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knowing better

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With a heavy sigh, Techno dropped his pen. It bounced, rolling across the coffee table. Stretching, Techno clasped his hand and pulled them over his head. He leaned back, shifting his weight in over the couch. He pushed his back to it, using gravity to loosen his spine.

Releasing his hands, he wiggled his shoulders. Using the couch for support, he relaxed his stiff muscles. The pleasant pull and tingle of a refreshed body made him yawned. Clapping his hand over his mouth, he settled back onto the carpeted floor. The couch acted as a backrest.

His assignment stared at him from the pocket-marked coffee table. The open textbooks and partly scribbled notes swum in front of his eyes. They blended together in a sea of ink and paper. The half-full coffee mug and mostly-eaten box of cookies did not ease the existential dread of a frustratingly incomplete assignment.

Crossing his legs, his right knee bumped into Type who rested his head on the table. His brow furrowed and nose scrunched up, Type looked ready to throw in the towel.

“Damn Champ, abandoning us for some girl,” Techno whined, “He’s probably rolling around —” He waggled his brows and shoulders suggestively rather than finishing his statement.

Type chuckled dryly. Sitting up, he intertwined his fingers and turned his palms to the ceiling. Stretching, he remarked, “Well, he doesn't have to be the only one dancing between the sheets.”

“Haha, is that an invitation,” he parried reflexively.

Type winked and smiled lazily like a self-assured cat laying in a patch of sun. Continuing to stretch, his shirt rode up his stomach and down his arms, showing off his abs and biceps. Wait, was he flexing?

Techno blinked. As dense as he generally was, there was only so few platonic ways one could take that response. Combined with Type flexing his abs (no way they were that defined without flexing) and that gleam to his eyes.

“If I didn’t know any better.” He grinned, kicking his nerves in the face. “I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”

“So you finally noticed,” Type said, lifting his brow to emphasize his words. “If you didn't by now, I was gonna give up.”

Techno swallowed. “What?”

Asking him if he’s joking would be fucked up, right? Techno just about mentally shouted.

He knew his best friend preferred men. Hell, he helped him get a guy in more than one occasion. Except they normally joked around a lot and Type’s sexuality never affected their banter beyond and nobody few pronoun changes.

“I have been,” he explained. Crossing his arms, he broke apart his sentence. Slowly and deliberately, he said, “flirting with you for the past two weeks or give or take.”

Techno angled his head. Craning his ear to the right, what he heard confused him. Hadn't Type been pretty normal? Sure, Type teased him more often recently, was more physical with him, and offered to pay more…

Oh, shit. Type was flirting with me, he realized.

He stared at Type like he was seeing him for the first time in ages. Exposing his forehead, Type’s fringe was styled to make look sharp. Their hours of fruitless work loosened strands that framed his thick eyebrows and smug mouth. He oozed confidence like he knew was handsome. And Techno figured he way in manly sort of way.

Type wore a plain blue shirt, but he would have looked good in a sack. The bright color contrasted nicely with his darker skin and the fit highlighted his muscular chest. Techno noted despite his relaxed aura, his arms and shoulders were high and tight.

Immediately, Techno’s attention darted up to Type’s face. Hints of that tension shown in the corners of his eyes and smirk. Techno blinked, progressing.

He’s nervous? Techno’s brows knitted together. Something odd and different and new roamed in his chest. A creature he couldn't identify that was figuring how if it belonged in Techno.

“Well?” Type drawled.

He shifted his weight sideways. Leaning forward, he placed himself in Techno’s line of sight. His expression was still smudge smug. Peering up at Techno, his eyes scanned Techno’s face.

“What?”

“Well,” Type repeated, straightening up. “My offer’s still on the table.”

Even to his ears, his words sounded dull. Techno said, “The project.”

“Ai Champ already bailed. We have another week before it’s due.” Type shrugged, nonplussed. How he bit his lips gave away his…

Nerves, Techno settled on.

He was nervous too. Reading between the lines wasn't his strong suit, but asking directly if Type liked him was too much, right? His stomach twisted and knotted. The unknown emotion prowling his chest didn't help.

Type’s words thrusted him from a 101 course to an upper division. He was still wrapping his mind around seeing Type romantically… the thought of sex was several levels above his current consideration level.

“Yeah,” he mumbled to fill time.

“Wanna start with a kiss?” Type asked, but it sounded a bit like a plead. His words frayed around the edges in ways that tugged at Techno’s natural protective instinct. It was almost refreshing to hear Type uncertain.

Techno nodded before he realized it.

Type shoved the coffee table away with his foot. With the extra room, he twisted to face Techno. He leaned forward slowly. If Techno really wanted, he could dodge.

The unnamed feeling in Techno’s chest lifted its head with interest. Something soft and sweet in Type’s brown irises… His heart sped up.

Their mouths met. Type’s thin lips were surprisingly soft. His tongue traced Techno’s mouth. Rather determined, he sucked Techno’s lower lip into his mouth. Dragging his teeth lightly over it, tingles ran down Techno’s throat.

He pulled back a moment later. It lived somewhere between a peck and a French kiss, but it was more than enough to show was Type was a good kisser. They kissed for maybe thirty seconds, but the air was different now. It was charged with untapped potential energy.

If Techno had to guess, Type watched him with furrowed brows with caution.

Techno rolled his lips between his teeth thoughtfully. The mild hint of enjoyment hummed his throat. Yup, definitely a good kisser. He could still feel Type’s lips.

Type cocked his head questioningly.

Shit, what am I supposed to do? Techno did the emotional equivalent of running around in circles. Like, Type likes me, right? Or at least wants to fuck me?

The weird creature in his chest decided digging into his heart was a good idea. Tatata. His quickened heart helped not at all. It beat almost painfully in his ears, but a part of him could have mistaken edge it for anticipation.

Or be fucked by me? His brain babbled. We’re friends. But like, friends don't kiss.

Does he want to date or just sleep together or… isn't it messed up to sleep with him when I’m so confused? I don't even know if I like him?

From the way Type’s brows jumped, Techno realized said the last set of thoughts aloud. He clapped his hands over his mouth. His teeth vibrated from the sudden force.

“Shit.”

Shaking his head, Type teased, “You don't have to like someone to sleep with them.”

Techno squinted. Shoving Type’s shoulder, he hissed, “I’m serious.”

“I’m giving you permission to take advantage of me,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “Sure.”

Averting his gaze, he mumbled, “I’d like if we dated, but sex is nice.”

“If end up dating then that’s great.” He peeked at Techno, measuring something that Techno was clever enough to figure out. “If not, then I get a nice memory.”

“Wait.”

The unknown emotion in his chest drew up his hackles and hissed and Type’s phrasing. He gestured stop with both hands. Squaring his jaw, he inhaled deeply.

Techno declared, “You.”

“You shouldn't put yourself down like that,” Techno lectured. “You deserve than a nice memory.”

Type chuckled. His shoulders trembled from his poorly contained laughter. He didn't stop for several long seconds while Techno remained overwhelmed.

“Ai No, you're great,” he voiced between his amusement. Brushing an imaginary stray hair away from his face, Type smiled more sincerely than he had been earlier. He hummed, “I’m fine if it ends up a nice memory but I intend for it to be a starting point.”

“Oh.”

His feelings slowed like his brain was trying to understand something his heart ready did. The unnamed emotion in Techno settled in his heart, dislodging things as it made itself home. Weird enough, he felt like his heart wasn't trying to escape his chest anymore.

Resting an arm on the couch cushion, the picture of cool and unbothered except Type kept bringing up the topic every conversational lull. He asked, “So, do you—”

Type paused, thinking better of his sentence. He suggested, “Want to kiss again?”

Techno bit his lip. The creature in his chest hesitantly preened the idea of kissing Type. Its claws remained unsheathed just in case. What the fuck was it? Nerves? Anticipation? Some feeling he wasn't ready to face yet?

He nodded. If Type gave him permission, then what excuse did he have? Kissing was nice. If Techno didn’t have an issue yet, why not go with the flow?

Turning to get better access to Type, he swore. A sharp pain jolted from his shin to his brain. He bent over, rubbing it where it banged into the coffee table.

Type snorted. Pointing to the couch with his head, he cocked a brow questioningly.

Techno nodded.

They both pulled themselves up onto the brown seats. Techno sank slightly into the worn out cushions. They shuffled until they faced another. A few awkward seconds of arranging their knees and legs later, Type grabbed his neck.

They kissed again; this time less tentative. If earlier was a pop quiz, this was test. They moved against another with more urgency.

Techno explored Type’s mouth. He tasted like black coffee and cookies. His tongue ran along Type’s teeth. He always thought French kissing was weird the handful of things he’d done it, but this… this was pretty nice.

When he pulled back, Type chased him. Techno moaned from the teasing nibbling on his lips. Their ministrations did things to Techno. A heat traveled to his stomach.

Type’s hands gradually snuck down from his neck. His left pinched Techno’s nipple (sending electricity to Techno’s brain) before settling on squeezing Techno’s ass.

Techno grabbed Type’s ass for something to do with his hands. The cheeks filled his hands nicely. It was firm and surprisingly enjoyable to squish.

With his right hand, Type tugged on Techno’s belt — a request. Another tug transformed it into a plead. All the blood used for worrying rush straight to Techno’s dick.

Pulling back, he hissed, “Yes.”

Type unbuckled Techno’s belt. Sliding out the belt, in the same motion, he yanked Techno’s jeans off his hips. His fingers ghosted Techno’s cock, making it sing with desire. Smirking, he reached into Techno’s boxers and stroked the Techno’s length.

Type dragged his thumb over Techno’s slit and down a vein. His nail promised pain but never delivered. Something about that potential… His strokes tugged a little to far from Techno’s body. A mild pain mingled with the pleasure in Techno’s belly.

A part of Techno wondered if he should complain, but his lower half had no qualms about this. Heat pooled in Techno’s groin. His dick hardened from Type’s input more than his own.

He snapped out of it. Type was touching him all that he wanted, but Techno had frozen in enjoyment. They had stopped kissing which he could fix.

He sucked on Type’s upper lip. His hands immediately moved to remove Type’s jeans. Techno was definitely thinking without something other than his brain. The budge in his palm just encouraged him to yank harder.

Pulling away, he hissed, “Yes.”

Holding another guy’s dick was weird. Not necessarily bad, but different. He was thicker than Techno was. Before he could learn anything else, Type pushed his hand away.

His fingers stopped moving. Techno bucked his hips to make up for the lost friction. A breeze kissed his length when Type released.

“E’Champ is gonna kill me if we fuck on the couch,” he explained, breathless.

That sound and that Techno was the cause of it went straight to Techno’s dick. A small part of him told him that he should be more worried about having sex in Champ and Type’s apartment. The rest of him wanted to figure what Type meant by fuck through practical experience.

Techno blinked, trying hard to think with his head-head. A dark red flush along Type’s neck made that hard and his cock harder. He wondered how far down it led.

“And all my stuff’s in my room,” he said in a sultry voice that again made thinking harder than it should be. “If you want to continue?”

Think. Techno ordered himself.

“Who’s…” his voice trailed off. He didn’t know the word for it and he didn’t want to ruin things by saying screwed up words. “How’s it work?”

It should have been way more awkward than it was to pause palming each other to discuss this, but most of his blood was still in his lower body. His brain worked on a lust-filled haze to get what his lower head wanted, relief.

“It’s about the same between guys and gals,” Type cleared his throat.

The bob of his Adam's apple looked tasty. Techno blinked to steady his mind but he wasn't it helped.

“A bit more prep and the hole’s different.”

Techno clicked his tongue, but found it hard to actually be annoyed at Type. “Who’s?”

He gestured where words failed him. Forming a circle with his left hand, he jabbed his right index finger into it. His eyes narrowed because Type had to be fucking with him.

Type smirked, which proved it, “Are you interested in bottoming?”

“That’s?” Techno held up his left hand, still in the crude symbol for a hole.

“Yup, the one taking it.”

Techno shook his head reflexively. That’s a little much for his first time.

“I thought so,” he chuckled. “Come on, all you have to do is sit back and relax.”

A little calmer, Techno angled his head in confusion. That didn't sound like he was going to be the opposite of bottom, (top?) right?

Eyes twinkling, he bent in close. His breath caressed Techno’s ear. He whispered, “Have you ever had someone ride you?”

His voice stroked Techno’s id. Techno’s throat went dry. Whatever remaining reason he had left died as the rest of his blood ran south.

“I’m taking that as a no,” he laughed, sounding pleased at that.

Type stood, guiding Techno up. As he got on his feet, Type kicked his jeans off and removed Techno’s own. Eying Techno, he leaned in and kissed Techno. Sucking on his upper lip, he coaxed Techno out of his shirt.

Techno was less patient. Pulling away, he yanked and forced Type out of his. He smashed their mouths back together — biting and sucking and doing the opposite of thinking. He felt and just allowed himself to feel.

They make out and stumbled their way to Type’s room. Only pausing every now and then, they dropped more and more of their clothes. Techno suspected they had almost had sex in the living room more than once the way they kept grabbing at each other. When they finally reached the room, Techno discovered that the flush reached Type’s very erect nipples. They almost made waiting worth it.

They stopped at the side, rather than the edge, of Type’s full-sized bed. Thump. Techno found himself looking up at Type. His palms and ass hitting the mattress willingly.

Type ripped open his drawer, tossing lube and a box of condoms next to Techno.

“Move up,” he growled and Techno obeyed.

Type’s bed occupied a corner, so Techno backed up until he touched the nearest wall. The width of bed ensured his feet met only blankets.

Type climbed after him. Grabbing the lube on the way, he straddled Techno’s lap. Slicking up his hands, his right hand teased his balls while his right two fingers slunk back to stretch himself.

That concept should have weirded Techno but watching Type hovering over his lap was making his cock twitch. Type, ever knowing and confident Type, was on his lap and rocking his hips. The slight hitch in his breathing as he prepared himself for Techno and the darkening of his cock as he played with his balls and glans were all a tantalizing show. It was a shame to just be a passive audience.

Each stroke he shoved his chest in Techno’s face. Recalling how Type had teased his nipple, he kissed Type’s. Sucking, he bit lightly and was rewarded with a moan he heard and felt through Type’s chest. Peppering Type’s pecs with light bites and kisses, he tasted salt and the rumble of Type’s grunts and moans. All the sounds made his mind spin.

He almost sighed when Type leaned away.

Opening eyes he didn't realize he’d closed, he saw a shiny metallic package pinched in his thumb and index finger.

“Know how to use this?” he mocked. His taunt turned dirty with his pants, but his lopsided smile shored up the smugness.

Sticking out his tongue, Techno snatched it. Tearing it open and rolling over his length, he watched Type follow up with a generous portion of lube.

“Last chance to back out,” Type warned.

A heartbeat later, Type lowered himself onto Techno.

If he was hard before, Techno was on the edge of a miracle now. Bit by bit, Type engulfed Techno’s dick and wrapped him up in an intense heat that promised to bring him to pieces. It took all his willpower to not immediately come undone.

Techno swallowed. Drawing in shallow breaths, he focused on not prematurely ending their fun. Grabbing Type’s neck, he traced a vein with his teeth.

Type hummed. Pushing on the of Techno’s head, he directed Techno down. He followed, trailing down to Type’s nipples. Obeying a silent order, he sucked and nibbled.

Type squeezed around him and relaxed.

A tap on the shoulder told Techno to stop so he did.

Type balanced himself one hand one Techno’s right shoulder and one on mattress. Winking, he tightened around Techno playfully.

“Type,” he hissed.

Type moved and Techno groaned. If it weren't for the fact Type would never let him live down a premature ejaculation, Techno would’ve already exploded.

It was mesmerizing to see and to feel and to experience Type. The scent of his shampoo and hair gel; the firmness of thighs and chest; the taste of salt and temptation; and oh mercy the grunts and moans vibrated through Type’s chest. Each of Techno’s senses was filled by Type. His world became the bed and all the points were they touched.

Type’s mouth was slightly opened and freely released sounds that stroked Techno’s ears into the same sort of melt-worthy frenzy that dominated Techno’s cock. Techno could only respond by panting.

So damn sexy, Techno thought variations of that like a mantra.

That wasn't just about his well-defined body. The red that tinged his neck, the darker shade that circled chest, the purple that colored his cock highlighted his muscles temptingly. Techno wanted very much to add to that palette.

Techno rediscovered his hands just to appreciate Type. Running his fingers up Type’s firm thighs, he stroked Type and learned that his dick curved slightly. It was warm and moved strongly against Techno. With his left hand, he pinched Type’s nipples and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Wherever he met Type, warmth traveled between their touch. A spark that made his bones buzz with pleasure.

That was the limit of his actions. Gravity and positioning left Type in control. That for some reason was really hot.

Type decided their pace. His hips incited emotions Techno did not have words to explain except they were intense and nearly spilling over. He rocked quickly and slowed maddeningly. His actions were all his own and while Techno should request he move faster, it was all up to him. And fuck, was Type ever the tease out of bed and in it.

Type drew himself up, slowly sliding back. His smirked strained slightly by his focus. He stilled whenever Techno’s hips twitched and moved when they didn't. Without words, it seems like Type was ordering him to behave.

Techno’s balls tightened.

“I'mma—”

“Wait.”

Techno swallowed. Type could have said anything and Techno would've listened. But he said to wait, so he focused on different textures between Type’s skin and the short hairs surrounding his nipples. But mostly he held his breath, afraid releasing it would relax other muscles.

Type lifted his weight almost clear off Techno, before slamming his hips down. His back arched and pushed him fully over Techno’s length. He squeezed and Techno gasped.

White-hot pleasure overwhelmed Techno’s senses. For a moment, all he felt was all the tension in his body relaxing. The only emotion he knew was fuzzy and good.

He collapsed into Type’s chest. All the tension and heat and pleasure drawn from his body and into Type. He couldn’t move of he wanted. To the marrow, he was loose and happy.

Type chucked. The noise lacked its usual smugness. Mellowed out, it sounded almost fond as he leaned his weight forward. Techno’s back chilled as it touched the wall. Both of them used the wall for support.

Neither of them moved for a long minute. Type flopped off Techno’s lap. It took another thirty seconds for Techno to feel his body again.

His neck ached from bites he didn’t realize Type had created at some point. The odd sensation of rubber and wetness encasing his dick reminded him to remove his condom. A stickiness coated his stomach.

Type offered him wipes and tissues.

Barely tossing the tissues and condom into the mattress, every cell in Techno demanded he roll over and close his eyes. He observed Type still cleaning up.

“Need help?”

Type shook his head. “Almost done.”

“Mind if I crash?”

Type drawled, “I’d be offended if you could stand after all that.”

“I can. I’m just too lazy to, better luck next time,” Techno teased, bumping Type’s shoulder.

“Next time.”

Collapsing, the moment his head brushed a pillow, Techno was 95% out. A second later the implications of his reflexive banter hit him, but it didn't horrify him. Going with the flow had been great this time, why not again? He bet Type was grinning.

Type flopped down next to him. Techno rolled towards him, not exactly cuddling. They were both sweaty and nights were closer to hot than cold, but he enjoyed the sensation of being close. If he wanted, he could reach out and unmistakeably touch Type. Somehow that made him warm.