Misconceptions

He leans down to kiss Brandon, swallowing his rough gasp as the deliberate shift of their positions creates a delicious friction between them. Brandon snaps his hips up into it without a thought, returning the kiss, matching it, every stroke of tongues and shared shallow breath reducing him into an incoherent tangle of longing, spread out underneath Cody and holding on tight.

He’s wide open, and it’s terrifying. He feels that perhaps he should be saying something profound, something meaningful, but all his frazzled, blood-starved brain can provide is:

‘I love you. I’m sorry. I love you. You look really good smashing vases. Let’s fuck me now. Or you. Whatever. I love you.’

So he says nothing until Cody’s soft whisper against his mouth and the sudden feeling of cool air against his rain-damp skin makes his eyes fly open. And he’s naked. Scrambling up on his elbows, Brandon stares down between them at his bare flesh and his cock, hard and leaking against his stomach. For no good reason that he can see—Cody’s seen him naked more times than he can count—he flushes and glares up at Cody, who is still fully clothed.

Cody smirks. “I didn’t feel like waiting.”

“Well, that’s alright then...” Brandon begins, but finds his breath stolen when Cody shifts back far enough to be able to lean down and lick a long, hot stripe along his cock. “Oh, god.” Cody repeats the action, slower this time and Brandon groans, heat pooling rapidly in his belly. He knows he doesn’t have long, and he wants... Cody smiles and does it again, flicking his tongue over the head and Brandon grips at the bed sheets. “Oh, god... don’t.”

“Don’t?”

Brandon looks down into surprised silver-black eyes. “I don’t feel like waiting either,” he rasps, and Cody smiles. It’s a dangerous smile, but those eyes are still suspiciously glossy and Brandon wants to hurt all over, inside and out, with this feeling.

Cody goes for the wand again but Brandon reaches out and grabs his wrist. “Don’t,” he repeats, rubbing his thumb over Cody’s palm. “I like watching you get undressed.”

“Finding out all sorts today, aren’t I?” Cody murmurs, lifting an eyebrow and sliding to his feet, the slight unsteadiness immensely gratifying.

Though he doesn’t linger over it, Brandon can tell that Cody adds a certain finesse to his movements for his benefit and it’s both warming and painfully erotic. He watches, one hand wrapped lazily around his hard cock, as Cody pulls his sweater over his head and attempts to shake his hair back into place. As he bends to remove shoes and socks with impressive grace and then unfastens and removes trousers and boxers with hands that tremble a little, and though Brandon isn’t sure why, it’s beautiful all the same, all of it is.

Cody doesn’t stop looking at him the entire time, and though Brandon’s eyes drop to flick over each new bit of exposed pale skin, the lines on his forearm and the flush to his cock, he’s drawn back to those eyes every time. That heat, trust, openness, he knows that’s only for him, and he can’t believe he was stupid enough to think anything different.

“Yes,” he murmurs, “you’re beautiful... come here.”

Cody nods mutely and slides back onto the bed, following Brandon as he shifts position to sprawl full-length on his back with his head on the pillows. Their kiss is desperate and sloppy as they connect again; blond strands graze Brandon’s face as he closes his eyes and draws Cody down to him until he’s supported on his forearms and lying warm and heavy between Brandon’s parted drawn-up knees, hard cock pushing insistently against Brandon’s stomach.

“What do you want?” is whispered hotly against his mouth.

He sighs, smiles, heart tight. “Everything.”

“Sounds good.”

There’s a momentary loss of contact and some muttering and clattering, and then Cody’s back, kissing him again with one hand cupping his face and the other sliding somewhere that makes Brandon arch his back and gasp his approval into the kiss. The urgent stroking and sliding of skilled fingers inside him just deepens his desperation, and he knows that no amount of waiting is going to happen.

“That OK?” Cody whispers as though he can’t breathe properly.

“No. Yes. More,” Brandon mutters, feet sliding on silk as he pushes back and demands it, harder, right there or anywhere. “Please.”

He doesn’t open his eyes, but when Cody releases a soft huff of amusement, he knows exactly what his face will look like, and he smiles. Twists and whimpers when those sliding fingers are withdrawn and holds his breath.

“I love it when you... ask nicely,” Cody attempts, voice wavering as he pulls Brandon’s legs around his waist and slides inside in one long, firm stroke. “Oh, fuck. Brandon,” he whispers, and Brandon’s eyes snap open.

As the initial dull ache of the stretch fades away, the relief of being filled, connected, so close, washes over him and he wraps his legs more securely around Cody’s back and stares up at him. Brandon’s breathing is already rapid and shallow, but it quickens as he meets the darkened grey eyes and realizes just how close to the edge Cody already is. Mouth slightly open, hair falling into his face, skin flushed and eyes just burning into Brandon’s, he’s yet to move and is holding on by his fingertips. And god, if that isn’t the hottest thing Brandon has ever seen.

Licking his bottom lip with a pointed tongue, Cody leans down and fastens his mouth around a nipple, grazing his teeth over the hardened flesh; a shock of pleasure zigzags straight to Brandon’s cock, making it twitch against his belly and it’s a massive effort not to touch himself. Instead, he grips Cody’s ass and holds him in place, watches the beautiful mouth closing around his nipple and quietly goes mad.

“What happened to not waiting?”

Cody lifts his head, expression tormented. “If I move, I’ll come,” he whispers urgently.

Brandon deliberately tenses and tightens himself around his cock, Cody whimpers and closes his eyes, and Brandon is lost. The need to see Cody’s release is somehow greater than the need to find his own, and he has to have it. “Good. That’s what I want... do it.”

He drops one hand to the sheets to reach for Cody’s, pressing palms slippery-tight together and linking fingers; Cody swallows dryly and moves, drawing back with agonizing slowness and then driving hard into Brandon with enough force to make them both cry out. Pausing for a second, Cody smiles breathlessly and leans down closer, shifting the angle and turning the arm next to Brandon’s head. Slowly. Intentionally.

Brandon turns his head and gazes at the exposed lines. His pulse races as he twists to draw his tongue over the sweat-sheened marked skin and realizes anew that Cody’s utter, unquestioning indulgence of his weird little kink speaks volumes, and has done for some time now.

“Deviant,” Cody whispers and moves again, relentless this time, setting a hard, fast rhythm that has Brandon gripping his hand tightly among the sheets, holding on and giving himself up to the sensation of being fucked with dedication, urgency, abandon. And wanting exactly that.

“Would you change me?” he manages, looking up at Cody and savoring the salty-warm flavor on his tongue.

Cody releases a tortured laugh and strokes inside him erratically. “I couldn’t,” he pants, and Brandon knows he’s close. He’s not far behind, and he hasn’t even been touched, but Cody only needs a push and he wants to see it. Right now.

“Cody,” he whispers, and the cloudy grey eyes snap to his. “Yes.”

Mouth twitching, Cody stiffens and bites his bottom lip and stares down at Brandon as, with one last hard thrust, he lets go. Brandon watches him come, feels him come, listens to his harsh breaths and the soft little whimpers he always tries to hide, and loves him. Breathless, imperfect, infuriating and beautiful. And knowing, beyond all doubt, that even though they both have the words, it will always be yes, because it’s theirs.

Cody pulls away and sits back on his heels between Brandon’s legs. He rakes through his messy hair and gazes at Brandon’s neglected cock, so hard now that it almost hurts, and for a moment looks as though he’s going to take it into his mouth. Brandon watches him and chews on his lip, tight with anticipation, but Cody appears to change his mind. There’s an odd little smile on his face as he looks up at last to meet Brandon’s eyes.

“Everything, you said.”

“Mm...?”

The implication is lost on Brandon for all of three seconds, until Cody reaches for the glass bottle hidden somewhere amongst the sheets, and then his whole body heats with approval. Longing.

He sniffs the air and realizes for the first time that this oil smells sweet, like—

“Almonds? Did you steal that from my kitchen?”

“Our kitchen,” Cody corrects gently but with a smug smile, and then Brandon no longer cares where it came from because Cody is crawling closer and reaching behind himself, and those clever, oil-slicked fingers are disappearing somewhere that Brandon can’t see but, fuck, he really wishes he could.

As he picks up the bottle and very, very carefully strokes the sweet oil over his cock and tries to watch Cody’s fingers and his face at the same time, he idly wonders if Cody is doing all the work here because he’s so worn out—but not sick—or because he just feels like it. Not that it matters.

Not when Cody is resting a sticky hand on his chest and sitting astride him and gripping his cock with firm fingers, and not when he’s looking right into Brandon’s eyes as he lowers himself down, enveloping Brandon’s aching cock in grasping heat, and not when he’s making that broken sound and reaching for Brandon’s hand again.

Brandon grips his fingers hard and catches his breath. Cody flashes a split-second breathless smile and he returns it, caught and consumed and burning all over; his headache is back with a vengeance but he doesn’t care. Cody moves, gripping and sliding and possessing him and it’s going to be over far too soon, but it’s always too soon.

“What’re you waiting for?” Cody whispers, sinking down slowly and arching his back. He’s still half-hard and his skin feels hot and satiny under Brandon’s fingers as he reaches out to touch everywhere he can reach: thighs, hips, belly. “Come for me.”

“Cody,” Brandon gasps, twitching his hips upwards helplessly, holding on for just a second or two more before it’s too much and the heat rips through him, shaking his whole body and dragging his orgasm from him with sudden force. “Oh,” he whispers, closing his eyes tight against the smarting of his sinuses, “oh, fuck.”

Cody says nothing but stills, sitting back on Brandon’s thighs and rubbing his thumb over a sensitized nipple. He hums contentedly until Brandon opens his eyes and then falls silent and looks down at him with interest.

Brandon stares back, fighting his stupid smile, until he shivers and realizes that he needs to get warm pretty quickly. As though registering that thought, his traitorous body underlines it with a violent sneeze, the force of which makes Cody’s hand slide on his chest and prompts a raised eyebrow that Brandon fully expects.

“You are not well,” Cody accuses, leaning forward to touch his face.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Brandon says stubbornly.

“That’s debatable.”

Cody smirks and rises up onto his knees, stretching languidly toward the ceiling with both arms extended above his head. He curls on one side and waits with expectantly-raised eyebrows until Cody joins him. They settle, legs tangled together, facing one another and sharing the biggest pillow; Brandon curls his fingers around Cody’s left forearm and gazes at him, warm and sated