was, the heat and pressure, the way he rubbed his thumb down and over the side of Nick's cock, the way he palmed his balls gently, tugging just enough to make Nick even more of a wreck.

On screen, Nick moaned and arched up again, pushing his dick deeper into Brandon's mouth, fingers clutching desperately at the bedsheets. Brandon didn't even flinch, didn't back off even the slightest bit, focused on what he's doing to Nick, his cheeks hollowed out and pink with arousal, exertion.

It was easy to find that hot; he was used to being turned on by Brandon, and it's not like Nick hadn't carefully hoarded some of the more x-rated pictures Brandon had sent him over the years. There was a passworded folder on his computer with pictures of Brandon with his head thrown back and mouth open, dick jerking in his own grip, spilling streaks of white over his wrist. Brandon smiling soft and sleepy at the camera, shirtless, sweaty, nipples pebbled up tight and—if you knew to look closely, which Nick did, of course—the head of his dick just visible in the very corner of the image, pushed up against his thigh, gone soft after what Nick remembered as a particularly marathon session of Skype sex.

They hadn't seen each other in months, and Nick had wanted to take Brandon apart, had made him touch himself and then wait, touch himself and then wait again, putting it off and making him hold back for almost an hour, till Brandon was sweaty and panting and just about begging to come. He hadn't, though, not until Nick had told him he could. It still made Nick feel a little dizzy to remember; that rush of affection and power, the way Brandon just trusted him and gave his control over, let Nick do what he wanted. Nick had come twice, silent and aching, filling his eyes and his ears with Brandon even as all his hands could fill themselves with was his own flesh.

Now, they've had almost a week together, gorging themselves on proximity and the ease of spending time with someone else so familiar. Nick hadn't needed a lot of persuasion from Brandon to let him film them—with an old camera, set up on a tripod in the corner of their bedroom, one that could be plugged into a TV—or probably a VCR, if Nick still had one—but not easily to a computer. Brandon was too careful for that, which Nick appreciated.

"Okay," Nick said, and his voice sounded shakier than he'd expected it would, and now that he was really looking he couldn't tear his gaze away from the screen. "You're right, this is—really hot. Fuck, look at us."

Brandon's hand slid a little higher up Nick's thigh, scooted in further, too; fingertips stroking down over the length of his erection, pressing and dragging just enough that the fabric caught against his skin, stuck a little in the remnants of sweat and lube and everything they'd only half-heartedly cleaned up afterwards before tugging clothes back on. It would've been easier to stay naked, probably; especially if this went the way Nick thought it was going and they wound up fucking again, but he couldn't deny that Brandon had played this well. Nick would've had a much more difficult time focusing and being able to relax enough to watch the tape if he hadn't gotten dressed again in between.

"We look good," Brandon said, soft as ever. His touch was unmerciful as he brought his palm back up to Nick's waistband, finger and thumb drawing the zipper down again once he'd reached it. Nick hissed relief as Brandon carefully got his dick out, didn't even bother to push his shorts down any further, just cupped his dick in his hand as Nick slouched there, still dressed and flushing hot from how turned on he was, how—how filthy this seemed.

No one would pick that of Brandon; he was soft-spoken and polite and well-mannered and didn't at all look like the kind of man who could make you just about bite through your own lip with his careful, perfectly-aimed obscenities as he worked you over.

Not that Nick had ever done that.

More than a few times, anyway.

"I know we just did, well, that," Brandon said, taking his hand off Nick's dick to point unnecessarily at the screen with his thumb, "but watching this makes me wanna fuck you up all over again. You sound so good."

He leaned in, kissed the side of Nick's mouth, his lips skimming the edges of Nick's beard. "You look so good," his hand delved further into Nick's shorts, wrist twisting as he rubbed his thumb in light circles over his perineum, skimming over his balls on his way back out. "Taste good," he added, voice lower, rumbling in a way that set up a helpless sympathy-echo in Nick's chest as he tried to hold all the feelings in at once; affection and desire and appreciation, and he lasted about two microseconds into Brandon sucking his own fingers into his mouth in illustration before surging forward to kiss Brandon again, doing his best to crawl right into his lap.

"Fuck, you're gonna kill me," Nick said shakily.

Brandon grinned against his mouth, laughing soundlessly. He got a hand down the back of Nick's pants, groped his ass a little before pulling back again to say, "What a way to go, though."

"Your lines are so bad," Nick said, leaning in so that they were forehead to forehead, Brandon's eyes level with his, the gray of his irises looking darker than usual in the dimly lit room.

"Hey, I already put a lot of work in today," Brandon teased, and as if to illustrate his point perfectly, they both heard a louder moan coming from the TV, and without really intending to Nick turned to look as well, twisting around just in time to see his fingers vanishing into Brandon's body. He'd squirmed around down on his belly, settled between Brandon's legs, pushing three fingers deep into him, twisting his wrist and rubbing over the spot that made Brandon twitch and arch up and yell.

"I think I'm doing most of the work there," Nick said almost absently, unable to look away.

God, Brandon was so fucking hot, and while it wasn't like Nick hadn't noticed it at the time, there was something else about being able to watch them both now, being able to see everything.

He'd seen the way Brandon responded to his touch of course, but he hadn't quite seen the way Brandon bit his lip while Nick twisted his wrist, hadn't realized that Brandon's knuckles were white where he was clutching the sheets, or seen the way he'd reached out as if to get his hand into Nick's hair before letting it drop back to his side again.

The two of them were completely wrapped up in each other on the screen, moving together with the ease of long practice, easy familiarity. Nick watched himself reach up to rub his hand over Brandon's chest, sweeping it back down over skin and hair to wrap around his dick, stroking up in time with the movements of his other hand inside him, coordinating his touches until all Brandon could do was move against him, breath catching in half-hitching sobs as Nick wound him tighter and tighter.

He jumped a little as Brandon got a hand back on his dick in the there and now, his fingers wet and slippery as they curled around the shaft and slid up to tease at the head, Brandon's thumb nudging at the crown where it flared out.

It wasn't like Brandon hadn't jerked him off a hundred times before, but it felt more intense like that, somehow more pointed and poignant to have Brandon's hand on him even though he was still almost fully dressed. Even more overwhelming to feel that, while his eyes were filled with images of the two of them naked and wrapped around each other, while all he could hear was Brandon's harsh breathing in stereo and parallel, while he shifted and squirmed and tried to press forward into Brandon's touch, silently begging for more.

It felt like it only took a few seconds to get from that to feeling the pressure build along his spine and deep in the pit of his stomach, till he inhaled sharply and came in long, slow pulses over Brandon's hand, the feeling rolling along every inch of his nerves, leaving him shaky and weak. He could feel Brandon's dick hard underneath him, and Nick shifted in response, rocked his hips so that he could grind down onto him, give some of how good he felt back. Brandon's fingers tightened at his hips, digging into his skin, encouraging him to keep going.

"Hey, I could—you should let me, I can blow you again," Nick offered, his voice cracking a little, rusty and rough from the cries Brandon had torn from him earlier. He wanted to make Brandon feel as good as he did.

"Not gonna last that long," Brandon replied breathlessly, shifting underneath him some more. Brandon was usually the more patient of the two of them, the one who could make himself wait and did, but right then—he looked frantic, desperate, more than a little wild around the eyes.

Nick wondered, for a moment, about just grinding down harder, about giving in to his basest impulses and making Brandon come in his pants, no quarter given, and while it would be hot—maybe even more so than he entirely liked to admit—he couldn't quite bring himself to try and do it.

They were both a little too old for that, however hot this thing between them burned. However much Nick missed him when he wasn't around. However long it'd been since the last time they got to spend this much time together. But mostly because Nick didn't want to waste any of their precious time at home together doing laundry, and while it was true enough that Brandon almost certainly packed other pairs of pants, he couldn't quite see him stuffing a come-stained pair of sweats into his suitcase to deal with later.

That was either the benefit of or the problem with sleeping with someone he'd known for this long, Nick thought, shuffling back so that he was braced over Brandon's knees, his hands sliding down to his hips. You got to know their usual responses very, very well.

He tugged at the elastic of Brandon's pants then, appreciating the fact he hadn’t bothered with underwear, making it easy to get a hand right on him, to tug the waistband down and get his dick out. After a moment’s thought, Nick decided he wanted a little more access than that, so he got Brandon to lift his hips just long enough to shove his clothing further down, till his sweats were scrunched up at mid-thigh, leaving him bare-assed on the bed, entirely exposed. It left Brandon almost trapped; he couldn't spread his legs any further without getting rid of his clothes, but he couldn't do that with Nick's ass resting just above his knees, either. Nick looked down, just appreciating the view for a moment. Brandon's dick was hard and flushed dark with blood, precome leaking from the head, pale against the dark hair of his groin, and above that, his stomach rose and fell rapidly in time with his breath, the muscles clear and defined enough that Nick wanted to lick them, feel the skin tremble against his tongue while he drove Brandon out of his mind.

"Nick, please," Brandon said, the words coming from behind clenched teeth, and Brandon squirmed again, like he was trying to thrust up against the air, and Nick abruptly let go of any ideas more elaborate than just getting him off again as fast as possible. It wasn't like it wasn't going to be good, even if it was something they'd done before. Nick knew that 'novel' wasn't exactly a requirement. And with their soundtrack—they were still going, on the TV—this wasn't exactly something they'd done a hundred times before anyway, so he should stop second-guessing it and give Brandon the relief he was craving.

Nick was hazy on how much time had passed that they'd recorded—he didn't exactly clockwatch when he and Brandon were having sex, and the only times he did have some kind of eye to that was when they were making deeply dubious decisions about when and where to hook up and thus had to remember appointments and responsibilities for immediately after. Or, well, set alarms so that whoever was on the road got back to their hotel room in time to make curfew, more often.

And he wasn't sure how long it had been since they'd started watching, either. Long enough to get their second winds, absolutely, but considering how long Brandon had had to gently persuade him into even trying this out… well, it wasn't as if they were trying to set any records for refraction time. However long it had been, though, they probably didn't have a whole lot longer before the tape was going to run out. Nick tightened his grip on Brandon's dick—felt him shudder in response—and glanced over his shoulder one last time.

On the TV, Brandon was still on his back, knee hitched up a little to spread his legs for Nick, but Nick wasn't fingering him anymore; Nick was covering Brandon from ankle to throat, kissing him desperately while they moved together, Nick's hips working in a fast, desperate rhythm. Brandon had sucked his dick for a while, had made it hot and wet and good, but he hadn't let Nick come; he'd asked him to wait and Nick, breathless, had agreed, because he always tried to, when it was Brandon asking.

Nick had fingered Brandon until he was at the very edge of distraction, jerked him off as effectively and efficiently as he knew how, had made Brandon cry out and rock up into him, coming all over Nick's fist, all over himself, sweaty and slick and filthy. And then, as if Nick hadn't just spent the last however long running him ragged, Brandon had shaken off the post-coital haze and picked up right where he'd left off, inviting Nick to kiss him, telling him he should come however he wanted after that.

Nick wasn't particularly fussy, and what Nick had wanted in that moment was to keep kissing Brandon, and also to get off already, and he'd been perfectly happy to combine the two goals, kissing Brandon while he rubbed off on him, his dick sliding easily along the groove between Brandon's hip and thigh. That had been good, if not quite enough to get him there, so Nick had gotten his hand between them just long enough to line himself up better, got his dick between Brandon's thighs so he could thrust in there instead, quick and dirty, the head of his dick nudging up against Brandon's balls in a way that made both of them shudder.

It hadn't taken long, after that; Nick had been close for what felt like forever, and it only took the slightest amount of extra stimulation to get him over that edge. He'd pressed his face into the side of Brandon's neck as it shook through him, screwed his eyes tightly closed and panted, overheated all of a sudden by the close proximity, suddenly acutely aware of the sweat trickling down his neck, over his back, and, he suspected down the side of his face, too. Not that Brandon would mind, especially since sweat wasn't even close to the only thing sticking the two of them together by that point, but it had made Nick self-conscious, made it harder to enjoy the post-orgasm glow without feeling a little itchy.

Hopefully none of those thoughts were too obvious in his expression, Nick thought, but he definitely didn't need to find that out for sure, so he turned decisively away from the screen and let Brandon take up every scrap of his attention.

He pushed Brandon flat on the bed again, looked up long enough to make sure he had a pillow under his head, that he wasn't straining, trying to watch what Nick was doing, although the way his pupils darted away every couple of seconds was a dead giveaway that unlike Nick, he was also still watching the tape. Not that Nick blamed him; they were fucking hot.

Nick shifted around, got a better angle to work from—one that wasn't going to make his back ache, anyway—and gave Brandon a couple more soft, slow strokes with just his hand, acutely conscious of the delicate skin underneath his fingers. Brandon's dick was almost as familiar as his own by this point, but Nick never stopped noticing the heat of his body, the throb of the pulse he could feel in the vein, the way it felt cradled against his tongue, pushing against the roof of his mouth when he went down, and down, and down.

Brandon bucked up under him, pulled Nick's hair with his free hand, like Nick had taken him by surprise a little, even though he had to have seen it coming, even though Nick hadn't been subtle at all, and they both knew how much Nick liked sucking him off.

Nick had considered, for a moment, maybe stripping both of them off again, finding their toybox and fucking Brandon on his hands and knees since it wasn't like Nick was gonna get it up again any time soon, but considering how fast he'd gotten off he didn't think Brandon would be far behind, and that just seemed like more effort than it was worth. It wasn't as if they didn't have another couple of days to do that later, anyway.

"Okay?" Nick asked, coming up for air, panting a little, swallowing hard.

"Yes," Brandon said, too loud, and very fast. "I'm so—don't leave me hanging, Nick, please."

"Not gonna," Nick promised, and he licked his lips, leaned in to kiss Brandon fast, just a peck on the lips before he steadied his hand on Brandon's dick and went right back down.

He was salt-bitter against Nick's tongue as he sucked, keeping his mouth gentle, inexorably present. Brandon pulled his hair again a few seconds later, fingers wound tight in the hair at the back of his neck, encouraging him to take more, and Nick swallowed hard, felt Brandon's dick twitch in response.

"Fuck, fuck, yes, fuck," Brandon sighed, barely audible, just mouthing the words, but Nick felt them settle around his shoulders like encouragement, reassurance that this was exactly right, urging him on.

He swallowed again, let Brandon's dick push up against his soft palate, sucked harder at the head, and Brandon went tense all over, finally; coming in a long, slow wave, a series of shudders that Nick recognized and cherished, inevitable as the tide.

Nick sucked him through it, felt the fierce gladness of being able to do this, to see this and feel this chasing through him, and only rolled off once he was sure Brandon was absolutely done. They were both half-dressed still, clothing twisted around them, half-fastened, confining and sweaty and probably good for nothing but the laundry basket, but Nick couldn't bring himself to start moving to remedy any of that, not until he'd caught his breath properly.

He wriggled up the mattress far enough to get his head on the pillow beside Brandon's, brushed a kiss over his cheek before letting himself relax again, sprawled out limply on a diagonal across the mattress, Brandon's body a warm line at his side. They lay there for a few minutes in contented silence, broken only by the occasional sounds of the TV, although even that was lessened by then. Nick wasn't sure whether one of them had rolled onto the remote, or maybe the tape had run out, or maybe they'd just gotten real quiet near the end, before Brandon had rolled off the bed and gone to stop the camera. Maybe they were already post-coital on the tape, too; Nick didn't remember exactly how long that had lasted. He couldn't quite muster the energy to sit up and look at that exact moment, anyhow.

"You wanna go shower?" Brandon asked a few minutes later, finally breaking the silence. His hand was stroking slow lines down Nick's back, the tips of his fingers bumping rhythmically over his vertebrae, despite the clothing in the way. It made Nick shiver, weirdly satisfying in a way that he couldn't even begin to name, all tangled up with care and affection and half-remembered friendship rituals from childhood.

Nick did his best to stretch without really moving, a concession to the lazy, warmly satisfied lizard-brain parts of himself that didn't want to move in the slightest, and he pressed a kiss or three to the side of Brandon's jaw before answering, "In a minute."

Brandon's jaw line was a little scratchy already with five o'clock shadow, but Nick didn't mind that, it made it easier to stay in the moment, and it wasn't as if he wasn't used to it, either. About the only time he had ever gotten to feel Brandon's skin smooth and soft against his lips and his hands had been when Brandon had just finished shaving, first thing in the morning, or after Nick had shaved for him, on a few memorable occasions. He hadn't realized that would be something that got him hot, but it did.

"Leds," Brandon complained and Nick blinked fast, shook his head a little before sitting up to look at him properly. There was a tone there that suggested it hadn't been the first time Brandon had tried to regain his attention. Nick didn't usually wander like that when they were together, because they usually didn't have the time to waste.

"I'm awake, I promise," he said, and then with a rueful grin, "Sorry, what'd I miss?"

Brandon relaxed and gave him a fast grin, pulled him close for an even quicker kiss.

"The end of the tape for one," he replied, and okay, Nick was a little sorry about that, but he'd been preoccupied watching Brandon come apart underneath him, and seeing that live and in surround sound was definitely hotter than the recorded version.

Not that he was complaining about maybe having the latter when Brandon was back in Columbus and Nick was stuck with a cellphone and his own left hand.

But they could talk about what, exactly, they were going to do with that tape later, like maybe after they'd both napped and recovered, or maybe after they'd watched it once… or twice more.

Or maybe added to it. Nick was pretty sure those tapes went for a couple of hours, right?

"All good?" Brandon asked, his head cocked to one side, eyes serious and contemplative as he waited for Nick. They'd gotten good at checking in with each other like that, a carry over from when all of this had been new and fragile and they'd needed to know what worked and what maybe needed some more work.

Nick grinned back at him.

"Yeah. You were right, that was fun." He waited a beat, let Brandon shift a little underneath him, getting more comfortable since it was clear Nick wasn't going to bother moving again anytime soon after all. "I'd do it again."

Brandon gave him a much broader, deeply satisfied grin, and Nick could tell that Brandon had picked up on every level he'd been intending that sentence on.

"Besides," Nick added, unable to resist. "I guess we did tell everyone we'd be training this week. Video review's pretty important, I figure."

And Brandon was absolutely not going to argue with that, either.