lierdumoa | I wrote fic! Go read!

Title: It Went Like This: Pt. 2
Fandom: QaF RPS
Pairing: Gale/Randy
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Randy misinterprets things and makes himself miserable. A lot. But everything turns out okay. Also, I started writing this before I knew about Gale and Randy's respective real life love interests, so pretend they don't exist.

A/N: Thanks to

burnitbackwards,

misswindy,

permetaform, and

rhiannonhero for beta'ing. Y'all are beautiful. All mistakes are mine.

Return to Pt. 1

I didn't see Gale until the end of the day. He looked a bit henpecked, which was understandable. He's a very private person, and I'm sure he didn't appreciate everyone knowing about his sex life. I wasn't too happy about this turn of events either. I knew exactly what had happened. Michelle had told Thea, since the two of them shared everything like some strange adolescent female clique. Thea had told everyone else, because, well, she has a fetish for Gale and me. I'm sure she thought us getting together was the cutest thing ever. There's no way she would have not told everyone.

Gale smiled when he saw me. I went over to him as I usually did. Thea was looking questioningly at us from a short distance away. The expression on her face told me she was planning to say hi, or possibly congratulate us. I restrained the urge to shudder in horror. "Want to get out of here?"

Gale looked intensely relieved at my words. "God, yes," he said.

We went back to my place. I ordered some takeout -- a wrap from the Greek restaurant down the street. Gale ordered this soup thing and bread rolls. We ate out of the bag, sitting on the floor in front of my couch and watching tv. We finished up quickly. I fully expected us to start making out like teenagers when Gale got up suddenly and excused himself to the bathroom.

I started to get up and follow him, but decided that would be a little too highschool girlish of me. I waited. He came back and sat down next to me, the same way he always did, with our thighs barely touching. I moved closer. After a while I got the vague feeling he was letting me lean on him without really reciprocating. Something was very off. "Did you," change your mind about us? "go over tomorrow's script?"

I told myself with some odd twist of logic that if I didn't ask the question, he couldn't say yes. Gale responded to the question I did ask with a sort of emotionless smile. "Nah, my script's at home."

He got up from the floor and headed over to the fridge to grab a bottled water. He turned back to me and stared searchingly for a bit before shaking his head. "I should probably head back over there."

"Uhm, okay. See you tomorrow."

What the fuck? This was going all wrong. Not that I'd exactly planned out the day in my head, but weren't we supposed to be naked and groping each other right now?

Moments later he was at the door. I felt very dazed and confused. Eventually I figured he was probably a little out of it because of the looks he'd been getting all day from our directors and fellow castmembers. I'd gotten the same looks, and I'd found them more than a little annoying. I shook my head at his retreating footsteps and got up to get something to eat. I made my way to the kitchen to begin a search for food. There were some crackers in the cabinet next to the stove.

Right next to them were my emergency condoms. Sitting there. Laughing at me.

The next morning things were better. I met up with Gale before filming, and he seemed more his usual self than he had been the night before. The cast was still being really annoying, but not as bad as they were the day before. I didn't see Gale much at work, and missed him after, so I headed over to his house around dinnertime. We rehearsed lines, standing in for other castmembers since none of our upcoming scenes were with each other. we ordered Chinese.

No sex was had.

I figured Gale was either having a much belated freak out over the large amounts of gay sex we'd had or he'd decided we were better off just being friends. Either way, I didn't want to push. I stopped actively seeking out physical contact. I kept quiet and waited for him to show me where he wanted to go with this.

It totally sucked. I was back to quietly longing for Gale from afar. It was the return of the unrequited crush. The crush was an even bigger bitch than before now that I had a string of sexually explicit memories set on repeat running through my brain in fucking technicolor. I told myself to be patient. If he still wanted me "that way" he'd do something about it, right? He'd forget all about Michelle's big mouth and make a move.

Except he didn't. Quite the opposite, in fact -- I gave him space and he took it. Our conversations grew progressively more stilted until finally I conceded defeat. I knew rejection when I saw it. No need to make this harder than it had to be. I made a clean break of it. I stopped asking him over to my house and seeking him out on set.

Okay, the sudden cessation of contact was probably a little drastic. Childish even -- but this whole look but don't touch thing was fucking me up royally. He'd decided he'd rather be a friend than a lover after all, or so his actions were telling me. I could deal with that. I just couldn't switch gears that quickly. Not with him chatting with me after filming and lounging on my couch and looking like everything I never wanted to want.

Peter was the first to notice that we weren't hanging out as much. He cornered me after filming one day and asked what was up. "I...I guess Gale just changed his mind," I told him.

"Did he say so?"

"No." I felt strangely like I was losing points in the conversation. "He didn't have to."

God, couldn't he just leave already?

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Maybe he's hoping you'll say something."

"Look, I know Gale. If he wanted me, he'd track me down and tell me."

Peter considered this. "Unless he thinks that's not what you want."

"It's pretty obvious what I want."

"Avoidance does generally convey a fairly obvious message, yes."

"Peter," I said coldly, "it really isn't any of your business."

"Randy, you're not making things any better for yourself by cutting him off."

"Just stay out of it."

Peter shook his head somewhat patronizingly and walked away. I spent the rest of the workday glaring at anyone who looked like they might dare to approach me. Okay, so I had some anger issues. Perceived rejection and sexual frustraion will do that to a guy.

After I'd gotten home that night, Gale called. He asked me how I was. I told him I was fine, enjoying a quiet night in. We made pointless conversation for a few excruciating minutes, until finally I made my excuses and ended the call. I stared off into space for a few minutes, thinking about not thinking about him. Eventually I decided to watch tv. I turned to a random station and settled down on the couch. I ate my dinner as I sat -- three bags of popcorn that had been left over from the night we'd watched King Kong Lives together. I stumbled off to my bed about halfway through some news broadcast and fell asleep feeling slightly sick to my stomach.

The next morning I got up determined to be less antisocial. There was only so long I could act like a total brat before I started to seriously dislike myself. I did my best to allow people to engage me in conversation. I was still avoiding Gale, but I wasn't going out of my way to do it. It was too much effort, and to be honest, I kind of missed him.

Today was the day I was supposed to get my head shaved. I remembered asking Gale, back when we'd first gotten out scripts for the season, to be there when they cut off all my hair. He wasn't in the room when the scene started filming, so I figured he'd forgotten. Or thought better of it, which wouldn't surprise me at all. Whatever. It wasn't a big deal. In fact, since I was avoiding him, it was better that he not be there. I decided not to think about it. The razor started to buzz and I closed my eyes to the noise.

A few seconds later I registered the sound of footsteps across the floor. It was probably pathetic hope that made me assume it was him coming though the door and not someone else. My assumption turned out to be correct, however. He stayed till the end, and I opened my eyes just in time to see him make his way off the set.

I quickly dusted any stray hair off my shirt and sped out the door to follow him. I wanted to see if I could catch up with him and say something. Explain something. "I just needed some space for a little while. Really. It's not you, it's me." And goddamnit, Gale was not the injured party here. If anyone was, it was me.

I didn't catch him. I was glad, really. If I had I'd probably have blurted out something pathetic like, "Why don't you want me anymore?"

Enough drama. I decided that, since filming was done for the day, I might as well go home and brood over a bowl of popcorn. I'd gotten good at that lately. I was on my way out when I ran into Thea and Hal.

Thea saw me first. "Hey, Randy. I just talked to Gale. Is he..." something in my expression must have stopped her from asking her question, because she continued, "Are you okay?"

"Fine," I said. She turned back to Hal with a shrug. I started to brush past the two of them when Hal grabbed my sleeve, asking the question that Thea had failed to finish.

"Is Gale okay? He's been acting weird all week."

Hal never did have much tact.

"I'm sure I wouldn't know if he were," I offered, trying to sound friendly. They were guilt tripping me without even trying. Screw it. Gale's mood swings were none of my concern.

Hal gave me a weird look, which I ignored. I once again began to walk away when I heard him mutter, "Well, he's no fun." A pause, then, "I think he's broken. We should get a new one." Thea responded with a short burst of inappropriate laughter.

I suppose the remark could have been considered funny. If only it hadn't been really, really not funny.

I didn't see Gale much for a few days after that, and when I did it was as Brian, with me as Justin. Despite the problems between the two of us, we managed to pull off our scenes together without a hitch. I suppose it isn't that great a feat when you think about it. The script stated that Justin needed to be angry. It was easy to summon up anger for my role. I was pretty pissed off at the world in general, my love life being the train wreck that it was.

Oddly enough, the non-angry scenes came about even more smoothly than the angry ones. Brian would rest his hands on Justin's arms or twist fingers affectionately in Justin's hair. He would smile into the curve of Justin's neck or wrap arms around him in a loving embrace. I wanted it to be real. I wanted it so badly it was almost too easy for me to lie there and pretend.

Things got somewhat more difficult when we started filming for the fourth episode of the season. The script was straightforward enough. We got on set and fought, naked save for the cock socks, faking punches while dropping lines. Simple. Only, then we were on the ground, pawing roughly at each other, wrestling for control. Everything became less simple.

Something in the grip of his hands, something in the squirm of his hips, or maybe it was something in me. Something split. Hairline crack. Just wide enough for my sanity to start leaking out. I could feel myself slipping in and out of character. The words from the script started to sound off. Whatever emotion I'd summoned forth for them had mutated, and whatever emotion was coming out in my voice wasn't about Justin anymore. Wasn't about Brian, anymore.

It was about Gale, shoving me against the hardwood, holding me down under the twitch, twitch of his hips. He was stiffening against me -- his new erection jabbing into my thigh. I looked up into his eyes and knew, suddenly, that I wasn't looking at Brian. That I hadn't been looking at Brian. That it had been Gale the whole fucking time, during that whole fucking scene. Gale, who was now almost grinding me against the floor.

Too much friction. I hate hardwood floors. Awful place to fuck on. I realized belatedly that I was supposed to deliver a line. My last line. I forced it out, at the same time tightening my arms and legs for a final lunge that would gain me the upper hand. Put me back on top. The move was harder than it should have been. Gale was fighting me more than he should have been. He must have forgotten that the move was scripted.

Or not. I looked down into his face and recognized the reckless look in his eyes. He'd stopped caring about the script. His eyes were half glazed, and the movements of his body had an involuntary feel to them. His body. Our bodies. I shifted my legs a bit, knowing he could feel the drag against the outsides of his thighs. So much skin, and I knew what it tasted like. All of it.

Too much.

He was breathing hard. Like he wanted to pant, but was trying to hold it back. I was close to coming. I couldn't even remember getting hard, but I was so fucking close. I --

The director yelled cut.

I threw myself off of him with an embarrassing lack of grace. "What the fuck, Gale?" I growled out the words. It didn't sound like me.

Gale shoved himself to his feet, holding me under his gaze with a wounded expression. He then turned on his heel and walked off the set without a word.

It occurred to me that both of us were still caught in a very noticeable state of arousal. I avoided meeting anyone's eyes, instead glancing down at the cheap cloth stretched over my crotch. I idly pondered the likelihood of precome leaving stains.

Of course I went home to stew. I'm good at that. This particular instance of stewing involved me forking top ramen out of my last clean bowl and glaring at the tv while my brain went on a long bitchfest concerning how much of an asshole Gale was for leading me on.

Only, after a good half hour it came to my attention that I was being kind of evil to him, and he probably hadn't meant to lead me on because, well, this is Gale we're talking about. Gale has about as much guile as a six year old eating Play-Doh. There was a big chance he hadn't meant to lead me on and a very small chance (insignificant, really) that I'd, perhaps, misinterpreted all of his actions.

Heh.

After that small epiphany, my stewing quickly degenerated into brooding, which is like stewing, only less fun. I started replaying the expression he'd thrown at me before he walked off the set. He'd looked so...fuck. If anyone else had put that expression on his face I'd be punching the motherfucker in the nose. And probably be getting laughed at because I punch like a girl.

Except Gale wouldn't laugh. Gale rarely ever laughed at me unless I was being funny on purpose.

I decided to pay him a visit. My plan to give myself space had quite clearly backfired. It was time I stopped making myself miserable and made up with him. Besides, I really wanted to see him. I hadn't touched him in over a week. I missed the casual affection.

I quickly finished up my dinner, shoved my shoes on, slipped my wallet in my back pocket and headed out the door. I made it to Gale's apartment in record time, and soon found myself knocking on his door. He didn't answer immediately, so I tried to look in through his peep hole, which of course didn't really work. Just as I leaned up to get a better view, the door swung open.

I stumbled, but managed to catch myself. I looked up to find my nose just under his chin. He smelled like he'd just finished jerking off. Oh, fuck. I knew I'd forgotten to do something when I'd gotten off work. Damnit, now was not the time to think about sex.

"Gale, I came to talk to you."

He took a few steps back into his apartment and crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh?"

"Yeah. I mean, we haven't done that in a while, right?"

He raised an eyebrow at me -- an obvious reminder of whose fault that was.

"Gale, please?"

He sighed theatrically and stepped to the side to let me through the door. He then walked over to the kitchen to pull a bag of chips out of one of his cupboards. He offered the bag to me, and we ate in silence for a while. "So," I said, finally, "about today. What the hell happened?"

Gale scowled at me. "You were there."

For a moment I felt like I was still there, naked under the weight of the camera, the director having just yelled, "Cut!" Gale was staring at me with the same expression he'd given me just before leaving the set. He even smelled the same -- the animal scents of sweat and skin cutting through the softer fragrances of hand soap and moisturizer. The felt the hard on I'd gotten during filming return in full force.

Gale, what are you trying to do to me?

"Yes, I was there. Were you?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you've been acting really off, lately."

His eyes widened incredulously. "I've been --" He broke off the sentence midway and paused for a heavy intake of breath. "Explain?"

"You ambush me at my apartment. You fuck me sideways. Then word gets out about us and you freak the fuck out and suddenly I can't touch you anymore. Then this?"

Gale slowly started shaking his head. "Randy, you have gone completely fucking insane."

"Oh, fuck you, Gale. You're the one who can't decide what the hell he wants."

He threw up his hands in frustration. His next words came out in a growl. "Well, guess what Randy? I've just decided. I want you to get the hell out of my apartment."

So looking back...maybe I hadn't come to his apartment to make up with him. Maybe I'd just wanted to finish what he'd started during filming. Maybe my visiting him was just some sad, desperate booty call. Maybe that was why I ignored him when he demanded I leave, backed him up against the nearest vertical surface, and tore his shirt off like something out of a bad porn flick.

I am so full of shit.

I remember the next part perfectly. I remember shoving his sweatpants off his hips, and pushing him up onto the counter. It was unusually low. Just the right height for my hips. I remember the feel of his bare thighs under my hands and around my waist. I remember scrambling for a condom in my back pocket and grabbing a small tube of lube that was lying in his kitchen sink for reasons unknown.

I remember his eyes. They weren't screwed shut like they were the first time we had sex, or heavy lidded like they were all the times after that. They were open. Wide and dark and angry and maybe a little scared. He hissed as I shoved two fingers into him with more force than necessary. His body wasn't used to this. He didn't say a word about it, though -- just arched his neck and growled at me to hurry the fuck up.

In only a few short moments I was pushing into him, my movements rough and jerky. I clawed at him, digging my fingers into his stomach, his chest, his shoulders, trying to get at all of his skin, all at once. His right hand gripped hard at the edge of the counter as the fingers of his left went white knuckled around the sink faucet next to him. He shoved hard onto me, taking me deeper.

And then I was buried. Completely. I felt like I couldn't move. Like I couldn't breathe. Some sadistic part of me wanted to hurt him in that moment. To cover his skin in bitemarks and bruises. I leaned in until our noses touched and all I could hear was our heavy breathing. Gale stared up at me, his eyes piercing. I felt too exposed. Vulnerable. I closed my eyes against the feeling.

And then he kissed me. Softly at first. Then harder, breaking off to moan out dirty half phrases. "Would you just --" He bit sharply at the corner of my lips. "Fucking --" He slipped his tongue over my bottom lip. "Just fucking move." He growled the last word into my mouth.

And then whispered, ever so softly, "Please."

I moved, thrusting hard into him, gaining speed with each stroke. He just took it. All of it. Broken moans escaped his lips. The sheer intensity in his face was almost frightening to look at. Another moment and he was coming, his spine snapping back like a bow. He looked beautiful. Breakable

God, Gale.

I groaned his name as I came. I don't think I meant to. I let myself be greatful that nothing more incriminating slipped out of my lips before I had the chance to slip out of him and regain my composure. I awkwardly pushed away from the counter and bent to pick my boxers and undershirt up off the floor and put them back on. I felt Gale's eyes on me and looked up to find him still sitting on the counter looking at me as if he wanted to ask me something.

"Are you leaving?" he said finally.

I slowly shook my head. He tipped his head thoughtfully and nodded. He headed towards his bedroom. I followed.

I woke up to an empty bed. Gale was in the kitchen making coffee. He turned to look at me when I came in, then turned back around without a word. When his cup was ready he turned to me again. "So I've given it some thought," he said, "and I still think you're the crazy one."

"Gale, last night was a mistake."

His expression immediately turned shuttered. I pushed on.

"Look, I came here to talk, okay. I wanted to talk."

"Yeah. And we did so much of that," he said dryly.

"It's not like I just came here for a booty call."

"Didn't you?"

I bit my lip. "Gale...shit. I don't know. I just wanted to...I'm sorry, okay?"

He stared silently at me for a very long moment. "I have to get ready for work," he said finally.

He suddenly started walking towards his fridge, a slight wince in his step. My automatic reaction was to come up behind him and rest my hands over his hips. "Hey I didn't -- I didn't hurt you, right?" I had been quite a bit rougher than necessary.

Gale turned around to face me. A dangerous look entered his eyes, just for a moment. He wrapped his fingers around my wrists and gently shoved my hands away. "Yes, Randy. That's why I was screaming for more the whole time. Because it hurt."

I honestly couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. His face was an open wound.

He turned back to his coffee. "Leave, Randy. Come back when you're done fucking with my head."

I've never been punched in the gut. Something tells me it wouldn't have hurt nearly as much as this. I wondered how could I have fucked things up so badly. I stood with my mouth open for a good thirty seconds before I could make myself move. When I finally did move, it was to follow Gale's command without argument.

I went back to the bedroom to find my clothes, then made my way out, treading quietly. Gale gave no sign that he heard me leave.

I went back to my place to shower and dress in clean clothes. I had to be at work the same time as Gale. I figured we probably wouldn't see each other. We'd gotten good at staying out of each other's way lately. Or, rather, I'd gotten good at it. I walked into my dressing room to put on Justin's latest ensemble. I then made my way over to makeup.

I was hoping to be able to just sit down and close my eyes and avoid conversation. Frankly, talking wasn't something that had been working out for me lately. Of course, as luck would have it, I ended up getting cornered just as I finished up.

Thea beckoned me into an empty room. For a moment, I considered ignoring her entirely and, well, running away. I decided to grin and bear whatever she had to say. After all, it was only Thea. Nothing scary about Thea. Nothing at all. Harmless as a teddy bear.

The moment the door clicked shut behind us she grabbed me by the shoulder and slammed me against the nearest wall. Okay, maybe I was wrong about her not being scary, because my mind suddenly produced the rather graphic image of Thea stabbing me to death with her hair clip. She leveled a very threatening glare at me. I somehow managed not to soil myself. Then she started talking.

"Gale walked into work today looking like hell warmed over. I called your house last night and got your machine, so I'm assuming you were at his place. Want to talk about it?" It was more of a threat than a request.

"Not particularly."

She let go of me and backed up a step. "Randy, he looks heartbroken. What happened?"

I gently pushed her away from me, then backed up a few steps for good measure. "Thea, I know how much you like the idea of Gale and I being together, but Gale's not in love with me."

She laughed. "Randy, I'm not one of your screaming fans."

Funny. You kind of act like it sometimes.

"I like the idea of you and Gale being together because I like the idea of you two happy."

It was the fetish talking. It had to be the fetish talking.

"Randy, Gale does everything but have little hearts in his eyes."

I started to argue with her when I noticed the subject of our conversation standing in the doorway, staring at me. Thea took one look at each of us and quickly exited the room. Gale just stood in the doorway, not looking at me, casually studying his fingernails as if he hadn't just overheard that entire conversation.

"Randy, I think I've figured this thing out." He lifted his head to look at me. A soft smile was on his lips. His left eyebrow was raised.

Gale bases most of his important life decisions on blind instinct. He brushes his teeth in the shower. He thinks King Kong Lives is quality theater. He really shouldn't be allowed to look at me like I'm stupid.

"Great. You want to explain it to me, then?"

And for Christ's sake, stop looking so damn smug.

"First I'll ask you a question. What the hell made you think I'd changed my mind about you?"

"You made it pretty obvious."

He walked towards me, stopping only when his face came within inches of mine.

"Tell me what exactly it was that I did."

"It was...Jesus. You were there. We were watching tv together after the thing. Were were in front of the couch and I was leaning on you but you weren't leaning back. I thought..."

You know, that hadn't sounded nearly as dumb in my head.

Gale shook his head. "You're fucking blind, you know that? Even Thea could tell how stupidly in love with you I am."

Then he kissed me. And, okay, brain? Mush.

Our kiss was cut short when Thea tipped her head back in the door to gently inform me that I was five minutes late for filming. I followed her out of the room, too dazed to get upset over the interruption. Too dazed to do much of anything except go through the motions. I managed to get all my lines right on the first try, as did Hal, who was in the scene with me. We were let out of filming within the hour. I had no more work for the rest of the day, thank god.

I was halfway across the parking lot, headed for my car, when it hit me. Gale was in love with me.

Holy shit.

Gale was in love with me.

I managed to make it into my car seat before my legs stopped supporting me. Barely. I sat there for a long time, not bothering to turn the car on, not really able to move. I just stared blindly forward, repeating the thought to myself. Eventually I started to laugh. High, near hysterical laughter. Gale was in love with me. And everything was fucked up. Really, really fucked up. And.

It was okay. I was okay. Because Gale was in love with me. And I could fix this.

Probably.

Gale opened the passenger side door and slid into the car seat next to me. I stared at him for a moment. "I thought Thea was just on crack," I said finally.

He grinned in response. "Yeah, well you are kind of obtuse," he murmured before bending forward to press his lips to mine. I found it surprisingly difficult to get offended while Gale was sliding his tongue into my mouth. He tasted faintly of horseradish. It tasted good on Gale's lips. I think anything would probably taste good on Gale's lips, because I fucking hate horseradish.

Eventually he drew back, and I made some sort of embarrassing noise at the loss of contact. Gale grinned. I let myself grin back for a moment before softly whispering, "I love you too." Funny how the tiny phrase seemed to draw all the air out of my lungs. I mean, four words and I couldn't breathe. Something had to be seriously wrong with the airflow in this car. I started fiddling with the air conditioning when I realized the car had to actually be on for it to work.

God, this was awkward.

Gale put a stop to my spastic fidgeting by pulling me in for another kiss. I made another embarrassing noise, which was mercifully muffled by his lips. He tasted so fucking good. He pulled back again, this time to grin even wider. "I kinda figured," he said.

Making out in a public parking lot, it was only a matter of time before someone came out and found us. "Your place?" I asked, my voice cracking like a nervous teenager.

"No, let's go to your place," he said.

"Okay."

"Yours has nicer carpet."

"Mine has...huh?"

"Just shut up and drive, Randy."

We arrived at my apartment less than an hour later. Gale left his car in the parking lot at work, choosing instead to grace my passenger seat. He couldn't seem to stop touching me, which normally I wouldn't have minded at all, except that Gale's wandering hands aren't exactly conducive to good driving. I told him to stop in a voice caught somewhere between yelling and pleading. He finally managed to keep his hands to himself after the second time I nearly swerved into oncoming traffic. Perhaps separate cars would have been a better idea. Safer, in any case.

The next thing I knew he was barrelling into my apartment, dragging me behind him with one hand. He found himself a seat at the foot of my couch, in front of my tv. That, in itself, wasn't particularly unusual. He usually went straight to the tv when he visited me. This time, however, the television wasn't turned on and Gale, instead of staying in his usual sitting position, was slowly sliding onto his back, sucking my tongue into his mouth and dragging me down with him by the power of his mouth alone.

My place has nicer carpet. Less chance for rugburn. Right.

Somehow Gale managed to get us both out of our shirts and undershirts in record time. He kicked off his pants and got mine down to my knees before we both forgot what to do with our hands. We made out on the floor like that, tangling our legs together, grinding against each other, crotch to crotch in our underwear. We were panting by the time it finally occurred to me to fetch lube and condoms. I awkwardly extracted myself from him and nearly fell flat on my face before I managed to shove my jeans the rest of the way off and walk towards the bathroom.

I grabbed what I needed and rushed back to the living room to find Gale with his underwear around his ankles, working himself open with one saliva wet finger. Jesus Christ. I think I fell in love with him all over again right then. Or fell in lust, in any case. I quickly spread lubricant over my fingers and crouched down next to him, sliding one finger in next to his, then another.

I pressed my lips briefly to his before leaning back. "You sure you want to do this?" I asked. "I mean, last night. You're probably still sore and, ah --" I was practically stammering. I hate it when I stammer.

He slid the fingers of his free hand up into my hair. "So be gentle with me," he said teasingly, and pulled me down for another kiss.

His head fell back with a sigh as I crooked my fingers inside him. I opened up a condom and slipped it on. Gale's sigh lengthened into a moan as I pulled out my hand and his and replaced our fingers with my cock. I eased in slowly, millimeter by millimeter, moving carefully. He tensed, jaw clenching in pain, letting out a loud hiss through clenched teeth. Fuck. This was too much, too soon, I knew it. The skin was too sensitive.

I started to pull back when Gale shifted, his hole relaxing just enough to swallow the head of my cock. I gasped at the sensation and sort of slumped forward, inadvertently pushing in another fraction of an inch. Gale slid his hands around to grab my ass, and pull me deeper. "You stop now," he hissed, "and I'll fucking kill you."

Oh God. "Couldn't," I bit out. "Not" -- fuck -- "even if I wanted to."

Oh God, Gale.

I started thrusting gently, my hands sliding along his arms, pushing them over his head. I picked up speed and shoved his wrists to the floor. I held him down as I thrust slowly. Fuck, it felt good. His knees dug violently into my sides as he raised them higher and higher, losing himself to the feel of me inside him.

I came first. I let go of his arms to slide one hand between us and finish him off. I remember thinking to myself that he really didn't look at all like Brian when he came. He was just pure, unadulterated Gale.

After a brief cleanup with a box of tissues, we slipped our pants back on and made our way over to my kitchen. I found some leftovers to heat up and shoved them in the microwave, then poured myself a glass of orange juice. Gale grabbed himself a glass and poured himself some orange juice as well, anlog with some cranberry juice he found in the back of my fridge.

We ate. I went to the sink to wash up. Somewhere between rinsing my glass and scrubbing my plate, Gale came up behind me to rest his chin on my shoulder. He slid his hands beneath the sink faucet, over mine. I poured soap into the sponge in my hand, watching as the warm water and suds slid down our fingers.

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised when he eased soap slick fingers down beneath the waistband of my jeans, one hand curling around my dick while the other traced patterns over my balls and teased it's way across my perineum. I let out a short, startled laugh. His teeth sank into my earlobe and my breath caught. I spread my legs, slightly.

I let him play.

I made no move to help him or stop him -- just curved my body into his, pressing back against his new erection, melting against him as he slowly stroked me off. I knew he could feel when I got close. I knew he could see me tense up, hear my breathing turn shaky and harsh in his ear, feel me shudder as that final slide of his hand caused me to jerk my hips forward and come.

We stumbled over to my bedroom, me with my legs shaking, him with an uncomfortable hard-on. I forgot all about the dishes.

I expected to wake up in the morning with my feet tangled up in sheets, or Gale's legs, or both, and morning breath wafting over my face. Some pathetic, lesbianic part of me was looking forward to it, even. Of course, Gale was never one to do the expected. Instead, I woke up with his mouth around my cock. What he didn't have in experience he certainly made up for in enthusiasm. He wrapped his lips almost too tightly around the head and pushed his way down, tongue stroking. He gagged around me for a moment, his throat tightening deliciously before he pulled off with a curse.

"Gale," I managed to gasp out, "You don't have to --"

"Shut up," he muttered, "and let me concentrate."

And then he was back. That mouth. Oh God. I fisted one hand in his hair, twisting the other in the bed sheets as I came. A wave of dizziness hit me as my orgasm nearly knocked me unconscious. Gale never does anything halfway, it seems. Loves making the rest of us look like lazy asses. And by the rest of us I, of course, mean me.

I drifted for a few minutes, half awake, half asleep. I moved only when Gale climbed back up the bed to push his tongue past my lips, into my mouth. He tasted like me. I tasted fantastic. But then, everything does in Gale's mouth. Jesus.

I smiled at him as he drew back. I must have looked bright eyed and giddy. Happy-stupid. Gale laughed at me for a moment, then rolled back to stare up at the ceiling. We lay in silence, me trying to get my breath back, him probably contemplating the flavor of early morning semen. Eventually a question came to my mind. I turned over to face him.

"Why was there lube in your kitchen sink?"

I mean, not that it wasn't very convenient of him to have it there that night I kind of ambushed him in his own home, but who the hell leaves lube in their kitchen sink?

Gale turned to me, brow scrunched in confusion. "That was random."

"Random is you blowing me first thing in the morning," I shot back, adding quickly, "Not that I'm complaining."

Gale snickered quietly. "Went grocery shopping," he said, finally. "Picked up some lube on the way home. Was putting all the food in the fridge. Didn't feel like walking all the way to my bedroom. Was already in the kitchen, so I tossed it in the sink."

Huh.

"That's really...bizarre, Gale."

"You're really fucking bizarre."

I supposed I was. Ah, well. Whatever worked.

~Fin~

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From:

spaggel.livejournal.com

I love it much Lama.

Oh randypickle. Why do you always troment yourself so? And Gale. Why must the Gale be hurt in such ways.

p.s. - Gale trying to deep throat is cute :">

From:

get drunk and watch Star Trek

I wrote fic! Go read!

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