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Wilbur had been constantly upset at Brittany leaving him for Jared. JARED, the motherfucker, had stolen his girlfriend right out from under him. Sure, he wasn’t the best at parties, and maybe he had some emotional issues. It was fine though because that didn’t mean that Jared got to steal his girl like that.
Honestly, the reasonable part of Wilbur was screaming at himself. Brittany deserved to be happy, despite what he thought, and he could see why she would like Jared so much. He was attractive, Wilbur could see it. Maybe he was just thinking like this because he was drunk at a party, looking across the room to the happy couple as Wilbur was left wondering what could have been. Brittany was still the light of his life, but if she left then, honestly, fuck her. Wilbur resigned himself to being alone forever as he downed whatever was in that cup in one gulp.
He tried hanging out with his friends, but most of them weren’t there. Gogy left to fuck his boyfriend, as had most of his friends, running off to their significant others as the party was wrapping up. He was one of the few still at the house, watching as people paired off to leave the scene. Envy spiked up his spine looking between the couples leaving the party and Brittany and Jered, right across the hall.
Now, Wilbur was quite weird while drunk. But in the way that his body and his mind were having completely different reactions to the substance. While his mind was in emotional turmoil, buried in self-doubt about being good enough, his body moved around a lot, felt overall lighter, and it was easier to start and finish tasks. Despite the stutter brought on by the alcohol, it was easier to talk to people as his social anxiety had finally taken a break. So, like the true dumbass that a drunk Wilbur was, he moved to talk to the happy couple that’d caught his eye the course of the night.
“Ello. frien’s! And how’re you this lov’ly night?"
Brittany seemed slightly confused, slightly amused by his approach. She seemed to sense that he was drunk. Fuck, she was always better with emotions than he was. “I’m doing alright. Wilbur, are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah, just had a few too many. I’ll be a’ight.” He slurred, catching the eyes of Jered, whose eyes seemed to stare straight to his soul. Ha straight. These bitches ain't straight, let's not kid ourselves.
Wil had absolutely no clue what anyone else was doing while he was sitting, staring at Jared, probably thinking about how much he wanted to fight for Brittany. Or something. Emotions, amirite. Brittany seemed to pick up on the weird energy because she asked if Jared could walk Wilbur back to his apartment. Wilbur was manhandled into Jered's arms as he semi-carried, semi-dragged Wilbur out of the party house.
It lit a fire of rage inside Wilbur. It had to be rage, right? Definitely, he wanted to fight this man, despite the fact that he’d lose. God, Jared was ripped.
They made their way back to the apartment, but it became increasingly clear along their journey that Jared wasn’t entirely sober either. It was less noticeable than Wilbur due to a combination of Jared just seeming more sober while drunk but also Wilbur was must worse in terms of alcoholic amount. But despite appearances, Jared was drunk too, stumbling over his words occasionally and tripping over his feet.
Wilbur jangled his keys around, shoving them into the lock and throwing the door open as unceremoniously as possible. Jared kept rustling them in the direction of Wilbur's hallway, the small apartment with 5 rooms in total. Through the living room/kitchen (Listen, it counted as two rooms despite it being only separated by a half-wall, okay?) and down the hallway, past the third room, the closet. (Okay, so he should really just give up and call it a 3 room place, but he got to have one thing, okay?) Past the bathroom which he peered into to make sure it wasn’t the bedroom before throwing open the last door and finally finding the bedroom. Wilbur really, really wanted to fight this guy and had been attempting to separate himself from the larger man’s arms to give him a proper brawl but Jared kept him firmly in his arms and manipulated him exactly where he wanted despite Wilburs protests and escape attempts. Jared deposited the musician onto the bed.
Wilbur pulled Jared into his bed with him. “Hey! W-w’re do u think ur go’n!? I still gotta f’ght you!”
“I can’t understand a word of what you’re sayin Buba.” Wilbur's face flushed at such an embarrassing nickname, hating the way it sounded in Jared’s mouth.
“You’re such a prick. I’m gonna fight you!” Wilbur made sure to get himself even louder, over pronouncing every syllable and putting on what almost ended up being an American accent in an attempt for the other man to understand him.
“Okay, Wilbur. Well, how about you go to sleep now, and you can fight me in the morning.”
“Bastard’s just gonna leave me, fightless.” Wilbur pouted.
“What?”
“I'm gonna sleep and your gonna leave and I'm not gonna get to fight you!” Wilbur couldn’t tell if that was what he’d actually said underneath the slurred speech and heat of the room, but he hoped so. It was what he meant.
“Okay, well, how about I stay right here and you can fight me in the morning.”
“Or…” He lost his train of thought looking at Jared. He looked away, retraced his mental steps, and began again. “Or! Or we could just fight now!”
“You wanna fight me now?” Jared seemed way too amused to have been just challenged to the death.
“Yea. I wanna fight now.” Wilbur was back to pouting.
Jared began hustling him back to the bed when Wilbur, hyped on adrenaline, began tugging on his arms.
“I wanna fight! Now, pretty boy!” Wilbur hadn’t the faintest idea where the insult came from, but it felt right.
“Okay? Well, I want to sleep. You can fight me in the morning, okay?” Wilbur made full eye contact with Jared, trying to figure out if his words were honest. Jared looked right back, full of playful amusement. Wilbur couldn’t seem to focus on the other man’s honesty and felt his thoughts drifting into space. His eyes were just such a pretty amber color, Wilbur couldn’t explain it. As he was thinking, he kept leaning closer to discern his honesty, but no matter how close he got to the other man, the answer didn’t seem to appear. Wilbur finally snapped out of it, only a few inches away from the other’s face.
Jared’s eyes clouded over before pushing his face against Wilbur’s. Wilbur’s brain was working at 2% capacity, so by the time he fully processed what was happening, he was back against the bed. That fire relit inside him, that anger that told him to fight the man. So, clearly, this was a challenge. Jared was pushing him down, and he couldn’t take that. So he pushed back.
Every time Wilbur seemed to get the upper hand during this makeout session, Jared dominated him yet again. Wilbur was determined though and situated himself on Jared’s lap to have the higher ground.
Wilbur’s hand threw itself against the larger man’s jawline, upset that it was so much better than his, jealous that Brittany…. That Brittany got to touch Jared? Or that Jerad got to touch Brittany? Wilbur’s cloudy mind couldn’t tell anymore, but it didn’t matter. He was upset, goddamnit. And he was fighting Jared right now, so it was time to focus.
Something was squeezing his waist, picking him up off his lap and depositing him against his own headboard. He threw off his shirt to assert dominance (And because it was too fuckin hot in this room) but was immediately bested when the other did the same. Once their shirts were discarded somewhere into the corner of the room, Jared pulled Wilbur into another startling kiss, which Wilbur, once again, failed to dominate. It pissed him off, the fire relighting in the pit of his stomach for the umpteenth time that night and Jared’s hands began trailing down his body. Sparks flew wherever his hands made contact with Wilbur's skin, and Wilbur retaliated. Determined not to be bested, he scratched his nails up the man’s back, glowing victoriously when the man made a slight pained noise in the back of his throat. He kept pawing at his back, sending scratches down it, feeling Jared shiver, as his own hands moved to the man’s sweats.
Jared’s hands were equally as busy, hooking under the waistband of Wilbur's jeans and beginning to pull the denim out of the way.
Wilbur shoved his hand against the man’s crotch, watching him slightly still and as his face brightened with a flush traveling down his neck. After less than a second of pause, he began fully ridding Wil of his jeans.
They’d stopped making out, although Wilbur couldn’t pinpoint the moment they’d stopped. They’d been breathing each other’s air, flushed face to flushed face as hands wandered. The room was still so stiflingly hot, too hot to bear, and so Wilbur did the only thing he could think to do without escaping Jared’s grasp, shoved his head into the crook of Jared’s neck. It didn’t do anything to relieve the heat, especially the one inside his core. He was so desperate for the relief he was craving that he wined when Jared’s hands finally pulled his (absurdly long) legs out of his jeans and didn’t immediately return to his body.
Frankly, he shouldn’t be blamed for the way his teeth sank into Jared’s skin, right below his ear. He’d pissed him off, first stole his girlfriend then was unfairly good at whatever they were doing, and his neck was right there, an expanse of milky skin just ready for the biting. And bite he did. He sucked mark after mark into his throat until Jared got his head out of his ass and began touching Wilbur again.
Wilbur was regularly sucking dark purple marks into Jared’s skin, scratching his nails into the man’s back, but Jared clearly wasn’t one to back down from a fight, as evident by the way he’d rid Wilbur of nearly all his clothes and was touching all over his body. He lightly scraped his fingernails along the spinal ridges of Wilbur’s back and he shuttered so hard forward his entire torso pressed against Jared’s. HIs crotch brushed Jared’s, and a gasp sounded through the room. It took Wilbur a minute to realize that it was him that made that noise, though Jared wasn’t unaffected.
Wilbur saw an opportunity to win this battle, grinding his hips down again and at the same time pressing his mouth onto Jareds again.
Now, Wilbur wasn’t a quiet person, and his body was desperately screaming for this activity to continue. He made a noise he’d deny forever, as Jared’s cock brushed against his just right, sending electricity down his arms. The raging fire hadn’t ebbed once, pushing against his stomach and nearly choking him as he desperately writhed against him. Jared lifted Wilbur’s hips up and Wilbur grabbed around the back of his neck so he didn’t fall on his ass trying to fight this man.
Jared’s teeth snagged Wils bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. Wilbur opened his eyes. Pretty eyelashes, a sharp jawline, a flattering redness hinted in his cheekbones. Wilbur hated his smug face, hated his pretty eyes, hated his wandering hands, hated how easily he could lift him up.
He hated Jared, and that’s why he was determined to win. He hated that he may lose, but it seemed inevitable at this point. He’d been losing this battle from the moment it began. But the fire was still lit in his core and he pushed back against Jared, trying to separate his back from the harsh wood of his headboard. Jared could barely support the way that Wilbur was leaning over him, pushing him back against the one arm keeping them upright.
Wilbur kept grinding his hips against Jared, chasing that high. Jared made a heavy noise right into Wilbur's ear and the vibrations went straight to his cock, and Wilbur shuttered. He couldn't see, couldn't think through the oppressive air, breaths were getting harder and harder. Wilbur may have made another whine but he couldn't tell. Everything seemed so far away, overcome with pleasure, and… oh yeah, he was fighting him. (Does this count as fighting?)
"Wil~" Jared gasped, flushed and nearly shaking. Wilbur shared the sentiment, not much better himself. He could feel the pleasure building to the end, and he was approaching fast. Jared’s hand on his hip was scalding.
How many times had they kissed so far? Fuck it , Wilbur said to himself, pulling him into yet another one. Why did they even bother breaking it if they were just gonna kiss again a minute later? Jared seemingly gave up on holding them upright and gilded them down against the sheets. Wilbur’s legs were folded mildly uncomfortably, on either side of Jared’s hips, and he couldn’t imagine Jared being much more comfortable with the way his legs were pushed against the headboard that was giving Wilbur back pain.
The grinding continued and Wilbur barely noticed when Jared arched his hips up one more time and gripped Wilbur’s hips like a lifeline, likely leaving bruises, orgasm finally hitting him. Wilbur followed him seconds later, vision whiting out and his own thought process stuttering over itself. Wil pulled back, too breathless to continue the kiss and too overstimulated to keep moving or touching.
Wilbur collapsed onto the bed, exhausted. Huh, as he was fading out into unconsciousness, he could feel the alcohol leaving his system. That was funny. He’d gotten the alcohol fucked out of him.
Ugh.
Consciousness first hit him from his head, which was in pain. It wasn’t quite migraine-level, not even close. Just a dull ache, which he was thankful for. He wasn’t too hungover, he might even be functional at some point today. Now that his thought process was back in working order, he began scanning his memory for the previous night.
He’d been abandoned by all his taken friends, gotten a little too drunk, and approached his ex-girlfriend and her boyfriend. Her boyfriend had taken him back to his apartment and while he was attempting to get him to bed, he’d…. And they’d…
Wilbur suddenly shot up from his side of the bed, ignoring the slight pain behind his eyes. “Oh fuck, I just fucked my ex-girlfriend’s boyfriend. Shit, shit, shit, this is the worst thing I could’ve done, oh my god…”
Jared heard him, turning to look. “What?”
“I slept with you and you have a girlfriend. Oh, I’m such a terrible person, god, someone kill me-”
“What? Who, Brittany?” He saw Wilbur’s face, “You think I’m dating Brittany?”
“Yeah? I know you are, mate, she talks about how great you are all the time!”
“She already has a boyfriend? Jay? I’m her friend. Single, my guy. I’m single. Although I wouldn’t mind doing this again.” Jared winked in Wilbur’s direction, and Wilbur ignored the heat in his face.
“But… I thought you were straight… I thought I was straight.”
“No, Buba, I’m gay? I flirt with you all the time. Also, no offense to your supposed straightness, but straight guys don’t tend to fuck the closest willing man available while drunk.”
Logically, Wilbur probably could’ve figured that out on his own, given that Jared didn’t go home with Brittany at the party and instead went home with Wilbur. But even knowing that Jared couldn’t possibly be into Brittany, being a gay man, he still felt strongly for Jared when looking at him.
Hate? Was this hate? This was the feeling he'd felt when someone else approached Brittany while they were together, so it must be jealousy? He'd honestly begun to wonder if he'd gotten over her once he stopped calling her while drunk and thinking about her late at night, but every time he'd seen them together, his blood was boiling all over again. So he must not be? Yes, he was jealous. He must still love Brittany, to fight for her against Jared. But… straight men don’t sleep with the first attractive man that approaches them at a party. And he’d definitely been… into it.
Was he… not straight? His online community was mostly gay youth, he knew that. And he knew what the labels were and what they meant, but he’d never really internalized them. Never thought any of it might apply to him, just telling the audience the easiest answer and being on his way without ever actually giving it any thought. Was… was he gay? No, he’d been attracted to many women, even loved Brittany for a time. But… maybe he was bisexual.
“-bur. Wilbur!”
“Yeah?” Jared made eye contact with Wilbur, but Wilbur wasn’t looking at his eyes. He was observing the multitude of dark marks he’d apparently left on Jared’s neck and jaw last night. It looked like he’d been mauled, and Wilbur nearly snickered at the thought.
“You okay? We don’t have to mention it if you’re having an identity crisis.” His eyes were a little too knowing, looking at Wilbur a little too kindly.
Wilbur wanted to kiss him again.
Okay, so that feeling he’d been feeling this whole time definitely wasn’t hate.
Did he like Jared?
“I… I don’t think I’m gay. But I might… I think I might be bisexual?” Wilbur peeked at Jared, who didn’t seem surprised at all. Wilbur took a deep breath and continued, thinking out loud. “I definitely like you. Even if we don’t date, I’d be okay doing… this. Again. If. If you want to? And I’d not be opposed to dating too, I think.”
“Well, that’s good. Because I’m going to romance the fuck out of you, Wilbur Soot.” If Wilbur thought he couldn’t be startled by Jared after they’d had sex the night before, he thought wrong. A bright blush instantly colored his cheeks.
“W-well. Good. You do that.” He choked out, feeling an urge to bury his entire face into either his arms or the crook of Jared’s neck. He wasn’t picky.
Jared laughed at him for a moment, and this time Wilbur really did shove his head into the other man, effectively hiding from his boyfriend(?).
“Can I take you to breakfast, Buba?”
Wil mumbled into his neck, face flaming again just from the nickname and how affectionately he said it.
“I can’t hear you.” Jared teased, a laugh in his voice.
“Only if you’ll be my boyfriend,” Wilbur said, not even bothering to move his face, just saying it louder.
“Deal.” Jared smiled at the man in his arms. “Hey, Wil.”
“Hm?”
“We kinda have to get out of bed to go to breakfast. And also, we’re both naked.”
Wilbur startled backward, and Jared’s laughter echoed across the apartment. Wilbur threw his shirt at him.
They had a great breakfast. Wilbur couldn’t be happier.