when you love someone but it goes to waste

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He was putty in Sidney’s hands, his breath hitching as soon as he felt the other man’s tongue against his neck. He wriggled underneath him, hips bucking upwards. The sensation was both erotic and ticklish and the best thing he’d felt in weeks.

Uselessly, his fingers scrabbled for purchase at the back of Sidney’s shirt. He fisted his hands in the material for something to hold onto and if that action rucked the other man’s shirt up enough for Dawsey to catch a glimpse of that warm, inviting strip of tan skin underneath - well, it was a win-win, wasn’t it?

Still squirming in delight, he heard Sidney’s declaration and he nodded without thinking, eyes blown wide as he met Sidney’s gaze.

“Of course I like you,” he said, plainly. Was that not obvious? Had the torturous last few weeks not been enough to clue Sidney in that Dawsey liked him? More than liked him?  One hand slid up to cup the back of Sidney’s head as Dawsey stared up at him. He realised, a few beats too late, that perhaps Sidney had been teasing or baiting him. His tone had been playful, with an undercurrent of something that had definitely made Dawsey’s cock harder, but ultimately he’d taken his friend's words at face value.

“I like you so much it scares me,” Dawsey confessed softly, his thumb brushing the shell of Sidney’s ear.

It was the right thing to do - talk. Before they got any further, they definitely needed to talk and Dawsey gave his friend a stilted nod, trying to hide his disappointment. 

Not that Sidney let him off easily.

A gasp tore out of him the moment Sidney’s hand slid down and covered the bulge in his jeans. Embarrassingly, the sensation of his friend’s hand ghosting over him, even through the denim barrier, was almost enough to set him off right then and there. A strangled noise caught in the back of his throat and his fist tightened in a vice-like grip in Sidney’s hair. Did they really need to talk right now? How important was talking?

“Sidney,” he whined, cheeks flushed blotchy and red at the other man’s promise. He was definitely teasing now and Dawsey had never been stoic enough to act immune to it, especially from Sidney.

“That’s not fair. Oh my fucking god, you can’t just–” He let out a soft grumble, shoving pitifully at Sidney’s chest as his head thunked back against the couch cushions. He pouted up at the other man, so hard he could barely think straight.

“D’you promise?” he asked, the words dripping pathetically from his lips as he stared up at Sidney. He felt like a dog - a good boy, as Sidney had called him - that needed to be fucking neutered, hips shifting of their own accord as he tried to chase any friction Sidney would give him before he doubled down and made them have the conversation they needed to have.

Given the torture of the past few weeks of his life, he knew he was acting insane. There should be nothing surprising about his best friend liking him but given the current context of their bodies pressed together, lips needily chasing whatever patch of skin they could reach, it was like his own personal horny equivalent to the fucking big bang theory. Dawsey liking him back was significantly more important than the creation of the earth and all its creatures. 

His mind ran wild with a bizarre cocktail of sweet, deluded romanticism mixed in with just all-out arousal at everything he’d teased his best friend with already. They’d fucked before, of course – how could he forget the very thing that had seemingly driven them apart and back together again – but this time was different, wasn’t it? That’s why they needed to talk. Dawsey hadn’t shown up solely to let Sidney down gently, or if he had then he was doing a pretty rotten job of it. 

“Oh, but I can just,” Sidney laughed, his hand still pressed lightly to the other man’s crotch. He gave one, gentle stroke of the fabric, a barely there touch that was somehow still enough to drive Dawsey wild in his current state.  

He had every intention of making good on his promise, but he knew they needed to talk. It was either going to be the hardest conversation of both of their lives or – if the visible line of Dawsey’s thick cock against the fabric of his jeans was any indication – the easiest. He slipped his hand away from his best friend’s crotch, instead sliding it up his shirt to gently pinch his nipple between his fingers, all the while prising his mouth open one last time with the wet slip of his tongue. He kissed him hard and fast, filling the other man’s mouth with low guttural moans and a string of saliva as he pulled away, spitting into Dawsey’s mouth with smug satisfaction as he recalled the effect it had on him the last time he’d done it. 

“I promise to show you just how much I like you when you’re good,” he reiterated, before abruptly withdrawing his touch. 

He untangled himself from Dawsey with ease, pushing to his feet and ignoring the ache he felt between his own thighs. He was as hard as a rock and there wasn’t a pair of trousers that could contain the state of his erection, but for once in his life it wasn’t his priority right now. He slipped a hand down the waistband of his jeans, readjusting his boxers before taking himself in hand, just for one brief second, relishing in the sweet release of his own touch. 

Then, with one hand on his cock and his gaze darkening as he met Dawsey’s eyes where he stood, he asked; “Why did you come here tonight, Daws?” 

Killian was not that man.

He forced the corners of his mouth up as Sidney Gannon slid into the seat opposite him, locking his fingers together. The tension in his body was the only indicator he wasn't pleased by Sidney taking a seat, choosing him. He hoped he looked quietly thrilled, perhaps a little shy. He had no idea what his face was doing at that precise moment.

"My deal?" Killian echoed, wanting to lean back into the plush upholstery of the booth. Instead, he forced himself to gravitate towards the other man. He placed his elbows on the table, disrupting his paperback. He wasn't sure he even had a deal, most days. But it certainly wasn't this man, tugging at the edge of his sleeve, no matter how conventionally attractive he was.

He tried not to wince at the word fucking, ducking his head as though he were bashful. He'd been charming once, he was sure. He'd gotten too comfortable in his life with Amira, who laughed when he wasn't trying to make her laugh and blushed when he touched her cheek. He tried to remember what it was like to laugh at a woman before he swiped her wallet, how he'd talked his way into that gay bar on that fateful night.

"Pretty new to this, yeah." he tried to laugh, thankful for the blush high on his cheek. "I don't really..."

He stopped himself before he said something stupid. If he couldn't be brazenly flirty, he would try for something like inexperience. Sidney had already provided him with a story, he would run with that.

"You're not, you know, freaked out I found you?" he pursed his lips, rubbing the back of his neck. "Like I said, this is new to me."

He chanced a look at Sidney before he said, "Are you... on the scene much? Gay bars, and all that?"

It hadn’t really occurred to him to be freaked out or afraid, only mildly turned on. There was something sexy about knowing this man followed him on social media and was attracted to him enough to want to orchestrate a meetcute between the two of them. But hell, what did that say about Sidney that he thought that was cute? He had no idea. But right now, it did a whole lot more for his ego than the concept of his best friend of over 30 years ghosting him the minute he’d had his dick in Sidney’s mouth and cum inside him. 

Frankly, he found it atrociously endearing how fresh and new the other man seemed to the gay scene, as he seemed to be inadvertently referring to it. If this was his first foray into picking up another man, Sidney was pleased as punch that he apparently had such a soft spot for him specifically. 

“No, not freaked out, pookie. Just charmed and a little horny,” he unapologetically reassured him with a bright smile. He appraised the other man, the once over he gave him blatant and not remotely subtle. He wanted him to know he was being checked out. Tucked away into his booth in all black attire, his hood resting effortlessly over his head, a few dark strands of hair spilling out to frame his angular face, he cut quite the figure. He supposed he should’ve been intimidated, afraid even, but he had a sudden urge to follow the sullen man into a dark alley and have himself pressed hard and fast against the cold, pebbled walls of a rundown crack house as his hole was obliterated by a potential lunatic. He’d not felt that longing for danger in quite some time, it was exhilarating. 

Because it wasn’t so much that Sidney was avoiding gay bars or club, not necessarily. He still tended to frequent them when he knew he had a posse of fellow queer friends or allies to accompany him, particularly when in search of a booze up and a dance party without having to actually organise a party. But since his attack, he’d certainly changed his approach to such establishments. Before, he’d have ventured out on his own, eager to grind and dance up against a perfect stranger in the hopes that he might go home with him. On a particularly good night, he’d have made out with at least three men on the dancefloor, blown another in a bathroom stall and all before going home with the most attractive of the bunch. That didn’t happen anymore. He still had reckless, lazy hook ups with strangers, but he was more concise in his planning, more careful in where he spent his evenings and who with. 

“Not as much lately, no...” he answered honestly, wondering where this line of questioning was going. Feeling cheeky, he appraised him slowly this time, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he made it altogether clear just why he was still seated here. “I could make an exception for you, though. I bet you’d look gorgeous pressed up against me on a dancefloor.” 

Alas, that niggling sense of jealousy that had been plaguing him for months now couldn’t help but creep up again.

“Really?” Dawsey asked, allowing himself to sound as vulnerable as he felt. He caught Sidney’s lips in another kiss, somehow convinced that Sidney would compare it to all the other kisses he’d been having with the many, many men he’d had splashed across his Insta posts and stories. “‘Cause you’ve seemed… busy.”

Dawsey knew that insecurity didn’t suit him, it never had. While it might have made a more charming person seem endearingly bashful and modest, he just wore it pathetically. There was nothing he could do to make his own self-doubt even remotely attractive, even if it did crop him when he was five seconds away from sticking his hands down Sidney’s pants and doing something to try and measure up to all the other men Sidney had had in his bed over the past few months.

“We can talk,” he mumbled. His hands were messing up Sidney’s hair and his lungs were only getting small pocketfuls of air during the rare moments where Sidney decided that their mouths didn’t actually have to be attached. Dawsey let out a quiet little noise of approval when Sidney began walking him backwards. He’d go wherever the other man told him to, even if that was to sit down and have a proper conversation.

Except the backs of his legs hit the arm of the sofa and suddenly Dawsey was toppling back onto it, Sidney landing on top of him. He landed softly and with a quiet laugh, Sidney settling easily between his open legs as he gasped into the other man’s mouth. It had been a couch that had gotten them into trouble the last time but, at the very least, there was no Lauren here to interrupt them. Although, he realised, that meant there was no buffer for them either. They couldn’t kiss like this under the guise of it saving Dawsey’s marriage when that same marriage had crumbled the moment Sidney had first slipped his tongue into Dawsey’s mouth all those weeks ago. This time, Dawsey had to be truthful. A conversation might not be the worst thing in the world.

“Maybe we should talk…” Dawsey said, tipping his head up in sheer bliss as Sidney kissed along his jaw. His thighs tightened around the other man’s waist when Sidney’s lips brushed against the tender part of his neck, right under his ear.

“Oh,” he breathed, eyes fluttering shut. “Or… maybe later. I don’t - I don’t know.”

“Never too busy for you, Daws,” Sidney murmured against his best friend’s mouth. The way the words spilled from his lips so delicately, it was impossible to miss the desperate, earnest tone they’d been formed in. Sidney’s biggest fear had always been that Dawsey would see it, clear as day, just how hopelessly fucking wrecked he was for him. Now it was all he wanted him to see. 

It seemed evident to the both of them that they should talk about everything that had happened, but it was also fairly obvious that neither of them wanted to. Not when they could be doing other things right now. And the moment Sidney felt the sweet weight of Dawsey’s thighs tighten around him, everything else seemed inconsequential. 

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” he whispered sweetly against his best friend’s ear, his tongue darting out as he licked a stripe along his neck, behind his ear. “You like me.” 

He knew it was a dangerous game, conflating sexual desire with real life, actual feelings. But he couldn’t help it, not after all these years of being so hopelessly in love, to finally get to feel Dawsey underneath him, to taste him and to know how it feels to fill him up and pull him apart. Sidney desperately wanted Dawsey to reciprocate those feelings, to finally admit that what had happened that night was more than just a misguided attempt to save his marriage. Lauren wasn’t the one for Dawsey, she just couldn’t be. 

“No, we should definitely talk,” Sidney decided, trying with all his might to be the responsible one for a change. 

Begrudgingly, he drew back from Dawsey, but not before pressing a final, chaste kiss to the other man’s mouth. He remained straddled against his stomach, smiling down at him with so much raw, undiluted desire as rested both his hands against Dawsey’s waist. With a mischievous glint in his eye, however, he trailed one hand further down until he reached the waistband of the other man’s jeans. They were visibly tight now, his bulge practically bursting out of them, the outline of Dawsey’s growing erection imprinted along the inseam. Without any hesitation, Sidney pressed a hand to the front of Dawsey’s jeans, cupping him between his thighs with a soft, satisfied moan. 

“And when we’re done talking, if you’re a really good boy, I’ll show you that pretty little trick with my tongue that you loved so much last time,” he teased. 

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