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Andrew wakes up to Neil’s sleeping face across the bed.
He rarely gets to see Neil like this—peaceful, calm, relaxed—since Neil is often up before him and readying himself for a several mile run in the sticky southern heat.
Andrew doesn’t understand his need to keep moving, Neil had done it enough as a child and he has more than enough permission to stand still, but Andrew can’t deny that he likes to watch him run around in his little shorts, strong thighs on display.
The shorts are new. Allison had dragged him to mall a week after championships, claiming it was a spontaneous celebratory trip for snatching the trophy, but in reality, was a coordinated effort between the entire team to fix Neil’s tragic wardrobe. Andrew’s part was to simply vanish before Neil could bat his pretty eyelashes at him and ask Andrew to squirrel him away. According to Nicky, Neil still tried hunting him down even though he’d driven to a small ice cream parlor an hour away from campus and turned off his phone.
Neil walked away with half a closet’s worth of new clothes and Andrew on his knees as both an apology and a thank you.
For as turbulent as the past year has been, the weeks following the championship game have been anything but. The universe must’ve taken pity on him after nearly ripping Neil away from him just a couple of months ago because the worst that’s happened is when Kevin found out that he was the only one staying in Palmetto for the summer and the resulting lecture Andrew completely blocked out.
He knows Neil paid attention, and he knows that Neil’s been casually entertaining Kevin’s shared insanity under the guise of Kevin “having his game” or whatever other junkie bullshit they both subscribe to.
Andrew also knows that Neil chose to be with him for the summer instead of sticking close to the court. He’s been choosing to ignore how smug he feels every time he sees Neil favor spending time with him over responding to Kevin’s texts.
That doesn’t mean Neil’s been glued to his side at every minute of the day, mornings especially. He hasn’t missed a run yet, and not for lack of trying on Andrew’s part.
He has no idea how long he lays there, staring at Neil sleeping, when Neil starts to stir. It can’t have been long, since Andrew’s body has yet to yell at him to get up for a piss and a glass of water.
He feels Neil shift a fraction closer before he sees Neil blink open his pretty blue eyes. It’s always a treat to see Neil first thing in the morning, to watch as his brain comes online and he recognizes where he is and who he’s with.
When Neil does, he smiles, something lazy and far too sweet to be aimed at Andrew Minyard of all people—but he’s learning to live with the anomaly that Neil Josten is.
“Can I come closer?” Neil asks, mostly into his pillow.
Instead of answering, Andrew hooks a finger into the waistband of his sleep pants and tugs. Thankfully, Neil gets the hint and scoots closer, throwing a leg over Andrew’s hips and an arm around his stomach.
Neil’s body is warm, a heater all on his own. It’s almost too much with the southern summer heat, the air conditioner working overtime just to keep the house from being sweltering let alone cool, but Andrew doesn’t mind.
He gets to revel in how he doesn’t hate having Neil so close, having another body pressed entirely against his.
Andrew closes his eyes again, content to slip back into sleep, but he doesn’t get to for long. As soon as he starts to relax, Neil begins pulling away—slowly, like he’s trying not to disturb Andrew, but he’s failing miserably.
“Rabbiting off, are we?” Andrew asks without opening his eyes.
He can feel Neil’s sheepishness but at least he doesn’t try lying. It’s a nice change of pace from the past year. “I have to go for a run.”
“Have to?”
Neil presses his face into Andrew’s shoulder. It’d be disgustingly cute, if Neil wasn’t trying to leave him all alone for the next hour or so. “Kevin said—”
“I don’t give a shit what Kevin said.”
“Kevin said, Neil repeats, a little louder this time, “that I should keep in shape since we won’t be going to the court for the next month. Besides, you know I like running.” He tightens the grip he has on Andrew’s middle for a second before he starts to pull away. “I’ll come back. You can have me all to yourself after.”
Andrew scoffs but it does nothing to deter Neil. He untangles himself from the sheets and gets out of bed, leaving Andrew’s side suddenly empty and cold despite the heat.
He doesn’t go far, though. Neil leans back over the mattress, that soft little smile that he has around Andrew and that Andrew hates so very much on his lips. “Look. If you go back to sleep, you’ll wake up when I get back and then it’ll be like no time’s passed at all. What does Nicky call it—cheat codes in real life?”
Andrew rolls his eyes but he doesn’t stop Neil from kissing his forehead. It’s a new thing but Andrew likes it—not that he’d admit outside of Bee’s office but he’s pretty sure Neil’s aware. Otherwise, Neil wouldn’t keep doing since he’s so in tune with what Andrew does and doesn’t like.
Neil pulls his shirt off and while Andrew can’t see anything aside from his back, he knows every inch of Neil’s body at this point. He can easily envision the scars, the moles and freckles, Neil’s pert and cute tits.
Heat pools in the pit of his stomach, but it’s a lazy sort. The kind that doesn’t demand attention and release. The kind Andrew can easily ignore until Neil returns from his run.
But then Neil keeps stripping, tugs his sleep pants off, leaving him standing in nothing but a pair of bright orange cotton panties. They’re nothing special, probably just one pair out of a value ten pack from Walmart, but they cup his ass cheeks like a pair of loving hands and leave little to the imagination. They’re an utter fucking disgrace but—
Well. Andrew’s cock stiffens at the sight.
That heat is more insistent now, gnawing gently yet needy at his insides. Andrew moves to the edge of the bed so he can more easily watch as Neil shuffles through the dresser drawers until he finds a pair of those accursed shorts.
He bends over to put one leg through the shorts and then the other, the panties damn near shrinkwrapped to the folds of his cunt.
Andrew’s mouth waters and he decides he won’t be letting Neil abandon him without having a little snack first. He’s damning Andrew to a lonely and boring morning, it’s the least he can do.
Neil slips on a shirt too, probably one of Andrew’s if the way it fits him awkwardly is anything to go by, and starts to leave, but Andrew stops him with a hand on his hip.
“Not quite.”
“How can I help you, Andrew?” His expression is so open and cutely innocent that Andrew doesn’t believe it for a second. His bunny can be so stupid sometimes, Andrew forgets he’s actually smart as a whip.
Andrew stands, his hold steady as he walks Neil backward into the dresser.
All of Neil’s pretenses drop the second his back hits wood. He gasps, hands coming up to brace himself against the dresser, legs instinctively parting for Andrew to step up in between.
“You did that on purpose.” It’s not a question, but Neil nods like it is anyway.
It’s nowhere near the first time either of them has changed out in front of the other but Neil never makes a moment out of it, never teases. Andrew likes the change of pace and rewards Neil with a bruising kiss.
Neil melts into it instantly, slouching against the dresser until Andrew has to tilt his face down to keep them from parting. He lets them separate so he can drop to his knees instead. He enjoys the way Neil’s eyes darken as he does.
He knows Neil needs to go for a run at least once a day lest he start feeling cooped up and trapped, so he’ll be nice and make this quick.
Andrew tugs his shorts down far enough that they fall to Neil’s ankles all on their own, showing off those accursed panties. There’s already a darkened patch over where Andrew wants to bury himself most.
He can feel the taunts in the back of throat, barbs that poke at Neil eagerness, how easy he is for Andrew, but he swallows them all down. They’ve only been doing—this—for a few months and Andrew knows Neil isn’t as confident in his sexuality as Andrew is, so no matter how much Andrew wants to tease him, he holds back.
Maybe in a few more months, when Neil stops feeling self-conscious every time Andrew wants to simply stare at his pretty pussy, he’ll call Neil a slut to his face.
For now, he digs a finger in the white elastic waistband of the panties. They feel brand new. Andrew has no idea when or why he got them, but he has no arguments against it.
“No more boxers?” Andrew asks, punctuating the question by pulling the elastic away from Neil’s body and letting it snap back into place.
Neil hisses, but he answers anyway, the obedient little bunny that he is. “Figured they’d be a nice change. I’ve been thinking about getting a nicer pair. Lace, maybe. Do you have any thoughts?”
Instead of falling for the bait, Andrew snaps the elastic again, then tugs Neil’s panties to the side, exposing his pretty cunt. He's so wet, turned on just by the mere suggestion of Andrew touching him. It’s ridiculously hot. Andrew has no idea what to do with that or the tingly feelings in his chest but he doesn’t push them away.
(He thinks he knows exactly why he’s reacting the way he is—but he’s also Andrew Joseph Minyard. Joyless and destructive. Juvie brat. A monster. He couldn’t possibly—and yet.)
“Abram,” Andrew says, almost a purr.
Neil’s eyes light up in just the way he expects. It was something imparted many months ago, the name, the reason why it was so important. Mary, the bitch that she was, at least took to Neil’s change in gender with enthusiasm, got him a haircut and new clothes and new name just for them.
Now—it is just for Neil and just for Andrew.
And Andrew likes the satisfaction that settles on Neil’s face whenever he uses the name. He likes making Neil feel good and that he doesn’t have to do anything extravagant or so out of his own comfort zone to do so is big. It is so easy to call Neil by the first name he ever liked and then give him a mind-blowing orgasm after.
“Yes or no?”
Neil’s yes punches out of him in one sharp breath. Andrew watches as he clenches around nothing, feels the twitch of his legs while he waits for Andrew to do anything but stare, before he dives right in.
Neil’s thighs squeeze closer with the first pass of Andrew’s tongue.
If Andrew didn’t know any better, he’d think the never-been-touched virgin shit was an act, but they’d had a nice long talk a couple weeks ago about Neil’s mother’s thoughts on sex and relationships. Andrew came away from it with a deeper understanding of his—of Neil’s fucked up history and a new wave of hatred toward a long dead woman.
What Mary Hatford doesn’t know can’t kill her again.
Andrew hikes Neil’s leg up onto his shoulder, spreading him wider, allowing for him to devour Neil more thoroughly.
“Oh—fuck—”
Andrew hums, encouraging Neil not to hold back, to be loud. He preens internally every time Neil can’t keep his little noises in because that means he’s doing his damn job and he’s doing it well.
He bears further down, slides a hand up the backside of Neil’s panties so he can grab Neil’s ass and pull him in as close as he physically can, alternating between long flat passes of his tongue and sucking insatiably at Neil’s clit.
It’s obvious when Neil is close, his moans taking on a more desperate, needy tone. He white-knuckles the dresser, uses the leg thrown over Andrew’s shoulder to hold him right where Neil wants him.
Andrew pulls back for just a moment, lapping at Neil’s clit so he doesn’t lose the pressure entirely, so he can slick up a couple fingers with all of the juices dripping out of Neil.
“Why—”
Whatever Neil’s stupid question was going to be dies in favor of a colorful swear in a language Andrew doesn’t speak when Andrew latches back on to his clit and pushes his fingers in Neil’s hole at the same.
Andrew works Neil to his orgasm quickly from there, an easy task once his fingers find Neil’s sweet spot. Neil comes with a punched-out moan, his legs squeezing tight around Andrew’s head.
He licks Neil through it, gladly lets Neil grind down onto his tongue and fingers with each pulsing aftershock until Neil half-heartedly tries to push him away.
He slides his fingers out and drops his cheek on Neil's thigh so he can catch his breath. Neil’s skin is searing hot but that just serves to ground Andrew in the here and now as he shoves his sweatpants and boxers down enough for his cock to bounce out, slapping loudly against his stomach.
Above him, Neil gasps. Andrew knows Neil so terribly wants to do more than just watch. He’s seen the iron-tight grip Neil keeps on his control in the several times they’ve done this since Neil was kidnapped. And well, Andrew can’t deny (at least to himself) that he wants Neil to do more than watch, too. Just—not yet.
Soon, probably. He can feel his own grip loosening each time he allows Neil to stay while he takes care of himself. He knows the next time Neil asks, he won’t be able to say no.
Andrew takes hold of himself with the same hand he fingered Neil with, lazily stroking a couple of times as he simply takes in Neil’s post-orgasmic calm.
He’s a sight to behold, something only Andrew will ever get to see. He feels smug about it on an average day, fucking possessive over it (and Neil) every other time when his moods rapidly fluctuate, still out of whack from the court mandated drugs.
Everything he feels about it is only made that much more intense whenever he remembers Neil I-don’t-swing Josten swings just for him. It’d be hard not to feel like he won the lottery even if he didn’t start willingly inviting any and all feelings Neil inspires in him.
“I wanna watch, Drew,” Neil whispers, pulling Andrew out of his thoughts. He slides a hand into Andrew’s hair, idly playing with the strands.
The attention feels nice, but he doesn’t let himself fall into it. He grips his cock harder and presses a kiss into the inside of Neil’s thigh before he starts jerking himself off in earnest.
It doesn’t take much. He’s been rock hard since the amateur strip tease, it’s a wonder he’s lasted this long. A few hard strokes and Andrew comes, coating his hand and the front of his sweatpants in his release.
The lingering shame he still feels when it comes to sex is quick and fleeting, eased away by Neil’s gentle hands in his hair. He basks in it, lets Neil pamper him in the only way Andrew feels capable of allowing him right now.
Eventually, the feeling of cum drying on his hands is disgusting enough to spur Andrew into moving away from the warm comfort he feels whenever he’s between Neil’s legs.
Neil turns to redress, giving him relative privacy to clean off his hand and strip himself of his sweatpants and boxers.
He doesn’t bother finding anything else to wear, since he’ll be up in half an hour anyway to shower and make them breakfast before Neil gets back, and decides to climb back into bed completely naked. Andrew doesn’t do it often, but he’ll gladly take advantage of when he feels good enough to.
“I’ll see you in a bit,” Neil says, pausing at the door. He watches Andrew for a second longer, that stupid soft look he loves to point at Andrew dulling his normal edges. “Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone.”
“I will be rejoicing in my peace and quiet.”
Neil rolls his eyes, they both know Andrew is lying, before leaving. The room is suddenly smaller without him in it, bearing down on Andrew from all sides.
He ignores this and pretends that he really won’t miss Neil for the hour he’ll be gone and pulls out a cigarette.