Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Larry/Kenny
Summary: Follows straight on from 'Khalil'. Larry confesses to missing Kenny.
*****
He’s learnt how to make one beer last all night. That way Kenny always has a reason to say “no” if someone scary offers to buy him a drink , but he never actually drinks enough to get drunk.
He made that mistake once; four beers and he found himself unable (and kind of unwilling) to fend off the advances of a cute college freshman who pushed him up against a wall in a dark corner and kissed him, rough and wet and messy until his head began to spin. When college guy’s hand started inching under his waistband, Kenny began to panic, but couldn’t seem to make his arms move enough to get him to stop. College guy’s hand was in his pants all the way up to the wrist before he managed to find enough strength to push him away, stumbling through the club and out into the street where he leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath and clear his head. The bouncer eventually bundled him into a cab, and that night he didn’t sleep at all; just lay in bed playing through every hideous thing that could have happened if he hadn’t got away when he did.
He knows better now. One beer, a polite smile and a “no thanks”. He recognises some of the faces now, knows who’s okay to dance with and who to stay away from. He never kisses the same guy twice, and he never goes home with anyone.
Tonight, he nurses the last few drops of his drink and leans casually by the end of the bar. There’s a big-city-type in a sharp pinstriped shirt and expensive-looking shoes who’s been watching him for the last half hour, and Kenny decides to give him five minutes to make his move. The DJ switches to some new trendy Europop number that draws a dozen more guys to the dance floor, and Kenny nods his head to the beat. As he tips his head back to drain the last of his beer, City Boy heads towards him, surprised smile like he’s only just spotted Kenny. Kenny waits until the last minute to look at him, as he steps up close and puts a hand on Kenny’s shoulder, leans in and asks him to dance.
Kenny leaves his bottle behind and follows him to the dance floor, where men are packed in tight, brushing against people they’re not even dancing with. In moments, City Boy’s hands are on his hips, and they’re pressed so close that Kenny can feel the guy’s dick pressing against him, solid if not hard. They’re barely even dancing, just grinding together in some vague attempt at rhythm that makes Kenny incredibly aware of his skin – the feel of denim against his legs, the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the uncomfortable way his shirt sticks to his back. He ends up with City Boy’s thigh wedged between his own, and a big, clammy hand planted firmly between his shoulder-blades.
They dance out the rest of the song. Kenny’s breathless and grinning, and when City Boy leans in close, he shuts his eyes. It’s tough to hear what he says with the music pounding, but there’s no mistaking the invitation.
City Boy leads him by the hand, expertly weaving through the crowd until they reach the washroom. Inside, the fluorescent lights make his eyes sting, and for a moment everything looks yellow. There’s one guy already in there, checking his hair in the dirty mirror; City Boy signals for him to get out.
Once they’re alone, Kenny’s shoved roughly against the sink, the basin jamming hard against his butt, and then City Boy’s right there, kissing him hungrily. All Kenny can do at first is hang on to him and let himself be kissed.
When they come up for air, City Boy’s grinning and gasping, and when he pushes Kenny into the nearest stall, it’s with a clumsy stumble. Inside, with the door locked, they kiss some more until Kenny feels dizzy. He pulls back, blinking rapidly. City Boy leans against the flimsy cubicle wall, hands already working the zipper of his designer jeans. Kenny bites his lip; is he supposed to do the same, or is City Boy expecting to go first?
Before he drops his pants, City Boy fishes a condom out of his pocket, tears open the wrapper and eases it on like he’s done this a million times. Then he treats Kenny to a lazy smile.
Kenny’s head feels full, his thoughts slow. The only one making any sense is the constant I’m gonna have sex I’m gonna have sex that started as soon as he stepped into the washroom.
City Boy’s still waiting. Kenny steps up, not sure exactly where to start but trying to look like he’s done this before. A warm hand lands on his shoulder, applies gentle pressure until he gets the picture and sinks to his knees.
It’s different from how he remembers. That surprises him, and he tries not to think about the last time he did this. City Boy has his hands in Kenny’s hair, flexing and petting, and he actually talks to Kenny. Those whispered encouragements make Kenny’s dick ache, and he pulls out all the stops to get City Boy panting, his fingers tight in Kenny’s hair, until he’s coming in spasms, grunting and shuddering.
Somehow Kenny gets back to his feet. His leg muscles are strained, and there's no room in the stall to stretch out. City Boy gets rid of the condom, zips back up. Reaches out and runs a hand down Kenny's cheek. "Beautiful," he murmurs, then laughs. Winks at Kenny. Then unlocks the stall door and struts back out of the washroom, leaving Kenny dazed and alone and desperately hard.
*****
He gets a cab, and ends up giving his home address instead of the one he usually gives, a couple of streets away so the car engine doesn't alert his folks. He doesn't realise until the cab rolls to a stop at the end of the drive. As he fishes the cash out of his pocket, he watches the upstairs windows anxiously.
All the lights stay switched off. Out on the kerb, he waits for the cab to disappear down the street before heading to the door. He's on the doorstep, fumbling in his pocket for the key, when he hears the Golds' front door open.
When he looks, Larry's standing there. Hands jammed into the pockets of his blue terrycloth robe, he moves accross the porch, shoulders hunched against the cold. Kenny moves to meet him, standing on the porch step.
"What are you doing up?" he asks. His voice feels scratchy; he wonders if he's coming down with something, or if it's because he's tired.
Larry shrugs.
"I saw you leave."
"That was like three hours ago!" For the first time he begins to feel the cold seeping in through his jacket, and he crosses his arms.
"I was up late working on my English essay."
"And you waited for me to come home?"
Larry leans with his elbows on the porch railing, looking down at the ground.
"Well, I finished my essay as well." He tries to smile.
A little surprised, Kenny doesn't know what to say. Larry waited up until nearly two in the morning, just for him. It's kind of a nice thought, tinged with a hint of guilt.
"You could have just come to see me in the morning. I don't have plans tomorrow. Today."
Larry peeks up at him from under curls which are desperately in need of cutting.
"I tried that last weekend. You were asleep until nearly midday, then you said you were busy. I feel like I've barely seen you at all lately."
It's true. Apart from at school, they've hardly spoken to each other over the past couple of weeks. Mostly that's down to Kenny and his determined plans to 'get over' Larry. He hasn't decided yet if it's working.
After tonight, and City Boy, he's almost certain it's not worth it.
"Well, we can do something later if you want."
"I've got a couple of new DVDs if you wanna come round and watch 'em," Larry suggests with a shy half-smile. Kenny nods.
For a while, they stand in silence. Kenny moves to lean against the porch railings; the wood presses against his butt exactly where the washbasin did while City Boy kissed him, and it's just the tiniest bit painful. He wonders if he's got bruises there.
Larry opens his mouth like he's about to speak. When Kenny looks at him he shakes his head and chuckles.
"What?"
Larry doesn't answer, so Kenny urges, "Tell me."
"It's stupid."
"I wanna know."
Larry turns so he's leaning the way Kenny is, butt against the railing. He crosses his arms over his chest.
"I was just thinking, I've kinda missed you lately."
He looks down, unable to face Larry. To say Kenny's missed him is like the understatement of the year, and he wants to tell Larry that, but isn't this what Mrs Gold told him to avoid? Giving in to that temptation to spend every waking moment with Larry. It is a temptation, and he's supposed to be strong. Except being away from Larry makes him feel just as crushed as being around Larry, and if he's going to feel bad either way, can't he at least feel bad in Larry's company?
"I've missed you too."
"Then how come you've been...I don't know, I sort of feel like you've been avoiding me." Larry still won't look at him. They both stare at the floor for a while. "Tell me I'm wrong."
Larry's voice is quiet. This isn't just 'hey buddy, where've you been?' He's really upset. What makes it worse is that the only way to make him feel better is to lie to him.
When Kenny doesn't answer, Larry lets out a sad laugh, and tips his head back. finishing with a sigh.
"I guess I shouldn't stop you," Larry tells him. "You said you wanted a boyfriend, you have every right to go out looking. I mean, you probably got sick of listening to me talking about girls all the time when you weren't interested, but you never tried to stop me dating."
Kenny has to shut his eyes for a moment. Just when he thought he couldn't possibly feel any worse, Larry's shaky, quiet voice cuts right through him, making him feel like a complete and utter heartless bastard.
"I'm sorry," he whisperes, but he's not sure if Larry even hears him.
"I know it shouldn't bother me," Larry continues, "but it does. It's like you have this whole other life now, and I'm not a part of it." He wants to tell Larry to stop, because he can't possibly feel any lower than he does right now, but Larry just keeps on going. "And I want you to be happy, so if this is what it takes, I know I should accept it. I just...for some reason I just can't."
Kenny turns and rests one hand on the railing. Larry isn't looking at him, even now.
"I'm sorry," he says again. "The last thing I want is for you to feel bad because of me."
"It's not your fault," Larry tells him, oblivious and brave. "But I've been thinking."
"About what?"
"About how we can spend more time together." Larry makes it sound like some grand plan, something he's spent a lot of time contemplating until he's reached a momentous decision. He takes a deep breath and turns to face Kenny. "I mean, there's got to be a reason why I've felt so bad for not seeing you. And how many guys do you know who'd feel like that just for not seeing their friend?" Larry bites his lip, hesitating. "This is your life now, I get that. But I still want to be a part of it." And he leans in, eyes closing.
Kenny stops him.
One hand flat on Larry's chest, holding him back. Kenny actually stops him. Straight away he knows this may be the most stupid thing he's ever done, but he's already gone and done it now.
"You don't want this," he tells Larry. You don't want me, he thinks.
"I do," Larry whispers. "I've been thinking about this for days. It makes sense." And then, to reassure him, "I want to."
He tries again, and this time Kenny has no willpower left. He keeps his hand on Larry's chest as they kiss, fingers tightening just a little in the fabric of Larry's robe.
All that stuff about time slowing down? It's garbage. It doesn't last long enough at all, and Kenny knows he'll desperately cling to these few seconds of memory for ever. Larry looks kind of stunned, but the good kind, one corner of his mouth tugging upwards. Kenny's too afraid to smile, worried that if he does he's going to start laughing, or maybe even sobbing with relief and joy and thanks. Instead, he moves his free hand to the back of Larry's neck and draws him in again, being sure this time to savour it, to concentrate entirely on the soft uncertain press of Larry's lips against his. The hand on Larry's chest slips around to his back, holding him closer, and Larry reciprocates, cold hands on Kenny's neck and hip. Kenny feels dizzy, desperate, and they kiss and kiss until he has to stop and bury his face in Larry's shoulder for fear of losing his mind.
Larry's robe is cold. He figures they've been standing outside too long; Larry must be freezing.
"It's late," he says, and immediately wishes he hadn't.
Larry takes hold of his elbows and leans back a little.
"Come inside?" he asks, nodding his head towards the door. Kenny knows he should say no. This is dangerous, he tells himself, too much too soon.
But Larry starts to move and he follows, blindly, allowing himself to be led inside and up the stairs to Larry's room.
They undress in the dark, coming together for more kisses once they're both down to underwear. Larry's skin is chilled and clammy, and Kenny rubs at his arms and back to warm him up. When they make it to the bed, Larry pulls the covers up tight around them and they tangle their legs together, gasping and laughing breathlessly at cool sheets and colder feet. Kenny kisses him slowly, wanting everything to last. They shift in the narrow bed until Larry's on his back and Kenny has his knees either side of Larry's thigh, hands on the mattress above Larry's shoulders. There, they kiss again and Kenny feels like he's melting, every muscle in his body failing so that he's laying along Larry's body, and he doesn't care at all that Larry can feel his burgeoning erection. He's not even surprised when Larry pushes up against him, pressing his own hard cock against Kenny's hip. He wants to do something about it, knows he could pull away and slide down Larry's body to taste his cock again for the first time in months, but the most he can manage is to thrust against him, pushing down each time Larry presses up. Larry seems to like that, anyway, so it probably doesn't matter that he's so delirious, rubbing almost spasmodically against him as they kiss and kiss some more. He likes it so much, in fact, that pretty soon he's gasping for breath, heaving and shuddering and suddenly there's wet heat seeping through his underwear.
Kenny slows, pulls back to see Larry gazing up at him in confused shock. He grins, aware enough to know how idiotic he must look, then dips his head to press his mouth to Larry's neck, kissing as he grinds his hips again, three, four, five times until he comes, making Larry gasp and hold him tight.
Eventually, Larry has to give him a shove to get him to move. They manage not to kick each other as they tug off their wet underwear and drop it by the side of the bed. Larry mumbles something about remebering to move it first thing in the morning, but it gets lost as Kenny folds himself around Larry's warm, drowsy body. He worries vaguely about not being able to sleep with his arm trapped under Larry, but it doesn't seem to matter. He dozes off in less than a minute, still smiling.