He was kissing Drew. Holy shit. Kissing Drew. Drew, who was his best friend, his partner in crime, the person he loved most in the entire world. Drew, who apparently knew how to kiss better than anyone Sebastian had ever locked lips with, because fuck.

Every sensation was individually perfect - the lean heat pressed against Bas’s chest, the roughness of the jaw under Bas’s hand, the power in the hands, locked into fists around Bas’s shirt near his waist. It should have all felt strange - the stubble, the whipcord strength, and it did, but there was also a feeling of absolute rightness - homecoming, even - and that made the strangeness exciting.

Bas tilted his head down slowly, not wanting to miss a second of Drew’s reaction - the way the wide brown eyes Bas loved to look at grew stormy with heat and arousal, the way his lips - had they always been that smooth, one slightly larger than the other? - parted slightly in surprise and anticipation.

Drew is beautiful, he realized. And then their lips met.

Bas groaned helplessly, heart in his throat, and tasted Drew’s lips with his tongue. No cinnamon this time, just Drew. Sweet and tangy and perfect.

It was the most natural thing in the world for him to lift his hand from Drew’s waistband to cup the back of his neck, to toy with the short hairs at his nape. It required no thought for him to lean in, when Drew’s hands moved to splay across Bas’s lower back, erasing the last bit of distance between them. And it was total instinct that had him rubbing his erection against the corresponding length he felt beneath Drew’s sweatpants, and pushing him back against the wall.

Drew broke away with a tortured moan, and Bas inhaled greedily. Lust had stolen the breath from his lungs. “Christ, yes,” he said hoarsely, his lips moving to taste the skin beneath Drew’s ear. “Drew—”

He thrust harder, thrilling at the way Drew canted his hips, increasing the friction. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so mindless with want, except for those few brief moments on Halloween.

He returned his mouth to Drew’s, eating at him like a starving man. The noises Drew was making, whimpers and groans that seemed to come from deep in his chest, spurred Bas on like nothing ever had.

Drew pulled his head back, just slightly. “Oh, fuck. Bas, I’m going to…”

“Yes. Yes.” He was going to make Drew come. And it was amazing.

Bas was nearly out of his mind. He thrust against Drew faster, harder, holding him against the door, their faces so close they were sharing breath and their gazes locked together as Drew’s brown eyes widened. Bas felt him jerk and shudder as he came, just moments before Bas followed.

For a second, Drew let their foreheads rest together as they panted, undone. But when Bas lowered his mouth for a kiss, Drew’s hands came up to Bas chest and pushed them apart. “Stop. Stop, Sebastian.”

“No—" God, not now. Not when it felt like they were on the edge of some emotional precipice. Not when he finally thought he could share all the things he’d been thinking about and worrying over, all the dawning hope he’d begun to feel.

“Yes.” Drew’s voice was breathless but insistent. Firm. “Back up. Please.”

Bas shifted back inches, his dizzy mind trying to catch up to Drew’s. “What’s wrong? Why?”

“I have to go,” Drew said, pushing Bas back another pace.

“Drew, don’t do that. That’s the stupid bullshit I did. Talk to me,” Bas pleaded, grasping Drew’s arms. “I know this scenario is…” He moved a hand to indicate the wall, and the damp sweatpants sticking to both of them. “Well, it’s not exactly the stuff of dreams here.”

Drew laughed, a single huff that was more bitter than amused. “You have no idea, Sebastian. None. But we can’t do this.” He shook his head, panic in his eyes. “It’s fun tonight, sure, but what happens tomorrow morning? Or the next day? When the experiment is over and you realize that it’s wrong for you?”

“I w—.” Wouldn’t, Bas had been about to say, but that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Because history showed that was exactly what happened whenever they got too close.

Bas closed his eyes and cursed past-Sebastian for the fucking idiot he was.

“You’re jealous of Mark and Gary, because you don’t want anyone to take your place in my life.” Drew continued, his voice fifty shades of reasonable though his eyes were wild. “It makes sense. And what happened tonight? Kissing is kissing. Friction is friction. This doesn’t mean you’re really attracted to me, personally.”

No, Bas was pretty sure he clued in about the attraction when he realized he could get high from the way Drew kissed, from the feeling of their bodies pressed together, and from the way he wanted to touch Drew’s bare skin with his hands.

But a sound like a record scratch halted his thought process while he contemplated the possible next steps. After nakedness came mouths and sex and… all kinds of things that were almost as scary as they were exciting. And he didn’t have the first clue about any of them. Not with a guy. Not with Drew.

“There are things we can’t come back from,” Drew was saying. “We almost lost each other because a single kiss on Halloween freaked you out, and I’m saying right here and now, I cannot handle having you walk away from me again. I can’t do it. So, whatever’s prompting your desire to experiment, you’ve gotta ask yourself if it’s worth throwing away decades of our friendship.”

“Throwing away? Drew, no.”

But Drew wasn’t really hearing him. His face was closed off, shut down.

“So we, what? Just pretend nothing happened?” Bas laughed. The idea was ludicrous. As long as he lived, he was sure he would never forget what had happened tonight.

But Drew nodded, serious as a train wreck. His eyes were wide, shell-shocked, and he ran an unsteady hand through his hair. “That’s exactly what we need to do. We need to back up a-and assess what’s happening here.” He spun around, collecting the suit and tie he’d laid over the leather side-chair after changing, shoving his feet into his shiny dress shoes, which looked ridiculous with his dirty borrowed sweats and ratty t-shirt.

Bas couldn’t remember ever seeing Drew so frantic, so rattled, and for that reason, Bas didn’t grab him and force them to talk this through. It’d be useless tonight.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” Drew said. He grabbed his phone from the couch, giving Bas a wide berth, as though he was a particularly unpredictable form of wildlife. “G-goodnight.”

Bas followed him to the door, and after Drew let himself out, Bas let his forehead fall against the closed door with a dull thunk. His heart was still racing in his chest, and his lips missed the pressure of Drew’s.

Fuck.

He’d just rubbed off on his best friend. And it was messed up just how natural it all seemed. The mystery, really, was how he’d been around Drew for years - seen the lean strength of his body and the sexy tilt of his lips, felt the fiery thrill of his attention - without wanting to kiss him senseless.

Of course, part of the reason might have been his confidence that he was straight.

He let his head fall against the door again, harder this time, as doubts surged into his mind like hunting dogs.

It wasn’t like Bas hadn’t considered the question of his sexuality, for God’s sake. His best friend was gay. His little brother was gay. It would’ve been strange if Bas hadn’t tried getting himself off to gay porn once or twice. And he could say with conviction that the stuff wasn’t bad, it just had never done it for him the way straight porn did. He liked breasts, he liked pussy, and he sure as hell hadn’t been deluding himself about that all these years. So what the fuck was he doing with Drew? A man didn’t suddenly become gay after thirty years… did he?

Maybe Drew was right.

Bas turned himself around and leaned his back against the door, wishing he had someone he could talk to about this shit, but sadly the person he’d call - the one person he knew would always answer and would always talk sense to him - had just walked out.

He went into his bedroom and cleaned himself with a damp towel, shaking his head at his messy pajama pants as he threw them in the hamper and put on a clean pair. So suave, Seaver. Then he wandered back to the living room, picked up the empty beer bottles, and took them to the kitchen, rinsing them mechanically, his mind still on Drew.

His gaze caught on a large, framed collage mounted on the kitchen wall - a trio of Seaver family Christmas cards, mounted chronologically from top to bottom, from the years Bas had turned five, fifteen, and twenty-five. A familiar pang of grief twisted his stomach at the sight of his parents. They looked so damn young and happy in the first picture - his mother’s hair long and shiny, his father’s face grinning enthusiastically. By the last picture, both of them looked so much older, and Bas could see the lines that stress and worry had carved into his father’s forehead. He wondered what changes another ten years would have brought.

But there wouldn’t be another family picture coming. No commemoration of Sebastian’s thirtieth Christmas this year, no pictures with Cort in the family, no grandkids. SILA and Alexei Stornovich had seen to that.

He ran a finger along the edge of the frame, tracing his mother’s smiling face as he remembered one of the last conversations he’d had with her.

Sebastian! I can’t believe you asked her! I worried you’d never make time to step away from your work and find someone to love. And you do love her, don’t you, Sebastian?

I… I mean, yes. Of course! We’ve known each other forever.

Hmm. I worry about you boys. Sometimes you don’t see the forest for the trees until it’s too late.

But this time I’ve done you proud.

You always make me proud, Bas. Always.

Bas’s chest got tight.

Alexei Stornovich was still out there, guilty as fuck and biding his time, and Bas had a job to do. If Drew wanted him to back off, Bas would attempt to do just that… at least until they’d brought SILA down for good.