RPS: Crash, 4/4

[soundczechfic]

Don't own characters. Don't know characters. Gale Harold is not a homosexual. I am not afraid of Randy Harrison. Adult content. Blah blah. 

This is shorter than I expected it to be. Possibly too short. Possible epilogue. 

--



For a couple days, they went back to the regular routine. On the fifth day, they came home with groceries and the answering machine light was blinking.

Randy pressed play and started unpacking the groceries. Gale started arranging fruit in the bowl, giving the apples the most prominence because they were so pretty and shiny.

Randy's mother - his grandfather had a new girlfriend. Gale's agent calling about some part Gale had already refused to take. Randy's friend Tom, and Gale felt a little rush of jealousy. He was pretty sure Randy had dated Tom for a while. Just from the way Tom ran his hand along Randy's shoulder in greeting. Just from the way Randy shrugged him off irritably.

The fourth message, and Hal's voice filled the room.

"Hey, Randy? It's Hal. I heard, like, Gale hitchhiked to New Orleans to profess his undying love for you, and now you're making him prove his big gay love or something. Dude, the guy is gay. He's probably gayer than anyone I know. Where's the love, Randy? You're a cruel man. Call me."

Gale cracked up almost immediately, though mostly due to Randy's pissy indignance.

Randy looked so fucking hot when he was angry, and wasn't that the world's biggest cliche? Gale wished he could think that Randy was really ugly when he was angry, but mostly, he thought that Randy was hot all the time.

And Randy was so fucking hot right now, so Gale kissed him.

And holy fucking shit, he'd been waiting for this. Randy's strong hands clutching his shirt in fists that pressed hard against his back. Randy's soft lips, warm tongue. Randy's blonde schoolboy stubble brushing against his chin, and Randy, fucking Randy, moving him back and pressing him against the wall, the fridge, and they couldn't stop moving.

They ended up on the living room floor, making out like very violent teenagers.

--

The first time was hard and fast, and later Gale thought that maybe Randy still felt that Gale had something to prove.

It was okay, though. Fucking fantastic, actually, because Gale was no virgin. That one hot hard one night stand and a lot of very fucking kinky women later, and he knew that Randy expected it to be so much more painful.

It did hurt. That good ache, thrust, stretch, burn that said finally - fucking finally - Randy might be his.

It was that carpet again, friction against his skin, and there was something very urgent about fucking on the living room floor. Gale's face smashed against the carpet, Randy's thrusting body sweating over his back, fingers digging hard into Gale's hips. Randy's lips, though, pressing soothing hot kisses against his shoulders, Randy's voice murmuring half-words and stupid sounds against his ears. Gale arched and purred, and everything that either of them said meant I love you.

Gale was pretty sure he said that, too. Pretty sure he said it, floating in that space between orgasm and aftermath. He knows he said it, in fact, and he knows he heard Randy's response, murmured into the flesh of his back.

That night, Gale didn't have to sleep on the couch.

--

end.