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Honestly, if Chester thinks back over the history of their friendship, he should have expected it. Jesse has always been obvious with his attraction, especially sexual attraction. Girls since he knew what his dick was, and guys more recently, eyes on asses and bulges and tits at all times. A new person, a new thing to appreciate.
Not that it ever mattered to Chester, he was right there with Jesse, just not as vocal about it. There’s a lot to appreciate when it comes to people. Generally, some people are attractive, all their bits and pieces. Jesse has always seemed to be attracted to everyone, which is why it isn’t a surprise when Jesse leans forward, eyes on Chester’s face as he passes the joint back to him, and says:
“Why haven’t we made out yet, dude?” in a very serious voice. It takes all of Chester’s self-control not to burst out laughing. The look on Jesse’ face is so, so, so intent, eyes wide and wet and blinking slowly.
It's only a surprise that it takes until they're 20 for him to ask.
“Because you’re my best friend, dude.” Chester says, automatically. Chester’s had this conversation with himself before, part of his ever increasing list of ‘Reasons Why I’m Not Allowed To Mess With Another Dude’. The reasons are getting more and more dumb, but being best friends is pretty much number one.
Of course, if Jesse is proposing they make out, it must not be a great excuse to begin with.
“That’s why we need to make out,” Jesse says, sincerely. The weed is making Chester hyper focus on his mouth, his pink bottom lip, begging to be bitten. It makes Chester’s mouth tingle just thinking about it.
“That doesn’t make sense, man” Chester says, taking a hit to distract himself, filling his lungs with the sharp sharp smoke. When he exhales, he molds his mouth so that rings escape, fat and white, floating away.
“It makes perfect sense, dude.” Jesse says, tilting forward. He’s hanging off the edge of the chair, eyes keen on Chester’s face, so keen. They’re boring into Chester, insisting. Chester blinks at him, his eyelids feel like liquid.
He bursts out laughing.
“It doesn’t,” he insists. “That’s means it makes less sense, dude. Why would we make out if we’re best friends?”
He wants to say that that’s not how it works, there’s rules. Rules that he’s implemented on himself since he was 14. Rules about attraction, rules about only drooling over big boobs and shaved pussies, and whether or not that’s something you tell your best friend of 9, 10, now 12 years. It’s not.
“Because we can, dude…” Jesse says. There’s a sideways smirk on his face, leering, like a fish lure, drawing Chester in. It’s probably some unwritten rule of the universe that when Jesse leans in, Chester leans in, chasing his breath.
Jesse is going to make him break the rules, Chester thinks.
The air is dense, heavy with smoke and tension. Their lips meet, pressing together, and Chester melts completely, sagging forward. His mouth is buzzing, tingling, starbursts behind his eyes.
Jesse makes a noise in his throat that sounds pleased, and shifts forward. Chester feels the drag of Jesse’ tongue on his bottom lip, and he opens his mouth easily, letting Jesse lick into him, tongues stroking wetly together.
His arms and legs are tingling with the excitement of it, veins quivering under his skin, pulse humming at the back of his skull. He doesn’t realize Jesse is touching him until Jesse chases the sensation of the buzzing with his fingers around Chester’s neck, gripping all the way across. It makes Chester feel pinned down, grounding him while his mind floats away and away and away.
“Shibby…” Jesse breathes, across his mouth. It’s wet and hot between them, like dragon’s breath, and Chester wants to reel him back in at the same time that he is so afraid to.
The look on Jesse’ face is unfamiliar, eyes dark, it’s almost like he’s a different person staring at Chester. It’s because Chester hasn’t had that look directed at him before; Jesse looks like he wants Chester.
Chester doesn’t breathe properly until Jesse moves back, again. They stare at each other for a long time before Jesse grins, breaking the tension with his dimples, eyes smiling.
“Dude,” he says, rooting around in his pocket. He pulls out his cigarette case, and produces another slim joint. “You’re such a good kisser!”
Chester watches his hands, the way his knuckles flex under his skin, the way his tendons jump. There are thick veins that run over and down his arm, surprisingly small wrists with large forearms. Flicking the lighter. Chester blinks. Once, twice.
“You too, man.” he says, pushing it past the lump in his throat. Jesse’ eyebrows jump up, skeptical. “Seriously.”
“Right,” Jesse says, dragging out the ‘i’, tongue wetting his mouth. Chester can’t stop watching his lips, they way that they move, replaying the warm weight of them in his mind. When he finally looks away, Jesse is staring at him, and everything feels different.
“Sorry, dude…” Chester says, for no reason at all. Jesse smiles again, smaller this time, and hands Chester the joint. Their hands brush, like they have a thousand times before, but this time, everything is different.
‘It’s not a big deal.’
After that, it’s like Jesse is looking for an excuse to touch Chester, be near Chester. They spend a decent amount of time touching anyway, always anchored together at their hands and shoulders and hips (once, lips, Chester remembers; he can’t stop thinking about it, about their lips and the wet-hotness of it, Jesse’s stubble against his chin.).
It might be a by-product of being friends from a young age, before the no-touching rule of boyhood is established. They were so young. Young enough to shower naked together, young enough to sleep together. They share drinks and food and joints and beers. They share inside jokes, laughing at private things loudly while everyone around them looks on.
Jesse knows Chester better than Chester knows Jesse. Chester is a natural observer, taking it all in, cataloguing it in his mind. Information, expressions, emotions, conversations; all filed away for later.
Jesse feels encased by Chester frequently. No one touches him like Chester does, no one bothers. No one knows his Taco Bell order without asking, not even Wanda. No one knows when he’s trying to hide his emotions; no one coaxes the truth out of Chester like Jesse can.
Chester’s waiting for the confrontation, waiting for a sober Jesse to say, about that.
‘About that day, about that kiss, about the way you couldn’t stop staring at me, man. About the way I looked at you, what did you feel, dude? Did you feel it, too?’
It doesn’t come, it never comes. A day turns into a week, and everything is the same except for the touching. Jesse’ hands dragging across his shoulder, reeling Chester in. To get his attention Jesse used to snap his fingers at Chester, sharp and loud. Lately, he’s been grabbing Chester: arm, hand, neck, jaw. It’s all touching, and more touching, and every time, Chester’s heart thuds in his chest, aching.
“What’s up with you guys?” Wanda asks, leaning in to pitch her voice low. Chester’s been watching Jesse talk with Wilma, his mouth moving faster than Chester can process, eyebrows jumping expressions. Her voice startles him, drawing him out of his trance.
“Sorry?” he asks, not sure what she means. Wanda rolls her eyes, taps the table in front of him.
“You and Jesse?” she asks. “Are you guys moving in together?”
The question makes Chester’s gut sink like a stone, confused.
“What?”
“After college --” Wanda’s eyes are wide, and apologetic as she cuts herself off. They dart between him and Jesse quickly, then to Wilma.
“He’s my friend!” Chester says, automatically. It’s been something he’s been telling himself for three years. It’s not like that with Jesse.
(It’s not like that because it’s so much more, so much deeper. What he feels for Jesse is indescribable, there aren’t words for it. He was created with these feelings. They’re written into his very being. If he stops loving Jesse, he stops existing; the world stops existing.)
“Sure…” Wanda says, with a shrug. Not sure of what caused his reaction. She smiles at him.
It’s irritating, but he doesn’t know why. He’s the one lying to her, the one minimizing it. It wouldn’t change anything to admit to what she already knows, so why is he reluctant? He almost takes it back, words pushing out behind his teeth, but then, there’s a hand on his arm, heavy and warm.
“Hey, you coming dude?” Jesse asks, fingers tugging. Chester feels it in his bones, nods with a slow drag of his head. He waves goodbye to Wanda, and lets Jesse pull him out of the cafeteria, hand on his wrist (hand on his heart).
“Where are we going?” Chester asks, because he didn’t actually catch that, too intent on Jesse’s skin against his.
“Library,” Jesse says, but it sounds like a question, a tilt at end. “Maybe the roof – Like, maybe we should --” Jesse stops and turns, hands on Chester’s shoulders, pulling him in. The only noise is Chester’s sneakers squeaking on the linoleum as he goes to Jesse, closer to Jesse, always closer. The sound of their breathing fills the air, fills the space between them.
“We should ditch, dude…” Jesse says, teeth on his lower lip, eyes darting around, landing everywhere but Chester’s face. Chester feels off kilter, too big in his skin. There’s butterflies in his stomach, and he doesn’t have an explanation for them.
“Let’s go smoke or something,” Jesse smiles. “I dunno, like, get out of here.”
“Sure,” Chester says, with an easy shrug. “What’s up, dude?”
“Nothing dude!” Jesse says. When he meets Chester’s eyes, he’s that different person again; the person Chester can’t read, who he doesn’t know, not really. He’s the person that’s looking into Chester, through Chester, like he’s seeing parts of Chester for the first time.
It feels kinda terrifying but also hot.
When they get to Chester’s room, they don’t smoke because Chester is down to stems, and they’re both too lazy to do anything about it. Instead, they grab snacks and watch a movie in Chester’s room, shoulders pressed together.
There’s a clinging tension around them, making Chester’s heart pound heavy in his chest. He wonders if Jesse can hear it, but Jesse is focused straight ahead on the movie. After that, Chester scoots away, suggesting video games so there’s a little space between them to breathe.
Crash Bandicoot is an easy rhythm to get into, trash talking as they take turns beating each other. Jesse goes on a winning streak.
“Dude! That’s not shibby!” Jesse says, “This is cheating!”
“That’s exactly what it means, dude!” Chester says, eyes tracking Jesse’s character. “It’s the hardest level, I am king.”
“Bullshit, dude!” Jesse grumbles, leaning forward in concentration. Chester grins.
“Cheater!” Jesse says, and pounces on Chester. Chester tosses the remote, and scrambles for purchase to push back at Jesse. They wrestle around, Jesse’ elbow in Chester’s side, Chester’s arms locking around his torso.
It’s hot, the hard press of Jesse’s body is the only thing Chester can concentrate on. The room fills with the videogame music, their harsh breathing, and the pounding of Chester’s heart as he tries to pin Jesse down. Jesse is squirmy, though, wiggling out from under Chester, shoving him down, hands locking around Chester’s arms. Chester’s pinned before he realizes it, adrenaline surging through him.
Jesse looms over him, a heavy weight against his body. Chester's hard and aching between them. He doesn't know when that happened. Without thinking about it, Chester arches up into Jesse, breath stuttering out from between his lips; Jesse is solid and yielding and Chester can feel that he’s just as hard as Chester is.
Jesse’ hands tighten on Chester’s arms, eyes darker than Chester has ever seen them, mostly pupil. He looks like that different person again, the lines of his face sharper at this angle, staring at Chester like he wants to do something.
Jesse’ tongue darts out, a slow swipe that leaves his bottom lip glistening.
Their hips rock together as he grinds down, and Chester screws his eyes shut. Jesse drops his weight over Chester, rocks into him again. Chester can feel everywhere they’re pressed together, every point where Jesse shifts. Their hips knock together, dicks rubbing in their jeans, their thighs touch, their stomachs brush. Jesse’ dick is hot, and so hard against Chester’s. The denim is uncomfortable, but it’s tight around Chester’s dick, and he knows he could come like this, with Jesse rubbing against him.
They pant in unison. Jesse moves his hands, loosens his grip, so that he can drag them down Chester’s arms and grab Chester’s wrists. He pulls Chester's arms up so they’re next to Chester’s head, hands tightening on his wrists once Jesse has him pinned down. The movement rucks Chester’s shirt up, and Jesse looks down, watching their bodies thrust together.
He moves his hips in a tight circle, deliberately. Chester exhales, trying not to make a noise, worried he’s going to disturb the moment. They’re not talking, not looking at each other. It’s like they’re pretend this isn’t happening. The fragility it all is so terrifying.
They’re breaking every single rule.
It doesn’t take long for the pressure to start to overwhelm Chester, the friction just right when Jesse shifts his hips. They rock together, faster and harder. The air is warm, too warm, the tension mounting, drawing taut like a rubber band.
Jesse is the one who makes a noise first, a tight whimper in his throat as he thrusts against Chester, needy. Chester lifts his hips, presses back hard, feels the orgasm draw his balls up tight. When Jesse comes, he’s looking down, but Chester can see the way his eyelashes flutter in relief; he can feel Jesse’ fingers tighten on his wrists.
Jesse doesn’t stop moving, just drags their dicks together until Chester tenses, eyes screwed shut tight. When he comes it’s a crash of relief like a tidal wave, warm and wet in his pants.
His fucking pants.
They don’t say anything.
Jesse rolls off him, and lays on the floor, chest rising and falling sharply with every breath. A tightness sneaks into Chester’s chest, and Chester can’t bring himself to look at Jesse because he has no idea what to do. He slings his arm over his eyes, and concentrates on getting his lungs to regulate oxygen.
That was intense, weird, even. They're changing everything.
It’s only a few seconds before Jesse gets up, and goes out the door, into the hall. When the bathroom door shuts behind him, Chester strips down quickly, grabbing a new pair of boxers and pulling his pants back on before Jesse is out.
Everything feels different when he stands up. He feels bigger, somehow, heavier. It’s all wrong, Chester thinks, looking at the TV. The demo keeps playing over, and over, Crash bouncing happily.
They should talk, they should --
Chester turns towards the door the same moment Jesse comes out of the bathroom, and they stare at each other, frozen. Chester opens his mouth to say something, anything --
“I should go, dude…” Jesse says, licking his mouth, fingers pointing to his backpack on the floor. Chester’s stomach lands somewhere around his feet, heavy like lead.
“R-Right,” he says, grabbing Jesse’ backpack and handing it to him. Jesse looks at his hand on the strap, shifts forward nervously, and grabs it from Chester. Their hands don’t touch.
“I have to do some homework about something,” Jesse says, pulling on his backpack. His eyes roam from the TV to the floor, down the hall, already turning down the hall to leave. A getaway if Chester ever saw one.
“Okay,” Chester says, unable to say anything else. Not that he had a speech prepared, but Chester wants to know why and how, all of the important details of orgasming with your best friend. Jesse doesn’t want to talk about it, apparently, waving at Chester awkwardly, before trotting down the stairs. Chester doesn’t bother following to walk him out, just stands there as the door closes behind Jesse.
Chester wakes up feeling sick, and jittery with anxiety. Chester doesn’t know what to do, it feels like he fucked up. He was willing to talk, though. After making out, Chester figures it has to be normal to want to explore more.
It’s not like they’re getting laid all the time, both of them single and seniors and they have each other. There’s some level of attraction, there has been for a long time. Apparently, that’s enough to have Jesse running away with his tail tucked between his legs, though. Chester doesn’t know what to do with that, doesn’t know how to feel about it.
Of course, that doesn’t stop him from rolling over, intent on getting rid of his morning wood before he gets up. He’s already down the rabbit hole when it comes to his rules about Jesse, so why not? The memories of the afternoon before are at the forefront of his mind as he slicks his hand, and rubs himself, fist tight and familiar.
He’s not going to forget Jesse’s hips against his anytime soon. The way the air in the room was warm and tense. Chester thinks about Jesse over him, pressing him down, grinding their hips together expertly. It was tight and controlled, body waving as they rocked together.
Chester thinks about Jesse actually fucking him, and moans outright, hand tightening on his dick before he thinks, fuck it. His hand drops down, back over his balls, eyes screwing shut as he teases his hole with his middle finger, thinking about Jesse and Jesse’s hands on him. He exhales, and his finger sinks in, slick with lube.
It’s warm, and it feels so fucking good when he gets his hand back on his dick, rocking up into his fist and back onto his finger. The sensation isn’t what he expected, it’s better, pressing in and pressing in, making him throb and clench for more. Chester thinks about Jesse between his legs, hovering over him like he was yesterday, fucking his fingers into Chester. He thinks about the way Jesse would look at him, dark and wanting and demanding.
Would Jesse watch, leaning back so he could see his fingers disappearing inside Chester? Would he press them close, kiss Chester through it, as he added more fingers, as Chester got desperate and fucking back on his knuckles?
He’s so caught up in the feeling, the pressure sending pleasure skittering up his spine, sparking behind his eyelids, he doesn’t realize that his door is opening until he hears Jesse say, “oh shit, dude!”
Chester’s hand moves off his dick and out of himself immediately, dragging a pillow over his lap, but he’s pretty sure the damage is done already. Jesse’s eyes are wide, but he hasn’t left, gaze firmly on Chester’s face; deliberately on Chester’s face, maybe.
“What --” Chester asks, heart rabbiting in his chest. He’s still hard, and aching, trying to blink away the fog of horniness and concentrate. Jesse is hovering in the doorway, staring at him, and Chester is only half convinced he’s not a fantasy for Chester to jerk off to.
“I wanted to talk,” Jesse says, eyes darting down and back up, widening at Chester. “About last night, and --” Jesse digs his spare key out of his pocket and wiggles it frantically, before shoving it back in his pants. His eyes dart down to the pillow again, before meeting Chester’s gaze again, wincing. There’s a stain of red on his cheeks.
“We should talk, dude…” Chester says.
“Maybe after, dude?” Jesse suggests. “I mean, I can leave, or --”
“You should stay,” Chester says, shifting back, so that he’s sitting up more, not as obviously splayed on the bed. The pillow presses into his persistent hard on, and Chester tries not to groan at the contact, eyes fluttering.
“I’m not having this conversation while your dick is hard, man…” Jesse says, teeth biting into his bottom lip.
“It’s just how turned on I am,” Chester grumbles, lifting the pillow to squeeze the base of his long dick. His hard on is waning, but it’s not completely gone. Not even close. This boner could weather a snowstorm. “Hard, and aroused.”
“Would you say you’re disroused, dude?” Jesse asks, shifting towards Chester.
"I really wouldn't, man…" Chester says, eyes on Jesse. The way Jesse is looking back at him feels like a physical weight, sending shivers over Chester’s skin. He’s all too aware of his nakedness; there’s goosebumps on his skin from the air conditioning.
“I should do something about this,” Chester says. Jesse’ eye widen, wetting his lips with his tongue.
“Do you want help?” Jesse asks, shifting closer. Chester grins at him, relief making his stomach feel fuzzy, full of cotton.
“I thought you’d never ask, dude.”
“Shibby,” Jesse smiles. He steps closer, toeing off his shoes as he goes. Without being prompted, he drags his shirt off, revealing his surprisingly shoulders, and his smooth skin. Chester inhales sharply when Jesse’s hand goes to his button, and pops it open.
“This okay, dude?” he asks, pulling down his zipper. Chester doesn’t understand the hesitation, but he doesn’t ask, just nods, eyes glued to Jesse’s long fingers on his waistband. He doesn’t bother drawing it out, pushing down his briefs and jeans. He’s chubbed up, thickening against his leg as he kneels on the end of the bed.
His right hand circles Chester’s ankle, left anchored on the outside of Chester’s thigh, the brief touch sending shivers up Chester’s spine. It’s the anticipation, it has to be. Jesse doesn’t look at him, moves his hand from Chester’s ankle, trails his fingers up Chester’s leg, carefully, slowly.
The only sound in the room is their breathing, heavier from Chester, expectant. Jesse runs his fingers up the inside of Chester’s leg, trails his fingertips in circles on the inside of Chester’s knee. It’s tender in a way that Chester wasn’t expecting, deliberate. He dips his head down, runs his lips in the same path his fingers took, pressing a chaste kiss to Chester’s knee.
“I want this,” Jesse says, almost too low for Chester to hear. Chester feels the confession on his skin, it hangs in the air around them.
“What?” Chester asks, exhaling as Jesse’ hand skitters up his thigh, closer to his dick. He heard, he just doesn’t know if he believes Jesse.
“I want you.” Jesse says, looking up at Chester. The pink on his cheeks is even more noticeable up close, spreading down his neck in that familiar irregular pattern. There’s a flush on his knuckles when he drags them on the inside of Chester’s thigh, so close -- “I’ve wanted you, dude…”
There’s a hard knot in Chester’s throat that he has to swallow around before he speaks, mouth too dry. His heart is fluttering fast like a hummingbird’s, he has no idea how he missed that. Were there clues? Has Jesse said anything? Done anything? No, he doesn’t think so; he doesn’t know.
“For how long?” Chester asks. The answer doesn’t come immediately, Jesse is too busy dragging the pillow off Chester’s lap, exposing him. Chester fights the urge to cover himself, forces himself to stay still as Jesse’ eyes rove over his frame.
“Remember when we were 13, and you spent the summer at your dad’s?” Jesse asks, he shifts so he’s centered between Chester’s legs, both hands on either of Chester’s thighs, stroking and gripping, like he doesn’t know what he wants to do.
“You came back with muscles,” Jesse licks his lips, and his hand comes up to grip Chester’s dick lightly. It’s the barest of touches, but Chester still hisses and arches into it. “That was the summer you buzzed your head.”
“Because I missed you, dude!” Chester reminds him, because he had missed Jesse, so he took a pair of clippers to his hair on the patio of his dad’s condo, looking in the sliding glass door so he didn’t miss any spots.
“Because you missed me,” Jesse says, jerking Chester’s dick slowly. His erection had waned, but Jesse’ hand makes Chester instantly hard again, aching. Jesse is hard too, cock red and swollen between his legs. It’s long, and skinnier than Chester’s, fat at the top, and glistening with precum already. Chester wants to put his mouth on it, wants to taste Jesse.
“What about it?” Chester asks, impatiently. Jesse smirks at him, tightening his hold and twisting his wrist, harder and faster than before.
“That’s when I figured out I liked dudes too,” Jesse says, scooting closer, leaning close to Chester, face-to-face.
They don’t kiss. Jesse breathes over his jaw, and runs his nose across Chester’s neck, teeth nipping every so often. It’s electric, making Chester’s skin break out in goosebumps. Jesse’s hands aren’t doing anything with intent. He’s tugging at Chester’s dick, then moving over his hips, gripping, trailing over his side.
Every touch feels like so much more than just a touch, like Jesse is reaching into him, soothing him over. His fingers move over his pelvic bone, the crease of his thighs. His knuckles nudge up against Chester’s balls, as he drags his fingers further back.
“You’re so hot, dude…” Jesse says, lips dragging over the shell of Chester’s ear. Chester doesn’t comment, brain short circuiting as Jesse sucks his earlobe into his mouth. It’s wet and hot, making his whole body tingle as Jesse drags his teeth over the skin, sucks it into his mouth. Jesse’ fingers dip lower, teasing the swell of his ass. Chester exhales, shaking, every nerve standing at attention.
“Were you fingering yourself?” Jesse asks, forehead pressing against Chester’s shoulder, as his fingers prod, nudging against Chester’s rim where he’s still slick with spit. Incriminating, really. His breath fans over Chester’s skin, humid.
“Maybe,” Chester says, whimpering as the tip of Jesse’ finger sinks into him slightly.
“Can I finger you, dude?” Jesse asks, head popping up so he can look Chester in the eye. The blush on his cheeks is dark, eyes hooded and wanting. There’s that person again, but Chester’s beginning to recognize that look; the pure, unadulterated desire. This is a Jesse that wants Chester, and doesn’t try to hide it.
Chester nods quickly, grabbing at the lube that’s half shoved under the blankets. Jesse licks at his lips again, hand clenching at the bottle.
“You should turn over,” Jesse says. “I think it’s more comfortable that way.”
“Are you going to fuck me, dude?” Chester asks, trying to ignore the way his pulse jumps in excitement at the idea. Jesse on top of him, inside of him, covering him, claiming him. Connecting with Jesse like that.
There’s a heavy pause, Chester watches Jesse’ adam’s apple bob in this throat, once, twice.
“If you want me to.”
“Yeah,” Chester admits, feeling too hot, embarrassed. The air around them is so tense, it feels like he’s swimming, underwater, ears ringing with how hard his heart is pounding.
“Sweet,” Jesse exhales, and grabs Chester’s hips. Chester flips easily, feeling his stomach fizzle with embarrassment as he presents his ass to Jesse. If the strangled noise is anything to go by, Jesse doesn’t mind.
The cap of the lube cracks loudly in the silence, over the sounds of their breathing.
“Are you sure?” Jesse asks.
“Yes, just fuck me, Jesse,” Chester says, hips twitching back. He’s on edge, waiting for any kind of touch. He’s too keyed up to wait, desperately wanting something to happen. He wants Jesse inside him, it feels like he’s been waiting his whole life for Jesse to just fuck him.
“Okay, okay, okay,” Jesse’ fingers run down his crack, cold with lube, but so slick. There’s a copious amount, Chester feels it on Jesse’ fingers as they catch his rim.
“One at a time,” Chester says, but Jesse is already sinking a finger into him. His body gives with little resistance, probably just from how turned on Chester is; his whole body is aching, shaking, wanting it. Jesse grabs his hip, smears lube on his skin. It’s hotter now, that it was before, sweat prickling at Chester’s hairline and his lower back.
“Fuck,” Chester says, as Jesse slides his finger back and forth and back and forth and back -- So slowly, Chester thinks he’s going to combust, the drag of his finger so good inside of him. It’s not enough, though, not enough to fill Chester up, to make him come.
“Can I do another one?” Jesse asks, reading Chester’s mind. Chester nods fiercely, throat closing up as he feels Jesse’ second finger bump up against his rim. He breathes slowly as Jesse pushes in, whimpering as he’s stretched and filled.
“You look so good, dude,” Jesse whines, as he fucks his fingers in and out of Chester. “I could do this all day. You take it so well. Fuck. Have you done this before? Have you fingered yourself before?”
“N-no,” Chester says, resisting the urge to slam back into Jesse’ hand, letting him control the pace. He needs it harder, faster, but it’s better to let Jesse decide, let him dictate when Chester gets to come. “Just today.”
“Why today?” Jesse asks, starting fingering him faster. There’s a zap of pleasure up Chester’s spine when he nudges deeper, making Chester’s legs feel watery and shaky. Vaguely, Chester thinks prostate. Less vaguely, he moans loudly, thighs trembling.
“Thinking about you,” Chester says. It sounds like it’s been torn out of him, ragged around the edges. Chester’s vision is going blurry with pleasure. He can feel his body responding, loosening for Jesse’ fingers. It’s so good, so fucking good, and he needs more.
“Oh fuck, dude!” Jesse says, groaning. His forehead feels slick when he presses it to Chester’s back. It’s scorching in the room, sweat and lube everywhere. Chester is hyperaware of his dick between his legs, begging to be touched.
“I wanted to see if I could open myself up,” Chester continues, biting his lip as Jesse speeds up, fingers banging against his prostate. His arms start shaking. The sensations are overwhelming. Chester wants to crawl away and push back, wants less and more at the same time. “For you.”
“Oh shit,” Jesse says, exhales loudly against Chester’s back, fucking into him harder. Chester’s back arches as Jesse draws back, plunges in, lifts his fingers, nails his prostate. He sinks another finger into Chester, and that’s tighter, so much more. Jesse tugs against Chester’s rim until Chester’s body yields, and then goes back to driving into him.
“Jesse, Jesse, Jesse,” Chester says, desperately; needy and breathless and wreck. “I’m going to cum.” He shoves his hips back, trying to nudge Jesse deeper, trying to get the right friction. Jesse pulls out completely, and Chester gasps at the loss, body clenching down on the air, needing more.
“Sorry, shit, sorry,” Jesse says, shoving at Chester’s hip, so that Chester turns over. Chester goes easily, head too fuzzy, body too sensitive to protest. Once Chester is on his back, Jesse’ left hand slides slick, under his hips, lifting him up, while he sinks two fingers back into Chester.
The pressure builds up again, body taking and taking and taking. Jesse is watching him with wide eyes, and a slack mouth. Chester can’t meet his gaze as he squirms on Jesse’ fingers. It’s easier to slam his eyes shut, throw his head back. Jesse’ face is branded behind his eyelids, though: almost surprised that he’s here with Chester, and god, Chester gets it.
It’s almost surreal to think that it’s Jesse fingering him open; Jesse’s name that he can’t stop saying, choking the word off in his throat when Jesse drops his hip, and grabs his dick. He jerks him off and fingers him in tandem, awkward and off kilter, like he can’t quite figure it out, but it’s the best thing Chester has ever felt. He groans, unable to keep quiet, body keyed up, about fall over the edge.
“Dude, you should cum,” Jesse says. “Chester, you should cum for me.”
“Please, dude!” he adds, desperately.
Chester cums.
“We didn’t fuck, man…” Chester says, breathing heavy. He’s covered in semen, both his own and Jesse's. It hadn’t taken much after Chester came, Jesse just shot up and jerked off quickly, Chester’s name on his lips as he added to the mess on Chester’s stomach. The room is hot, and smells like musk and sex and Jesse and lube and Chester is so fucking happy it feels like there’s sunshine in his rib cage.
Jesse is on his side next to him, fingers dragged lazily up and down his arm, kissing and biting his shoulder absent mindedly. Jesse hums, laces their hands together.
“There’s time,” he says, lowly. His voice still sounds like a nice joint, and Chester is tempted to goad him into dirty talking, just to get them riled up again.
“Is there?” Chester asks, sitting up so he can grab a discarded shirt from the floor and wipe himself up; jizz thick and sticky. When he looks bad at Jesse, there’s a guarded expression on his face, body tense. He looks like he wants to bolt again.
“That was a serious question, dude!” Chester says, wadding the shirt up and throwing it in the corner. He moves closer to Jesse, kneeling on the bed, so he’s looming over him. He lays his hands on Jesse’s cheeks, cradles his face in his hands. The moment feels soft and intimate, Chester feels like he's floating.
“Of course,” Jesse says, as his eyelids flutter shut. He misses Chester’s grin, but not the kiss Chester presses to his mouth, gently.
“I broke my rules,” Chester says, when they pull apart. He doesn’t go far, Jesse’ hand circles his wrist, keeps him close. Chester wonders if Jesse can feel the way his heart is jumping under his skin.
“What rules, dude?”
“My rules about not being attracted to dudes,” Chester admits, sinking down so he can bury his head in Jesse’s neck, nudge the hot skin with his nose, drag his lips over his adam’s apple. Chester’s going to touch him all the time; he’s going to touch Jesse in ways he never thought he would; he’s going to touch him so much, neither of them will know where one ends and the other begins.
“There’s new rules now, dude. Boyfriend rules,” Jesse says, jostling Chester so that his head tips back, so that Jesse can grab his jaw, steer him into another kiss. This one is more, full of intent and promise.
Chester can deal with new rules, especially if they’re Boyfriend Rules.