Work Text:
Scott Clarke is convinced he’s stuck in a nightmare. Or at least a very terrible dream.
It started when Erica Sinclair had knocked on his door at five in the morning and it hasn’t seemed to have ended yet. Or maybe it started with the earthquake that was apparently not an earthquake at all. Or the mall fire. Or when Will Byers went missing. Maybe this whole town is stuck in one giant nightmare and soon it will all be over when everyone wakes up safe in their beds.
“I’m sorry we got you into this mess, Mr. Clarke.” Erica says when they’re sitting alone in the back of a military van after being captured from where they were stationed at the church. They had both been violently chucked inside, and Scott had been terrified for Erica, though she seemed to hardly bat an eye when it was all happening. “But it did feel good, didn’t it? Helping save the world?”
“Is this a dream, Erica?” Scott asks, pinching the back of his hand. He shudders when he feels the sting.
“No, this is completely goddamn real.”
Scott can’t help but chuckle at that, albeit a little shakily. He decides not to chastise her this time. “How long have you known about all of this? This alternate dimension? Aren’t you afraid?”
“Who do you think I am? A pussy?” Erica leans her head against the side of the van. “I think I was ten when we snuck into that Russian base under the mall.”
“Russian…what? Under the mall? Was this before the fire?”
“Look, Mr. Clarke, there’s a lot of things you missed that went down in Hawkins. There’s a lot of things everyone missed. I don’t even think I know half of it.”
“I just can’t believe I was so…” Scott waves his hand vaguely. “Oblivious to it all. I’m baffled that I missed it. Your brother and his friends…they always asked me so many questions, but I thought they were just being kids.” Scott sighs. “I would have liked to have been able to help you all earlier.”
Erica tilts her head thoughtfully. “You did, though. You were their favorite teacher. You answered their questions about wormholes and time travel. Dustin wouldn’t be as smart as he is without you. And we needed Dustin to be smart to be able to get this far.” She smiles. “And you’re my favorite teacher, too. Just saying.”
“Thank you, Erica.” Scott blinks, feeling strangely emotional. “I–”
“No pussying out, okay? Just forget it now.”
Scott nods, smiling softly. “Consider it forgotten.”
And when it feels like the world is truly ending and soldiers haul them out of the van and make them watch as they slam their friends violently against the side of the truck and their eyes are blinded by the flash of the gateway to the other world being closed forever and everything settles for the first time in what is apparently years, Scott finds himself feeling glad that it wasn’t all a nightmare. He even finds himself wishing, again, that he could have been a part of it all along, though that is a very selfish desire, he knows that.
“So, what do you do now?” Scott feels bold, sidling up to Murray when everything is said and done and the military and the police have finally let them go after interrogating them and threatening them and then finally giving up because it’s all over now. Because there’s nothing left for them to find. Eleven is gone. The other dimension is gone. The world is right again. What is left to be angry about? What is left to be found when everything has been destroyed?
Murray glances very briefly at Scott like he hardly even knew he was there before he looks back out at the long stretch of road that leads out past Hawkins. “I drink.”
It’s funny. Scott hadn’t recognized him when he saw him again for the first time. Maybe it was the shock from being so rudely awakened or the fact that it’s been over twenty-two years since he saw him last. Or the fact that the last time was also the first time that they met so by the hour they had parted, Scott had already forgotten the color of Murray’s eyes and the shape of his glasses.
The realization hit him about an hour after he was dragged into the whole mess–when they were diligently building the telemetry trackers and their walkie talkie had crackled: “Erica, Murray, do you copy?”
It was like a freight train had crashed straight into his chest. Scott had looked up very quickly and Murray had caught his eye, shaking his head slightly, as if to tell Scott no, not here, not now. Because of course he had known right away. Of course he had. He had known Scott was Scott and had no intention of revealing the truth. Had he just hoped that Scott wouldn’t recognize him? Had Murray hoped that they would part ways after everything and cease to exist from each other’s lives once again?
Scott can’t imagine that would have ever happened. One way or another he would have figured it out, he’s fairly certain of it.
So Scott had waited. Even though it took everything in his body not to ask Murray what the hell he was doing back in Hawkins and what the hell he had to do with this whole plot.
And now he’s here. They’re both here. Everyone else has already gone off on their own ways, promising to keep everyone up-to-date on everything going on in their lives and letting out deep breaths as the weight of the world was literally lifted off of their shoulders.
“Where do you live?” Scott asks, trying to sound casual. Trying not to sound like he’s completely reeling and about to crash. Though he’s sure his face probably gives him away.
“Illinois.” Murray says, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, but it’s a little ways from here.”
“You’re joking.” Scott states the obvious. He isn’t sure what else he should say. He isn’t sure how he thought this would go. Easier perhaps. Stupid, stupid thought.
“Yeah, I do that sometimes.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know that, would I?” Annoyance. Scott does his best to shove it down, but it floats to the top of his being and settles like a blanket.
Murray laughs. He ducks his head and laughs for a long time. He laughs until his shoulders are shaking and the sound of his laughter echoes down the quiet street. When he stops he wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. Scott just stares at him. He can’t believe any of this is real.
“Do you have any vodka, Snookums?” Murray asks him suddenly, amusement still etched into his voice.
Scott blinks at him, furrowing his brow. The annoyance from before settles and stays. “What?”
“Vodka? You got any?”
“On me?”
“No, at home. In your casa. Your–if I remember correctly–very humble abode.” Okay, so now he’s just being an asshole.
“What is wrong with you?”
Murray throws up his hands in mock surrender. “God forbid a man wants a drink after a long hard day of fighting monsters and getting man-handled by military personnel!”
“I’m sure they have vodka in Illinois.” Scott scuffs his heel against the sidewalk.
“What, you’re going to make me walk home? Come on, Snooks, don’t be cruel.”
“Don’t call me that.” Scott says. But he starts walking anyway. Murray follows him, whistling and looking up at the sky like it’s the first time he’s seen it in a long time. And maybe it is in a way. Admittedly, Scott doesn’t know what it’s like to be aware of an evil force for so long and have to hide it from a world that is too ignorant to see it. Scott likes to think he wasn’t a part of the ignorance, but he thinks back to how he dismissed Mike, Lucas, and Dustin as silly kids rather than some of the smartest people in the history of the known universe.
They make it to Scott’s house without talking.
Scott didn’t know what to say. He was afraid he would start talking and it would just come out angry. He was afraid it would come out all wrong. He wanted to ask Murray why the hell he didn’t think to contact him even once during the past few years. He wanted to know if he ever thought about him at all. Wanted to ask him if he even remembered him. Wanted to know if he was hurt that Scott hadn’t remembered him. He had so badly wanted to turn to Murray and just ask him all of these questions that were weighing so heavily on his mind, but he didn’t want to scare him. Though what can be scarier than anything he’s already been through?
“You sure your, uh, librarian won’t be home?” Murray quips when they reach the front door.
“My–” Scott turns to him incredulously, almost dropping his house keys. “Marissa? She’s not– we don’t live together, we’re not even dating, she’s just–”
“Your sugar lump?”
“Be quiet already!” Scott snaps, finally managing to get the key in the door after wrangling with it for a moment too long. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I don’t?” Murray doesn’t even flinch at Scott’s outburst.
“No! You don’t! So, don’t be a complete… jerk.”
“God, the whole teaching thing has really rubbed off on you, huh?” Murray kicks his shoes off into Scott’s living room, looking over the house in mock admiration.
“Yeah, no thanks to you.”
“It was a good idea, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, so now you remember?” Scott throws his keys onto the coffee table, unsure where to put all this misplaced anger that rises in his chest.
Murray ignores Scott’s jab, peeking his head into the hallway. “Is this your mother’s place? It’s…” He waves his hand. “Well decorated.”
“Was that supposed to be an insult?”
“Were you insulted by it?”
“Jesus Christ.” Scott sinks into his couch, placing his head in his hands. He suddenly feels so tired. Like an ache has settled directly into his bones. Like the weight of the past sixteen hours has finally caught up to him. He vaguely hears the clinking and rustling of Murray digging through his kitchen cabinets, no doubt looking for alcohol. He must find some eventually because Scott feels the couch dip heavily next to him and hears the sound of a glass being set down in front of him on the coffee table.
Murray hums, drumming his fingers against his thigh. “This is good stuff.”
Scott peeks through his fingers and sees a glass of vodka in front of him. “It’s Russian,” He manages to reply weakly.
“Ah, so it’s perfect for me.” Murray jokes.
Scott doesn’t find it all that funny.
“You know, I thought this would be easier.”
“You thought what would be easier?”
“Talking to you. Seeing you again.”
“What, you thought I’d have matured? That in twenty years I would have changed into a different man? A better man?”
“No! I– I don’t know, I just– why does this have to be so difficult?”
“I don’t think this is all that difficult, really.”
“You’re being a complete asshole!” Scott can’t help it. It just slips out. He drags his hand over his mouth afterwards, biting down on his palm.
Murray snorts. “Ooh, using your big boy words now.”
“Fuck off.” Scott bites down hard on his tongue, slapping his hands on the coffee table. “Shit, I mean, fuck, I mean–” God damn it.
“Hey, feel free to let it loose around me. You won’t go to hell for it.”
“Can you just–for once in your life–be quiet?” Scott’s voice cracks embarrassingly on the last word and he realizes, with horror, that he’s begun to cry. “Oh no. No, no, I’m sorry.” He frantically swipes at his eyes with his sleeves, breathing out sharply as he tries to stop it from happening. He feels his face begin to crumple like paper. It scares him. He’s a forty-three year old man, he doesn’t cry. “I’m losing it a little. I need a second.”
He stands up abruptly and walks into the kitchen, placing his hands behind his head and rocking back and forth on his heels. He feels ashamed. He feels embarrassed. He feels… frightened. How could all of that have been real? How can he move on from that experience? From knowing that he was nearly arrested with his thirteen-year-old student. Knowing that he watched someone die in front of his eyes. Knowing that everything he thought he had known about his town had been a lie. Since the very beginning. And that the man in his living room who is acting like nothing just happened, is the very man from all of those years ago that Scott never thought he would see again. The same man who, apparently, has been involved in Hawkins for at least two years now.
So, yeah, it’s just a little much for him right now.
Scott jumps when a hand lands on his shoulder, spinning around and being met with Murray’s apologetic face. It’s rather jarring actually.
“I’m sorry, Scott.”
“You’re bullshitting me.” Scott can barely breathe. He pushes his elbows together, his hands still locked behind his head.
“I’m not bullshitting you, I am sorry, okay? I’m an asshole, you’re right. It’s a lot, I know it’s a lot.” Murray puts his hands on Scott’s shoulders, dragging him back down to reality. “I’ll explain, I promise.”
“How do you deal with it?” Scott chokes out as he tries his best to breathe. In and out. Out and in. He stares at Murray’s chest and attempts to match the way it rises and falls. In and out. In and out.
Inoutinoutinoutinout.
“Deal with what?” Murray’s hands squeeze his shoulders.
“It. That. All of that. How do you move on from seeing and experiencing such unexplainable, unimaginable things? How does it not just send you careening?”
“I’ve had practice.” Murray says rather kindly. Scott feels sick with it. He must look like a complete mess for Murray to drop the act and actually feel sorry for him. Though maybe it’s not that he feels sorry for him. It’s that he just feels sorry.
“When did you come back for the first time?” Scott hiccups, wiping his nose on his sleeve and scrubbing his hands over his stinging eyes. “To Hawkins.”
“Three years ago, give or take.”
“Did you ever think about me?”
Murray smiles, although he looks a little sad. “All the time.”
________
“So, the Russians… you knew about the Russians before everyone else? That’s why you were studying Russian.” Scott feels funny, sort of light, yet his chest still feels heavy. He’s back on the couch, where he’s been for the past half hour, listening intently to Murray’s very long explanation about everything that has been going on in Hawkins since, apparently, when Scott was in high school. Murray’s thigh is pressed against his and his arm is slung over the back of the couch. If Scott leaned back any further, Murray’s arm would be around his shoulders.
Their glasses sit empty on the coffee table.
“The studying was only semi-related. I was also bored and twenty-two and thought I ought to torture myself by learning the hardest language in the world.” Murray says dryly. “And anyway, I didn’t know exactly. I just had a theory. ”
“Your hypothesis.” Scott blinks, remembering how Murray had phrased it all those years ago.
Murray smiles wryly. “I don’t even know how it started, it was so long ago. I was stupid, in my twenties, convinced that everyone was out to get me and I somehow connected the Soviets to Hawkins, Indiana. That’s it. And then when the kid was found in the woods, I was convinced my theory was right. It drove me crazy.”
“But you were correct, weren’t you? Erica told me about some sort of… Russian base underneath the Starcourt mall?”
“I was correct about the Russians, but my theory about an invasion was off. They were actually trying to open a new gate to the Upside Down.”
“How did you figure that out?”
Murray sighs. He adjusts his glasses and rubs a hand over his beard. “Hopper and Joyce captured a scientist named Alexei. He didn’t speak any English and I was the only person they knew who could translate for them, so they brought him to me. Alexei told us about the technology they were working with and we managed to infiltrate the base with that information.” Scott can tell there’s something Murray isn’t telling him.
“And where is Alexei now?”
“Dead.” Murray says. “He was killed by a Russian hitman for being a traitor.”
“Oh,” Scott turns his head to look at Murray. His eyes are sad. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I liked him. A lot.” Murray nods, sucking on his teeth. “He was funny. He liked Looney Tunes and Cherry Slurpees.” He laughs suddenly. “You know, Joyce told me that Jim called him a Russian version of you once. I couldn’t stop laughing after she told me. I thought it was so funny–she thought I was crazy.”
Scott can’t dwell on that too long or else it’ll stab him in the chest.
He leans back and watches Murray’s eyes soften as his fingers make contact with Scott’s shoulder. He squeezes gently and Scott feels bold, leaning into Murray’s side. Scott’s hand lands on Murray’s thigh, grabbing Murray’s free hand and lacing their fingers together.
“Oh, man,” Murray mutters, mostly to himself. “You still like me, huh?”
“Unfortunately.”
“How did that happen?”
“I don’t know.” He really doesn’t. “You’re a complete ass to me.”
“I really am sorry.” Murray sets his gaze on Scott, eyes roving around his face–studying him. “I cope with things badly. I don’t like it when people get too close.”
“Is that why you didn’t…try to contact me?”
Scott can see Murray struggling to find the right words. “I wanted to. I remembered you the whole time.” Murray says after a moment. “All of those years before I came back here, I remembered you and I, um…” Murray blushes. “I really regretted not giving you my phone number.”
A laugh bursts from Scott’s lips. “Oh my goodness, I can’t believe you did that to me. I completely forgot about that.”
“I’m really sorry, Scott.”
“No, no, I mean,” Scott shrugs. “It was just a hook-up. You didn’t owe me anything. I knew it would be a big ask.”
“It wasn’t just a hook-up though. That’s why I didn’t give you my number in the first place. I got scared because I liked you too much, man. I mean, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Scott. I’ll be honest it fucking killed me when your librarian was here, calling you back to bed.”
Scott laughs again, he can’t help it. “Marissa is… fun. She’s smart and very pretty and she likes me a lot, I think. And I can’t help but feel sorry for her because… I’m gay.” Scott feels a very substantial weight lift off of his chest. He rolls his shoulders back. “Very much so.”
“Who’s the asshole now?” Murray asks. But he’s grinning rather giddily. It’s sweet.
“I know, I know. But we’re not dating, I swear, it’s just…easier with her.”
“So it wouldn’t be wrong if I were to, I don’t know, kiss you right now?”
“Oh, I’m not sure,” Scott teases with a dramatic sigh. “It’s been twenty years, I don’t know if I really like you that way.”
“Well shit, there go all my plans for the night.”
“You wanted to seduce me?”
“Oh, Snookums, you don’t know the half of it.”
“Don’t!” Scott shoves Murray hard in the chest. “I hate that! Don’t call me that.”
“You didn’t hate it when your librarian was calling you that.”
“For the last time–”
Murray is on him in a flash, hauling his leg over Scott’s thigh and straddling him on the couch. It reminds Scott of being in his twenties again. Making out. Being messystupidhorny. Murray’s big hands cradle Scott’s face as he practically devours him, kissing him like his life depends on it. It’s oddly comforting, the weight of his body, the hunger in his movement. Comforting and thrilling and gratifying.
“You smell terrible.” Scott laughs when they pull apart. Murray’s hands are still on his face and his glasses have begun to fog up. It’s very endearing.
“Well, you don’t smell so good either, sweetheart.”
Scott quickly turns his face into his armpit and groans. “We’re disgusting.”
“I don’t mind.” Murray smirks, abruptly leaning forward and shoving his nose into Scott’s armpit to take a whiff.
Scott pushes him away with a shriek. “Don’t do that!”
Murray cackles, dropping his face into the junction between Scott’s shoulder and neck, letting his body go limp on top of Scott’s. “You like it.” He murmurs into Scott’s skin.
“No, I don’t! Murray, we need to shower. You’re too–” Scott tries to shove Murray off of him, but to no avail. “You’re too heavy, God.”
“I think I’ll just stay here.”
“No,” Scott protests weakly, shoving at Murray’s shoulders. “You can’t.”
“I’m just celebrating the fact that I finally get to have you now.”
“You could have had me earlier.” Scott points out.
“I know,” Murray says, kissing Scott’s neck. “I’m sorry.”
________
When they’re finally showered and clean and tucked into Scott’s bed, too hopelessly exhausted to do anything but lay in each other’s arms, Scott allows himself to hope for something beyond this night. It almost feels silly to hope for it, when he knows they’ve lived whole entire lifetimes without each other, but the hopeless romantic inside of him soars at the thought of them being able to be together for real.
“What are you going to do now?” Scott asks into the darkness. He feels Murray’s arm tighten around his bare waist and hears him mumble sleepily into the back of his neck.
“What do you mean?” Murray’s voice is gravelly with exhaustion. Scott shivers at the feeling of his breath brushing over the skin of his shoulders.
“I mean, there are no more monsters. No more Russians. No more scientists. What’s next for you?”
Murray hums, tracing his fingers over Scott’s belly. “I was thinking about moving to Hawkins.”
“Really?”
“Sure. I hear it’s a nice place when there’s no interdimensional space wizards threatening to destroy the planet. And, you know, there’s a really nice guy here that I’d like to get to know a little better.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, I should introduce you two sometime, he’s a lot nicer than you.”
Scott smacks Murray on the arm. “Jerk.”
“You just proved my point.” Murray says, but he kisses the back of Scott’s neck anyway and tucks his chin over his shoulder.
________
Scott wakes up to the sun streaming through the crack in his curtains, shining a soft beam of yellow light across his face and across his blanket. He glances at his clock and smiles. Sunday. Nine o’clock in the morning. Nowhere to be. No other dimensions. No monsters. A fresh start.
He stopped going to church about five years ago. He finally realized that no one was forcing him to go and he left right in the middle of service, practically skipping down the sidewalk. Now his Sundays are completely free and completely amazing, except for when he has a pile of ungraded homework assignments sitting on his kitchen counter. But when he considers it now, he is almost certain that he’s caught up with all of his work.
Scott prepares to settle back into sleep when he’s startled by the feeling of someone behind him with their arm slung around his waist. He blinks and the memories of the previous night begin to fall into place in his head. He almost sheds a tear of pure joy at the thought of no work, no church, no commitments, and a handsome man cradling him in his arms. He’s officially won. Scott Clarke is finally a winner.
Suck it, MIT! Who needs to use their degree when they have this?
Scott accidentally lets out a chuckle at his own strange thoughts and feels Murray shift around behind him, murmuring something incoherent and sleep-addled.
“What are you laughing at?” Murray’s voice comes out all low and husky from his rude awakening. Scott feels his dick twitch excitedly at the sound of it and he feels his cheeks flush.
“Nothing. It’s dumb.”
“I bet it’s not.” Murray presses kisses to the back of Scott’s neck and shoulders, splaying his hand flat over Scott’s bare stomach. He’s still as skinny as he was when he was young, though it’s less in an attractive boyish twenties way and more of a gaunt forties man way. “You’re beautiful.” Murray mutters into Scott’s ear, as if he can read his mind.
“Don’t say that.” Scott squirms at the praise, unable to take it. Unable to be normal about it.
“Why not? It’s true.”
“I’m old and weird.”
“I’m older and weirder.” Murray reaches up and teasingly pinches Scott’s nipple, causing him to yelp and smack his hand away. “Can we have sex now, please? I’m dying to have you.”
“You want to?” Scott isn’t sure why he’s surprised, but it catches him off guard and he feels vulnerable. He turns himself over, so the two of them are face to face. Murray leans in to kiss him, but Scott ducks away.
“What’s wrong?”
“Is this real?”
“Of course it’s real, sweetheart. You’re not still dreaming if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Scott shakes his head. Murray props himself up on one elbow and looks down at him. He cups Scott’s chin and tilts his face upwards, stroking his jaw, then thumbing gently over his mustache. “Then what is it?” Murray asks.
“Is this going to be like the last time? Where one of us leaves and then we don’t see each other for another twenty years?”
“Well, I hope not. I don’t think I’ll be looking this good when I’m sixty-three.”
“I’m serious, Murray. Is this real?”
“Scott,” Murray says pointedly. “Didn’t you hear what I said last night?”
“Well, I know, but–” Murray cuts Scott off by grabbing him around the waist and hauling him close against his body.
“But what?”
“I just don’t want to lose this again. Lose you. Now that I can finally have it.” Scott whispers it into Murray’s chest, watches as his breath gently brushes over the dark hairs there.
“I was completely deranged for not finding you as soon as I stepped foot back in this place, wasn’t I?” Murray murmurs as his answer, kissing the top of Scott’s head. “I was a complete idiot.”
“Only a little.” Scott concedes.
“You forget all about me and the second you see me again, you’re smitten.” Murray squeezes Scott so tight, he’s afraid he might crush him. But he loves it. “God, what did a man like me do to deserve you?”
“Nothing–” Scott shakes his head. “I mean, you didn’t have to do anything.”
Murray smiles softly, gently pushing Scott onto his back and beginning to kiss down his neck and towards his chest. His hand drags through the hair underneath Scott’s navel and brushes the waistband of Scott’s underwear. Murray kisses Scott’s sternum and rests his chin there, looking up at him through his eyelashes. Scott reaches for Murray’s glasses on the side table and slides them onto Murray’s face, running his fingers through his hair.
“Can I please show you how real this is to me?” Murray asks surprisingly earnestly.
Scott can only nod. Any words he has are not sufficient for what he’s feeling.
Murray kisses him on the mouth, finally pressing their hips together and fitting their filling erections against one another. Scott allows himself to grind their hips together without shame, seeking purchase as he becomes fully erect underneath Murray’s body. He grabs at Murray’s strong shoulders, groaning as they lick messily into each other’s mouths.
“Morning breath.” Scott mumbles against Murray’s lips. He can’t help himself.
Murray grins. “Deal with it, Clarke.”
“You’re nasty, you know that?”
“Oh, am I?” Murray purrs, leaning down and sucking one of Scott’s nipples into his mouth. Scott gasps in surprise, digging his nails into Murray’s back. Murray’s beard scrapes against the sensitive skin of Scott’s chest and he loves it. He’s sure he’ll have a wicked beard burn by the end of it, but he can not seem to bring himself to care right now.
Scott moans when Murray finally touches him–finally wraps his hand around his aching cock and thumbs at the head, smearing his precome around the tip. Murray pulls Scott’s cock out and takes a moment to stare down at him. Scott swears he looks like he’s about to eat him. He blushes and squirms under Murray’s intense gaze, feeling his cheeks go impossibly red and hot.
“Can I do something that’s kind of gross, but I think you might like?” Murray murmurs, kissing over Scott’s nipple again and nipping at his chest.
“That doesn’t sound very promising.”
“Just trust me?”
Scott nods slowly, staring at Murray expectantly, unsure of what he’s about to do. “What are you–”
Murray licks his own palm before he spits into it, holding eye contact with Scott all the while. He places the hand around Scott’s cock and strokes, spreading the wetness around the shaft. It should be disgusting. His morning-breath spit and the vulgarity of the action. But it only serves to make Scott’s dick throb in Murray’s hand.
“Holy…” Scott breathes.
“I knew it.” Murray smirks, dragging his tongue down Scott’s neck and sucking a kiss onto his collarbone. He keeps stroking Scott, languid and slow, taking his time. “You know, I thought about that night so many times.”
“Which night?”
“You know which one. You were so pretty.”
“Yeah, I used to be.”
“No, no,” Murray’s hand stills, squeezing around the base of Scott’s dick. “You were pretty then. You’re beautiful now.” He whispers the last part into Scott’s ear before he pulls down the waistband of his own underwear (actually a borrowed pair of Scott’s) and slides their cocks together.
“Oh my–”
Murray’s big hand stays wrapped around the both of them as he fucks his cock along the underside of Scott’s, the slide of his spit providing a glorious glide. Scott can barely breathe. Can barely get enough air. He’s never done something like this. He’s only been with one other man, only allowed himself the thrill one other time. And that man had insisted on taking Scott from behind, never kissing him or looking him in the eyes, although he had sworn he wasn’t ashamed. Scott isn’t sure why he forced himself to be with so many women for so long. Although Hawkins is small, he could have easily driven to Indianapolis and found a man there to love and be with. But then he would have had to hide that. And Scott supposes he never has been so good at keeping secrets.
Scott forces himself to keep his eyes open. He wants to study this moment, watch Murray’s face and submit to memory the way his eyelashes flutter underneath his foggy glasses.
“As soon as you left that night I jerked off again.” Murray says it so boldly it catches Scott off guard and he can only stare and moan wantonly. “You have no idea how much I fucking thought about that first time. How you begged for me.”
“I didn’t–” Scott moans as Murray speeds up his thrusts, the heads of their cocks catching hotly against one another. “I didn’t beg.” Although he can’t truly confirm or deny.
“You did.” Murray says. “You begged so nicely for me to suck your cock.”
“Oh, jeez, Murray.” Scott’s own hips are bucking wildly, chasing delicious friction.
“I almost chased you outside and asked you to come back and learn how to suck mine.”
“Fuck!” Scott comes. Excruciatingly hot and embarrassingly fast, he comes all over Murray’s cock and his hand. He still feels himself buzzing afterwards, like an electrical wire is running through his body, fueled by his orgasm.
“Mm,” Murray stares down at the mess, then wrapping his hand around his still hard cock as if he’s about to start stroking himself to completion.
“Wait,” Scott puts a hand on Murray’s wrist. “Teach me.”
“What?”
“Teach me how to suck your cock.”
The words come out so easily, Scott feels himself blush.
Murray closes his eyes briefly and squeezes the base of his cock. “Jesus Christ, Scott.”
“Please? I want to.”
“You think I’m going to say no to that? Come here.” Murray leans down to kiss him deeply, gently, brushing their tongues together and stroking the back of Scott’s neck.
They rearrange and Scott scoots down off of the bed, kneeling in between Murray’s legs, staring down at his hard cock–cut, thick, and strangely pretty. He’s suddenly nervous and he considers changing his mind, when he glances up at Murray’s smiling face and feels all of his nerves slide out of his head through his ears.
He leans down and licks a stripe up the side of the shaft, tentatively sucking the head and licking over the slit. It doesn’t taste as odd as he thought it would. Mostly just like skin. And he supposes, himself, what, with his own come still striped all over it.
“Good,” Murray purrs, sliding a hand into Scott’s hair. He doesn’t push or pull, just rests his hand in his hair comfortingly. “Just be gentle. Don’t push yourself. You can use your hand to help.”
Scott wraps his fist around Murray’s cock, stroking him as he takes the head into his mouth. He lets it rest on his tongue for a moment, getting used to the weight of it and the feel. He must look ridiculous. A forty-three year old man learning how to suck a cock for the first time. Though with the way Murray is panting and muttering under his breath he supposes he can’t look so bad.
“Touch my balls.” Murray instructs gently, hands skating over Scott’s head.
Scott complies, reaching his other hand up to cup Murray’s balls and touch them. He can see the way Murray’s hairy thighs tense and how his belly flexes as he shivers. Scott decides to take him further into his mouth, slowly easing himself down Murray’s cock and silently telling himself to breathe through his nose. He doesn’t manage to get very far, but Murray’s hand tenses in his hair, which tells him that it must be good enough.
He’s had dreams like this before. Where he’s on his knees with a man’s heavy cock on his tongue. Often the man’s face is blurry and Scott can never get the image to clear. This is better than those dreams though. The heaviness is real, filling his mouth and making his jaw ache already. The smell of him is real, too, close enough to fill his nose with the smell of man and sweat and also cleanliness. And the man’s face is clear. His beard is full and his glasses are sitting on his nose and his head is bald, showing his age, but providing Scott with an endearing fantasy of growing old together and waiting for his own hair to fall out too.
Scott feels the familiar tighten in Murray’s balls, looks up and sees how his mouth has gone slack and his eyes have gotten round.
“You’re close,” Scott murmurs, kissing the head of Murray’s cock and teasingly licking the tip.
“Yeah, I am.” Murray breathes. “Fuck, Scott, I’m not going to last.”
Scott speeds up his strokes and hardly flinches when Murray comes in stripes over his face and chest. He just stares, darting out his tongue to catch a taste of it from where it landed on the corner of his lips.
“You’re a marvel.” Murray says, reaching down and stroking his hand down Scott’s face. He gathers some of his come onto his thumb and pushes it in between Scott’s lips. Scott finds himself sucking greedily on his thumb, licking around the tip and taking it all the way into his mouth. “Wow.”
Scott attempts to get up from his position on his knees and he groans, clutching at his back. Murray laughs, reaching for him. Scott crawls gingerly into his arms with a wince.
“We’re getting old.” Murray murmurs, kissing Scott’s forehead.
“I hate it.”
“You look sexier now.”
“What, old?”
“Yeah, like a hot teacher.”
“I'm just a teacher.”
“I bet all the moms have crushes on you.”
“Be quiet.”
________
After managing to squeeze into Scott’s shower together to clean up, the two of them sit across from each other at Scott’s dining table, eating bowls of cereal and drinking coffee.
“You know,” Murray starts. “The Byers kid came out. Will.”
“Came out? What do you mean?”
“You know,” Murray mimes shoving something, pushing both of his arms in front of his chest. “Came out of the closet.”
Scott furrows his brow thoughtfully. To be honest, he was always saddened by the fact that he never got to teach Will as much as he could have if Will hadn’t been taken. Jonathan Byers always was a very interesting student to teach. Of course Scott was more saddened by such a large part of Will’s childhood being taken from him, but he had always wanted to get to know him better.
“Did anyone say anything? Bad, I mean?”
“No,” Murray shrugs. “It was…touching, actually. I think you would have liked what he said.”
“I’m proud of him. I’m sure it was a very difficult thing to do.”
“You’re not…” Murray trails off, adjusting his glasses. “No one knows about you?”
“I guess not.” Scott says. “My mother did, but she’s dead now.” He had told her when he turned thirty. She told him she wasn’t all that surprised. They laughed about it together for a long time.
“I haven’t told anyone about me, but I don’t think it’s all that hard to figure out.”
“You’re not very easy to figure out at all.” Scott points out. “Are you gay?”
“Yes,” Murray leans back in his chair. His foot slides against Scott’s shin underneath the table. “And I’ve been with many men.”
“Good to know.” Scott rolls his eyes. Murray reaches for his hand across the table and grabs it, holding it in his own.
“No, no, okay, look. I’ve been with many men, but I’ve never wanted to stay with any of them. When we met for the first time, I don’t know how or why, but I knew that I would see you again and…” Murray chuckles. “I think you ruined me for anyone else.”
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t want to stay with anyone else because I knew I would find you again and I knew I would want to be with you.”
“That’s–” Scott sighs. “That’s crazy.”
“It’s not though!” Murray exclaims. “Because it happened! Because I was right!”
“I still don’t understand how you could have remembered me the whole time and never once tried to make your way back to me before yesterday.” Scott tries to keep the hurt out of his voice.
“Because I’m an asshole. And, you know, a part of me was sure you would be better off without me.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I know that now.” Murray drops Scott’s hand and gets out of his chair, walking to the other side of the table and taking a seat next to Scott. He puts his hands on Scott’s thigh. “Look, my point is, you make me want to try and be with someone for real. Be with you for real. I’m desperate for it, Scott. You have no idea how much I want it. I was hiding out in Illinois and letting my weird fucking thoughts get to me and I was alone for so long because I kept pushing everyone away. But with you, I feel myself wanting to exist without hiding. Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” Scott nods. “That makes sense.”
“I want to take you out. On a date. Tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“And then every night after that if you let me.”
“That might get old quick.” Scott laughs.
“Well, we’ll find something new to do each time.”
“Okay,”
“Okay?”
“Yes, yes okay, I want to go out with you tonight! And then as many more times as we can bear.”
Murray leans forward and kisses the hell out of Scott, but it’s hard because both of them are smiling too much to be able to do it properly.
Scott supposes there are much worse problems to have.