Chapter Text
Arthur Dent woke up with a headache and an aching pain in the side of his neck. He clambered out of his bed, noting that he was still in his clothes from the previous day and that his hand was covered in the usual patchwork of stamps and bracelets that a night out with Ford Prefect often provided. This explained the headache. He checked his phone. It was ten in the morning. Not bad, Dent, he thought to himself, it’s before noon.
He half-blindly trudged towards the bathroom, his eyes still bleary and half lidded, then yawned and prepared his toothbrush. As he began to brush his teeth, he put together the pieces of the story of last night so far. Ford came over to his house after work yesterday. He took him to the pub and, after a few pints, convinced him to go with him to a club. After a couple more drinks, they danced there for a little while, then Ford declared that there was an even better club just a few minutes walk away, so they left. Arthur remembers stumbling over the sidewalk and Ford catching him by the waist and steadying him against the wall of the nearest building. He remembered the way Ford pressed him against the bricks, holding him in place as he fought through an emotional wave of dizziness. He remembered crying and clutching onto Ford’s leather jacket like a lifeline.
Arthur’s toothbrushing slowed to a halt as he remembered what happened next. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blinked a few times to clear his vision. Then, slowly, he looked up to his own reflection in the mirror to find that the side of his neck that had been aching was covered in large, dark purple and red hickies and angry-looking bitemarks with deep indentations of too-sharp teeth. Ford’s teeth. His toothbrush clattered to the sink as his jaw dropped.
Well this is a new development in our friendship, he thought sourly as he spit out his toothpaste. He scolded the butterflies in his stomach and told them not to get their hopes up. How am I supposed to explain shoving my tongue down his throat without making it weird?
There was a loud thudding noise in the next room followed by a muffled, “Oh fuuuuck.”
Naturally, Arthur screamed, then winced at his own volume.
“…Arthur? Is that you?”
“…Ford?”
“Yeah.”
There was the sound of staggering footsteps as Ford dragged himself forward to find Arthur. Arthur turned around in the bathroom and braced himself against the sink as Ford appeared in the doorway, looking hungover and half asleep. Then, Arthur gripped the edge of the sink harder as Ford’s eyes caught on the bite marks and widened in recognition.
“Holy photon! I mean… um. Hey, uh, Arthur?”
“Yeah?..”
“Have you… seen?”
“Yeah...”
“Are those… from…” he slowly pointed to his own mouth.
“Yeah…”
“So that really happened? We actually…?”
“Y-”
“Can you stop saying ‘yeah’ like that?”
“Ye- Alright.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake! Say something more helpful!”
“What do you want me to say, Ford? What am I supposed to say?” He pushed himself away from the sink and pointed at Ford. “I’ve got your fucking teeth scarred into my neck! What the fuck should I say?”
Ford winced. “Alright, alright, just keep it down, will ya?”
“Sorry. I’m just…” Arthur shook his head, his shoulders fell. “I’m just tired and hungover and confused. I don’t find men attractive. I don’t know why I kissed you last night. Sorry.”
“Is that sarcasm?” Ford’s eyebrows furrowed.
“No, Ford. It’s not sarcasm. By the way, I think you might be autistic.” Arthur patted him on the shoulder and made an attempt to push past him in the doorway, but Ford didn’t move. “Ford?”
“No, Arthur, I refuse to believe that you don’t find me attractive.” Ford pushed him against the doorframe, pressing their bodies together. “I know you do.”
Arthur blushed and stammered indignantly for a moment, refusing to meet Ford’s eye. Then, he let out a pathetic sigh of resignation. “What are you trying to get out of this?”
“I want you to tell me you think I’m attractive and you want to kiss me and that you don’t regret last night.” Ford grabbed onto his hips tightly, threading his fingers through Arthur’s belt loops and tugging until their groins were pressed together as well.
“Why are you doing this?” Arthur’s face was hot and his eyes were getting teary from embarrassment. He was hard, he knew it. And he knew Ford could feel it too.
“Why are you letting me, baby,” Ford purred. “C’mon Arthur. Just say it.” He ground their hips together and grinned his animal grin as Arthur’s head tipped back. “Say you want me.”
“I- I… I want you.”
Ford groaned, his voice deep and rough. His hips thrust forward and he buried his face in Arthur’s neck. “Oh very good, Arthur. Well done. Yeah. I want you, too.”
“You’re? Gay?”
Ford hummed and chuckled to himself. “I’m pan. How did you not know this? I flirt with you all the time.” His breathing was ragged. “Besides, love, I’m practically humping you right now. That’s not very straight of me, is it?”
“Was worried you were mocking me…” Arthur wrapped his arms around Ford’s shoulders.
“I’m the one that gave you the hickies, Arthur. I’m the one that pinned you against the wall like this. I’m just as complicit in this whole affair as you are.” Ford licked over the bruises, his tongue hot and wet and skillful as he made Arthur hiss and whimper. “You want to know why I asked you to say all that? It’s because I find you attractive. I want to kiss you. I don’t regret last night.” He bit down on a particularly dark hickey with just the right amount of force for Arthur’s knees to buckle. He kept him upright with the hands on his hips. “Can you say it for me now, baby?”
“I- I find you attractive. And I want to… I want to kiss you… and I don’t regret last night.” Arthur moaned as Ford began rolling his hips. “Ah- I- wait F-Ford! I’ve got a headache...”
“Mmph. That’s alright. I can do all the work.”
“Well! Let’s- I- don’t- I can’t. No.” Arthur pushed weakly at Ford’s chest and he pulled back. Arthur stared down into Ford’s confused blue eyes. “We haven’t even kissed sober yet… or been on a date… we’re moving so fast… do you even want me in a serious way?”
“Oh you stupid romantic bastard…” Ford rolled his eyes. “Alright. Obviously I want all of that, too. I’d love to take you on a date. And if you’ll lend me a toothbrush I’ll make out with you for the next two hours. And then it will be, by your standards, lunchtime and I’ll take you somewhere nicer than the pub. I want to do that. I do. I just also really want to make you cum.” He stepped back and leaned against the other end of the doorframe, crossing his arms.
“I- right now?” Arthur croaked, confused and slightly concerned.
“Well, no. Doesn’t have to be now, but the sooner the better. I’ve been wanting to see how you look mid-orgasm for the last year and a half. I can do it while we make out if you’d like. Maybe on the bed? I’d really like to suck your cock, but if you’d rather be able to kiss me I understand. I could toss you off instead. Or I could ride you or fuck you or, ooh, maybe I could just grind against you until the friction finally does it. That’s hot, too. It doesn’t really matter how, I just want it to happen. It’s alright if it’s too much for today, but I need you to know that I’m willing whenever you’re ready.”
“Oh…” Arthur’s legs were shaking. He gripped the door for stability. “You… you… you can use the spare toothbrush in the top drawer of the guest bathroom… it’s new. There should be toothpaste in the cupboard. And um… the bed. Is there…” He pointed weakly towards the very obvious bed.
“Great. I’ll meet you back here in a few minutes.” Ford winked at him and walked away to go brush his teeth.
Arthur covered his burning face with his hands and let out a shivery sigh. “What the fuck are you doing, Dent? Keep it together… Are you really going to put out before your first date?” Arthur glanced back towards the mirror and saw his completely wrecked and flustered reflection. He saw his messy black hair. He saw the hickies on his neck. He saw the outline of his own aching erection. He came to the conclusion that, yes, it appears I am. “Well. Fuck...”