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What A Feeling Is This

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It's not that they have a lot of parties at their apartment. Actually, despite the fact that their living situation lends itself to a party venue, actual not-just-residents parties are a rare event. But when they do have a party, they like to do it right. The music is loud, the refreshments are plentiful, and the neighbors are invited, which takes care of the one real impediment to having a good time.

Kris has stashed anything he considers valuable—which mostly consists of his guitars—down at Matt's place for the night, just in case of drunken accident, and he has a drink in his hand as he mingles his way through the party.

He hopes his roommates know these people, because while Kris knows a lot of them, he definitely does not know all of them. Or at least he hopes that they're friends of friends, and not just people who are here because they heard some music from up the block and decided to show up. There comes a point when it's hard to tell.

It's well into the wee hours of the morning when the crowd starts to thin out, and as one of two almost completely sober residents, Kris is the one ushering stumbling people into cabs or their friends' cars or, in a couple of cases, upstairs to the other apartment. The people who aren't stumbling drunk can stay a little longer, especially if they're picking up things, which a few people are.

"Kris, I need you," says Megan, linking elbows with him and leading him from the front door back to the kitchen again, where someone's spilled an entire bottle of orange juice.

"If you think I'm cleaning that up, you're sorely mistaken," he says dryly, even though if they leave it it'll be a sticky mess by morning.

"I just need you to tell me where the mop is," Megan promises him. "I have no idea where you guys keep your cleaning supplies. You do have a mop, right? Someone isn't going to end up on their hands and knees in here?"

"I can't promise that," says Kris, "but if they do, it won't be to clean up the mess."

Megan giggles as Kris goes to fetch the mop out of the hall closet, and is relieved when he doesn't find anyone in there along with it, passed out or otherwise. On his way back he spots someone out of the corner of his eye he thinks he recognizes, and after he makes the handoff to Megan he turns back to try to place him.

He's just leaning against the wall, nursing what looks like straight-up Sprite, looking like he's waiting for a few more people to clear out before he makes an attempt at it himself.

"I know you," says Kris finally, cocking his head to the side. "Right? I know you."

"Maybe?" he says. He doesn't seem to be experiencing that same spark of recognition but there's something there, or at least Kris wants to believe there's something there. "I'm Andrew."

"You used to run," Kris comes up with finally, in a sudden flash remembering just how he knows him, and it has nothing to do with the name. Kris never even knew his name before. It's a miracle he doesn't blush, and maybe he's finally past that point in his life when running into someone he's jerked off to will make him blush. Wait. No. He isn't. "Just off campus. In the park."

"Did we run together?" says Andrew, his eyebrows drawing together like he's trying to remember.

"No," says Kris. "I, uh. I used to play pick-up football with some guys there."

"Okay, okay," says Andrew, and an easy smile finds its way onto his face again. Kris decides against pointing out that the only reason he knows Andrew ran is because they used the same showers afterwards, when Kris would use the ones in the athletic center instead of going home. It's probably best Andrew doesn't know why. "Well, hey. Great to meet you finally. It's Kris, right?"

"Yeah, I'm Kris," he says, and ducks his head in a way he knows a lot of people think is cute. Andrew already knows his name. "Maybe I should've said hi two years ago."

"Yeah, maybe you should've," agrees Andrew. "I wish I remembered."

Kris just shrugs. "I was pretty easy to miss," he says. "But I guess I shouldn't keep you if you have somewhere you need to be."

"I don't have anywhere I need to be," says Andrew. He doesn't add the words "if you don't" to the end of that, but Kris hears them all the same. It's not like he's being all that subtle, so Andrew probably knows where Kris is going with this. "Unless you're kicking everyone out now."

"Some people," admits Kris. "Not you."

"Well, that makes me feel special," says Andrew, smiling at him again. It's a little bit captivating.

Kris looks around to see if there's anything he needs to urgently be taking care of, but Cale's leading a couple of stragglers to the door and things look well in hand.

"So I guess you know one of my roommates?" he says. "Or Megan. Everyone seems to know Megan."

"Ryland's little brother," says Andrew, nodding his head as he takes a sip of his drink. Kris has only met him a couple of times, but it's Ryland's brother so that makes this all legit. "He left with his girlfriend a couple of hours ago, though. I was having a good time, figured I might as well stick around."

"Glad you did," says Kris.

"As long as that doesn't mean that you're going to put me to work cleaning shoe prints off the coffee table, I like the sound of that," says Andrew.

"There are shoe prints on the coffee table?"

Andrew winces in sympathy. "Maybe I should have saved that revelation for tomorrow morning."

"I think there are already going to be plenty of those," says Kris. He's still clumsy at this bit when he feels like it matters, still uncertain of where that line is between naturally smooth and too slick, but what he really wants is to show Andrew his bedroom right now. Instead of saying anything in the end, he bites his lip and angles his head down the hallway, and Andrew laughs as he catches on.

"Yeah," he says to the unasked question. "Somewhere quieter?"

"Yeah," Kris echoes him, because yes, exactly. He doesn't even mind if they just talk, if he finally gets to know this guy he noticed years ago, but he definitely wouldn't mind if they did more than talk too. Because all the reasons he noticed Andrew in the first place are still all valid reasons, even if he's finding even more to like now that they're talking.

Once he gets Andrew into his room, though, he's struck with a moment of complete social failure.

"I come up with the best ways to not get kicked out after a party," says Andrew after a moment, breaking the ice.

"Well, this one's a classic," Kris says, trying not to crack up.

"I can't believe I never noticed you," says Andrew. "I can't keep my eyes off you now."

"Two years is a lot of time to grow up," says Kris. He doesn't know how different he looks from two years ago, but he feels different. "Are you sure you're supposed to tell me that part, though?"

"I've never been really good at figuring out what to keep a secret," says Andrew, "so you get to hear it all."

"I really, really want to get to know you," says Kris, "but I really, really want to finally kiss you even more."

"Kiss first, talk later," says Andrew, which Kris decides is a stellar plan. Maybe later he can actually figure out how to talk again, because right now he's hanging on to this conversation by his fingernails.

The 'kiss first' turns into what may be the longest first kiss of Kris's life, and he's had enough first kisses that that means something. They start inside the doorway, spend a little bit of time pressed up against the dresser, and end over at the desk, chair shoved out of the way and textbooks pushed onto the floor.

Conversation entirely unnecessary.

Kris notices his infrequent breaths getting shallower and shallower as Andrew bends him backwards over the desk, but he doesn't think anything of it until they've been at it for a while and he starts to feel lightheaded. And when he starts to feel lightheaded, everything else starts to feel a little more intense, as if this whole thing wasn't intense enough already.

He doesn't say anything until he has to, not when Andrew pauses to take his shirt off, not when Andrew pauses again to take both of their pants off at Kris's frantic, gestured urgings. He hates stopping kissing for the time it takes to do even that, but Andrew returns quickly enough, like he can't stand to be away from Kris's lips long enough to do that either.

"I can't breathe," says Kris finally, taking tiny shallow breaths as Andrew holds him there over the desk.

"Oh shit, sorry," says Andrew, and starts to pull him up again, but Kris doesn't let him.

"I like it," he says, almost too softly to hear, and Andrew lets him back down again. Kris feels a little dizzy with the lack of oxygen but it's making everything else feel so intense. "I just thought you should know."

"Okay," says Andrew after a moment, trusting him, then they're kissing again and Kris closes his eyes, and that's when Andrew's hand closes around their cocks, grinding them together.

Kris would say something like 'oh' or 'ah' or 'yes' but his mouth's too busy and the sensation of his cock rubbing against Andrew's is setting sparks off behind his eyes and he doesn't want to do anything to so much as change it, let alone stop it.

They're unstoppable now anyway, and if Andrew feels half as good as Kris does now, with his panted half-breaths and his impending orgasm, then it's probably just about the best thing ever.

He doesn't know how long it is before it arrives, completely loses track of time, but when it hits Kris is just blown away with it, and forgets to breathe at all.

Once he comes—once they come—and once Andrew grabs a fistful of his shirt and tugs him upwards again, Kris sucks in a huge lungful of air and it almost feels like coming all over again. He just breathes in and out, in and out, over and over again, and lets Andrew hold him loosely against his chest for a little while before he helps Kris get steady then finally pulls Kris's shirt off before they stumble over onto the bed.

Kris still feels dizzy from it all, and is a lot more comfortable when he's prone, especially when Andrew's lying there beside him. They don't say anything for a little while, but Kris doesn't even feel like they need to. It's just comfortable the way they are, lying there and breathing together.

Kris breathes deeply and Andrew breathes against his neck and they both watch Kris's ribcage rise and fall with each breath until it finally goes back to normal. That's when they start touching, just tiny little moments, the stroke of finger here, the rub of a thumb there, slowly coming back to a place where it's almost conversational again.

"So yeah," says Kris finally.

"Yeah," says Andrew, and dares to kiss him again at last, long and slow and almost surprisingly intimate. Kris actually treasures it, in a way that makes him feel a little silly and young again.

"Yeah," he says again, and Andrew laughs and kisses his forehead and lets his eyes wander around the room.

"Guitar stand, but no guitar," he says, propped up on his elbow and running his hand up and down Kris's breastbone as they lie there in bed.

"Whisked away to safety,' says Kris, lifting one arm over his head and letting it rest there, bent at the elbow.

"Good call," says Andrew. "I guess you play, then."

"Here and there," says Kris. "I'm all right. I do gigs with the guys sometimes, just around the city."

"Me too," says Andrew. "That's actually how I know Ryland's little brother, we've played together before."

"Really?" says Kris, and wonders how he didn't know that before. He wonders if it would've changed anything if he did.

"Yeah, really," says Andrew. "You should come hear us play some time. I should come hear you play sometime. We music things. Together."

Kris really likes the sound of that, and makes a happy little murmur against Andrew's neck as Andrew yawns widely.

"I guess I should..." Andrew starts, clearly reluctant. "I mean, I guess you probably want me to..."

"Don't go," says Kris, and he really, really means it. "Stay. Here."

"Right here?" says Andrew.

"Right here," says Kris. "I don't want you to...I mean, unless you want to...."

"I don't want to go," says Andrew softly.

"Then sleep easy," says Kris. "I'll make you breakfast. Don't disappear, okay?"

"I think you've found an offer I can't refuse," says Andrew. "But do we have to sleep just yet?"

"I think maybe it can be put off a little longer," says Kris, as Andrew pulls the sheet away.

Or maybe a lot longer. No need to rush. Nobody's going anywhere; Kris feels very sure about that.