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Waking up to the hum of morning silence, Y/n's eyes drooped open. The room he lay in was still; painted cool blue and peered in on by loose streaks of sun. The lone birds flitting around outside chirped their muffled song.
Serene. Peaceful.
Y/n sighed, rolling over to give his 'partner' an early greeting, but all that met him were a ripple of sheets and Steve's plumped up pillow. There also lay a note by his head...
'Be back soon.
Henderson having one of his "scientific breakthroughs" again.
:).'
Of course; Y/n hadn't expected him to be anywhere else.
With a soft yawn, and the remains of a smile resting upon his lips, the man rolled out of bed- a pair of socks being slipped on before he exited Steve's room.
Without the Harrington's in for the day, the house lay hushed and cavernous, allowing to Y/n do as he pleased.
In the forest cabin, elegant and prim as it was, he felt more at peace than when back at home. The place held a character of mystery about it; like something out of a fantasy novel. Just imagine: fairies and all kinds of mythical things dwelling in the woods that breathed around him. Y/n almost wished it were real...
After grabbing a bite to eat and daydreaming by Steve's high-seated window, Y/n picked himself up, and made route for the bathroom.
The panels of modern wood led him through the Harringtons' expansive hallway, and Y/n began to strip off across the landing. Checkered trousers fell to the floor and a pyjama top was discarded elswhere as Y/n locked the door behind himself.
☆
"Now then. What to wear..." The Senior stepped onto heated tiles, feelingtired again as the heat hugged him close. Y/n, after wringing a towel over his back and face, began cleaning his teeth.
Yesterday's clothes were basically off limits, still not having dried from the freak storm last night (a blessing in disguise, if you will. It meant that Y/n might get intimate with his undisclosed lover again.)
Therefore, he'd have to find other ways to make himself decent.
Resolved, Y/n stepped out of the bathroom- the towel clinging loose to his hips as he dripped a trail of water down the hall. (He'd clean that up later... wouldn't want to upset the rich and proper Harrington family.)
Y/n slid open Steve's cupboard, stepping inside to take a gander.
Oh look: the infamous yellow jumper. It was quite surprising to see, since Steve never left his house without it. Y/n pulled the article out without hesitation. He wouldn't need anything underneath. That was too much hassle.
Next, unravelling a pair of shorts from the rack, and stealing one of Steve's boxers, Y/n retreated from the wardrobe (placing his collection upon the sheets.) The waist-hing towel was slid away and rubbed remissedly at his hair before Y/n got changed into Steve's clothes.
As he came to look in the mirror, it was evident that Y/n was lacking any style; all the 80s trend-hoppers would've stoned him to death. Yet the jumper was hugging his form so soft and snug that he really couldn't care for looking good.
'Swagger? I hardly know her.'
Chuckling to his absolutely horrendous joke, Y/n twozzled around and got to work cleaning up his mess.
Soon enough, there was a chime at the door.
"Y/n?" Steve was home.
Gleaming from ear to ear, the man hopped up from his cleaning station and jogged downstairs.
"Morning." He remarked, poking his head around the wall. "D'you have fun with Henderson?"
"Oh my God, don't even get me started on that kid." Steve huffed, locking up the house and hanging his keys on their hook. "I am seriously never going out with him again."
"Oh please." Such a drama queen, like always. Harrington loved those kids with all his heart. Patting him on the back, Y/n waltzed by and into the living room. "You couldn't go a week without him."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Steve knew it was true.
Gradually, he too made trek for the sofa, catching a glimpse of Y/n's damp hair resting back. Steve imagined how nice it must smell- fresh and familiar as his own.
"How'd you slee- urh-"
Harrington halted, staring with knitted eyebrows. Was that... his jumper?
"What was that?" The other mumbled, fixated on some wacky magazine he'd found lying around...
Almost like he wasn't wearing Steve's clothes?
"Wha- oh. Urm, how was your sleep?" Steve sounded as though he was questioning his own question, not Y/n.
"Oh, it was great, actually. Your room is so quiet in the morning." Steve wanted to say something, really, he did. But the way Y/n was curled up in those flimsy shorts- skin revealing itself where it really shouldn't do and the material slipping down even further... any and all words had been trapped in Steve's throat.
"Y... yeah."
"Uh, are you okay, Harrington?"
Absolutely not. His cheeks were ablaze with heat, and the sudden glance of his friend was making things all the worse. Eyes averted, Steve took a brisk seat beside Y/n- his palms ever so clammy, and unable to stop fumbling with eachother.
"You good..?"
Now they were staring at eachother, eyes never wavering. Steve now locked onto like he couldn't let go.
Hoping he would say it. Hoping he could do it.
With a slight shake of his head, he finally spoke up.
"God, no." and Steve leaned forward, connecting their lips as his heart beat deafeningly between them. The moment was sealed. Finally, what they'd been wanting to happen was happening.
Y/n was quick to react, moving his mouth in near practiced synch, and worming an arm over Steve's thigh. They embraced eachother gently as Harrington's fingers took residence against Y/n's neck, pulling him closer by the waist.
Gradually, their tongues became restless and would slide past that threshold of swollen skin.
Something new. Something that felt real special.
Y/n released a soft moan, all too excited about that moment. And he just hoped Steve wouldn't find it weird. Would that make it strange?
But he only kissed harder, moving his palms rather low and reaching for Y/n's.
"Come on," he panted into the other's mouth, before guiding him off the sofa on a slow ascent to Steve's room- Y/n still held close. Y/n still kissing him.
As the door swayed shut behind them, Harrington held firm against Y/n's hips, moving blindly forth until their knees knocked together. Smooth and slow, the two crawled backwards, engrossed in the movement of their delicious touch as the sheets spread around them.
Steve's fingers started to wander again- tracing over familiar material before they disappeared underneath his sweater. Y/n's chest rose and fell distinctly so where his hands brushed and pampered.
"Ah..." the man whispered out mindlessly as soon as their faces pulled apart. Harrington's swollen lips attatched to the other's neck, planting warm and brief pecks against the skin before skipping over to his torso.
"You look amazing in these clothes," Steve hummed against his rib cage, sucking pink marks all the way down to Y/n's navel.
His partner sighed in response, rarely letting a noise out, but fully immersed in Steve's ministrations.
Palms stroking down the man's sides, Harrington hooked a couple fingers into his basketball shorts, and teased down the boxers along with them. Kissing along the way. Awed by the definition of muscle and bone that revealed itself as he pulled.
Y/n's dick peeled into the open, throbbing in the tepid air and swooning at the sight of Steve's curious eyes.
He reached forward to caress up its side, nails grazing the skin and knees finally settling on the carpet. Y/n would gasp a muffled breath as Harrington's fist slid firm over the head.
Moving his wrist down, and back up the shaft in one full stroke, Harrington leaned forward, nudging Y/n's legs further apart with his face. Nose deep where he wanted to be. In the scent of his own shower gel and fabric conditioner that had stained Y/n's skin.
His tongue reached out, flicking over the flesh that had Y/n's nerves twitching.
The muscle pushed right through, hot and bulging as L/n's eyes flit open in shock. Steve had began stroking up the length of his dick again, finally reaching a pace that he would stick to, and getting accustomed to the motion of his tongue deep in foreign territory.
For someone who had never been with another man, let alone done this with a woman, he was tearing Y/n into a silent wreck. Trying hard not to clench down, and barely able to get a sound out- the stimulus was stunning.
"O-ho, Steve." He groaned, peering down as the latter would grip his leg (pushing it up to fold and stretch Y/n wider.)
The man, still sliding his magical wrist up and down, angled Y/n's dick to one side, so their eyes could meet. A sultry look on his face.
"Fuck, Steve." Y/n could barely whisper now. Chest beating and falling in quick succession; mouth making all kinds of "o" and "ah" shapes without a sound. "I... I'm close."
Then Steve picked up the pace; fist jolting with calculated control and his tongue never stopping for a break. Y/n's ears burned with adrenaline; his unrelenting huffs filling the room.
"Oh god-"
Mouth fallen agape, and constellations twinkling behind his pupils, Y/n came with a fitful shudder. His groan delayed and completely uncensored.
Steve watched him with a lustful gaze, pulling out and slowing his hand to a halt before he released Y/n's dick.
"Steve, that was... fucking amazing." They chuckled in tandem as Steve slipped his hand into Y/n's, leaning over and decorating his knuckles with kisses.
"Really? Maybe we should do it again, some time?"
"I would really like that, Harrington..." Y/n sighed, closing his droopy eyes. "Now... go wash your hands. They're nasty sticky."
Huffing at the triviality of Y/n's words, Steve let go of him in reluctance and headed for the bathroom
Thank god for that yellow sweater.