The Bridge To Success

Stay (NSFW)

Dark clouds fully covered the sun. It might rain soon. So quickly he ran, panting he arrived.

The familiar house stayed the same, but it seemed different. The sound of sacrilegious playing invaded Eddy's ears the moment he stepped at the front gate.

He opened it, entered, walked until he reached the screened main door. His hand hovered over the doorknob, trembling, scared of his own thoughts. 'Brett won't be... This so haphazardly...'

Eddy bit his lip. Water began to flood his eyes. 'Or maybe...' he shook his head, 'No.' He tried to drown the negative thoughts that popped up in his head. He mustered his courage, gulped down and opened the door.

There, in the living room, Brett stood near the coffee table. With the violin on his shoulder, playing something... Something that isn't right.

Through the side of his eye, Brett saw the door opened. Smiling, "Mom, I thought you'd--" he turned quickly, faced the other way. He saw Eddy.

His heart sank the moment Brett turned his back.

Hastily, Brett returned the violin to its case. Did the ceremonies and all. Then stood up straight, back still facing Eddy. "Yo- you're here," he stuttered.

Eddy was silent. He just stared at the back of his lover, noting that this would what they will ever be. He clenched his fists. Never be facing face to face again.

"I was..." Brett searched for the right words, "practicing." He held his own hand, twiddled his fingers, played with his ring, "Contemporary."

Eddy knew he was lying. He just stared at the back of his lover, noting that this would be what they will ever be. Never be talking to ea--

"Say something."

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His mind told him not to talk. Not to hurt Brett.

In a shaky voice, Brett, "Talk to me..." he whispered, "please," he pleaded.

His lips trembled at the sight of Brett. He's also shaking. After the long pause, Eddy finally said, "Your B is flat, " he paused, "y-you played an E instead of D#... Th-that's the E major scale you're trying to--" the valley of his tears burst out, "I didn't know... your playing..." He said sobbing. Eddy clenched his fists, tears fell down fast, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

Brett looked up, hoping that if he did this, the tears would go back. He bit his lip. It didn't. He put his hands to his head for the headache crept in. He shut his eyes tight. 'Fuck it!'

Eddy gazed at the man before him, whose back turned to him, his shoulders shook. The man covered his face with his hands. With his head now low, he sobbed quietly, "Why...? Why does God hate me so?"

"He took everything I--" labored breaths cut his sentence, "I only wanted to be with you... and play the violin, just- just..." Brett fervently wiped his tears, but they still flowed, "and yet... Fuck!" His breathing labored.

Eddy looked down to his feet, sobbing. His tears fell to the floor, maybe they made a sound. Maybe a sound that like the rain outside, that was much better than his quiet crying. 'Brett...'

"I want to look at you, to hear you," Brett's arms shook as he hugged himself, "...to make love to you." Wiped his tears, "Was that--" He hiccuped, "Was that too much to ask for?"

He put a hand to his mouth, to muffle his cries. He bit his finger, not wanting any voice to let out. Eddy didn't want Brett to be hurt that he had to remain silent. Shaking, his other hand reached out to him.

"Why this? Why me?" Helpless, he asked no one.

Slowly, Eddy walked towards Brett. Each step carried hope, that Brett's suffering will end, that he can play the violin again, that both of them would always be together.

Brett quietly whispered, "I don't want to lose you Eddy."

"You're not losing me, Brett" he reached out to him, turned him around, to face him.

The action startled Brett.

Eddy did not give a chance for Brett to say anything for he covered his glasses-clad eyes with his hand. And kissed him.

The kiss was urgent and needy. Urgent for he knows both him and Brett needed it now, wanted it now. Needy for this was what they'd been always missing.

Eddy's other hand reached for his lover's cheek, wiped the tears that flowed. His lips kissed with much fever and want, dragged on every sound, prolonged every touch.

As it had always been, Brett's arms encircled his lover's neck. His lips kissed his back with much love and desire. The tip of his tongue tasted salty tears, both his lover's and his.

Breathless, Eddy whispered, "Close your eyes."

Brett quietly followed, ignoring the pain that was starting to build up in his head.

With his strong arms, he carried Brett and laid him down on the sofa, his head rest on the armrest. And again his lips met his.

The man he loves hovered on top of him. His hand supported him, the other caressed his damp cheek. Brett's own hands snaked under his lover's shirt. He traced his abs, his chest, then finally rested on his back. He hugged him, pulling him closer.

Eddy's tongue made its way to its second home, his lover's mouth. There he played, glided and rolled with its permanent resident. Sweet sighs escaped Brett. The vibrations of Brett's moaning sent shivers to Eddy's spine.

Brett's hand on his lover's back pulled his shirt over, exposing the skin to the cold rainy afternoon air.

Pulling from the kiss, Eddy sat up. In one swift motion of his hand, his shirt was off. He removed his lover's foggy glasses and placed them on the coffee table then tied the shirt to Brett, to act as a blindfold.

The smell of Eddy's sweat, laundry detergent, and citrus-minty body invaded his senses. It heightened his want to satisfy his need. Need for-- "Eddy! Ah!" he moaned.

The body below him arched, Eddy did grab his lover's growing erection through his shorts.

One of his hands clenched to the armrest of the sofa by his head. Biting his lips hard, as Eddy jerked him off through the thin layer of his shorts. Brett let go of biting for Eddy's lips returned to his.

Eddy kissed Brett deeper and messier. Loud lapping and slurping sounds were heard. Frequent moans and sighs escaped them. Hands roamed to places the sun won't reach. Did things their moms won't preach.

In one flick of Eddy's wrist, Brett became exposed to the cold rainy afternoon air. Instinctively his leg went up, to cover himself, which Eddy stopped with the same hand.

"It's cold..." Brett murmured into the kiss.

Without saying anything, Eddy freed himself from the restraint of his own clothing. Aligned himself to his lover's opening. He answered in his mind, 'It won't be soon.'

Slick with spit, Eddy's entered Brett. A loud gasp escaped his lips. His arms wrapped Eddy. His nails dug onto Eddy. His moans contained "Eddy."

The sofa squeaked the same rhythm as their movement, the same rhythm as Bretts moans, the same rhythm as Eddy's thrusts.

At the same time they groaned, they come, they shuddered.

Panting, Brett still held on to Eddy. Not wanting to let go of him. Not wanting to lose him. "Stay here, Eddy."

Catching his breath, Eddy answered in a low voice, "I will, Brett." He kissed his hair, "I will."