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Alvin wakes up early, like he’s done his entire life.
The difference, though, is that these days, he’s no longer filled with wariness and anxiety the second he snaps awake. His brain no longer kickstarts with the need to put his hand on his gun and look over his shoulder first thing in the morning. No, these days he wakes up slowly to the early rays of sunshine streaming in through the crack in the curtains, the muted chitter of sparrows—more often than not with Jude snug and sleep-warm at his side, Jude’s head on his shoulder, Jude’s breathing deep and even. Sometimes, he wakes with Jude’s drool on his t-shirt—like today.
Alvin smiles.
His right arm is slung across Jude’s chest, and he barely has to move his hand to be able to brush it over Jude’s silky hair. Jude recently stopped spiking it again, and Alvin prefers it like this—silky-soft, smooth, and easy to comb his fingers through. He likes how the bangs frame Jude’s face and make him look…softer, somehow. Kinder, maybe, although Jude is always kind.
Alvin keeps petting Jude’s hair, the touch feather-soft so as not to wake him. Touching Jude is as soothing to him as it is to Jude. Subconsciously, he tries to match his breathing to Jude’s.
It’s a good way to wake up.
Alvin remembers clearly the first time they slept together in the same bed, months before either of them had even confessed. It was the night after their final battle against Gaius, when they regrouped in Balan’s apartment, tired and torn between elation over their victory and melancholy because Milla had left for the Spirit Realm. It was Alvin’s room Jude had come to then, confused and mournful, carrying his sadness like a blanket, and Alvin hadn’t thought twice before pulling Jude into a hug.
They sat together on Alvin’s bed, shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh, with Alvin’s arm around Jude. Jude talked about the first time he’d met Milla, about how much he admired her. About how she stood up to his father for him, about the necklace she gave him.
“I’m sorry, kid,” Alvin said when Jude’s voice had turned hoarse and his tears had finally run dry. He knew exactly how much it hurt to lose someone. He’d meant to say something comforting, but the words that came out of his mouth instead were, “Did you love her?”
With a heaviness in his heart, he waited, afraid of the answer.
Jude shrugged, turning his face into Alvin’s shoulder. “I don’t know,” he said, fresh tears evident in his voice. “But now I’ll never find out.”
So Alvin wrapped both arms around Jude’s shoulders and just hugged him again, until Jude finally fell asleep against him, and Alvin was able to manoeuvre both of them under the covers.
The next morning, Jude put on a brave face again and decided he wanted to graduate so he could start researching ways for humans and spirits to coexist peacefully again. Alvin set up his business with Yurgen. They rented an apartment in Trigleph together because it made sense to split the cost now that they both lived there. Though it had two bedrooms, Alvin’s new bed was large, and for a reason neither of them talked about, sleeping in the same bed became a habit—for comfort, for knowing they weren’t alone, for the feeling of Jude’s warm body curled up at his side.
Slowly, Jude’s smiles started reaching his eyes again, and slowly, Alvin lowered the wall around his heart for Jude in return.
Touches between them went from awkward, to warm and frequent hugs, to cheek brushes whenever Jude came home from the lab exhausted, to leaning against each other on the couch as they watched TV at night. To Alvin’s arm around Jude’s shoulder, or Alvin ruffling Jude’s hair because he liked the way Jude ducked his head and pouted up at him adorably.
Alvin was a different person when he was with Jude. Just being near Jude put him into a particular headspace that he couldn’t find the words to describe. There was love there, sure, and gratitude, yes. But out of all the emotions that flowed through him whenever he thought about Jude, it was the devotion that surprised him most of all. He always wanted to do right by Jude, and not merely out of shame and guilt. Mostly, whenever he looked at Jude, everything made sense in a way it hadn’t in decades.
Was this what healing felt like?
Alvin used to live in his own fortress, shutting out everyone and everything that could hurt him. He still had his guard up around almost everyone else, to various degrees—even his other friends. But not with Jude. Never with Jude.
Other than the devotion, Alvin developed a protectiveness towards Jude that he wasn’t sure he was allowed to feel. Jude was so young, innocent in a way Alvin had no longer been when he was Jude’s age. Well, Jude wasn’t completely innocent, not after their travelling and all the fighting they’d done, but he wasn’t tainted the way Alvin was. That shouldn’t have been cause for the force of the protectiveness that Alvin felt, though. He knew that Jude was more than capable of protecting himself, as he had shown the both of them that fateful day in Hamil, or when he confronted Maxwell without fear.
Still, Alvin supposed emotions were never that rational.
Day after day, they grew closer. Waking up together, cooking together, talking about mundane things together… And Alvin loved Jude a little more every day.
He’d known for a while that he was in love with Jude, but he’d always pushed those feelings down as fiercely as he could, working them down to feelings of friend, brother. It should’ve been easy to get rid of them—spirits know Alvin had done it often enough in the past.
But Jude had always been able to slip by all of Alvin’s safety mechanisms.
Moreover, despite everything—their age difference, the fact that they lived together, all the times Alvin had betrayed him in the past—Alvin liked being in love with Jude. And he realised he didn’t want to give up these feelings, even if Jude would never reciprocate them. He could live with what Jude was able to give him—which was a lot, because Jude had a lot of love to give even if it wasn’t romantic in nature.
But just when Alvin was beginning to come to terms with that, something shifted between them.
Alvin wasn’t able to pinpoint the precise moment. At first, he didn’t trust his observations, sure that they were concoctions of a wishful mind. But the more he noticed things, the more he was sure there was no misunderstanding Jude’s blushes, the bashful smiles, the way Jude would seek out his touch and his attention just as often as Alvin did Jude’s.
He’d seen Jude fall in love, and it was beautiful.
It all came together one summer evening.
Jude drifts for a while in that semiconscious state between dreams and waking, vaguely aware of a hand that’s stroking his hair. He feels safe, happy beyond words, content to keep his eyes closed for a little longer. There’s a lazy warmth in his chest. If he were a cat, he would probably be purring.
The thought makes him smile, which in turn makes the hand pause.
Jude lets out a murmur of protest. He feels rather than hears Alvin’s deep answering chuckle. The hand continues.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
The warmth in Jude’s chest spreads. He doesn’t know if he’d ever be able to admit it out loud, but he likes it when Alvin calls him pet names. It makes him feel special.
“It’s Saturday,” Jude says, finally drifting awake enough for a little more brain power.
Alvin hums in agreement.
Jude wiggles a little, trying to press himself closer to Alvin’s side. Alvin is warm, the bed is warm, and the fact that it’s Saturday means there is no need to drag himself to the kitchen and rush to the research centre on a banana and two cups of black coffee.
Instead, Jude presses his lips against Alvin’s shoulder in a silent kiss, and he’s not surprised when Alvin gently rolls them over so Jude is flat on his back, and Alvin can kiss him properly. Jude loves kissing Alvin. If someone asked him to write a list of all his favourite pastimes, kissing Alvin would definitely be number one. Reading books would be number two.
Jude keeps his eyes closed, able to pull Alvin closer by touch alone. The warmth simmers inside him, spreading to his toes and his fingers. Alvin’s fingers move to his neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. A tiny moan slips from Jude’s lips, right into Alvin’s mouth, and Jude pulls Alvin closer still.
It’s overwhelming sometimes, everything he feels around Alvin. How deeply it grew, once he became aware of it.
Jude doesn’t really know when it started. Looking back, he’s always admired Alvin, from the very first moment they’d met. Alvin was brave, strong, and he seemed so very confident in everything he did. Over the time they travelled together, Jude learned that Alvin wasn’t as confident as he pretended, but that only made Jude like him more.
Even when he realised how much Alvin had been hurting, even when Alvin hurt him, Jude hadn’t been able to stop liking Alvin. He was drawn to him, inexplicably, and when Alvin finally let him in for real, Jude had been so relieved he could cry.
Once they started living together, something grew between them slowly. Jude didn’t know how to label it. He didn’t really want to, either—it felt too fragile, like something just for them. No one else needed to know how Alvin’s smiles made him blush, or how a little thrill ran down his spine when Alvin slung an arm around Jude’s shoulder. No one else needed to know that they fell asleep in the same bed every night because like that, Jude didn’t feel lost or alone.
Leia asked about him and Alvin sometimes because—bless her journalist heart and their childhood friendship bond—she always had been just a little too astute.
“I just like him,” Jude told her, watching as she grinned and wiggled her eyebrows.
“Ohhhh,” she sing-sang. “You like him.”
“Leia…” Jude groaned, dreading where this was going.
“The way I used to like you?” Leia asked with a wide, all too cheeky grin.
Jude leaned his elbows on the table between them and buried his face in his hands, but he knew he was too late; she’d already seen his blush. It was answer enough.
Alvin’s touches grew surer, his words and his tone flirtier. Jude loved it, even though Alvin’s attention on him coloured his cheeks with tell-tale heat, made his palms sweaty. He’d dropped a teacup on not one, but two separate occasions.
But he loved it anyway. He loved the way Alvin made him feel, the way his heart would skip when their eyes met, the way something pleasant fluttered warmly in his stomach, the way his skin would tingle wherever Alvin’s touch lingered. He loved…
Him.
It had continued like that for weeks, months, until Jude came home from the lab one summer night, and Alvin had made them dinner—something that was in the oven and smelled delicious. Jude shrugged off his lab coat and put his boots on the shoe rack in the hallway, and he gasped when he entered the kitchen. Alvin had set the table, but it looked different from other nights. There were candles. Something smelled flowery, and everything looked a little fancier than usual. Alvin was wearing a tight black shirt, and when he turned around and wiped his hands on his rappig apron, he seemed…nervous.
And so Jude had hugged him, and Alvin had held him so tightly that it almost hurt, and Jude’s heart had felt like it was about to leap out of his chest with every beat. There was something special about this moment, and the hug felt so right that Jude was only a little nervous wondering what was to come next.
After an age of feeling Alvin’s heart pound just as loudly as his own, Jude pulled back a little and tilted his head up, and Alvin looked down, and there was something open and vulnerably sweet in his eyes.
Jude had never kissed anyone, but it was easy, so easy, to push himself up on his tiptoes, inhale shakily, and press his lips to Alvin’s.
Alvin kissed him back immediately. He cupped Jude’s cheeks, rubbed his thumbs over the hot flushed skin of Jude’s cheekbones. Jude felt himself sway a little, and one of Alvin’s arms curled around his waist to hold him. Slowly, so slowly Alvin opened his mouth, and his tongue was wet and soft against Jude’s lips. Jude opened his mouth with a little gasp, and then the kiss tasted like rosemary and pepper and fennel.
Jude whimpered softly. He never wanted to stop kissing Alvin.
He had to, eventually, because it turned out that the balance between breathing and kissing was hard to figure out, and his head was spinning from the lack of oxygen. Also, there was a roast dinner in the oven that Jude didn’t want to be responsible for burning.
But there had been more kissing after dinner. A lot more kissing.
And later that night, in the dark, Jude had whispered, “You asked me once if I loved Milla.”
Alvin’s breath hitched audibly, and Jude fumbled to grab his hand.
“It wasn’t like this,” Jude said firmly, sure now. “I love you.”
Alvin, Jude was beginning to learn, wasn’t always good with using words to say what he felt, but his embrace, the way he buried his face in Jude’s hair, was answer enough.
Sleeping together in Alvin’s bed—their bed, really, since Jude could count on one hand the times he’d even slept in his own—became exciting after that. At night, or in the morning, Alvin touched him so gently, so carefully—his hair, his cheeks, his neck. It made Jude shiver. Fingers stroked over the dip in his spine, a flat hand across the curve of his shoulder blades, the cotton warm and soft between them.
But nothing more happened. Alvin was always careful to keep his hands above the waist.
Jude had asked, once, hiding his face in Alvin’s chest so Alvin wouldn’t be able to see how flushed his cheeks were. “Why don’t you ever... touch me lower?”
Alvin had stilled, and then very carefully asked, “Do you want me to?”
Jude shrugged, butterflies dancing around in his stomach. “I don’t know.”
Alvin brought a hand up to the back of Jude’s neck, stroking along the collar of his t-shirt with one slightly calloused thumb. “Then that’s why.”
“Oh,” Jude replied, confused at the way his relief was marred with a sliver of frustration. “I’m not a kid.”
“I know,” Alvin said, his voice gentler than Jude had ever heard it. “That’s not what this is about.”
And yes, come to think of it, Jude couldn’t remember the last time Alvin called him a kid, or spoke to him as if he was one. Alvin called him other things now, things that made Jude blush and falter, things he liked. Words like sweetheart, love, and sometimes kitten.
Jude thinks of that conversation a lot. It’s been three months since their first kiss, and they haven’t gone further yet.
Alvin kisses him again, slow and deep, so full of emotion that it leaves Jude’s head spinning and his lips tingling when Alvin pulls away for a few seconds.
“More,” Jude whispers, eyes opening in slivers to watch Alvin in the sunlight filtering into the bedroom.
And so Alvin kisses him again, mouth wet and open, and Jude lets himself drift, his entire body now hot and trembling a little. Alvin’s hands run up and down Jude’s bare arms, and Jude has to hold himself back from arching his back.
He’s been half-hard since he woke up, but he’s definitely hard now.
He wonders what he has to do to get Alvin to touch him lower. He wonders how Alvin will know if he wants to. He does want to, he thinks. It’s all very confusing whenever he thinks about it too hard, though, and so it’s easier to let himself be lost in their kisses. Everything inside of Jude melts into white heat, making him hyperaware of every soft sound Alvin makes, every brush of fingertips to Jude’s skin. Jude tries not to make a sound, but it’s impossible—he feels too much, too deeply, and he lets out a soft whimper.
“Alvin…”
“Jude,” Alvin exhales in response, his mouth moving to Jude’s jaw, his neck, and Jude tips his head back without being prompted. He’s got no words for the way Alvin makes him feel—the way everything Alvin does takes his breath away and leaves him feeling weak and overwhelmed, but in a very good way.
Alvin has to know what he does to Jude, Jude realises. As always, Alvin is very careful about keeping his touches from wandering too far, and he doesn’t pull Jude’s body too close, but his kisses are so good, so deliberate.
Jude does arch his back this time, his hips searching for some sort of friction, and Alvin pulls back a little to look at him. His breathing is as fast as Jude’s.
Jude feels warm all over, and his eyes have trouble focusing on Alvin’s face. Alvin runs a thumb over Jude’s low lip, and he seems to be searching for something. Or maybe he’s just taking in Jude’s appearance—flushed and breathless. Then he smiles, and Jude can’t help but smile in return. Alvin lies back on his side of the bed, and they both let their breathing calm down.
Later, Alvin graciously lets Jude take the first shower.
Things continue like that for another week before one night, after some particularly nice kisses, Jude gathers all his courage. Staring up at the ceiling, their shoulders brushing, he asks Alvin, “What was your first time like?”
There’s a pause that’s just long enough to make Jude feel self-conscious. He’s about to take the question back, or maybe just pretend he didn’t ask it, when next to him, Alvin lets out a small noise.
“I was very nervous,” Alvin says, his voice barely above a whisper. “She was a little older than me, and I was convinced she knew everything. As it turns out, we both sort of stumbled through it, but it was…good. Fun, sort of.”
“How old were you?” Jude asks.
“Fourteen.”
Jude blinks in surprise, but before he can reply, Alvin continues.
“But I did everything in my life too young. My uncle gave me alcohol when I was too young. I was definitely too young when he handed me a gun. I went along with everything that happened mostly because I wanted to grow up as fast as possible so I could take my mother home to Elympios. My first time having sex is— It’s not a bad memory— I wanted it at the time, but…” Alvin trails off.
Jude rolls onto his side, props himself onto an elbow, and reaches out to lay his hand flat on Alvin’s chest. He can feel Alvin’s heartbeat, firm and steady.
“But…?” Jude prompts.
Alvin looks at him then, his eyes dark and a little sad. “I don’t want that for you. I wanna do this right. I want you to be sure.”
“I want to. I think.” Jude hears his voice waver, and he suddenly feels very young. “How will I know?”
Alvin strokes his fingers down across the warm skin of Jude’s cheeks, tracing tickling patterns against the side of Jude’s neck.
“I think you’ll know,” Alvin replies. “I know that sounds vague, but there’s a reason I haven’t gone beyond kissing. I want your first time to be on your terms, because you want to go further.”
Jude ponders this for a moment, wondering what signs he should be looking for to know he’s ready. It seems like research, and maybe the answer lies in gathering as much information as he can. That’s what prompts him to ask his next question.
“How many people have you…” Jude gestures with his free hand. “You know...”
Alvin smiles at him, a slightly wistful one. “Are you sure you wanna know?”
Jude blushes.
“Yes,” he says, more bravely than he feels.
“There have been…a few,” Alvin says. “Let’s leave it at that, huh?”
“Oh,” Jude says. He’s not sure what he expected. Still, despite Alvin’s seeming reluctance to talk about it, he can’t help himself. There’s a low simmer of annoyance—it’s jealousy, he realises with surprise—but the curiosity wins out. “Guys, too?”
This time, Alvin laughs. “You really wanna talk about this, huh? Ever the curious little honours student. Fine, I’ll bite. Yes, some guys, too, mostly whenever I wanted something fun. I usually found guys easier to be with.”
Alvin strokes Jude’s hair absentmindedly. Jude likes it, it makes him feel warm all over. For a moment, Alvin’s look is far away. Jude knows that look, Alvin gets it whenever he’s thinking about the past. It’s more wishful than sad this time, though. Before long, his attention drifts back to Jude.
“I want you to be sure. I want you to feel ready,” Alvin says. “It’s normal to be a little scared or nervous during your first time. But it’s completely up to you when we go there.”
Jude looks up at him through his lashes, sees Alvin’s face soften as their eyes meet. Alvin’s smile is gentle, and it settles some of Jude’s nervousness. Alvin doesn’t ever give him teasing smiles when they’re in bed together.
“And we’ll go slow,” Alvin continues, his hand making its way to Jude’s sternum this time, where Jude’s heart drums rabbit-fast. Jude isn’t sure when his heart rate picked up like that. “We can do whatever you want. We can stop whenever you want, even if it’s in the middle.”
Jude has read a lot about the mechanics of sex, but those were just descriptions from his medical textbooks. He’s heard his older classmates in Fennmont talk about sex, in whispers or broken-off conversations when they caught sight of Jude. Jude, who was too young and too uninterested at the time to pay much attention. He’s pretty sure that he never heard them talk about going slow and stopping in the middle, though.
When Jude remains silent, Alvin nudges him with a knee to his hip. “Gald for your thoughts?”
Jude feels himself flush. “None of that was ever in any of the books I read.”
That makes Alvin grin, and he tugs a little on Jude’s hair. “Maybe it’s something that comes with practical experience.”
Jude flushes again, or still, it’s hard to tell with how hot he’s feeling all over. He moves his arm, curling it slowly and shyly around Alvin’s chest. Part of Jude wants to bow his head so he can hide the feelings that must show on his face behind his bangs, but he’s glad he didn’t when Alvin smiles at him again, open and encouraging.
“I want to kiss you,” Jude whispers, surprised by the desire that burns in his veins.
Alvin brushes a thumb over Jude’s lower lip in reply, and Jude doesn’t know what comes over him; he sticks out his tongue and licks at Alvin’s thumb. It’s absolutely worth it for the way Alvin’s eyes go wide and dark.
Oh.
That look on Alvin’s face brings with it a Pandora’s box worth of new emotions.
“Then kiss me,” Alvin says, his voice a little hoarse.
And so Jude does.
The kiss is slow and sensuous, a give and take, and Jude lets himself fall into it, lets himself be surrounded by the feeling of Alvin’s tongue, the shiver of anticipation running down his spine, the heat coiled low between his hips. The kiss grows more intense. It makes it harder to think, which is not something that happens to him often. Or at all, really. It makes it so that all Jude wants is to bask in this feeling forever.
“What would we do?” Jude asks between kisses. “When we… you know?”
“Whatever you want,” Alvin says, pulling back a little so he can talk. “There are a million things people do to feel good in bed. We could kiss, like we usually do, but touch too, wherever you like, with our hands or mouths. We could just move together, rock our hips together.” Alvin moves both hands to Jude’s shoulders and says without missing a beat. “I could run my hands all over you, find all your sensitive spots to touch and kiss and suck.”
Jude notices that he’s breathing fast, his skin warm up to his ears and down to his neck.
Alvin’s smile takes on the barest of teasing hints as his fingers stroke gently across Jude’s neck. “Does it turn you on when I talk like that?”
Jude nods wordlessly.
“Do you want me to keep going?”
Another nod. Alvin leans up to kiss him again, and Jude’s lips feel so sensitive that the barest brush makes them tingle. In one smooth movement, Alvin reverses their positions on the bed, so Jude’s on his back and Alvin is hovering over him.
“I could touch your cock,” Alvin whispers against Jude’s cheek, breath hot. “Stroke you all nice and slow. Or I could use my mouth on you, if you wanted that.”
Jude shifts against the sheets, his entire body feeling like it’s on fire.
Alvin whispers against Jude’s lips, next. “And then maybe later, after we’re both comfortable with it, I could finger you. Open you up with lots of lube, nice and slow. And then, if you wanted me to, I could fuck you. I’ll find out if you like it slow and steady, or fast and desperate.”
Jude moans involuntarily, and Alvin pulls back a little to study Jude’s face.
“What else?” Jude asks, his voice trembling, and he’s surprised by how out of it he sounds, as if the words come from far away.
“I’d gently roll you onto your back, and push your legs back. I’d ask you to hold them back, and I’d push into you slowly, so you’d feel everything. I’d make love to you like that.”
It’s too much, suddenly, and Jude’s heart feels like it’s racing faster than he can handle. He looks away, breaking eye contact, and somehow that seems to be enough for Alvin to stop talking. Rolling onto his back, he lies shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip with Jude.
“That’s what we would do,” Alvin says softly, and Jude is not so far out of it to hear that Alvin is also affected, his voice a low rumble.
“Oh,” Jude whispers back. He fights the urge to fidget or squirm, although he wants to.
Nothing else happens that night, not even another kiss, but Jude’s final thought before he falls asleep, pleasure twisting low in his belly, is that he wants everything Alvin said. Maybe that means he is ready, after all.
Alvin is surprised by how honest he’s been able to be with Jude—with his feelings in general, but also when talking about sex the other day. Alvin hasn’t ever had a partner that he’s been completely honest with. In fact, he can’t remember talking about sex with anyone before. It usually just happened, without anything much in the way of communication.
With Jude, as usual, everything is different. He feels safe with Jude, safe to be who he really is, and he can only hope Jude feels the same way.
He truly wants to wait with any kind of sex until Jude says he’s ready. Jude already has the highest expectations of himself in his research, and he’s under too much pressure from too many people. When it’s just them, whatever they do, Alvin doesn’t want that—especially not in bed. He’s more than willing to go at Jude’s pace, and in the meantime, he’s able to make do with his hands and the occasional cold shower.
That’s not to say he doesn’t enjoy seeing Jude’s arousal, the way his eyes glaze over when they make out for ages, the way he shifts to hide how turned on he is. It’s endearing, and Alvin probably shouldn’t find it as hot as he does.
They’ve been skirting this invisible line for days now, kisses turning deep and hungry, and Jude going soft and pliant in Alvin’s embrace. Alvin has to pace himself, has to actively hold himself back whenever he gets overwhelmed, too, but he’s determined to do right by Jude. He doesn’t want to fuck this up. He can’t afford to fuck this up, not this.
It’s about a week since their conversation about first times and sex when they’re in bed together trading lazy kisses.
Jude hums softly, responsive and relaxed against his pillow.
“I love you,” Alvin whispers against the soft, warm skin of Jude’s throat, before pressing a kiss there.
Jude whimpers, his pulse picking up, and Alvin turns kissing into licking, tasting salt and sweat and skin. When Jude shudders at the sensations, Alvin sucks gently. Jude’s hands come up into his hair, tugging a little, and Alvin groans encouragingly.
“Love you, too,” Jude says, and his words dissolve into a breathy moan. “Oh…”
Jude jerks a little against him when Alvin sucks a line of small kisses into Jude’s neck, and when he pulls back to admire the red spots, he takes a moment to stare at Jude’s face, too. Jude looks gorgeous like this, his cheeks pink, his hair mussed, breathing hard.
When Jude opens his eyes, it takes a moment for them to focus, and then he smiles brightly, with just a hint of shyness.
“You’re beautiful,” Alvin says, voice raw and honest.
Jude’s blush turns deeper, but he looks pleased, squirming a little. Alvin’s blood rushes south so fast he feels a little light-headed. Or maybe that’s just the effect that Jude has on him. He can tell that Jude is aroused, too, and has been since they started kissing.
Slowly, Jude’s hands move to the sides of Alvin’s face, and Jude leans up to kiss him again. Every time Jude takes the initiative like this, Alvin’s skin prickles. Jude’s kisses have not been hesitant and awkward for a while now, but tender and easy. This one has a hint of underlying desperation.
Usually, this would be the moment when Alvin would slow down, turn their kisses into more chaste ones to let them both calm down.
But Jude grows a little bolder, opens his mouth to lick at Alvin’s lips, and Alvin pulls him closer. The kiss grows more desperate, hotter, hungrier, and Alvin feels heat spread under his skin. Jude must be feeling this same; his skin feels almost feverish under Alvin’s hands.
Just when Alvin is about to summon all his willpower to pull back, Jude pushes a little at his shoulders until Alvin is on his back. After only the briefest moment of hesitation, Jude throws one leg over Alvin’s thighs and shifts so that he’s straddling Alvin.
“Oh,” Jude says, his eyes a little wide, as if he’s surprised at his own actions.
Like this, their hips are pressed together and for the first time, Alvin can feel how turned on Jude is. Slowly, Alvin moves his hands, settles them lightly on Jude’s hips. Jude shifts experimentally, moans at the friction, and then shifts again.
He’s hard. Alvin is, too.
“Is this…” Jude pauses to bite back another moan as he looks down, then flicks his gaze up to Alvin’s face. He blinks, as if he still can’t quite believe the position he’s in. “Is this okay?”
“It’s perfect,” Alvin replies.
Alvin is very aware of Jude’s lack of experience here, and very aware that how he responds now is important. He doesn’t wanna tease, and he doesn’t want Jude to be embarrassed. There might be a time and a place for teasing, someday. Hopefully, there will be a lifetime full of experimenting in bed together. In this very moment, though, Alvin wants Jude to feel free to explore what he likes. What it feels like to do this with someone else. How exciting and fun it can be.
Alvin’s thumbs rub little circles right on the edge of Jude’s boxers. Slowly, he moves his hands, sliding them upwards underneath Jude’s t-shirt, touching the hot, smooth skin there. The muscles he touches tense and then relax under his touch. Jude’s thighs are trembling, and Jude leans down a little, placing his elbows on either side of Alvin’s shoulders.
“You like this?” Alvin asks, and he’s surprised by how husky his voice sounds.
Jude nods, leaning down.
Kissing when they’re pressed this close—this turned on—is different. There’s a desperation there, a hunger that makes Alvin want to grab Jude’s hips and push upwards—but he resists, keeping his touches light, just massaging the taunt muscles in Jude’s back. He doesn’t have to be patient for long; after only a few minutes, Jude shifts to find a more comfortable position, and Alvin starts letting his hands trail up and down Jude’s back.
Jude rocks his hips forward, pressing their groins together. Pleasure shoots down Alvin’s spine in hot sparks. They’re both still dressed in their t-shirts and boxers, but it’s still one of the hottest things Alvin has ever done.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Alvin says, sucking in a sharp breath.
Jude seems encouraged by the praise, and he starts thrusting his hips in earnest, chasing his own pleasure.
“Just like that,” Alvin whispers, as Jude snaps his hips up fast, and then drags them down a little slower. He settles into a rhythm, and Alvin is surprised by how good it feels, how turned on he is; as if he is the teenager grinding against another person for the very first time.
Alvin fantasised about this moment many times, but feeling Jude against him now, seeing him like this—his mouth open, his hair a wild mess, pink dusting his cheeks—it’s leagues better than anything he imagined. It’s hard to pay attention to Jude’s cues when all Alvin wants to do is lose himself in this moment. He forces himself to remain aware, to listen to the hitches in Jude’s breath, to focus on finding out where Jude likes to be touched.
It doesn’t take long for Jude’s rhythm to pick up, for his hips to stutter. After one last thrust, Jude’s entire body shudders, and he pushes his face into Alvin’s neck with a choked-off cry. Alvin keeps moving his hands, keeps stroking Jude’s back, his sides, in time with the shockwaves of the orgasm that Alvin can feel moving through Jude.
When Jude’s tremors turn into little aftershocks, Alvin moves his arms to embrace him, both of them breathing fast. Jude clings to him tightly, his muscles going slack as his body slumps against Alvin.
“You okay?” Alvin asks, after long moments of silence.
“Yes,” Jude replies, his face still hidden.
Gently, Alvin moves them so they’re on their sides, and it’s only then that Jude opens his eyes, shining almost golden in the dim light, his pupils dark and dilated.
“Was that…” Jude starts, then trails off.
“It was amazing,” Alvin says gently. “You can do whatever you want, remember? If something feels good, you can keep doing it. If something doesn’t feel good, you can tell me and we’ll stop. Don’t overthink it.”
It occurs to Alvin suddenly that he’s just as much on unfamiliar territory as Jude is. Before, after sex, he would leave the room as quickly as he considered possible. Even in relationships that lasted longer than one night, he would pull back to go and wash up by himself. But now, he feels the desire to stay as close to Jude as possible. Jude looks happy, but also a little uncertain and vulnerable, so Alvin can’t help but gather him closer.
Jude’s gaze flickers down, and then up again. Not meeting Alvin’s eyes, he says, “But you didn’t…”
Alvin smiles. “The night is young, and so are you. Did you like that? Did it feel good?”
Jude nods.
“Then that’s all that matters. I want you to feel good. I want you to learn what you like. Anything you wanna do or try, it’s all good.”
Jude nods again, and the hesitancy slowly leaves his face, leaving in its wake a familiar curiosity.
“Show me more?” Jude asks softly.
Alvin sits up, and slowly, keeping eye contact with Jude, he reaches down to pull off his t-shirt. Encouraged, Jude mimics his actions and pulls off his own t-shirt too. Alvin lets his gaze roam over all this new skin. He reaches out, touching the quivering muscles of Jude’s stomach, brushing his fingers over a nipple. Jude gasps at that, his eyes going wide.
Alvin feels a familiar surge of protectiveness—possessiveness—wash over him. He has no right to feel like that, he knows that, but he cannot help wanting to be the first one who ever touches Jude like this. The only one who gets to touch Jude like this.
“You can touch me, too, if you wanna,” Alvin says, and Jude doesn’t need to be told twice.
With newly found eagerness, he traces warm fingers over Alvin’s chest, to a scar on his side where a bullet once grazed his skin, to the trail of dark hair below his navel. They fall together in another kiss, familiar by now, but being chest to chest, skin to skin, feels new and exciting, also for Alvin. He gently pushes, and Jude lets himself be pressed onto his back.
“Can I take your boxers off?” Alvin asks between kisses, and those words make Jude blush again, even as he nods rapidly.
Jude lifts his hips as Alvin slides the—now ruined—boxers off of him. They end up somewhere on the floor, but Alvin can’t find it in himself to care. He shimmies out of his own, and then they’re pressed together with nothing in between. Alvin lets his hands roam, and Jude shivers at every touch, responding to every brush of Alvin’s fingers, every tug at his hips. Jude is eager, hands twitching against Alvin’s shoulders, and then slowly exploring lower.
“Yes,” Alvin murmurs encouragingly.
No one has ever touched him the way Jude touches him. Alvin feels sometimes like he’s been dying of thirst his entire life, and then Jude came and offered him an endless well to drink from. There are no words to describe the sense of relief that comes from Jude touching him, holding him. And then on top of the physical contact, Jude makes him feel wanted, needed, cared for.
Loved.
Alvin slowly moves his mouth down over Jude’s neck, over the bruises he left earlier, and then lower, skidding over every rib. Jude shudders at each kiss, letting out little gasps and moans whenever Alvin brushes his lips over a particularly sensitive spot. He responds to Alvin’s every touch so beautifully, and Alvin wants to get him off a second time so much. The first time, he didn’t get to see Jude’s face. Now, he both wants to feel and see Jude fall apart.
He can tell Jude is close again, hips lifting, precum beading at the tip of his cock that’s flat against his belly.
“P-please,” Jude says when Alvin’s hand moves lower, his voice almost a mewl.
“I’ve got you.”
Alvin touches Jude’s cock, fingers firm around him, and strokes. Jude arches his back, lifts his hips, and all it takes is three more strokes to push him over the edge a second time. His eyes roll back, his mouth opening on a moan as his muscles tense, and he comes in ribbons over his stomach. Alvin feels his own cock twitch at the sight.
He’s so beautiful.
Jude recovers astonishingly quickly, his eyes alight with affection when he opens them.
“Wow…”
This time, Alvin lets the hint of pride creep into his smile, as he reaches for an abandoned t-shirt to clean Jude up.
There’s a lingering pause, during which Alvin feels a little out of his depth again, but before it can turn into awkwardness, Jude lifts his hands to Alvin’s forearms. He sits up a little, and Alvin moves from between his legs to sit at his side.
“Can I touch you, too?” Jude asks, voice hoarse but eager.
Alvin’s cock twitches again, and he sees Jude’s eyes widen, the blush spreading across his cheeks.
“Yeah,” Alvin says, little more than a breath. He’s been hard for a long time, ignoring it mostly for Jude’s pleasure, but his cock is aching to be touched now.
Jude doesn’t hesitate this time, as if two orgasms had taken the edge of his nervousness. He settles at Alvin’s side, curiously reaching out a hand. He touches Alvin’s cock, running explorative fingers up and down, then looks up at Alvin.
“Is this…good?”
Alvin smiles at the look of wonder on Jude’s face, the slight clumsiness in his movements. Despite that, Alvin is more turned on than he’s been in a very long time.
“It’s good,” Alvin replies. “You can grab it a little tighter.”
Jude tightens his hand.
“Now move your thumb over the head a little.”
Jude ever the fast student, does so, rubbing over the tip, his thumb stroking back and forth over the slit. Alvin can already feel his pleasure building, every nerve in his body on fire. He tries to stay silent, but he can’t stop the moan from leaving his lips, his eyes falling closed.
He hears Jude shift, and the next thing he feels is Jude’s lips on his, the kiss wet and deep, and Alvin lets go of any reservations he might have had.
“Faster,” he mumbles against Jude’s lips, and Jude complies instantly.
It’s perfect. It’s better than anything he’s ever felt. It’s impossible not to get lost in the feeling of pleasure.
“Jude…” he whispers, and Jude kisses the moans from his lips, finding a rhythm with his hand that sends Alvin hurling towards the edge.
It takes an embarrassingly short time before he feels his muscles tighten. He pushes up in Jude’s hand, heat pooling between his hips, throbbing, and he barely has time to choke out a warning before he comes over Jude’s hand. Jude strokes him through it, slowing his hand a little as Alvin shivers with wave after wave of pleasure.
When, after an eternity, Alvin manages to open his eyes, Jude is smiling at him, his face full of wonder. Tingling all over still, Alvin reaches for the abandoned shirt once again, and cleans himself and Jude’s hand up as best as he can.
Jude leans heavily onto his shoulder, breathing almost as fast as Alvin.
Jude’s entire body is tingling. He feels lazy, sated, but way too giddy to sleep.
Alvin kisses his temple, brushing sweaty bangs out of his face.
“How do you feel?”
“Happy,” is the first word out of Jude’s mouth. “Warm,” is the second.
Alvin’s hand moves to Jude’s cheek, and Jude closes his eyes with a sigh.
“Is it always like this?” he asks, too happy to feel embarrassment over the question.
Alvin keeps touching him, as if he can’t bear the thought of letting go of Jude for even a second. His fingers skid over each of Jude’s ribs, and Jude can’t help but squirm a little at the tickling sensation.
“No,” Alvin replies softly, and Jude opens his eyes. Alvin’s expression is too honest, a mixture of awe and fondness. “It’s never felt like this for me.”
“Oh,” Jude says. “Is that good?”
Alvin smiles—that soft, private smile Jude has never seen him give anyone else. He bends down to kiss Jude chastely, just a brush of warm, dry lips.
“It’s good,” Alvin whispers, and something in his tone makes Jude reach for him and close the remaining inches between them.
Alvin is quick to return the embrace. Despite Alvin’s cleaning up, they’re both sticky with sweat and remains of other bodily fluids, but it doesn’t matter. Jude fits perfectly in Alvin’s arms, and he hopes he always will.
“I love you,” Jude whispers against Alvin’s neck, before pressing a kiss there. And then, because he remembers vividly how good it felt when Alvin did this to him, he sucks on the soft skin a little. To Jude’s immense satisfaction, Alvin lets out a surprised moan.
“Jude…”
Jude cannot stop a smirk from forming, though he knows Alvin can most likely feel it against his skin.
“Of course you’re a fast learner,” Alvin says. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”
As much as Jude would love to do what they just did all over again, for the moment he’s more comfortable just lying in Alvin’s arms. He shifts, tucking his head under Alvin’s chin so he can listen to his heartbeat. It’s strong, still slowly settling down after their earlier activities, and it’s the most comforting sound Jude has come to know.
I had sex with Alvin.
The thought makes him feel giddy again, and makes him shiver. He doesn’t really feel any different. The way Alvin strokes a lazy hand up and down Jude’s naked back feels…a little different, and not only because before today, they haven’t been pressed skin to skin like this. Alvin’s touch feels like it holds a promise now, a secret only they know, a very intimate one.
“I love you,” Jude says again.
He loves saying these words, loves the reaction they invoke in Alvin every time. Alvin doesn’t always say them back, but that’s okay. Jude knows Alvin loves him. He knows it from the gentleness in Alvin’s touch, the unguarded look in his eyes. He knows it because Alvin’s teasing never carries any heat, and because since living together, Alvin has been nothing but kind and patient with him.
“Love you too, kitten,” Alvin mumbles back, half-asleep now. His touch has slowed down to the barest of caresses.
Jude reaches down to drag the covers over them both. He should probably want a shower, but Alvin is warm and sleepy against him, and Jude doesn’t want to leave their perfect cocoon.
Soon, Alvin’s breathing evens out, and his arms go slack around Jude.
Jude’s giddiness finally drifts away, leaving him content and satisfied. Safe. Jude never feels safer than when he’s in Alvin’s arms, but now even more than before. He feels like purring again. Maybe this is why Alvin calls him kitten sometimes.
He thinks about what else there will be to explore in bed with Alvin. Everything they did already felt so good, but Jude can’t wait to learn more about what else he likes, about what Alvin likes. He could tell Alvin was holding back for his sake at the start, but he liked it when Alvin got lost in pleasure near the end. He would very much like to try that again. There’s so much to do, so much to learn about both their bodies—everything Alvin promised they would do.
With a smile on his lips and warmth at that thought blooming in his chest, he drifts off to sleep.