Work Text:
Link Neal was a creature of habit and routine. Nobody knew that better than Rhett. Rhett figured maybe Link’s own mother didn’t know that as well as he did. So, after Tuesday soccer practice, Rhett drove Link home, went inside, waited for Link to finish showering, and then they played video games. This went on every Tuesday like clockwork. Not Mondays, because Rhett had two-a-days and went home to sleep after, and not Wednesdays because all good southern Christian boys spent Wednesdays at Church too, but every Tuesday. Every single one.
Rhett didn’t mind so much, waiting for Link to shower. It was fine. Link was thorough and it took forever, but there were snack cakes to eat and video games to play. He shrugged it off. Link’s habits extended to minute details, to the way he would have Rhett stay in the living room as he stripped down so he could put his filthy soccer uniform next to his hamper so he could wear it the next day, to how he wrapped a ratty men’s robe around himself to scurry to the bathroom, shouting “room’s free!” so Rhett would know he could enter. There were easier ways to do this, like getting undressed in the bathroom, but Rhett didn’t mind the process. Link had his way of doing things, and Rhett’s way of doing things was letting Link do things the way Link wanted to do things.
The only problem was Link’s way of doing things was tempting. Too tempting, Rhett thought, for the southern Christian boy he was. He didn’t know why, but he found himself drawn to Link’s things. Link’s showers gave him around twenty-three and a half minutes of alone time, and twenty-three and a half was long enough to surround himself with Link and still be back on the floor in time to play part of a level of Twisted Metal before Link came back in the room, fully dressed and ready to take the second controller.
On the third Tuesday of soccer season senior year, Rhett didn’t resist his urge to go lay on Link’s bed for just a minute, long enough to bury his face into Link’s pillow and smell his shampoo and the essential Link-ness that resided there in the fabric. Link’s scent was one he knew better than his own, and he could feel himself getting hard against the bed. That was when he knew it was time to move, to shift off of the bed and sink to the floor and pull up Paris, their favorite city in the game.
Except this time, when Rhett sat up, he saw Link’s uniform on the floor near the hamper. If the bed smelled like Link, he wondered how the uniform smelled. He kneeled on the floor by it, lifting the crumpled jersey and holding it to his nose, inhaling. The smell of sweat was obvious, a high sour smell that Rhett should have pulled away from, but didn’t. He’d smelled that scent so many times, boys roughhousing on a hot summer day before stripping out of their shirts to jump into the river. It was nostalgic. He got harder.
But this felt wrong, so he stopped himself, putting the uniform back where it was and sitting at the end of the bed, back leaned against the mattress. Paris. Axel for Rhett, Grasshopper for Link. Easy. Routine.
The next Tuesday, that crumpled uniform taunted him. It laid there and he looked at it and told himself no. Then he told himself yes, but just a sniff. He scooted closer and picked it up, burying his face in it, holding it to his nose with both hands and breathing Link in. There was something perfect about it, something blissful. He moved the fabric, shifting from shirt to shorts and was hit with a wave of something else, something he’d never smelled before. He was hard as a rock, aching. He palmed himself, trying not to get in over his head but he was too late. He stuffed it back down on the floor, willed his erection away, and pulled up Twisted Metal, staring at the screen instead of playing.
Link sank down on the floor beside him, smelling of soap and all things clean. Rhett kept staring straight ahead. “You okay, Rhett? You’re not playin’,” Link asked.
“Oh, shoot, yeah. I’m okay. Just been a long day.” He smiled and selected his character, waiting as Link selected his own this time. Within an hour, he’d almost forgotten it. At home alone, it plagued him, and he got off to the thought of the smell. He wondered if he could get away with stealing part of the uniform, but that seemed absolutely ridiculous. Stealing his best friend’s clothes to smell them? What kind of creep was he?
The next Tuesday, he stared the hamper down. He looked at it, eyes flicking between the hamper and the uniform. He crept over, opened it, and found a pair of nondescript Hanes briefs, the ones Link had been wearing to the practice. He gave them a quick sniff, and they smelled even better than the shorts. He stuffed them in his bag, pushing them to the very bottom, and started playing the game before he could get carried away. When Link joined him, Rhett nudged him with an elbow and tried not to think about how good he smelled.
At home, it was all he could think about. It was all he thought about during dinner, as he tried to keep his composure to eat spaghetti and finish his glass of milk. It was all he could think about as he pulled his book out to do his math homework and spied a peek of the grey fabric, biting his lip and trying to get it done as fast as he could. It was all he really thought about during the shower he took, cock already swelling with his thoughts, but he forced himself to wait. He couldn’t get off right now.
In his room, moonlight peeking through the curtain the only thing that illuminated his room. Rhett crept toward his backpack, moving his books to the table and sliding out Link’s underwear, crawling back into his bed and turning his back toward the door. He moved his legs, trying to get the right position, and he buried his face into the crotch of the underwear, sniffing it and smelling Link’s scent deeply. His hand strayed down his stomach as he breathed Link in, stroking himself slowly. He wished he could last longer, but within minutes, his body jerked as he bit the fabric and tried to keep himself quiet. When he rolled back over, guilt and shame overtook him, even as he cleaned himself off with a nearby sock, and tossed it in the corner in a ball. His cheeks burned hotly and he shoved Link’s underwear in the back of his dresser. “Stupid, stupid Rhett.”
Still, even after a talk on the fire and brimstone kind of hell sermon usually reserved for a Sunday morning, Rhett didn’t stop himself on Wednesday. As soon as the house was quiet, he pulled out the underwear, pressing it against his face and inhaling sharply. It smelled incredible. When he came, he shuddered, cumming hard, smacking his head on the bed frame as he did, then regretting it instantly, wiping his cock with the edge of the underwear in a daze, stuffing it under his pillow and falling asleep right after.
By Thursday morning, he’d forgotten his overnight transgressions. Or, he hadn’t, but he’d overslept and almost been late to school, so he didn’t exactly have the time to dwell on them, either. He didn’t dwell on them at all until Link hopped into his car at the end of the day and Rhett drove them both home. Thursdays, of course, were the days they hung out at Rhett’s house, mostly on account of they had Friday quizzes to study for. “I need to take a leak, man,” Rhett said, making a beeline toward the bathroom.
Link knew what to do, to go to his bedroom, sprawl out on the floor, open up textbooks, grab snacks and drinks, and then they could start studying when Rhett was done. But when Rhett came out of the bathroom, Link was sitting there, on the floor, criss-crossed legs, looking at Rhett very seriously.
“What’s up?” Rhett asked.
“Why do you have my underwear under your pillow?” Link asked.
Rhett couldn’t explain it. There was no logical explanation for something like that at all. He pursed his lips and tried to think of a reasonable way to tell Link he had his underwear there for a specific reason. Instead, he hedged. “How do you know it’s yours?”
“There’s a hole on the hemline, a quarter of the way around the back on the right side,” Link said, matter-of-factly. Rhett hadn’t even noticed a hole.
“How do you know what’s under my pillows?” Rhett asked him seriously.
“I, uh. Um,” Link blushed furiously. “I—”
“Link. How the heck do you know what I’ve got on my bed? We always study on the floor?”
“It doesn’t matter!” Link shouted, glaring. He lowered his voice. “What does it matter how I know what’s there if you’re sitting there with...with my friggin’ underwear under the pillow?”
Rhett sank to the floor in front of him and looked him in the eyes. “You tell me, and I’ll tell you. Total honesty.”
Link swallowed heavily, prominent Adam’s apple bobbing as he did. “Okay.”
“So tell me.”
“Why can’t you tell me first?” Link protested.
“Because. My room. My rules.”
Link nodded slowly. “Sometimes when I’m in your room by myself, I smell your pillow. It’s not supposed to be weird or anything. You just… smell nice, I guess. I dunno,” Link said. He couldn’t meet Rhett’s eyes.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Oh, great. Now you think I’m some kinda creep, don’t you?” Link asked him, blushing again and pulling a knee protectively to his chest.”
“I mean, yeah, but I have your underwear under my pillow, so… guilty of creeping, I guess,” Rhett said, shrugging. “I smell your pillow too. When you’re in the shower. And I guess it kept escalating because then I was smelling your uniform and now, uh… yeah. Creeping? Guilty. More than you are,” Rhett said. “Sorry. You, uh, you want me to see if my dad can drive you home?” He was deflecting, trying not to have to hear what Link had to say about that.
“My underwear?”
Rhett didn’t answer.
“Rhett, seriously. My friggin’ underwear. My underwear was something that smelled so enticing to you that you had to just take it and not even tell me you’re sitting there smelling my stuff while I’m in the shower?” Link asked, voice getting higher in pitch until it was almost a squeak.
“I know! I’m sorry, okay? I know it’s freaking weird and wrong and everything else, I know.” He sighed and turned around, back to Link, standing and staring at his door.
“You could’ve asked.”
“Asked what? Said ‘hey, Link, I like how you smell so maybe give me a pair of your dirty practice underwear? Hell no.’”
“You could’ve told me,” Link said softly. Rhett could feel him getting closer. He swallowed heavily.
“Told you what?” Rhett asked.
“Told me what you wanted. Y’know, instead of letting me take a long shower before hanging out with you so I could do it without losing my mind.” Link was right behind him and rhett knew it, but Rhett couldn’t bring himself to turn around and look at him.
Instead, Rhett shrugged. “Why’re you smelling my pillow anyway?”
“Because I like how you smell,” Link said matter of factly. “And apparently you like how I smell.” He grabbed Rhett’s arm, turning him around. “Or, how certain parts of me smell.” His blue eyes met Rhett’s and it was Rhett’s turn to be nervous, as if the shame he felt wasn’t enough. He licked his lips.
“So what? I mean, I like how you smell all over, that’s… um. What am I supposed to say, bo?” Rhett asked, letting Link’s hand linger and not trying to get out of his grasp.
“Do you want to smell for real?” Link asked.
“What do you mean?” Rhett furrowed his brow, wondering what Link was getting at. But Link tugged on his arm, and Rhett got the hint, getting on his knees. “Really?”
“If you think I smell that good… smell,” Link said, letting go of Rhett’s arms and unbuttoning his pants, nudging them down a couple of inches, tufts of dark hair visible. His hand grazed Rhett’s hair. “Only if you want to.”
Rhett took that as enough of an invitation and stuffed down any doubt that this was some kind of sick joke or trick, that Link would pull him back and end whatever game of chicken Rhett wasn’t sure if they were playing or not playing. He leaned in, nose pressed to Link’s skin, nuzzling against his stomach and breathing in. It was like Link’s underwear, but a million times better, stronger, more intense. Warmer, really. As he nuzzled Link’s hair, he moaned, and he could feel the swell of Link’s cock against his face, even through the jeans. His eyes met Link’s again and his fingers found themselves in Link’s waistband as he pulled back and licked his lips, questions he couldn’t verbally ask written all over his face.
Link nodded, biting his lip in return.
Sliding his jeans down, Rhett’s hands found their way down Link’s thighs as he took in the sight, up close and personal in a way he’d never seen Link before. Sure, he’d snuck glances. There had been indirect eye contact. But this was very, very direct. He took it in his hand and gave it a couple of curious strokes. It was like his own, but… different. Distinctly different. Very much Link’s, actually. It was longer than his, most notably, which seemed cosmically unfair because he was so much taller than Link already. Still, it was comfortable. He stroked it a little more, against the side of his face as he leaned in to breathe Link in some more, nose in the curled hairs there.
“You can lick it if you wanna,” Link said softly, voice a strained whisper. Rhett nodded and did what Link suggested, licking a stripe down the side before taking Link into his mouth, between his lips, sucking at the tip and then taking him deeper.
His goal had been to take Link’s cock in his mouth while also pressing his nose into the skin, smelling and breathing him in, but Link was too long and he found himself gagging. “Sorry. You’re too long,” he said, and Link smiled. Rhett was determined, though, finding ways around it, kissing down the underside of the shaft and teasing Link’s balls with his tongue, breathing him in as he stroked him, licking him, working his tongue and hands and nose together to give him what he needed and what Link wanted. “You smell so good,” he finally said softly. “Really good.”
Link’s hand teased through his hair and Rhett tried again to take him in his mouth, sucking the tip and looking up at Link. “I don’t think I’m gonna last very long, brother,” Link said softly, and Rhett nodded, taking Link as deep as he could. This time, he almost managed to get Link all the way in, almost breathing him in like he’d wanted. He pulled back and smiled, not taking him as deeply, working his hands and lips until Link was tugging his hair and shuddering. “Rhett,” Link gasped, trying to pull him off. Rhett didn’t move back, trying to get the result that Link was trying so hard to avoid. Link couldn’t resist any longer, flooding Rhett’s mouth, with Rhett struggling to take it all. Still, he managed, mostly, a little running down his chin. When he pulled back off of Link, he kissed the patch of hair above his cock, looking up at him as he carefully tucked Link back into his underwear and pants, then sank against the bed. “You, uh. You wanna go get the snack cakes?”
Link Neal was a creature of habit and routine. That was why, on Tuesday afternoons, after soccer practice, Rhett drove Link to his house, watched as Link stripped out of his soccer uniform, and sucked him off before Link showered. After a few games of Twisted Metal, Rhett left Link’s house with a freshly worn pair of underwear stuffed to the bottom of his backpack in return.
It was also why, on Thursday afternoons, Link came over to Rhett’s house and they exchanged sloppy quick handjobs on the floor before eating snack cakes and studying for Friday quizzes. Link always left Rhett’s house with the pillowcase he’d used all week, and Rhett’s mom stayed impressed with how punctual he was about changing his bedding once a week like clockwork.
Routine, Rhett knew, could be a very, very good thing when Link Neal was involved.