Chapter Nine
Nash
Nash's whole body ached the next morning as he came to. His internal clock had no idea what time it was on this side of the planet. In the night, Rory had rolled away from him, but he had one foot stretched out to keep some contact with Nash's calf. He was still there. He had stayed. Nash had an overwhelming surge of fondness for him. Nash had always liked Rory, even if he’d spent years pretending that he didn’t, scared that he would one day have to own up to his one-sided feelings to Sam. It was easier to pretend he had zero interest in his best friend’s little brother.
Owning up to mutual feelings was less terrible. He and Rory were in this together now. As long as Rory still felt the same way about him this morning. You know, after Nash had literally fallen asleep in the middle of trying to start something.
“I can tell you’re awake,” Rory said, voice muffled by his pillow. He lifted his head to give Nash a sleepy smile, and Nash tugged him closer, so he could curl up against Rory's back. He kissed the back of his neck, and Rory pulled Nash's arms tighter around his chest.
“We go back home today,” Nash said, grateful Rory couldn’t see him. Yesterday, things were solid between them. Notlike cement, maybe. But Jell-O. Extremely firmed-up Jell-O. Operating on this little sleep could make you loopy though. He didn’t know how genuine Rory's feelings were. How enduring.
“Thank God,” Rory said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Italy is incredible. The one square mile of it I saw was great. But my body was created in and for the Eastern Time Zone and I must return.”
Nash laughed. “Same. It would be fun to come back on a trip. To see it purposefully. But not as a job again, oh my God.”
“If Sam was here, he’d be prancing around the hillsides right now. He’d be like ‘we’re here! So why not go on ahike!’ He would be whistling. He would have made friends with ten random Italians who were now in love with him.”
Nash groaned. That was exactly what would be happening if he’d gone on this trip with Sam. He had no idea where Sam got his energy reserves. He could eat one Jolly Rancher and be good to go for an entire day.
“While I’m still bummed he didn’t show up to do all the hard work on this trip that he insisted on, I’m pretty glad I ended up here with you.”
“No early morning countryside hikes?”
“Exactly.” Nash let himself enjoy all of the soft skin Rory had pressed against him, the morning light filtering through their windows with the same warm glow that was blooming inside of Nash. One of his hands slid down Rory's chest, to rest low on his belly. Rory was all limbs, lanky and uncoordinated, and he chuckled when he remembered Rory elbowing him in the gut the last time they were in this particular situation.
“What’s funny?” Rory asked, unsubtly pushing Nash's hand further south. He wrapped his hand around Rory's length, only half hard at the moment, but responding to Nash's touch.
“Just thinking about the bruise you gave me the last time we were together like this.” His phrasing was awkward, but he stillfelt awkward about that night. He wished he had the confident self-esteem that didn’t make him jump to the conclusion that Rory wanted nothing to do with him when he woke up without him that morning.
“Damn, you’re never going to let me live that down, huh?”
Nash stroked him slowly, his grip a little too dry. He slipped out of bed.
“I promise it wasn’t on purpose! And I promise I will try my best not to repeat it,” he pouted, tossing a look over his shoulder as Nash dug lube out of his bag. He slid back under the covers, notching himself up against Rory like he never left.
“I forgive you,” Nash said, pouring out some lube to ease his motions. Was this the spectacular Italian sex someone’s relative had promised Rory the night before? Probably not. But Rory relaxed his body against his, and slowly, his breathing turned into soft moans.
“Did I tell you last time how much I fucking love your hands?” Rory asked, one hand gripping the arm Nash had wrapped around his chest, keeping the two of them pressed together.
“I think I remember you mentioning it,” Nash said. If there was anything about that night he remembered, it was the half dozen times Rory had proclaimed his appreciation of Nash's hands. He didn’t get it. There was nothing inherently special that his hands had that others’ didn’t. Rory likely had longer fingers than him, due to how his body was proportioned. But everyone was into something different. He wouldn’t question that the thing Rory was into washim.
As Nash continued his lazy morning jerk-off, Rory's hips started pressing into every stroke, his moans coming more easily.
“Do you have any idea how goddamn sexy you sound right now?” Nash asked, pressing his erection firmly against Rory'sass. There was no way Rory had missed it previously, but he wanted to punctuate his thought with evidence.
“Fuck,” Rory said, tipping his head back to bare his throat. Nash sped his hand up, and in a moment of bravery, let himself sink his teeth into the soft skin at the base of his neck, right where his shoulder started. Not hard enough to break skin. Probably not hard enough to leave a mark, even. But hard enough to make Rory come.
Rory went limp in his arms as Nash stroked him through it. At this point in the trip, it didn’t even matter that they’d messed up the sheets. They wouldn’t be spending another night in them anyway. The thought reminded him that he was hours away from having to get on an airplane again.
He let his guard down for one moment as the jolt of panic that always accompanied plane travel rocked through him, and suddenly he was on his back, Rory wedging himself between Nash's legs without much finesse.
He had been dreaming of being in Rory’s mouth now for months. At one point, he convinced himself he must be misremembering how good it felt. He didn’t know if Rory had a different technique than other guys he’d been with, or if it was how he felt about Rory that made it feel so good. Regardless, it was a mouth that was worthy of months and months of pining.
“Fuck, I missed your mouth,” Nash said, threading his fingers into Rory's short hair, wanting to tug him further down on his cock so bad.
Rory popped off of him, mouth dripping with saliva, looking like sin. “Do what you need,” he encouraged. Then as though he knew Nash needed a more specific invitation, “You can fuck my mouth.”
Nash let out the breath he was holding as Rory swallowed him back down, looking up at Nash through his lashes, daring him.
