#sunshines

Todd stands in the corner of the room, leaning with his back against the wall, arms crossed and frowning as he watches you. Bob stares at you with bewildered eyes, not believing the words you just said.

Bob knew he should’ve said something earlier, both him and Todd, about their feelings for you. But how do they even broach the subject without sounding like some pervs looking for a threesome instead of an actual relationship? They tried to bring it up, either one of them chickened out or said it didn’t feel like the right time, so they resolved to scare off anyone who tried to ask you out. Was it smart? No. Was it selfish? Yes. But they couldn’t fathom the alternative.

Fortunately, or unfortunately for them, they weren’t exactly subtle and you weren’t an idiot. You had an inkling they may have felt some type of way about you, especially after some guy from your Public Policy class asked you out while you were studying in the library and Todd literally growled like some kind of guard dog before telling the guy you were busy while Bob ushered you away. Yet, you hesitated. They never mentioned being open to a third and you didn’t want to assume. Plus, if they really had feelings, they had their chance to let you know.

Movie nights where you’re almost always cuddled up between them with your head on Todd's shoulder and legs across Bob's lap, that summer you vacationed with them at Todd’s summer home up in Connecticut. You fucking live with them for Christ’s sake, they could’ve asked you out over your morning coffee if they wanted. Enough was enough.

Which is what leads you to now. They came to your room dressed in their pj’s, and DVDs in hand, ready for your weekly movie night and the last thing they were expecting to hear you say was that you’re going to need to rain check because you’re going on a date. And Todd and Bob didn’t like the sound of that. Not one fucking bit.

“Wha- what did you say?”

Your eyes flicker over to Bob before you refocus on the mirror, reapplying your lip-gloss, “I have a date tonight. Sorry, I know tonight’s usually our movie night, but it just totally slipped my mind to mention it to you guys.”

Bob blinks rapidly, a look of disappointment flashing across his face. Todd's jaw clenches, his hands flexing in and out of fists as your words hit them. You… are going… on a… date?

Bob stutters, trying to form a coherent sentence as he watches you toss your lip gloss down and try and choose which jacket fits your outfit best, “Wha- what? Since when? With who?”

You freeze for a split second. You knew that once they learned who it was with, it would piss them off, but then again, isn't that why you said yes to Evans' invitation anyway?

“Since… Evan… asked me out… yesterday.” Fuck, where was that confidence you had just a minute ago?

That makes Todd finally react. He pushes himself off the wall he was leaning against and scoffs, “You are not going out with fucking Evan of all people.”

You turn around and face him, eyes widening just a little when your nose brushes against him, but your face snaps back to neutral before you think he or Bob notices. Yeah, going out with the guy who’s president of the fraternity that rivals Todds probably wasn’t a good idea.

“Okay, wow, step back there buddy.” Todd barely moves an inch when you put your hand on his chest. You cock a brow up at him. He cocks one at you. Want me to move? Make me.

“Robby, you mind coming to get your man for me?” Bob grabs a hold of his boyfriend's hand and pulls him back to give you space, ignoring the scowl on the frat president's face, “Okay, I get it, you aren't Evans biggest fan, but it’s just one date. I haven't been on one for a while, so I figured, ya know… let’s see what the dating game has to offer. Not like anyone else has asked me out or anything…” you trail off, looking at them expectantly, seeing if they would confirm your suspicions.

Bob and Todd share a look. You cross your arms as a silent conversation happens between them, before you’ve had enough waiting. You sigh in disappointment, roll your eyes and push past them for the bedroom door, “Whatever, don’t wait up.”

“W-wait!” Bob stumbles, blocking your exit by extending his arm across the door, “Just wait.”

“Bob, move. I’m going to be late.” You try to step around him, but he doesn't budge.

Todd cuts in, a slight vulnerability in his voice that you’re not used to hearing, “Don’t go out with him.”

You raise a brow at them both, ignoring how much they are crowding you despite it making your heart race, “W-why shouldn’t I?”

“Just – because – there’s a lot of reasons why!”

“Bob, that is not a good enough answer.”

“Don’t.” He’s so close now, you can feel his breath on your lips. Almost for a second, you swear you can see a shimmer of gold in his eyes before he blinks and it’s gone again, “Don’t go out with him, please.”

“Why not!? Ugh, oh my god, just tell me! You keep skirting around the issue and being all weirdly overprotective. You guys act like this every time someone asks me out or shows a little bit of interest so just tell me. Why?"

Bob looks to the frat president across the room, almost like he's asking for permission to act. Todd nods, and that's all he needs, but Bob's never good at talking about his feelings, so instead of telling you, he decides to show you.

You barely have a second to comprehend it, a surprised sound leaving you when Bob surges forward and kisses you. It was like a cord snapped in him. All those months of tension, unspoken feelings being pushed down, now coming out into the open.

Bob pulls back first, hot breath against your lips, panting like he just finished running a marathon, “That’s why…” he whispers, searching your face for any type of reaction.

You blink, face hot and flushed as you try to speak but all you can come up with is, “O-oh.”

“Oh? I-is that ‘Oh’ as in good o-or ‘Oh’ as in bad?”

“Um… good! Definitely a good ‘Oh’.”

That seems to be enough for him, because next thing you know, his lips are on you again. He's careful with you, lips never leaving you as his gentle hands come around and firmly grip your hips, pulling you across the room. Soon that sweet, tender kiss turns into a full blown make out session, hurried and full of tongue. Now that Bob’s finally got a taste of you, he’s addicted.

The bed dips beside you, and your eyes flutter open to see Todd palming himself, his hand running up and down the growing bulge in his sweats. The bulge is noticeable. Very noticeable. You feel a gush between your legs when he starts grinding against his palm, hearing his little moans as he chases his pleasure.

Todd winks, his smirk growing when he notices your staring. You snap your eyes and try to focus on Bob, like you weren't caught getting off on Todd touching himself while you’re on Bob's lap. 

Deciding to test the waters Todd toys with the hem of your shirt, and when you don't make him stop, he stuffs his hand under, cupping and fondling your breast. Your gasp makes both their cocks twitch, “You gotta learn how to share Robby.”

“Shut up,” Bob mutters against your lips, “Fuck, I could kiss you for hours and never get bored.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Bob actually whines when Todd interrupts, not wanting to let you go. You barely have a chance to register that you're on Todd's lap now before he’s on you, “My turn.” 

Todd takes his time, savoring you as he explores your mouth with his tongue. He starts moving your hips back and forth, grinding you against him. The friction of his clothed cock rubbing against your clit makes you whimper, hands coming up and tugging on his hair. Todd moans into the kiss, ready to flip you over when you suddenly pull away.

“Wait, wait –” You seem to finally remember that there was somewhere you had to be, “Before we, I mean, before I forget, um, just, just, let me text him I’m not going to make it so he’s not waiting for –”

You don’t even need to finish your sentence before Todd's grabbing your phone out of your back pocket, “Already taken care of, ‘Sorry, Evan, can’t make it, getting dicked down as we speak’.”

“Todd!” You warn him, sliding off his lap so you can be in the middle of Bob and Todd, “You better not.”

Todd snickers, typing something quickly before tossing your phone on the other end of your bed. His nose brushes against your cheek before he whispers into your ear, “It’s not exactly a lie.” Before he’s back to kissing you.

Bob gulps as he watches you and Todd, mouthwatering even more as Todd squeezes your ass, eliciting a surprised squeak from you. Should he start kissing your neck? Should he wait until Todd lets him in? Should he just cut in like Todd did?

Either sensing his dilemma or you’re just missing the other set of lips that should be on you, your hand reaches for Bob, grabbing and tugging him closer by the collar of his shirt. He seems to get the hint and start kissing up and down your neck. You shudder as you feel his teeth graze along your skin, gasping when you feel a nip. Bob smirks before he starts leaving a multitude of hickies on your pulse point.

Slowly, Bob moves closer, nipping at your jaw and kissing your cheek before it becomes as sloppy as a three-way kiss can get. Todd’s tongue is in your mouth, Bob’s saliva on your cheek, their noses bumping together as they try to keep a rhythm that was quickly disappearing into a messy frenzy of neediness and desperation of all your built-up feelings.

You don’t know who started taking their clothes off first but soon you're in nothing but your underwear, Todd’s only got his shirt on, and Bob’s in his birthday suit, leaking precum down your thigh as he humps your leg. Todd nips at your bottom lip as he stuffs his hands in your underwear, cupping you. 

Todd groans when he feels how wet you are, his dick aching to be around you, to be fully engulfed in you. “Can I touch you, pretty girl? Wanna make you feel good.”

You shudder as you feel his fingers ghost against your folds, your hand on the back of Bob's neck tightening, “Please…”

You gasp when Todd's finger enters you, stretching you wider than you were expecting, the girth and length of him surprising you. Your pussy clenches when you imagine the stretch of Todd’s cock when he’ll finally fuck you. Him and Bob. Fuck, they might break you.

It’s a tight fit but Bob finds his way in your underwear too, his thumb circling your clit at a steady rhythm. You whine, pathetically grinding against both their hands, “Oh my god! Fuck, Bob!”

“You like that pretty girl? Robby’s making you feel good playing with your clit?”

You whimper, barely keeping it together, “Y-yes! S-s’good!” Then you gasp, holding them both tighter, “Todd! Bob! Please, m’gonna -”

“Come on baby girl, cum for us, cum all over our hands.”

Your nails leave indentations from where you hold them, legs shaking, toes curling as broken gasps escape you. Your body gives out from under you, but Todd's arm that’s hooked around your waist and Bob's hand on your back keeps you upright. You whine when they keep playing with you, it’s too much. “Todd,” You weakly push his arm back, “M’sensitive.”

Todd chuckles, but nods at Bob and they both back off, “Okay, okay.” And right then, an idea flickers through his eyes. The frat president smirks and turns to Bob, holding his fingers to Bob's red, swollen lips, “Open.” Bob’s breath hitches, his pupils growing big and then he opens wide, his tongue rolling out like a dog begging for water. Todd places his slick coated fingers in his mouth, “Suck em’ clean.”

Bob doesn’t need to be told twice. He moans, using his one free hand to pull Todds closer, shoving his fingers deeper into his mouth as he tastes you. Your heart stutters as you watch them. Oh… oh you can get used to this.

Bob doesn’t take his eyes off Todd when he pulls away with a wet pop. You have half a mind to grab them both by the backs of their necks and smash their faces together, have them put on a show for you for the rest of the night. But that’ll have to wait for another night because before you know it, they’re crowding you again, hovering over you with hungry eyes. And what Todd says next makes you shiver with anticipation.

“This isn’t the end of the night pretty girl, me and Robby still haven’t cum yet and I meant it when I said you were getting dicked down tonight.”

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! Love ya!

Please do not copy or repost. Love and thank you all!

Bob tells himself it hasn’t really been that long.

A few weeks isn’t anything, not really. Not when they’ve still been talking—texts throughout the day, the occasional call when their schedules line up just right, Todd’s voice warm and familiar through the speaker like nothing’s changed.

And nothing has changed.

Not in any way that matters.

Still—it’s not the same.

It’s little things. The absence of it. No casual touches. No bumping shoulders. No Todd grabbing him by the back of his shirt just to pull him closer for no reason at all. No weight of him leaning in, no quiet, unconscious closeness.

Bob hadn’t realized how used to that he’d gotten until it was gone.

Now, it’s just… space.

He walks onto the sidewalk in front of the frat house and stops dead in his tracks, the sudden pause settling heavier than it should. The building looks exactly the same as always—lights on, faint movement behind the windows, the low hum of life inside.

Nothing’s changed.

And yet.

His hands stay in his pockets.

He doesn’t move.

For a moment, he just stands there, staring at the house like it might give him something—some kind of signal, some confirmation that walking inside will feel normal, easy, like it always does.

It doesn’t.

Bob exhales slowly, eyes dropping to the pavement. His fingers flex once against his body, then still.

He hasn’t been here in weeks.

It shouldn’t feel unfamiliar.

But it does.

There’s a flicker of something he doesn’t quite name—hesitation, maybe. Not doubt, not really. Just… that strange, quiet uncertainty that comes from stepping back into something after being away from it long enough to notice the gap.

He almost reaches for his phone.

Just to check, maybe send a message, a “hey, I’m here,” something small and grounding.

His thumb hovers.

Then stops.

No.

That’s not how this works.

Not with Todd.

Bob lets his hand fall back, jaw tightening just slightly as he pushes the thought away. He’s already here. Already came this far.

He’s not turning around now.

Another breath.

Then he finally moves—stepping toward the door, the sound of rocks moving under his shoes as he steps through the evening air.

The house looms the same as always.

Familiar.

Lived-in.

And just different enough that he feels it in his chest as he heads toward the door.

The door opens into noise.

It hits him all at once—the shift from quiet to lived-in chaos. Music somewhere deeper in the house, not too loud but constant. Voices layered over each other. Laughter breaks through in bursts. The sound of someone calling across the room, something clattering in the kitchen.

It’s familiar.

It’s always been like this.

Still, after the silence of his walk over, it feels sharper. Louder.

Bob steps inside, letting the door fall shut behind him, and for a second, he just stands there, adjusting to it. Letting it settle over him instead of trying to fight it.

A couple of people glance his way.

One of them lifts a hand in recognition—easy, casual. “Hey, man.”

Bob nods back automatically.

Another guy across the room does the same, chin tipping up in acknowledgment before going back to whatever conversation he was in.

But not everyone looks.

And not everyone knows him.

There are new faces—people he doesn’t recognize at all. Someone brushes past him without a second glance. Another looks at him briefly, like they’re trying to place him, then gives up.

It’s subtle.

Normal.

But it’s enough.

Bob shifts his weight slightly, hands hovering at his sides before he tucks one into his pocket, grounding himself in something small and familiar.

His eyes move through the room on instinct—searching.

Todd.

It’s automatic, the way he looks for him. The way his attention filters past everything else without effort, scanning over bodies, faces, and movement.

He’s not there.

Bob pauses.

Looks again, slower this time. More deliberate.

Nothing.

The realization settles quietly, but it lands.

Of course he’s not.

Todd’s busy. He said he’d had a long day. There are a dozen reasons he wouldn’t be standing in the middle of the room right now.

Still.

Bob exhales through his nose, gaze lingering a second longer before he forces it away, trying not to make it into something it isn’t.

Around him, the house keeps moving. Conversations continue. Someone laughs again, louder this time. A door opens somewhere down the hall, then shuts.

Everything is exactly as it should be.

And yet, standing there without Todd immediately in sight, Bob feels it. That quiet, strange disconnect.

Like he’s stepped back into something that didn’t pause for him while he was gone.

He barely has time to settle into that feeling before it shifts again.

A movement to his left—quick, purposeful.

Someone steps into his space.

Not close enough to be a problem, but close enough to make it one if it went any further.

Bob turns his head, attention snapping to him automatically.

New.

That’s the first thing he notices.

He doesn’t recognize this guy at all.

Younger, maybe. Or just newer. There’s a kind of stiffness to him, something a little too alert, like he’s still figuring out where he fits here—and compensating for it.

His eyes flick over Bob, quick and assessing.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

It’s not outright hostile.

But it’s not welcoming either.

There’s an edge to it—territorial, guarded. Like Bob is something that needs to be accounted for before he’s allowed to exist in the space.

It catches Bob off guard.

Not enough to show it—but enough that something in him stills.

For a second, he just looks at him.

Then he straightens, subtle but unmistakable. Shoulders back, posture settling into something more deliberate. Calm, controlled.

He’s not used to this.

No one here has ever…

“Yeah,” Bob says evenly, voice quiet but steady. “I’m looking for Todd.”

The guy doesn’t move.

If anything, he leans in just slightly, like he’s not convinced that’s a good enough answer.

“And you are…?”

That’s the moment it tips.

Not into anger—but into irritation.

A flicker of it, sharp and unexpected.

Bob’s brows pull together just slightly, eyes narrowing—not aggressive, just… unimpressed. There’s a quiet who the hell are you sitting right behind his gaze, even if he doesn’t say it out loud.

Because this—this is new.

No one here has ever questioned him like this before.

For a split second, something else slips in underneath it.

Small. Quiet. Easy to miss.

Does Todd not talk about me anymore?

It’s not a full thought—more like a reflex, something instinctive and unwelcome.

Bob’s jaw tightens just a fraction, pushing it down before it can settle into anything real.

It doesn’t matter.

It’s just some new guy.

Still, the irritation lingers, low and steady, as he holds his ground—waiting to see how far this is going to go.

The moment stretches just a second too long—and then it snaps.

“Hey.”

It’s not loud.

It doesn’t need to be.

The voice cuts clean through the tension, calm and certain, and the shift is immediate.

The new guy stills.

Bob glances past him just as Todd’s right-hand man steps in, sliding into the space like he’s been there the whole time—like he owns it.

His gaze flicks once between them, a quick assessment, already understanding exactly what’s happening.

Then it settles on the new guy.

“You good?” he asks.

Same tone—easy, almost casual.

But there’s something under it. Something firm. Final.

The new guy hesitates.

Just for a second.

“…Yeah. Just—didn’t recognize him.”

“Yeah,” the right-hand man says, a small nod, like that explains everything. “That’s on you.”

It lands sharper than it sounds.

A beat.

Then, quieter—closer.

“Back off. Unless you don’t know what’s good for you.”

No raised voice. No scene.

Just enough.

The message sticks.

The new guy exhales through his nose, jaw tight, clearly irritated—but he steps back anyway. Doesn’t argue. Doesn’t push it further. Just throws Bob one last look before turning and disappearing back into the flow of the house.

And just like that, the tension’s gone.

Or at least, redirected.

The right-hand man shifts his attention back to Bob, and it’s like flipping a switch.

The edge disappears.

What’s left is familiar. Easy.

“Sorry about that,” he says, like it’s nothing. Like this kind of thing gets handled before it ever becomes a problem.

Bob shakes his head slightly. “It’s fine.”

And it is. Mostly.

The guy nods once, then gestures loosely down the hall.

“Todd’s in his room.”

There’s a slight pause—just enough to add something to it.

“Had kind of a rough day,” he adds. “We’re making him take a minute. Relax.”

It’s casual, the way he says it.

But it lands.

Todd’s not out here.

Not because he’s busy.

Because he’s off.

Bob nods slowly, taking that in.

“Okay, yeah,” he says, quieter now. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” the guy replies easily, already stepping back, letting him pass. “Go ahead.”

And that’s it.

No hesitation. No question.

Just… permission that doesn’t need to be asked for.

Bob moves past him, heading toward the hallway, and as he does, that earlier flicker—the small, unwelcome thought—loosens its grip.

Softens.

Because this?

This feels the way it’s supposed to.

He’s not out of place here.

He never was.

The shift happens gradually.

With every step Bob takes down the hallway, the noise of the house dulls behind him—voices fading into a low murmur, music softening until it’s more vibration than sound. The chaos stays out there, contained, like it belongs to a different space entirely.

Back here, it’s quieter.

Closer.

The air feels different, somehow. Less crowded. More… personal.

Bob’s footsteps slow without him meaning to.

The hallway is the same as always—same doors, same worn spots in the floor—but now that he’s in it, the distance between him and Todd feels suddenly very real. Measurable. Each step brings him closer to something he hasn’t had in weeks.

His chest tightens, just slightly.

Not anxiety. Not exactly.

Just… awareness.

He reaches Todd’s door and stops.

For a second, he just stands there.

Looking at it.

Like it might open on its own if he waits long enough.

His hand lifts—then pauses, hovering just inches from the wood.

This is the first time he’s seeing him again.

Not through a screen. Not through a voice.

Actually seeing him.

The thought settles heavier than it should.

There’s a flicker of something under it—small, quiet, but enough to make him hesitate.

What if it feels different?

It’s not a full doubt. Not something he believes.

Just a question.

One he doesn’t give time to grow.

Bob exhales softly through his nose, fingers curling slightly as he closes the distance.

Then, he knocks.

Not loud.

Just enough to be heard.

The sound comes almost immediately.

Movement—quick, a little messy.

Something shifts inside the room, like it’s being pushed aside or set down without much care. A dull thud follows, then the scrape of something against the floor.

Bob stays still, hand lowering back to his side as he listens.

There’s a beat of silence. Followed by a voice.

“Yeah, hold on—”

Todd’s voice.

Rougher than usual. Edged with irritation, like it’s been sitting there all day and hasn’t worn off yet.

More movement. Closer this time.

A quieter mutter under his breath—something Bob can’t quite make out, but the tone is clear enough. Frustrated. Tired. Not meant for anyone in particular, just… there.

Bob’s chest tightens slightly at the sound of it.

It’s familiar.

And not.

He hasn’t heard Todd like this in a while.

Another step. The creak of the floor just on the other side of the door.

Todd still doesn’t know it’s him.

He’s expecting someone else.

Bob shifts his weight just slightly, something in him going still again—not tense, not nervous, just… waiting.

The handle turns.

The door swings open fast.

Todd doesn’t ease into it—he yanks it open like he’s already halfway through whatever he’s about to say, irritation sitting sharp in the set of his mouth, in the way his brows are drawn together.

He’s expecting someone else.

Bob sees it before anything else.

The edge of it.

Then everything underneath.

The beard—thicker than the last time he saw him, not fully grown out, but enough to change the shape of his face. Rougher. A little uneven in places.

His eyes—tired. Not just physically, but worn in that quiet way that settles in after a long day that didn’t go right.

The tension in his shoulders, in the way he’s holding himself like he hasn’t fully come down from whatever’s been weighing on him.

It all lands at once.

Bob doesn’t move.

For a fraction of a second, Todd doesn’t either.

He’s already mid-breath, irritation still there—until it isn’t.

Recognition hits.

And it’s instant.

Everything shifts.

The tension drops out of his posture like it was never there. His expression breaks open, sharp edges softening all at once into something warmer—brighter.

“Oh my god—hey!”

It’s not controlled.

It’s not measured.

It’s immediate, real, like he didn’t realize how much he needed this until it was standing right in front of him.

And just like that, the whole day he’s been carrying disappears from his face.

Before Bob can even respond, Todd reaches for him.

It’s quick, instinctive—fingers catching in the front of his shirt, already pulling him forward like the distance between them is something that needs to be fixed immediately.

“C’mere—”

Bob barely has time to react before he’s being tugged over the threshold, momentum carrying him inside. The door swings shut behind them with a solid click, sealing the quiet of the room around them, cutting off the last of the noise from the hallway.

Bob stumbles half a step, thrown just slightly off balance by the sudden movement.

He catches himself easily enough—but he doesn’t pull away.

Doesn’t step back.

For a second, he just stands there, close—closer than he’s been in weeks—caught somewhere between surprise and something heavier that settles in his chest all at once.

Todd’s still holding onto him.

Not tight. Not restraining.

Just… there.

Like he hasn’t quite let go yet.

Like he doesn’t want to.

“You okay?”

The question comes softer this time.

Different from the irritation that had been in his voice seconds ago—gone completely now, replaced with something warmer. Careful. There’s a small smile tugging at his mouth, but underneath it, there’s something else too.

Relief.

It lingers in the way he looks at Bob, like having him here—right in front of him—has already taken the edge off everything else.

And Bob—

Bob just looks at him.

Bob opens his mouth—

Nothing.

He blinks once, like that might fix it, like the words are just… stuck somewhere on the way out.

“Uh—”

It comes out wrong. Barely a sound, more breath than anything.

He huffs a quiet, almost disbelieving breath through his nose, tries again—mouth opening, closing—then just… gives up.

For a second, there’s nothing.

No words.

Just him standing there, still caught in Todd’s grip, looking at him like he’s trying to take everything in at once and can’t quite keep up.

Because it hits.

Not gradually. Not gently.

All at once.

The fact that he’s here. That Todd is right in front of him. That this isn’t a voice through a phone or a name lighting up his screen—it’s real, it’s solid, it’s him.

Closer than he’s been in weeks.

Bob’s expression softens without him meaning it to. Something quiet, almost dazed, settling into his features as he looks at him—really looks.

At the beard.

At the way it changes him just enough to feel new, unfamiliar in a way that pulls Bob’s attention in instead of pushing it away.

His hand lifts.

Slowly.

Like, he’s not entirely sure when he decided to do it.

It hovers for just a second—half a breath of hesitation, something small and instinctive.

Then he closes the distance.

His fingers brush against Todd’s beard, light at first. Testing.

Then linger.

And just like that, everything else fades out a little around them.

Todd stills under his touch.

Not rigid—just… quiet. Like something in him settles the second Bob’s hand reaches him, like the rest of the room fades out enough that all of his attention narrows to that one point of contact.

To him.

His eyes flick down briefly, following the movement—Bob’s fingers brushing through his beard, light at first, almost tentative.

Then lingering.

When he looks back up, there’s already a hint of a smile there. Softer than usual. Edges rounded off into something more fond than teasing.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice low, easy. “Couldn’t be bothered to shave.”

It’s casual.

But he doesn’t move.

Doesn’t pull away.

If anything, he lets it happen—lets Bob take his time with it.

Bob doesn’t laugh.

Doesn’t really react at all.

His focus stays exactly where it is, like he’s still catching up to the reality of him being here, close enough to touch again. His thumb shifts slightly, brushing along Todd’s jaw, feeling the shape of it, the texture—something quiet and grounding in the repetition of it.

He steps closer without thinking.

Just enough to close the last bit of distance between them.

Still, his hand doesn’t drop.

There’s something softer in his expression now. Not dazed anymore, but… settled. Like the moment has caught up to him, and he’s letting himself be in it.

When he speaks, it’s quieter than before.

Careful.

“Can I ask you to keep it?”

The question hangs there between them.

Simple.

But not really.

Todd’s smile deepens just slightly.

Not teasing.

Not yet.

Something in his expression shifts—subtle, but there. His gaze lingers on Bob a second longer, like he’s really taking him in now, like the weight of the question lands somewhere deeper than it should.

He doesn’t answer right away.

Just stays there—

close, warm, present—

letting the moment sit exactly as it is.

Todd doesn’t answer right away.

For a second, he just looks at him.

Really looks at the way Bob’s still standing close, still touching him like he doesn’t want to stop. Like he missed this.

Something settles behind his eyes.

Then shifts.

Todd takes a small step forward.

It’s not sudden.

Not forceful.

But it’s enough.

The space between them disappears completely now—no gap left, no question of distance. Bob’s hand is still at his jaw, but now their chests brush, close enough that the contact feels intentional.

Todd’s gaze drops briefly to his mouth—then back up.

“Oh…” he murmurs, voice lower now. Slower. “So you like it?”

There’s a tease to it.

But it’s quieter than usual.

Measured.

Like he’s not just playing—he’s checking.

Bob feels it.

The shift.

The question underneath the words.

He doesn’t pull away.

Doesn’t hesitate.

His fingers move slightly against Todd’s jaw, grounding himself there, and then he nods—slow, certain.

A small smirk pulls at his mouth.

Todd doesn’t answer.

Not with words.

Instead, something in his expression settles—decision, quiet but clear—and he moves.

Slowly.

Close enough already that it doesn’t take much. Just a slight shift forward, a tilt of his head, his gaze flicking once more to Bob’s mouth before dropping—lower.

He doesn’t rush it.

Gives him time.

Plenty of it.

Enough that if Bob wanted to step back, to break the moment, he could.

He doesn’t.

Doesn’t move at all.

So Todd closes the last inch of space and leans in, his mouth brushing just beneath Bob’s jaw before settling at his neck.

The contact is soft.

Warm.

Deliberate.

And it lands like it’s been building there the whole time.

Bob goes completely still.

Not pulling away—not leaning in—just… frozen.

His breath catches sharp in his chest, like his body reacts before his brain can catch up, like the feeling of it hits somewhere deeper than expected.

A quiet inhale, barely controlled.

His hands come up automatically, finding Todd’s chest without thinking—fingers pressing lightly into the fabric of his shirt, grounding himself in something solid.

He doesn’t stop him.

Doesn’t interrupt it.

Just stands there, breath uneven, heart kicking a little harder than it should and lets it happen.

Todd doesn’t linger there long.

Just enough for it to land.

Then he pulls back—slowly, like he doesn’t want to break it too abruptly, like he’s giving the moment room to breathe instead of snapping it in half.

The absence of contact is immediate.

Noticeable.

His gaze lifts back to Bob’s face, searching—not rushed, not uncertain, just… checking.

Taking him in.

Bob’s still close. Still holding onto him. Hands pressed lightly against his chest like he hadn’t quite remembered to let go yet, like he’s still catching up to what just happened.

His breathing isn’t steady.

Todd notices.

Of course he does.

There’s a flicker of something softer in his expression again—something that cuts through the tension instead of adding to it.

“You okay?”

Same question as before.

But not the same at all.

This one is quieter.

Lower.

Carrying something under it now—awareness, maybe. Of what he just did. Of how Bob reacted. Of how easy it would be to keep going… or to stop.

He doesn’t move away.

Doesn’t close the space again either.

Just stays right there.

Close enough to feel.

And waits for Bob to answer.

Bob doesn’t answer right away.

His fingers flex once against Todd’s chest, barely there, like he’s grounding himself through the fabric. His mouth opens, then closes again. For a second, he just looks at him—still a little stunned, still breathing like that kiss knocked something loose in him he hasn’t fully recovered from yet.

There’s hesitation there.

Not because he doesn’t want to say it.

Because he does.

And that somehow feels worse.

His eyes flick down for half a second, then back up, and when he finally speaks, his voice comes out quieter than usual. Rough around the edges. Almost careful.

“I’m having the nastiest thoughts right now.”

It doesn’t sound slick.

Doesn’t sound practiced.

It lands exactly like what it is—a confession. Honest and a little helpless, like the truth slipped out before he could polish it into something safer.

For one brief second, Todd just stares at him.

There’s a flash of surprise across his face—small, sharp, impossible to miss.

Oh.

Then it’s gone.

Not because he hides it.

Because it turns into something else just as fast.

Decision.

Clear and immediate, settling into the set of his mouth, the look in his eyes, the way his whole attention narrows in on Bob like there’s nothing else in the room worth noticing anymore.

Todd doesn’t hesitate.

The moment the words settle, he closes the distance again—hand coming up to the side of Bob’s neck, steady and sure as he pulls him in.

The kiss isn’t rushed.

Not at first.

It starts slow—intentional, like he’s meeting him there instead of overwhelming him, like he’s letting Bob feel it instead of taking it.

And Bob—

Bob is already gone.

He leans into it immediately, like there was never a question, like the second Todd touches him again, everything else falls away without effort.

The breath he was holding slips out against Todd’s mouth, soft and unsteady, and then he’s kissing him back—fully, without hesitation, like the pause from before never existed.

His hands move on instinct.

One slides back into Todd’s beard, fingers threading through it, gripping just enough to keep him close—like he doesn’t want to lose the feeling of it, like he’s been thinking about it longer than he realized.

The other pushes up into his hair, curling there, holding him in place.

Todd deepens the kiss easily, like he was waiting for that—like the second Bob meets him halfway, he gives more without thinking.

Closer.

Warmer.

There’s nothing tentative left in it now.

No space.

No distance.

Just heat, and breath, and the quiet, overwhelming sense of finally having him right there again—real, solid, within reach.

And just like that, those weeks apart disappear.

The kiss doesn’t break; it shifts.

Moves.

Todd takes a step back without really thinking about it, and Bob follows just as easily, still holding onto him, still pulled in close. Their mouths stay connected through it, uneven and a little breathless now, like neither of them is quite keeping up with the pace they’ve set.

They bump lightly into something—Todd’s hip catches the edge of the bed.

There’s a soft, half-laugh that slips out against Bob’s mouth, barely there, more breath than sound.

Neither of them pulls away.

Todd adjusts his footing, one hand sliding down from Bob’s neck to his side, guiding without forcing—just enough pressure to shift them back another step.

Bob goes with him.

Easily.

Like he’s not even thinking about it.

Like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

The mattress dips behind him, and it happens naturally after that—momentum more than intention—as Todd leans forward and Bob gives, letting himself fall back onto the bed without breaking the kiss.

It doesn’t feel like being pushed.

Doesn’t feel like being put anywhere.

Just… falling into place.

Bob’s smiling when he lands—soft, a little breathless, the sound of it catching between kisses as his hands tighten briefly in Todd’s hair and beard, keeping him close.

And Todd follows him down just as easily—

like they both ended up exactly where they were already heading.

The kiss breaks—but only barely.

Just enough for breath.

Todd shifts like he might pull back, just for a second, just to look at him, and Bob doesn’t let him.

His hand tightens in Todd’s shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as he tugs him right back down, closing whatever space tried to form between them.

“I’ve missed you.”

It comes out soft.

Pressed right against his lips.

Not rushed. Not thrown out.

Felt.

Todd stills for half a second at that—just long enough for it to land—before Bob kisses him again.

This one is different.

Slower.

More deliberate.

Less about the rush of it and more about holding onto it.

His grip shifts—one hand still in Todd’s hair, the other steady at his shirt now, keeping him close in a way that feels grounding instead of urgent.

Like he’s making up for something.

Like he’s been waiting to say that without saying it.

And now he finally has him close enough to mean it.

Todd doesn’t answer right away.

Not with another kiss. Not with movement.

He pulls back just enough to look at him—really look this time.

Bob’s still holding onto him, still close, still a little breathless, and there’s something in his expression that hadn’t been there before. Not just want.

Something softer.

Something that settles in Todd’s chest before he can stop it.

It lingers there for a second—quiet, steady—underneath everything else.

Then it shifts.

Not disappearing.

Just… threading itself into something warmer. Something a little sharper around the edges.

Todd’s mouth curves slightly, not quite a smirk. Not as teasing as it usually is.

Quieter.

More them.

“Show me how much.”

The words are low, almost murmured, like they belong right here between them instead of anywhere else.

Not a challenge.

Not entirely.

There’s something else under it—something that matches the way Bob said it, the way he pulled him back down, the way he didn’t let the moment slip.

An answer, in its own way.

And an invitation.

Bob huffs a quiet breath at that—something caught between a laugh and something softer—and it shows on him immediately.

The flush creeps up his neck, across his cheeks.

He feels it.

Doesn’t hide it.

But he doesn’t pull back either.

If anything, it settles something in him.

That last bit of hesitation.

Gone.

His grip shifts—firmer now—and before the moment can slip back into something softer again, he moves.

It’s not rough.

Not abrupt.

Just… decisive.

Bob shifts his weight and rolls them, guiding Todd onto his back with a smoothness that feels more instinct than plan. The mattress dips under the change, their positions flipping without breaking the closeness between them.

For a second, he hovers there.

Above him.

Close enough that their breaths still mix, that their mouths are only a fraction apart.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

It’s quiet.

There’s a hint of a smile in it, something a little more confident than before—but still him. Still softened at the edges, still threaded with that same honesty that makes everything he says land a little deeper than it should.

His hand moves without hesitation now, sliding under the hem of Todd’s shirt, palm flattening warm against his skin.

Not rushed.

Not unsure.

Just certain.

Like he finally knows exactly what he wants—

and isn’t second-guessing it anymore.

Todd exhales softly beneath him—something low and warm that seems to settle deeper the longer Bob stays there.

His hands come up without thinking, finding Bob’s sides, then his back, pulling him down just enough to close whatever space is left between them.

Bob goes easily.

Like he’s been waiting for that too.

Their mouths meet again—less urgent now, but no less intense. Slower, deeper, like they’re not trying to get anywhere anymore. Just stay here.

Hands move.

Not rushed.

Not fumbling.

Familiar.

Bob’s fingers press more firmly against Todd’s skin, mapping the shape of him through touch instead of sight, like he’s reminding himself this is real—this is him, right here, within reach again.

Todd’s grip tightens in response, one hand sliding up his back, the other steady at his side, holding him close like he doesn’t plan on letting go anytime soon.

Their breathing falls out of sync, then finds its own rhythm again—quiet, uneven, shared.

Everything else fades.

The noise from the house, the distance of the past few weeks, the weight of the day Todd had been carrying—it all dissolves into something softer, something steadier.

Just this.

Closeness.

Warmth.

The quiet, undeniable pull of finding each other again after being apart just long enough to feel it.

And finally—