Ernesto knows better than to say anything when Finn gets like this, so he lowers his gaze to the floor and meets his own knees touching his bedroom floor, hands clutched in fists on top of them.

He can smell the beer in the others boy breath from how close Finn is while he’s talking, getting closer and closer as his words get meaner “Is that why you brought that new cross necklace? I’ve never seen you wear it before. Thought maybe it could protect you from something, Ernie?”

Ernesto flinches when Finn’s fingers slightly graze the front of his sweater from where he suddenly grasps the rosary, pulling it tightly enough that the beads against Ernie’s neck suddenly dig uncomfortably into his skin. Finn gets closer to his face, putting his free hand against the floor so he can support himself as he’s glooming over Ernesto, the other boy closes his eyes tightly as he feels the warmth of Finn’s face close to his cheek. “Wanted it to protect you from me?” He asks.

Shaking from how badly he’s trying not to throw himself against the other boy, Ernesto slightly inclines the side of his face closer to Finn, expecting a bite, a kiss, a lick maybe. Anything. But he still says nothing.

He can feel the pressure of the pull on the rosary getting stronger for just a moment before he suddenly feels a hand harshly pushing him away, his eyes pop open in surprise as the force throws him off his balance and makes him hit the leg of Finn’s bed with his back, right into his spine.

He feels his own mouth open to complain, his brows furrowed in hurt, but when he meets Finn’s eyes he cannot make himself voice his pain, suddenly star struck by the intense look in his eyes. Finn notices and noticeably fights back a smirk before getting up from the floor and walking to his bed.

“I’m just playing, man. Relax.” He reassures him while crouching down slightly as he lifts up his mattress from the bed frame, digging his arm inside and pulling out a plastic bag with small objects inside of it. “You know I don’t really care about that religious stuff.”

He walks up in front of where Ernie is still on the floor as he opens the bag, and just as he’s about to reach inside it he frowns and looks down at Ernesto. “Ernie. I’m talking to you.” He slightly kicks Ernesto’s tucked in legs.

Oh. “Oh! I— I, um. I don’t know, Finn. I just wanted to,” What? Share this with him? Talk to him? Make him mean? “I guess I was just curious.”

“About what?” He asks, disinterested. And instead pays more attention to examining the few little pills inside of the bag, some of them loose, some of them inside even smaller plastic bags.

“Just, just what you would think about it. Religion, I mean. You know I’m Catholic, and I know…” He swallows down harshly, throat gone dry and heartbeat going like crazy, making his chest hurt and hands shake from where he’s still clutching them, still, he finishes his sentence. “I know Gwen is Christian.”

He sees Finn freeze from where he was closing the bag on his hands, and Ernesto’s chest moving up and down because of his sudden difficulty to breathe seems to be the only movement inside the room. They’ve talked about Robin multiple times, both of them. They’ve never brought in Gwen into this.

Well, until now. Go big or go home, Ernesto thinks while feeling nauseous from the anticipation.

Finn finally looks down at him, one hand clutching the plastic making it wrinkled, the other hiding some pill he took out with his closed fist, expression so angry Ernesto feels himself growing hard from the image of it, picturing Finn snapping and kicking him straight into his chest.

Instead, Finn throws the bag against the floor hard, and quickly crouches down to grasp Ernie by the jaw. Ernesto gasps, his open mouth just giving more grip to Finn to crush his jawbone. For a moment Ernesto is afraid the drool on his mouth will leak into Finn’s hand, but then wonders if he would be into it. Finn is often pleased when Ernesto makes a fool of himself.

Finn is still looking at him like he’s going to punch him, his eyes tracing every inch of Ernesto’s own, searching for something, Ernie supposes. He must find it, and change his mind, because a few moments later his expression softens just a little, but the grip doesn’t. “She used to be Catholic, for a while. Took us to church from time to time when we were little before she changed it back again to Christianity. Never had the chance to ask her why.”

Gwen? No, maybe he’s talking about his mom. He said when we were little.

His mom? Finn wants to bring his mom into this? Well, Ernesto didn’t see that one coming, but he’s not the one to judge, he can take anything anyone throws at him, but especially Finn.

“I remember some stuff,” Finn continues. “I think it went a little bit like this.” He opens his other hand in front of Ernesto, revealing a little white pill.

Ernesto’s eyes pop open in panic, and tries to twist his head back from it before Finn tugs him in closer. “Don’t be scared, Ernie.” He mockingly whispers. “Be brave for me. Accept this, in the name of the Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit,” He places the pill on top of Ernie’s tongue, drool coating his fingers, still looking right at Ernesto’s terrified eyes and shuts his mouth closed, his palm firmly against the boy’s mouth. “Swallow, and be good.”

Ernesto struggles against the pin the other boy has on him, his palm firmly against his mouth and back cornered against the bed, making it impossible to move without physically forcing Finn back, which he knows won’t end well for him. He’s careful not to swallow the pill, heavy inside his mouth, but he’s still afraid it might dissolve. He has no idea how drugs work, he’s never done them, anything is possible. Anything could happen to him.

Finn moves his free hand to clutch the side of Ernie’s arm as he closes in on him, almost sitting on top of his lap. He brings his mouth to the other boy’s ear and whispers. “This is my body which is given for you; do this in remembrance of me.”

Panting, and feeling his jeans grow tighter, Ernesto swallows.

There is this pause, he can feel the breathing of Finn’s slightly open mouth tingling into his ear and the loosening of his hand on his mouth, leaving enough space that Ernesto can now move it if he wants to, but not enough to spit something out. He’s waiting to see if Ernesto really swallowed what he gave him, waiting to see how far he can go, how far Ernesto would let him.

Ernesto makes what would be an exaggerated gulping sound if not for the intensity of the moment, and then opens his mouth wide open to show there’s nothing in it anymore, even though Finn can’t see it while still being tucked away in his neck and hand still technically covering his mouth.

“You know,” Finn whispers. “Sometimes I feel like I knew you in another life, if those are real.” He removes his hand completely and cups Ernesto’s cheek, his thumb brushing the highest part of it and brings him closer to his mouth with no space in between them now. “I think one of us killed the other. But I can never say for sure who.”

Ernesto makes a high whining sound that he shakily tries to swallow down when he feels Finn’s tongue licking at his ear, the wetness and closeness somehow making him tremble with a burning desire to either start humping the other boy right there or sink his teeth into his throat and whine into it when Finn laughs at how weak Ernesto’s bite feels.

Finn slowly brings his hand down to Ernesto’s throat, not squeezing but making a necklace that sits on top of his collarbones while he inclines his head slightly to bite at his earlobe, growing more and more aggressive with his attacks at the other boy’s ear and neck as Ernesto’s small little sounds start to come out shorter and quicker like he’s hyperventilating with the love that Finn gives him.

Or, maybe with the pill that he have him.

“Finn,” Ernesto murmurs, trying to plead for him to touch him. The pressure and suction from Finn’s mouth on his neck making him fantasize what it would be like to sneak his own hand down his pants, down his boxers, and start desperately humping his own palm while Finn watches. Would he stop hiding his face from Ernesto’s neck and watch him silently with a hungry look? Would he huff out a surprised mean laugh and mock him, talk him through it? Would he get up and leave Ernesto to desperately hump his bedroom floor like a dog in heat?

For a second, Ernesto’s eyes go hazy and he can almost see his brother, forever thirteen, peeking through the door watching both of them, a mirror of how Ernesto used to when Finn would come over to study with Robin, and he wasn’t allowed to come in and hang out with them. Back then, Ernesto would go to his mother’s room, his only real friend, and cry into her arms as she tried to distract him. Now, she’s the one that spends her days away crying with nothing to ease the pain, and Ernesto does not hold her, as he knows he is not the one she wishes would comfort her.

Would Robin be on his position if he had not died? Would Finn act differently? Would he let Robin do this to him instead? For a second the door he has been drilling holes into with his stare turns into the heavy locked door from The Basement, and he wonders if He would have liked this.

“Finn,” He tries to say more firmly, but his voice sounds weak even from his own ears, the sounds slipping away and making them harder to grasp as his brain starts to mix more things up, like he’s switching from realities while staying on his, his brain divided.

Is the room moving? Ernesto frowns as the room keeps leaning and stretching, no matter how many times he tries to refocus his sight, convinced it’s his own poor vision. As his head starts to become more and more lighter, he starts letting it fall backwards slowly, giving more room to Finn to do whatever he wants with him. Ernesto closes his eyes, enjoying the moment, and suddenly gets hit with the feeling of the whole room spinning violently, stopping him on his tracks.

He’s high.

The strange tingling that courses through his body that Finn put in there suddenly turns into this strange numbness that locks into his legs and arms, like his body belongs to someone else. The room keeps moving.

“Finn!” He tries to shout but it comes out quieter and shakier than he expected, suddenly overwhelmed with a vivid memory of laying besides Gwen, hands interlocked but never their mouths unless she was feeling brave. Is she in the room? Has he not noticed? Where is she? She was just here, besides Ernesto. “What is happening? Are you—“ He forgets to speak for a moment, suddenly at the convenience store close to Finn’s house, cheering on Robin while he plays pinball and sucks at it. “Are you here?”

Finn pulls away from his neck and brings his face close to Ernesto’s, his thumb that was resting on the side of his throat lifting to bring up Ernesto’s chin while his other fingers stay in place. Ernesto has to blink a few times to concentrate, he’s almost sure Finn finds something funny, or else he wouldn’t have that look on his eyes.

“Look at my hands and my feet. It is I myself!” He says with an exaggerated dramatic voice, and smiles so sweetly Ernesto is sure is fake, and presses their foreheads together.

“What— What are you talking about, man?”

Finn brings their mouths closer together, almost touching. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones, as you see I have. It’s me, Ernesto.”

“Stop,” Ernesto whispers as his eyes land on the other boy’s lips, suddenly remembering this old western movie where the main character gave the love interest the kiss of her life. He wanted to be an actor, when he was younger. “Stop quoting the bible, Finn. It isn’t funny.”

Finn looks down at their open mouths connecting, not in a kiss but instead just passing heat to the other. “Tell me you want this.” He says, the change in tone from whispering and playful to loud and direct makes Ernesto twitch inside his pants, the stickiness from where he’s leaking turning him on even more as he imagines the disgusted look in Finn’s face when he realizes the mess Ernesto made. It’s almost enough to make him moan out loud.

“I want this,” Ernesto whines, eyelids fluttering. “I want this, please.”

Finn finally gets close enough to cut the distance, kissing him deeply and messy as Ernesto moans into it. He sneaks a hand down to press against the bulge on Ernesto’s pants, grabbing and petting with almost enough force that it hurts, if it weren’t for the thick layer of his jeans.

Ernesto tries to buck into it to chase the feeling, mouth open and eyes closed as Finn keeps trying and failing to kiss him. The burn from the fabric and aggression in order to get through to it makes him get teary eyed, not knowing whether he wants Finn to just open his fly and get it over with or keep going with enough force that it hurts.

I love you, Ernesto wants to say.

I wish Robin was here, he thinks.

I wonder if Gwen is going to feel as good as you.

“Could you move, if you tried?” Finn asks, hand still working Ernesto with their foreheads pressed together. “You’re high. Could you move?”

Could he move? His body won’t respond to anything besides light humping and the wetness trapped in his boxers, the squeaky feeling playing an intoxicating contrast against the tightness from Finn’s hands closing in on the roughness of the fabric. His mouth is open and wet from the kiss. Could he move? Why would he want to?

Finn’s hand slows down and Ernesto whines in protest as he hears him shakily sigh. “You couldn’t, could you?” Ernesto slowly opens his eyes again and sees Finn gulping, looking at the side of the floor instead of him, suddenly very conscious that his mouth has been wide open this whole time he snaps it close with a click. Still breathing hard he keeps quiet, he knows better than to say anything when Finn gets like this.

Ernesto remembers himself at fifteen, he stayed the night in Robin’s room and woke up in the middle of the night hard, for some reason. It felt weird, moving slowly against his hand in his brother’s room, but he was so horny. He couldn’t help it. He remembers being eleven when he still shared a room with Robin, the night he stayed up late and heard his older brother on the bed making weird noises in his sleep, his body twitching like he was trying to get close to something.

The wetness on his pants spreads and Finn suddenly grips him as tight as possible, the pain making him voice out a high pitched wounded sound as his hands flew to grasp at Finn’s back, nails digging with force.

“Tell me you want this.” Finn grits through his teeth, only adding more force.

“Please!” Ernesto finally cries out, tears rolling down his cheeks as his arms tremble. “I do! I do! I swear, please believe me, Finn.”

“Oh, shit.” Finn quietly swears, letting Ernesto go. “Fuck, Ernie.” He brings their mouths together in another kiss, deeper than the other as Finn moves up and off Ernesto’s thighs, supporting himself with his knees to the sides. And while Ernesto has his eyes screwed shut he hears the rattling of a belt opening, the struggle of shuffling jeans down and when he finally opens then mid kiss and pulls back slightly to see better, he comes in view to Finn on top of him, pants and boxers pulled down without removing them and his hand working himself fast and painful.

“It’s okay,” Finn whispers, looking at him with a pained expression and visibly gulping down moans. “It’s— You don’t have to be scared. It’s okay.”

The heat spreading through Ernesto’s body grows hot enough that for a moment he wonders of he’s getting a fever, that would certainly explain the dizziness and the slight nausea. Or maybe it’s just the room that keeps spinning. Suddenly feeling vomit creeping up his throat Ernesto squeezes his eyes shut and throws his head back, letting it roll to the side as the dizziness keeps trying to rise.

“No, no.” Finn says, one hand finding Ernesto’s hair and gripping him tight so his head returns upright. “It’s okay, it’s alright. I’m not—,” His hips twitch and the gripping becomes tighter. “I’m not going to do anything, just…”

“Just look at me, okay, Ernie?” His voice turns sweet and almost pleading. “I just want you to look at me.”

Panting, Ernesto opens his eyes again. Sick and nauseous and still feeling turned on at how he’s underneath Finn with his hand on his hair and the other working himself hard in front of him, not letting him look away. There’s enough saliva on his mouth that he’s definitely drooling now.

“God, you look a mess.” Finn whines, quiet enough that it was almost to himself. “Can you move?”

He’s so dizzy he can’t even speak. He’s so turned on he feels like peeing.

“It’s—,” Finn grunts. “It’s almost over, you’re doing so good.”

Ernesto tries to nod, but even the slightest movement makes the nausea worse, and he’s suddenly even more greatful of Finn’s grip on his hair keeping him upright.

Finn continues for a couple of more minutes, murmuring things that don’t make sense to Ernesto, eyes closed and with clenched teeth. Finally, when it’s over, he instinctively brings Ernesto’s head closer and his hip twitches again, his hand roughly milking any cum that might have been left, and continues like that until he’s twitching from overstimulation and lets go like it burnt him.

He collapses besides Ernesto, both now sitting and panting for different reasons, but equally gross.

Ernesto’s mind goes somewhere else again, and then there is a blanket covering them and Finn has Ernesto’s head on his shoulder, petting his hair and comforting him. He goes somewhere else again and now he’s laying on the bed, head resting against Finn’s crossed legs as he sits in the bed, still playing with his hair. When did he get sweatpants?

It’s only until he’s falling asleep like that, that Ernesto remembers he was supposed to cum too.