Like A Lover {REWRITE} //Lams

3

There's a first time for everything, I suppose.

If John had believed in any sort of instant bond, meeting Alexander would have been his testimony. The way his facial features melded into his sharp jaw, his pale neck, down under his shirt collar was so damning, so disarming, so mind numbingly sexy without being sexual at all. The way he talked was almost boyish; innocent, careful, like he was still learning how to articulate himself. John supposed that first times always made for nerves.

John was never nervous about sex, hadn't been since he hit puberty, realized he was gay, and was promptly removed from his house of 14 years to live "frankly, I don't fucking care, you piece of shit" (according to his father). From there, it was making out with boys under the bleachers and in the hallways and in the park and once in a seedy bar he was much too young for. It was grinding and touching and fucking and John liked it—he really did. It felt like being free. Prostitution took all of the fun, all of the freedom from sex, but what is a good thing if not a collection of fond memories?

(Maybe, John thought, sex at that age wasn't a good thing to begin with. He retired to his drink.)

Alexander, on the other hand, had scarcely an encounter that was more than chaste. He wasn't a virgin, no, but his sexual endeavors were few and far between, a testament to—nothing, perhaps, or everything.

Alexander was so easy to talk to that within the hour, John found himself buzzed and on his way to drunk, which he never did. It was a matter of safety, but Alexander felt safe in a way that John hadn't seen since...since.

Alexander was laughing. "—And I told him that he should consider taking his wife along for his honeymoon,"

John smiled wide, his cheeks flushed with the effects of the alcohol. "You're so pretty,"

Alexander blushed. "I bet you say that to everybody,"

"Just the people who deserve it,"

John leaned in and touched his face, pulling him closer slightly. Alexander closed the distance with a kiss that left John's mouth burning pleasantly.

"Then, I feel obligated to return the compliment," Alexander slid off his barstool to position himself in front of John's knees, pulling him in again. "Because you are so hot,"

They moved in an uncoordinated dance towards the back, where there were all-but-empty storage rooms to keep customers from getting too hot and heavy on the dance floor. The room they stumbled into had a single mattress on the floor and a cardboard box full of condoms—not glorious, but a place nonetheless.

John slid his shirt over his head and Alexander slid lower, lips on his neck and hands playing with his waistband. John pulled at his collar and Alexander pulled back only enough to tear his own shirt off. Soon reconnected, their hands wandered, crawled over flesh like a collar over fur, like a noose over the delicate skin of a neck. Clothes fell away without thought, and at last exposed to the other, they paused to bask. Alexander bit into the smooth expanse of the tan ocean before him, sucking slightly and rutting gently against John's hips.

"Alex," he breathed.

Alexander kissed up to his jaw. "Hmm?"

"Fuck me,"

He stuttered and then stopped, seeming to come back to himself. "You know the terrible thing about having a big house?" he whispered.

John pulled back to meet his eyes, sensing the shift in mood. "What?"

"I can fit all my demons."

Alexander pulled his clothes back on at light speed and pulled several hundred dollar bills from one of his pockets. He set it on the mattress and disappeared out the door.

John scrambled to pull himself together and hastily shrugged his shirt back on to follow him, but he had already gone.

AN: guys listen, I know it's short. do I have an excuse? no fuck u

ANYWAY DROP A LIKE AND A FOLLOW AND PLEASE LEAVE YOUR THOUGHTS IN THE COMMENTS ILY💖💖