Bromance: A Hiddlesworth Story

“Okay, so take this off—”

“I can’t while you’re—”

“Not like that. All the way off—”

“Oi…! Hey, okay, all right, hold your horses—”

“Good, like that.”

“Ow— what’s—”

“Keys.”

Tom picked his keychain up from the mattress, where it must’ve fallen before; he leaned carefully over to the bedside table to place it there, then remained on his knees, regarding Chris like he was trying mentally to plan how they ought to be positioned.

“Right, scoot a bit this way,” he said, rubbing his mouth, motioning with one hand.

“Like this?”

“Yeah, that’s good.”

He moved back between Chris’ knees, bent part of the way forth, met his gaze; they both laughed. Tom pointed one finger and said, “Shut. Up.”

Chris lifted both hands as a peace offering, I’ve not said anything.

Tom hesitated; looked up, smiled, glanced back down; got his hand on his cock tentatively. Chris regarded him childlike, remembering not to say anything. Tom’s fingers moved along the smooth surface with experimental curiosity, “Not so bad, is it,” he said softly, part to himself.

“Like this,” Chris said, he got his hand on Tom’s and was starting to direct him, but Tom looked up, unamused. “Don’t tell me what to…” he tapped his hand away. “Like this. Right? Like this.”

Chris smiled broadly, eyes shut, rapidly nodding. He gave him a thumbs-up. “Perfect.”

Tom laughed. “See, I know what to do.”

He was embarrassed soon as he said it; was it really something in which to take pride…?

There was shameless anticipation in Chris’ eyes; he really wanted him to do it. That was the thing about getting head, it was something you really never turned down. Like you’d put off worrying about the fact that it was a dude till later.

He sighed with tremendous relief when finally Tom got it in his mouth, he whispered, thank you, his reaction was curiously flattering. “I owe you, don’t I,” Tom said when he took it back out, “I stopped last time.”

“It’s all right,” Chris said, impatient to have him go back to it. They both went quiet after that, Chris didn't wish to say anything that might make him stop; they still glimpsed at one another shyly from time to time, Tom aware of being watched, Chris smiled and silently mouthed, go on.

Tom found that his lips hurt. His hand had got tired from stroking him all the while, it became repetitive after some time and he just wished he would come already. He wondered if this was what women went through when they did this, and realized with a bout of exasperation now he’d have to feel bad about that.

No, that wasn’t right. Surely there was some appeal to it, at least at first, before it became so mind-numbingly repetitive? Surely he wasn’t meant to appear like he was tired? On glancing up, he saw that Chris didn’t seem to mind; he was having a brilliant time, it appeared, it made him smile.

It occurred to him he’d become more bothered by the fact that it was dull than by actually giving head to another bloke; curiously enough, that bit didn’t really bother him anymore. I shouldn’t feel this way, he was really nice to me. He didn’t complain, until that last part.

Inevitably he began feeling that bout of terror, as well: even after all the talk about liking it, now that it approached he found himself dreading the inevitable conclusion, but was determined to be a good sport about it. But Chris had said it was awful, he really wasn’t looking forward to that.

No. He was going to be cool about this. He was going to make him fucking love it and tell him how good he was after, and Tom would triumph by giving the impeccable impression that it wasn’t bad at all— no matter how vile it actually tasted.

He wondered if it was taking so long because he was a guy, and it was a turn off; so like Tom, to think he could possibly be a turn off to anyone.

No, here was no room for discouragement, he kept going long after his lips had got raw and inflamed and his jaw hurt from being open so long; he was so vastly relieved when Chris finally came he was much less horrified than he’d expected. It was very liquid and hot and quite bitter, but he didn’t pull out; he sucked him completely dry like he were making a point, then he crawled toward him and motioned come here with one hand.

Chris was lain merrily on his back, eyes closed, still catching his breath, he was patting Tom weakly on the arm for a job well done. When he opened his eyes, he smiled toothily and probably meant to give him some sort of praise when he saw Tom move closer to kiss him. He tilted his head up to return the kiss, blissfully unaware of what was to follow; Tom got both hands on his cheeks and kissed him hard, the fluid glittering hot between them, streaming in slick rivulets down their chins.

“Eugh…!” Chris immediately moved away, reaching to wipe at his mouth and staring incredulously like he’d been horribly deceived.

Tom was having a field day, this was well good. This was, hands down, the best expression he’d ever seen Chris make, he remained where he was with one finger pointed, laughing so hard he’d nearly got tears in his eyes.

Chris was laughing too, still wiping at his tongue, muttering swears like they formed complete sentences.

“That’s disgusting,” he said, “why would you do that?!”

Tom, who was really just glad he’d got him to finish, was determined to make it seem like it wasn’t bad at all. He composed himself into the most elegant and thoughtful expression and said without breaking character, “It was just so good I wanted to share.”

“Very thoughtful,” Chris said, “you wanted to share,” he tackled him and pulled him close, wiping at the fluid still streaming down the corner of his mouth with one finger, then deliberately got it in past Tom’s lips; they were play fighting now. They were laughing and struggling for dominance, Tom with his eyes tightly shut and hands uselessly batting, “Thought you’d appreciate it! You mean you don’t like it?!”

“Quite a surprise, isn’t it,” Chris laughed, “you complete bellend, I should’ve known.”

“You gonna tell Elsa on me?”

“You’d best believe I’m going to tell her, you cheeky fuck.”

Tom was fully enjoying his reaction; it was orders of magnitude better than he’d expected. “Careful, she might get ideas.”

“You’re both plotting against me!”

“We’re like a dynamic duo.”

“That figures—”

“We’re going to get matching costumes.”

“You’ve got the colors picked out and everything?”

“Had a little disagreement, she wanted green, I said green always looks daft—”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Tom had long since given up the fight; he was lain willingly on his back beneath Chris, and whatever response he might have had never came. When they kissed it came completely natural, he laughed with simple affection when Chris had at his neck, it tickled.

“Move, you’re heavy,” he said, smiling wide like he’d meant let's never go to sleep.