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Andrew bends low to flick on the flames in their artificial fireplace and the logs dance to life, consumed but never burnt. Neil leans against the granite of their breakfast nook across the room, enjoying the view. Colored lights gleaming from their Christmas tree are the only other source of light to brighten the dusk-filled room.
Andrew pushes himself up and turns to look at Neil. “Good?” he asks. Neil hums in a vague affirmative; he is definitely good. Andrew’s wearing a dark green pair of gym shorts he’s had since his early college years that can now only be described as curve-hugging. Professional Exy player Andrew Minyard took bulky to a whole other level and Neil quite frankly won’t ever get enough.
“Neil.” Andrew is suddenly in front of him. “Fire,” he states. “Good?”
Neil’s focus crystallizes. Andrew is within touching distance. “Fire.” He repeats. Waves a hand dismissively through the air. “Yeah, yes, I’m fine Andrew.”
Andrew’s gaze narrows. “What.”
Neil shrugs innocently, swaying further into Andrew’s space. “It’s hard to care whether or not there’s flames near me when your ass is also just, right there.” Andrew blushes and glares, achieving Neil’s primary goal for the evening. He really hadn’t thought it would be so easy.
“Idiot,” Andrew grumbles, turning away from Neil toward the couch. “Just for that, I get the good spot.”
Oh, damn. “I wanted to sit there tonight!” Neil pushes himself off the marbled cream granite and darts past Andrew into the living room. He’s sitting in that spot on the couch if he has to fight for it. Neil throws himself onto the side of the couch that boasts the L-shaped angle over which he and Andrew are constantly fighting. Triumphant, he wiggles around to grin in Andrew’s face just as a small but very solid body bellyflops onto Neil’s legs.
“Agh!” Neil tries to squirm away but Andrew’s arms wrap around his stomach and hold him there, pinned. “Andrew!” Neil pants, trying to flip them and gain the upper hand. “It’s my turn!”
“Too bad Josten,” Andrew retorts, voice muffled where its pressed into Neil’s t-shirt. “This seat is mine.”
Just managing to free his arms, Neil heaves himself up onto a seated position, back against the main part of the couch with legs – Andrew still wrapped around him koala-like – sprawled out on the coveted leg rest. “Wait wait wait, Andrew okay okay,” Neil laughs, gently kicking his feet in a futile attempt to loosen the man’s iron grip. “We can share? I wanna share. C’mere.” Neil bends his upper half to meet Andrew as Andrew lifts his face, defiant. His expression is so serious that Neil laughs again, curls his fingers in the blonde strands curtaining hazel eyes, feels something achingly warm nestle impossibly deeper inside his chest. Andrew pushes himself up, red-faced and breathing heavily.
“Out of breath from just that?” Neil teases. “I told you to run with me during the off-season. You’re getting soft, Minyard.”
“I am enjoying my vacation,” is Andrew’s pointed response as he pushes himself into a seated position. “Scooch. No not like that,” as Neil starts to press himself to the side of the couch, “I’m going to sit between your legs.”
Andrew crawls up Neil’s body, which is a very nice experience, before turning and depositing himself unceremoniously in his lap, arranging Neil’s legs carefully on either side of his hips until he’s satisfied and settles back against Neil’s chest with a sigh. Neil is pretty sure he could spend the rest of his life right here, just like this, and be perfectly content. Exy? Friends? The Moriyama’s? Never heard of ‘em. He drops a kiss to the crown of Andrew’s head. “This is nice. I was going to say we could just get a couch with two leg thingies so we could each have one but now I’m realizing you’ll be too far away if we do that so forget I said anything.”
Andrew’s fingers find Neil’s and he pulls Neil’s arm until it settles around his stomach, leaving their hands twined. “We’re so rich we could each have our own couch,” he muses. “Hell, we can have our own houses. I’d never again have to be awakened at the ass-crack of dawn by stupid jocks who don’t know how to relax.”
Neil grins because Andrew can’t see it. “You’d miss me too much. What would you even do in your own house?”
“I got used to it over the last two years we were apart,” says Andrew too casually, pinching an unmarred patch of skin on the back of Neil’s hand. “I’d get my peace and quiet back.”
“And you call me the liar.” Neil kisses Andrew’s left ear and watches in delight as it turns pink. “You’d be over at my house all the time, wanting to sit on my couch and sleep in my bed.”
Andrew tilts his head back to glance up at Neil, frowns, doesn’t deny it. “Don’t tell them how much we like this couch. We’ll never hear the fucking end of it.”
The couch, reluctantly purchased after an enthusiastic ‘suggestion’ from Nicky and Katelyn after much deliberation between the two and zero input from Andrew and Neil, is a lush, deep navy sectional and it is unequivocally their favorite spot to lounge in their new apartment. “The L-Shape" spot reigns supreme.
Neil is warm and very comfortable. His belly is full of take-out Cacio e Pepe, the room is the perfect temperature, and most importantly, Andrew is in his lap. The problem this presents is that now neither of them can reach the remote. Neil does not want to move and he’s not above playing dirty.
“Andrew,” Neil tilts his head to reach down and brushes his lips along the invitingly exposed skin of Andrew’s neck. He whispers into the shiver he evokes. “Will you,” a kiss is pressed to a fluttering pulse, “grab the remote?” His tongue traces a lazy trail to Andrew’s earlobe, licks the faux black gauge Andrew wears whenever he’s not on the court. Andrew shudders.
“I know what you’re doing.” His voice is breathless. “You’re closer,” Neil murmurs as his hand not already occupied traces the vein along Andrew’s opposite arm, bands left folded in their drawer for the day. “Get it and I’ll keep doing this.”
Andrew huffs and sits up, white ribbed tank top riding up his lower back, and rolls to the side to stretch his arm as far as he can until he returns the victor, remote stolen from its place on the coffee table. “Who says I even want you to keep doing that,” he mutters as he navigates the menu. “Maybe I want to concentrate on the TV.”
“Sure,” Neil says easily. “We don’t have to do anything.” He’s silent, hands still, as the opening scene of a sci-fi show Neil’s already forgotten the name of begins. Neil’s attention is half on the screen, half on the stubborn and adorable man in his arms.
It’s five long minutes later when Andrew huffs, presses his back a little more firmly into Neil's, fine strands of pale hair tickling Neil’s nose as Andrew shifts so his neck is bared invitingly. “You can-” Andrew jerks his head, “-if you want.” Neil smiles, rests his head against the top of Andrew’s.
“I want to do what you want.”
“You’re impossible.” Andrew pauses. Waits. Mumbles something almost unintelligible. “Iwantyoutokeepkissingmyneck.”
Neil hopes for the thousandth time that even if everything else were to fall away, he gets to keep this. Forever. “It’s a good thing I’m fluent in Andrew Minyard,” he muses. “Watch your show.” Kisses drip from his lips along the tender skin of Andrew’s neck, his cheeks, his temple. When he can tell Andrew’s neck is getting stiff from staying in one place, he carefully turns his head, worshipping the other side. Andrew is soon boneless, lying sprawled across Neil’s lap as he brings Neil’s hands to his stomach, pressing them against his thin tank. His voice is breathless, raspy. “Touch me, Abram.”
Neil knows Andrew is going to be grumpy later when he realizes they’ll need to rewatch the episode; Andrew had been looking forward to starting this show. He’s helpless but to comply, though, as Andrew guides Neil’s hands.
Slowly, Neil lifts Andrew’s top and slides his palms over Andrew’s stomach, dances his fingers across his ribs, rubs little circles with his thumbs and cups Andrew’s hips and suddenly wishes he had at least three more hands. One hand finds its way to Andrew’s chest, palm flat against beating heart, while his other winds back into Andrew’s hair so Neil can pull Andrew’s lips around to his. This kiss is messy, off-center, slow and syrupy. Andrew makes a desperate, needy sound in his throat as Neil’s left thumb flicks Andrew’s nipple while he reattaches his lips to flushed skin around the strap of Andrew’s tank. Neil tugs impatiently. “Andrew, can I take this off?” Andrew’s shirt is lost to the carpet approximately three seconds later. “Yours?” Andrew’s eyes are questioning, trusting, perfect.
“Yes.” Neil uses his knees to wedge Andrew temporarily forward as Neil pulls his own t-shirt off, discards it in the general direction Andrew’s had disappeared. Andrew falls back onto Neil’s chest gracelessly and it’s Neil’s turn to shiver at the skin against skin contact.
Neil’s arms wind their way back around Andrew until they're settled once again, with Neil wondering how long until the heat of their skin leaves them sweaty and gross, decides he doesn’t mind too much, not when the sweat is Andrew’s. “Can I keep kissing you?”
Andrew hums in response, offering up his neck as he simultaneously guides Neil’s right hand to his groin. Neil swallows as he feels the hardening bulge that Andrew’s mesh shorts are doing little to disguise. Taking the permission for what it is, Neil cups his hand and squeezes lightly. At Andrew’s sharp intake of breath, Neil slowly begins massaging his cock through his shorts as he returns to his earlier task of covering the whole of Andrew’s neck and shoulders in kisses. His lips have met Andrew’s skin a thousand times in a thousand ways in the nearly eight years they’ve been together. He’s pretty sure if he really tries, really applies himself, he can find another thousand ways to show Andrew how cherished he is.
In response to Andrew tightening his grip on Neil’s knee, Neil increases the speed of his hand. Andrew moans. It’s quiet, desperate, perfect, and it goes straight to Neil’s cock. He knows Andrew can feel him growing hard against his back. Flattening his other palm against Andrew’s lower stomach, Neil presses down, gasps in tandem with Andrew. Carefully brands a mark onto Andrew’s shoulder. Kisses it gently.
“Shit, Neil.” Neil feels the reverberation of Andrew’s head smacking into Neil’s collar bone as Andrew pushes back and then forward, seeking more of Neil. “Want to come like this.”
Neil hums affirmatively, noses into the sweat forming at Andrew’s hairline. “Just like this? Nothing else?” He squeezes Andrew’s balls and scrapes his nails across the damp fabric covering Andrew’s tip, smirking when Andrew jolts. “Get your fucking hand in my fucking pants, Josten.”
“Greedy.”
“Get to it.”
“I like it when you tell me what you want.” Andrew groans and it’s not his sexy groan as Neil calls it but the one he does whenever Neil is being obnoxious (sometimes Neil believes his primary objective in life is simply to elicit both forms of groans from Andrew’s throat as often as possible). “You say that too m- ah!” Andrew cuts himself off with a choked gasp as Neil spits into his hand, slipping it into Andrew’s underwear and simultaneously suctioning himself back onto Andrew’s neck.
Neil pulls Andrew out of his shorts and his grip is fast and rough, working Andrew over thoroughly. Andrew’s eyes flutter closed, his noises reduced to quiet gasps and keens. Neil is only distantly aware of how much he’s aching in his own sweatpants, intent on bringing Andrew to the edge as fast as possible. Neil nuzzles into Andrew’s spit-slick, reddened neck as he twists his wrist and slips his other hand down again to Andrew’s balls. “C’mon Andrew, that’s it.”
He’s barely finished speaking when Andrew comes with a silent jerk, muscles straining as Neil works him through it, one hand sliding back around Andrew’s hip to hold him in place. Neil loves sex with Andrew (loves everything with Andrew), and this is his favorite part. Seeing Andrew willingly open and vulnerable and trusting, for Neil. Only for Neil, again and again and again and again.
With a muffled “mmph”, Andrew, eyes closed and body splattered in come, sprawled across Neil’s lap and chest, bats Neil’s hand away from his cock. Before Neil can so much as move, Andrew slides off the couch and yanks Neil around until Neil’s got one leg hanging off the edge, caging Andrew in. Andrew’s fingers shake as they paw at Neil’s waistband, tugging Neil’s pants and boxers down in one go. Neil is once again very aware of his erection and cries out as Andrew swallows him down in one go.
“Fuck, Andrew, don’t stop.” Neil’s hands are anchors in Andrew’s soft hair, gripping as Andrew’s mouth slides up and down his cock. It’s fast and it’s messy – filthy really. Andrew usually prefers to be neater when he does this but tonight Andrew’s spit dribbles out of the corners of his mouth, down his chin, eyes watering. The pleasure is is all-encompassing and when Neil comes it’s almost a surprise, having been distracted by Andrew’s singular, determined focus. Saliva and come mix as it slides down Andrew’s chin when he pulls back.
Neil sighs and closes his eyes, tugging Andrew’s hair appreciatively. “Holy shit, that was amazing.”
Andrew licks his lips and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Water”, he croaks in a raspy voice as he heads into the kitchen. Neil doesn’t move, content to continue dangling off the side of the couch as he kicks off his too-warm sweatpants and pull his underwear back up. “You’re pathetic after sex”, Andrew observes as he kicks at Neil’s knee, now wearing a hoodie and balancing two glasses of water and a bowl of popcorn in his arms.
“That was a little different than the way you usually suck me off,” Neil notes. “Messier. I liked it.” He watches as Andrew, silent, sets everything carefully down on the end table, throws Neil his shirt which Neil uses to mop off his sweat then throws back to the floor. Andrew eyes it unimpressed as he climbs back to sit between Neil’s legs.
“I was...” Andrew begins, rubbing his thumb in circles on Neil’s thigh, “feeling. A lot of things about you all at once.”
And god, Neil is so obsessed with Andrew. Wants to hold him in the palm of his hands and stare at him and kiss his head and take care of him forever. Suppressing a sudden surprising desire to squeeze him in a hug so tight Andrew’s head pops off, Neil rests his head against Andrew’s. His voice is soft. “I like that. I always feel a lot of things about you all the time.”
“Jesus.” Andrew’s sigh is dramatic and does not fool Neil.
“What?” Neil asks, teasing. “You like me so much you exploded with feelings and gave me the most frantic blow job ever. I’m a fan! It was a very nice Christmas present,” Neil adds.
Andrew wiggles until he can see Neil. “So I can return your gifts? Have you devolved so far as to accept a sloppy and frankly subpar blowjob as your present this year?”
Neil gently smacks Andrew’s hip. “No! I know you got me those new practice gloves I’ve been wanting, I better see them under the tree tomorrow.”
Andrew hums in consideration. “I suppose Aaron would flip his shit if my answer to ‘why did you not get Neil any gifts’ is ‘well brother, I got in my feels after he gave me a very nice Christmas Eve orgasm so I sucked his brains out through his dick as my thanks and he said that was good enough.’”
Neil laughs, twisting a bit as he finds the remote lodged between the seat and back cushions. “I can’t decide if I am horrified by Aaron knowing anything about our sex life or if my need to see his face if you said that overrides the horror.”
Neil passes the remote to Andrew who sighs again as the episode credits begin rolling just as he hits the replay button. “You’re getting your gloves tomorrow Junkie, calm down. No one is allowed to discuss sex with my brother, cousin, and their respective other halves in the room.”
“Mm, fine.” Neil gets comfy again, reaching back to grab their cream chenille throw and drops it into Andrew’s lap. “I might fall asleep,” he warns as Andrew covers them both up.
“’S okay,” murmurs Andrew as he once again grabs Neil’s arms and repositions them around his waist the same way they’d started out. “Want to move to the bed?”
“Just wake me up when the episode is over.” Neil yawns as the opening scene starts playing once again.
Andrew huffs quietly. “You’re not even going to try and stay awake?” Neil’s vision is blurry and everything feels muted and warm and safe. He doesn’t answer. The last thing he hears as his eyes close is a whispered “Merry Christmas, Neil.”