When Matt piles into the truck and Mom is back in the house with Clarissa, he looks over to his—friend.

“Well?” Sebastian asks, trying to sound less tentative than he feels. The night had sped by in that effortless way that it always did when he was with his family. Except this time, Matt was there, and his heart was so fully aware of its place in his chest at every second that the idea that the night may have dragged for Matt, miserably, sits heavy on Sebastian’s shoulders.

He wants Matt to have had a good night. More than that, he wants Matt to want to do this again.

Matt slides across the cab of the truck and presses his body side by side to Sebastian’s. His hands are folded in his lap and Sebastian’s are on the steering wheel. Sebastian feels like they’re touching each other though, hands and fingers sliding across skin and hair, and he feels like they’re so close he might catch on fire.

He breathes; Matt exhales; their shoulders rub.

“This was really nice,” Matt says quietly, tilting his head to look at him. His lips ghost a smile and his cheeks are pink, but they’ve been pink all night and the flushed look sits prettily on Matt’s face. “I had a really good time.”

Sebastian looks away and turns the truck on, heart pounding. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not just saying it,” Matt assures him. “They’re fun.”

“They are, aren’t they?” Embarrassingly, Sebastian’s chest puffs up, just a little. He can’t help but be a bit proud of his family.

They drive in silence for the most part, just their shoulders rubbing, their bodies pressed lightly, but just so, against one another. It’s enough that Sebastian feels something warm in his chest, like a summer day on the sand, where the water is lapping at his toes and his whole day has nothing but happiness and sunshine laid out in front of him.

They pull into town, and he chances a glance at Matt. Matt’s already looking at him.

“Should I take you home?” Sebastian asks, teeth sinking into his bottom lip for just a second before he releases it.

“You can,” Matt nods.

Sebastian hesitates. “Or you could come over.”

Matt freezes. He then visibly melts, nodding. “Yes.”

Sebastian smiles but doesn’t say anything, too afraid of the tone his voice would take on. He just nods. They drive past the turn for the motel.

Pulling into the duplex, Sebastian turns to Matt. “So, um. Welcome.”

Matt cracks a smile. “You know, I’ve been here before.”

Sebastian’s face turns red. “Yeah, right. Yeah.”

They climb out of the truck, and Sebastian fumbles with the keys, hand shaking. Matt covers his trembling fingers with his own steady hand and plucks the keys deftly out of his hands, getting the door unlocked within a moment.

They stumble into the duplex, and Sebastian kicks off his shoes, flicking the lights on at the same time. Matt’s more reserved, taking his shoes off slowly and looking around again, as if he can memorize the details of the apartment if he’s careful enough.

It draws a serious expression on his face and Sebastian likes it. He also likes the way Matt’s brows furrow and his lips purse together, just a little, before smoothing out once he feels like he’s got the detail down. It’s an unimportant thing that Matt does, this facial expression, but it endears him to Sebastian so strongly, it’s almost laughable that it’s accidental and trivial.

He wants to cover the space between them and kiss him. He wants to kiss him and it’s not like before, where they were so close that their lips were already practically touching and it’s a halfway accident to just lean over and plant one on him. This time, it’s a thought, not an impulse. It’s a desire, actively, that he can’t stop thinking about.

He wants to kiss Matt, and the thought absolutely petrifies him.

There’s a moment, just one, where Sebastian wonders if he’s making the right decision.

He doesn’t know what’s happened to him. This guy that he’s becoming—the one that can’t stop thinking about another person, the one that feels butterflies in his stomach and electricity in his veins—it’s not someone he thought he’d ever be.

Not to mention the fact that this person that he’s becoming obsessed with is another man. Sebastian isn’t gay. He doesn’t like men or think about their hands or lips or cocks. He doesn’t.

Except lately—he does...or, well, he thinks about those things in relation to one man.

He leaves Matt in the living room and darts into the bathroom, locking the door and turning the faucet on.

He splashes water onto his face, trying to calm his pulse and thoughts.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He just wants—wants in a way he doesn’t know how to or if he’s allowed to. He doesn’t know what’s happening to him.

For a second, Sebastian wonders what it would be like to be with a different man. He pictures someone else—an actor in one of his favorite films, that handsome man on the news the other night—and wonders what it would be like to kiss their lips, to wind his fingers in their hair.

The thought curls his stomach in an entirely unappealing way.

He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want men.

Sebastian replaces the other man in his fantasy with Matt. He trades out blue eyes for light brown and bright hair for dark. He lets himself remember the feel of Matt’s soft hands against his sides, gossamer touches that he wants to be harder.

His body shudders with unfulfilled anticipation. He wants, again, with just as much ferocity as he does when Matt is standing right in front of him.

He splashes his face with water again, drying his hands and face with a towel. He turns off the faucet and looks at himself in the mirror.

His facial hair is getting a little out of control and there’s some dark circles under his eyes, but outside of that, he looks pretty normal. He doesn’t look frenzied or crazy, just a little nervous and a little turned on.

So, okay. Sebastian doesn’t like men, but he does like Matt, who is a man. He can either stand in the bathroom wondering what that means or he can suck it up and go out there and see what else he’s allowed to suck.

Sebastian thinks it’s not much of a choice at all, and leaves the bathroom feeling more confident than when he went in.

He doesn’t find Matt in the living room, though. Instead he’s bent over, looking in the fridge. Sebastian leans with one hip against the kitchen wall, watching. When he straightens up, two beer cans in his hand, and spots Sebastian standing there, he smiles.

It’s wide and loose and there’s nothing unsure about it, the way he smiles when they’re around other people. His smile at Mom’s house was tentative, gentle, not unreal but not relaxed and sure, like this one is. Sebastian loves seeing it spread across his face, like he’s comfortable here, like he belongs here. Sebastian thinks that Matt does belong here. The thought catches him off guard and he grabs onto it, clutching it and tucking it safely behind his ribs. The idea that Matt deserves to raid his fridge and stand in his kitchen doing whatever the hell he wants—it sits right with Sebastian. It sits really, really right.

It fills his veins with something a lot like comfort.

“Sorry,” Matt says, cocking his head to the side. He crosses over to him and offers him one of the beers. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Sebastian accepts the cold can, flicking the tab open. Matt follows suit and they clink their cans together lightly, murmuring cheers to each other before each taking long pulls.

Matt pulls his can away and makes a face, squinting at the can. “This is gross.”

Sebastian’s head falls back and he laughs, loud and a bit too boisterous. “Yeah, it really is.”

“Why would you drink this?” Matt laughs around his words. “There are easier ways to self-flagellate.”

Sebastian shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know. It was on sale.”

“Jeez, Seb, loosen the purse strings a little,” Matt teases.

Sebastian takes a step closer to him. “You don’t have to drink it.”

“Trust me,” he says, setting the can on the table behind them without breaking eye contact. “I won’t.”

“Thanks for coming to supper tonight,” Sebastian says, breaking the jokes. The words bubble just beneath his tongue long enough that they had to fall out. “I like that you’ve met them.”

Matt’s cheeks tinge pink but he doesn’t look away or fidget. If anything, he lifts his jaw as if to remind himself to hold his ground. It’s a tick of nerves so similar to Sebastian’s own that he feels somehow comforted by the fact that neither of them really seems to know what’s happening right now.

“I like having met them, too.”

“Good.” Sebastian sways closer.

Matt moves closer still. “Good.”

There’s no room between them anymore. He doesn’t know when it happened, but one of Matt’s legs is jutted between his and Matt’s hands are on his waist, thumbs reaching only slightly up his shirt to touch on the sensitive skin above his jeans. He massages the area, soft and barely worth mentioning, except for what it’s doing to Sebastian’s spine and heart.

His own hands move of their own accord. One rises to sit on top of Matt’s forearm, holding on as small shivers radiate from each place they’re touching.

His other hand raises and holds Matt’s jaw, his thumb stroking the skin there. Matt’s eyes flutter closed at the motion and Sebastian thinks that if he just keeps standing there, letting the electricity bubble up beneath his skin again and again, he might actually die of electrocution. He decides to just throw himself on the grenade, so to speak.

He closes the little space between them and captures his lips.

They’ve kissed before.

Twice, actually—though the second time involved so many kisses, Sebastian doesn't know if that counts as one or a hundred. The point is, they’ve kissed before, and each kiss has stopped Sebastian in his tracks. Each kiss has made him freeze and flounder and contemplate if he’s ever even really been kissed before, before Matt.

But this kiss—

Well, Sebastian thinks even if he’d never kissed Matt before, there wouldn’t be any doubt in his mind that this something between them, whatever it is, is strong.

This kiss is every nerve ending on fire, every breath pointless except for how it brings them closer together. It’s hands flexing, grabbing, and mouths parting just enough to come back together twice as strong, twice as helpless. This kiss is Sebastian and Matt and no one else, nothing else. This is Sebastian realizing that he might have kissed other people before, but none of them mattered. Nothing else matters. It’s just Matt, Matt, Matt.

He doesn’t realize he’s pulled back and started chanting Matt’s name until Matt pulls back too, his lips parted and eyes glazed over.

“Matt,” Sebastian groans out, letting his head fall forward. His forehead presses against Matt’s shoulder, his arms falling to wrap around Matt’s waist and pull him against him. Matt’s chest heaves, his breathing loud and irregular and his fingertips tightly pressing into the skin above Sebastian’s jeans.

He lifts his head and swipes his tongue across his bottom lip. Matt watches the movement, tracking it, and Sebastian can’t help the shudder that wracks his body.

Matt’s on him again, hands winding in his hair and tongue pressing in between his lips. He kisses Sebastian slow and light, feather soft and all encompassing. His hands are hard, rough, fingernails trailing up his abs as Matt works his hands up Sebastian’s shirt and back down again to curl around his hips. In sharp contrast, his kisses are exceedingly gentle.

It winds him up, his heart hammering loudly. His pulse feels like it’s trying to race outside of his body and Sebastian feels that same heady desperation curling from his throat throughout his whole body.

When Matt pulls back, his hands pulling away, Sebastian can’t help the needy little sound of protest that slips through his lips. His hands chase Matt, fisting his nice shirt in his hands.

Matt licks his lips, trailing his eyes down Sebastian’s body before climbing back up again, locking eyes.

His eyes look bright. The light brown, always enthralling and a bit too pretty for Sebastian to feel comfortable thinking about, sparkle and shine tonight. They’re oceans and Sebastian wants to drown in them. He doesn’t care if he ever finds shore, as long as he’s drowning in Matt.

“I want to touch you,” Matt says, slowly. He swallows hard, his own hands in fists by his side. His body is tightly drawn, as if he’s holding himself steady and still.

Sebastian doesn’t want him to be holding himself back. He doesn’t want him to be capable of that.

Memories of the last night pour to the front of his mind, his body tingling and yearning for Matt’s lips and weight again.

This time, though—Sebastian doesn’t want Matt to be able to hold back. He doesn’t want him to be able to leave untouched. He wants Matt to feel as undone as Sebastian does.

“I want to touch you,” Sebastian blurts out. His cheeks burn red with the blush that climbs up his chest and neck, but he doesn’t take the words back. When the urge insists, he elaborates instead. “I want to touch all of you. And kiss you.”

Matt lets out a shaky breath. “I—are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Sebastian really, really wants to. When Matt looks unconvinced, Sebastian tugs, his hands still fisted in Matt’s shirt, and Matt stumbles closer to him. With their lips just centimeters apart, Sebastian adds, “Please.”

Matt crashes their lips together, hands raising and starting to deftly undo the buttons of Sebastian’s shirt. His fingers are quick and smart and before long, his shirt is spread open, and Matt is untangling himself from Sebastian’s death grip so that he can shrug the shirt off. The second it hits the floor, Matt pulls out of the kiss to look at him.

Sebastian is led into swaying closer by his lips, but he stops trying to chase after Matt’s mouth when he sees the darkened look on the man’s face.

“You are,” Matt sighs, shaking his head. His eyes dance across Sebastian’s chest, flickering and gazing in an almost tangible leer. It makes shocks run up and down Sebastian’s spine. “Seb, you are so—”

He cuts off again and this time, Sebastian doesn’t give him time to finish. He just pounces, his lips sticking to the juncture between Matt’s neck and shoulder, his hands shakily trying to rip the shirt off of Matt. He’s less coordinated than Matt was and at least one of the buttons break off, flying across the room.

Sebastian doesn’t care because the shirt is unbuttoned and then he’s pushing it off of Matt’s shoulders and he finishes the bruise he’s been sucking into Matt’s skin before letting his lips and tongue run down and across the new expanses of skin.

He has no idea how long he stands there, both of them clad in just pants and socks, his mouth and hands trying to work out a detailed map of Matt’s body.

Matt groans and gasps, his head lolling back and his fingers tightly wound in Sebastian’s short hair. The fingers pull and relax at intervals, his chest shaking before stilling, his gasps sometimes short and from the gut, or long and keening from the throat. It’s beautiful, and Sebastian feels drunk on the sounds that he’s drawing from Matt’s body.

He’s got half a mind to drop to his knees right there in the kitchen because his height is obstructing him from dutifully licking every inch of Matt’s lower torso, which is essentially a crime against humanity.

Matt is huffing out his name then, letting it fly out on exhales or ride long on a moan, again and again. Sebastian changes his mind completely because doing anything besides continue to work his tongue and fingers over Matt’s nipples is absolutely not an option—not when his name is being coaxed and wrought out of Matt’s mouth in such a way.

“Bed,” Matt manages to get out. Sebastian almost doesn’t notice, too distracted by the way Matt squirms and shivers when his spare hand plays with the baby hairs at the back of his neck. “Bed, bed, Sebastian, please, the bed.”

Finally, it clicks. Sebastian pulls away, spit on his lips and vision blurry from the heavy, pounding pleasure rocking his body already. He wipes the back of his hand on his mouth, trying to catch his breath. “Bed?”

“Bed,” Matt nods, half his expression hopeful, while the other is demanding.

He nods eagerly, and they all but run to the bedroom. Sebastian’s shaking hands work on his belt while he kicks off his socks, and when he manages to get the belt completely undone, he turns to see Matt doing the same thing. The bedroom door is still open, a stream of light from the rest of the apartment brightening a strip of Sebastian’s room.

Matt stands just on the edge of the beam of light. He’s dressed in just slacks and shadows and Sebastian’s chest pounds with something else.

Something that’s not about how pretty Matt looks or how hard his cock his. Something that’s not about the way he likes laughing with Matt. Something that’s more and bigger and makes his breathing irregular while his pulse stills. It’s something that Sebastian doesn’t understand, doesn’t recognize, but it makes him want to pull Matt closer, just so that they’re touching. He knows Matt’s touch will ease the pounding, the fever beneath his skin. He knows it, and then Matt is striding across the room purposefully as if he knows it, too.

Matt’s hands fall to his pants, undoing the button and sliding down the fly. His eyes lock with Sebastian’s and the brown is gone, just pupil now. His lips are lush and chapped, a quiet sort of pink that looks plush and pale. They’re captivating. Sebastian thinks that someone could write an entire book just on the shape and curve of Matt’s lips, on the way they look when forming his name.

Sebastian leans forward as his own hands drop to the front of Matt’s pants, kissing him softly.

There’s no fire or rush in this one. Even as their hands work to undress one another, fabric catching on swollen cocks and uncoordinated fingers, their lips move so, so softly. Just like their kiss that first night, when Sebastian hadn’t done anything but fall, he kisses Matt kindly.

He doesn’t know what this kiss means. Only that he means it, really, truly. He kisses him and there’s a promise there that he doesn’t understand, couldn’t possibly understand...but he promises it anyway and, God help him, he means it.

Their pants are pooled around their ankles, and Sebastian pulls back to watch Matt’s face. His eyes stay closed for a half second longer than Sebastian’s before his lashes flutter open, and then he’s looking at Sebastian with that exact same softness.

His pulse calms down. His chest doesn’t hurt. He’s just—there.

Matt’s head falls and he looks down, then back to Sebastian, and then his whole body slides down.

He’s on his knees in a second and before Sebastian has a second to question him, he’s swallowing down around him and Sebastian’s screaming.

The loud, uncontrollable groan he lets out must encourage Matt, because then he’s bobbing his head, up and down, slow and warm and tight. His hand is wet and tight as it covers the areas that Matt’s mouth can’t manage.

Sebastian’s legs nearly give out, and Matt pulls off of him, smiling when Sebastian lets out a whiny sound of protest, and urges Sebastian backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed.

He falls with a bit of a bounce, sitting on the edge of it. Matt settles himself between his legs, gently nudging them farther apart.

Sebastian holds his breath, his hands clenching and unclenching around the sheets he has fisted. Matt looks up at him, black eyes from beneath dark lashes, and places a soft kiss to the head of his cock.

His mouth covers him again and the new angle lets him go farther, covering nearly all of Sebastian with his mouth and tongue. He works him into a twitching, moaning mess in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

Sebastian can’t make any sounds other than low groans and please and Matt, and his total, complete inability to hold onto himself as a person is starting to work in Matt’s favor. He’s crazy for Matt’s brilliant fingers and darting tongue and the fact that he’s crazy for him, is making him crazier.

He feels sparks like fireworks starting to be lit in his stomach, and his hands fly to Matt’s hair, tugging him off, probably a little too roughly.

Sebastian squeezes his eyes shut and hisses out breath through his clenched teeth, trying to get control of himself. When the building in his gut starts to lessen a little, the flame still so, so there, but no longer threatening to engulf him, he chances a peak at Matt.

He’s rocked back on his heels, head cocked. His lips are swollen and parted in an open-mouthed grin that makes him look happy and debauched and about a thousand other things that threaten to fling Sebastian over that cliff.

He scoots back on the bed and Matt figures it out pretty quickly, climbing up there with him.

Sebastian’s hand drops absently to his lap, wrapping around himself. His eyes flutter shut for just a second at the relief of the pressure. He’s still wet from Matt’s mouth and the light, barely-there lift and twist of his wrist is enough to ease some of the painful pressure building.

Matt straddles his waist like he had on the couch, only this time, there’s nothing between them and their cocks brush against each other.

Matt’s head throws back, and he lets out a moan so loud that Sebastian almost feels bad for his neighbors. When Matt begins twisting his hips though, rotating them and grinding down on Sebastian’s lap, it’s all he can do to not scream himself.

His hips rise to meet Matt’s, each brush of their bodies against each other sending shooting sparks across his vision. Matt drops his hands between them and grabs both of their cocks together, stroking them. Sebastian grinds and fucks up into the fist, reaching up to start kissing at Matt’s chest again.

Matt twists his wrist and the sparks feel like fire, and he accidentally bites down hard on Matt’s shoulder, tongue shooting out to soothe the mark, and then Matt’s gasping and fucking into his own hand with absolute abandon.

His face twists, mouth parting in a wide gasp and eyes squeezing shut, letting out a string of broken, breathy Sebastians and then he’s coming, hard, coating Sebastian’s dick and his own hands.

The sight of it burns straight through him and then Sebastian’s following him over the edge.

When his vision clears and he comes back to himself, Matt is slumped on top of him, their chests pressed together.

Tentatively, Sebastian raises his arms and wraps them around Matt’s back, holding him there. They sit like that for a few minutes before the stickiness between them starts to become uncomfortable, and Matt rolls to the side and they switch, lying like that while they use his sheets to clean themselves off the best they can.

“Wow,” Sebastian croaks out once they’re clean. He stretches, arms above his head and toes curling around the edge of the mattress.

Matt tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. They’re side by side, facing each other, and his hair is a bird’s nest. “Wow?”

“Wow,” Sebastian confirms. “And you?”

Matt cracks a smile. “I was thinking more whoah than wow.”

“Whoah,” Sebastian tries it out, tapping a finger to his chin. “Yeah, whoah works.”

Matt laughs. “Wow does too.”

Sebastian’s heart feels full. It feels warm and safe and full, in such a nice way that he doesn’t even stop to worry or think about it.

“Should I—” Matt starts to sit up, his face twisting with worry.

Sebastian frowns. “Shower? Yeah, we probably should.”

“No,” Matt says, earning him raised eyebrows. “Leave. Should I leave?”

Sebastian’s stomach drops. “Do you want to?”

Matt fidgets and looks around. “I—I’m not sure. I don’t mind.”

“Well...” Sebastian clears his throat. The happy bubble has burst and he’s desperately trying to cling to the soapy air that’s disintegrating between them. “Stay for a bit. Stay for a shower.”

Matt bites his bottom lip, looking at Sebastian, before nodding. He relaxes back into the bed, a small smile starting to work his lips. “Okay. I’ll stay for a bit.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian agrees. “It’s what fake boyfriends do, right?”

Matt laughs. “Sure. We can say that.”

As they lay there, Matt starts telling him about the various people who will be at the rehearsal dinner tomorrow and a few times, Sebastian manages to pull out some of his stories growing up. They’re funny and nerdy and sharp and even though Matt looks embarrassed with most of them, Sebastian thinks they fit. They’re good stories for a good guy.

And if that soap bubble comes back, wrapping him in something like home and happiness, well, he’s not going to worry about it. He’s got a fake boyfriend and a happy night and he’s not going to stop and think about it now.