Sourced from http://boyfriends-fic.livejournal.com/
Author: smithereen
Prompt:Â i know i am a broken record with this prompt and it is horribly cliche but: after joe and whats her face break up he goes off the rails and cavorts with many men in clubs and the bathrooms of clubs and nicholas is not amused. nicholas takes what is and has always been his. and joe couldn't be happier.
 "I think I might be a little bit gay," Joe says out of the blue one Wednesday while they're slouched on the futon in his new apartment watching a DVD of District 9.Â
Nick rolls his eyes at the screen. "You're not gay."Â
Joe shrugs, his body shifting next to Nick on the couch. He props his head on Nick's shoulder. He fiddles with the drawstrings on Nick's hoodie, tying knots in them.Â
"Dude, I've seen you with your girlfriends," Nick says finally when Joe doesn't laugh or anything. He's seen Joe head over heels for girls. He's heard the play by play on more than a few mornings after. He knows exactly how much Joe liked it the first time Camilla went down on him, and the noises Ashley makes when you get inside her, and the fact that Demi gives what are reportedly the best hand jobs in the entire world. He knows actually way more than he needs to, way more than he should; but that just makes him totally certain when he says, "You like girls."Â
Joe tilts his head up to meet Nick's eyes. "I said a little bit gay." His mouth quirks up into a crooked half smile. He drops his eyes pretty quickly. He picks at the knot he made.Â
Nick stares at him. "Is this why you broke up with Ashley?" He cuts Joe off before he can answer. "No, you know what? This is dumb. We're not talking about this." He pauses to watch some stuff blow up on screen. Joe's still snuggled into his side. He turns the cuff of Nick's sweatshirt up and then flips it back down, and then turns it back up again, his fingers brushing against Nick's wrist. "You're being ridiculous."
Joe shrugs again. He has Nick's hand cradled in his palm, and he's curling all of Nick's fingers down into a fist and then uncurling them one by one. "I mean-" Nick says. He stops and then starts over when his voice doesn't come out quite right, tries again for casual. "Have you ever even done anything with a guy?"Â
"Not- Really. That much," Joe says vaguely. He laces his fingers through Nick's, holding onto his hand. The tense little knot in Nick's stomach loosens up. He doesn't know why he feels so relieved.Â
"Then why do you even think you are?" He turns away from the TV to really look, shrugs his shoulder until Joe lifts his head, really looks back at him. Joe looks at him for a long time. Joe's thumb is pressing into the center of Nick's palm, stroking light and ticklish. He just keeps staring, looking so hard Nick feels kind of hot. Sort of fidgety, like he needs to blink, needs to look somewhere else. He can feel Joe's eyes drag slowly down to his mouth, feel it heavy on his skin like being touched. His tongue flicks out against his lower lip.Â
Even under Joe's tan, Nick can see a dull flush on his cheeks. He sits up suddenly, leans forward to snag his weird health drink off the table. "I have reasons," he mutters, not meeting Nick's eyes.
*Â
Nick's in New York the first time Joe really does some stuff with a guy. He knows this because Joe leaves a message on his voicemail. He sounds drunk. He talks about this guy he met at a party in LA. He talks about how he gave the guy a blowjob in some random bathroom. Nick doesn't want to hear it. He's sitting there in his hotel room thinking, I shouldn't be listening to this. Feeling kind of sick to his stomach in this way he can't even explain. His thumb hovers over the delete button, but he listens to the message all the way through. He hangs up instead of deleting it, letting it roll over to the saved folder.Â
He doesn't hear from Joe for a couple days. It's not like it's a big deal. He knows Joe's working a lot in the studio, and Nick is totally swamped with these events he's doing. Tons of press and meetings, and they don't have to keep tabs on each other 24/7. It's just- Maybe he's a little worried. Joe had sounded so- He hadn't sounded that great, and Nick knows if he were a good brother he would be there for him while Joe's having his Big Gay Crisis or whatever this is.Â
He thinks about calling, holds his phone in his hand when he's in the car between meetings, when he's back at the hotel room after. He sits there with Sports Center on in the background and looks at his phone.
He figures the time difference, and he knows Joe would be awake right now. Probably he'd be home or in the studio. Maybe he's at some party though. One of those clubs he's been hanging out in lately. Maybe he's with some guy. Nick doesn't call.
A lot of times Nick ends up listening to that saved message again. He doesn't even know why. He doesn't want to picture Joe on his knees for some stranger. It pisses him off so bad, but he can't- He can't stop thinking about it. He gets a hand on his dick in the shower and it's already right there, the noises Joe would make while he takes it. The way he'd look with a dick in his mouth.Â
It's really messed up. He thinks he should definitely delete it.
When Joe finally does call, it's late. Nick gave up on sleep an hour ago, just fiddling around with his guitar now. When he sees it's Joe he almost hits Ignore. It's just- It's really, really late and there are a somewhat limited number of things Joe could be doing up this late. It seems pretty unlikely that this is going to be something Nick wants to hear. Nick frowns at his phone, but he answers the call before it rolls to voicemail. Whatever, it's Joe. As long as he's not calling in the middle of actually taking it up the ass, Nick can handle it. Nick will be there for him. Nick will yell at him to go home, and stop putting their entire career, their entire everything at risk so he can have his stupid Gay Crisis. But in a supportive brotherly way.Â
"Heeeey, Nicky J," Joe slurs into phone. He's definitely drunk, but there are no party noises or anything. Just the sound of his breathing.Â
"Hey," Nick says. "What's up?" he adds a little tentatively.
"I'm just here," Joe says. "Just here in the place. In my place." He sounds so out of it, totally trashed. "Just thinking how I haven't- You know, I don't see you so much. As much as sometimes. So I wanted to call because I wish I could see you a lot."
"I, um-" Nick says, smiling helplessly at the alarm clock beside his bed. "I miss you too."
"I bet I miss you more," Joe mumbles. "Miss you the most." There's a rustling sound like Joe is moving around. "You should take me next time. I could help you, um- I could carry your bags, and make your bed in the morning. I could make you breakfast." There's a sound like a yawn. "I'm really good at breakfast now."
Nick laughs a little. "Yeah, you put the IHOP to shame. Maybe next time."
"I sang a lot today," Joe says.
"Anything good?"
"Yeah," Joe says vaguely. "It was good." There's a heavy silence while Nick tries desperately not to blurt out something about, What are you doing to yourself and why are you like this and who was that guy and has there been anyone else? and a bunch of other stuff that he thinks would probably be a bad idea to say out loud. "You're busy," Joe finally says. "Are you too busy, Nick?"
"It's okay," Nick says quickly. "I'm not busy."
There's another silence. He can hear Joe breathing. "Hey, Nick. I'm drunk," Joe says after a while, his voice thick. "I went, um- I drank a lot. Don't be mad."Â
"Why would I be mad?" Nick says. He sounds a little mad. He frowns down at his knees, pinches himself hard on the thigh.
"You're mad," Joe sighs loudly.Â
"Whatever," Nick says irritably. "I mean, do whatever you want. I don't care." He tries to stop there. "But someone's going to get a picture or something if you keep-" He catches himself. That's not really what he meant exactly, but it's easier to say you're going to screw up our career than to say any of the other stuff. "You have to be careful."Â
"Okay," Joe says quietly. He sounds really tired. He doesn't say anything else, doesn't defend himself or argue.Â
"Look," Nick says reluctantly. If he were a good brother he would have asked this sooner. "Do you need to- Like, talk about it or something?"Â
If he were a good brother he wouldn't be so relieved when Joe mumbles, "No, I- Sorry. I have to go. I'm sorry."
"Joe, don't-" Nick starts.Â
"Love you," Joe says, his voice a tight, a little shaky. "I love you, Nick. Don't be mad at me, okay?" He hangs up abruptly. Nick stares at his phone for a moment before putting it carefully back on the charger.Â
He gets other messages. Mostly Joe is drunk in all of them. Sometimes Joe goes on for five minutes about how much he loves Nick, how much he loves him more than anyone. The rest of the time he's giving a bunch of incoherent details about some dude he made out with (my lips feel so weird) or some guy he got off with at his place (don't worry, Nick, I'm being careful).Â
Nick calls him back sometimes the next day, and his voice might sound a little rough around the edges but he acts totally normal. Talks about what weird dog he saw when he was out walking Winston or what dumb questions the paparazzi were yelling today or what he's making for dinner, how things are going in the studio. Like Day Joe is this totally separate thing from the Joe that calls him at night, that leaves these messages Nick's letting fill up his entire voicemail even though he hates them. Hates how out of it Joe sounds in them, hates the way every stupid detail of what Joe says settles in behind his eyelids, just waiting for him to close his eyes.Â
*
Nick cuts his trip a couple days short, making excuses about needing to get some things laid down in the studio. He gets in late, heads straight over to Joe's from the airport. He lets himself in with the key Joe gave him.Â
Joe stumbles in even later, literally stumbles over a pair of sneakers he left by the door because of course he's trashed. He toes his shoes off and leaves them in the door with the others. His shirt is buttoned up wrong, and his lips are really red, swollen like he's been using them. He walks with his fingers trailing along the wall a little for balance. When he sees Nick he hesitates for a moment, his hand self-consciously cupped around the side of his neck. But then he's wrapping Nick up in a tight hug, his face buried in the crook of Nick's neck. He smells like cigarettes and alcohol and unfamiliar cologne. And Nick is so mad all of a sudden. He feels hot with it, hot all over.Â
He twists his fist in Joe's shirt collar, yanks it sideways so he can see the bruise on Joe's neck. He touches it with his fingers, presses down on it until Joe makes a little noise. Nick yanks at his shirt again, rough. Strips it off over Joe's head and runs his hand up Joe's chest, looking for marks. Anything that could have been left by someone else's teeth or fingers. Joe stands still for it, swaying a little, his eyes heavy-lidded. Nick digs at the fresh bruise on Joe's hip, touches the faded mark on his chest just to the right of his nipple. Nick cups Joe's jaw in his hand, and leans in to press their mouths together. He slips his tongue past Joe's lips, tasting. Tasting a sour mix of alcohol and a little coffee and something musky behind it. Something gross.Â
Nick bites Joe's lip hard. Joe flinches, a little moan slipping from his throat. Nick pushes him, and he stumbles back. He lands sprawled on the futon, uncoordinated, breathing hard. There's a flush creeping down his bare chest. Nick pushes him back against the futon, pins him there with his hand, standing over him. Nick leans in close and says, "Were you going to call me? Were you going to leave me another f-" He stumbles on it, but he's too angry for any other word. "Fucking voicemail."
"Nick," Joe says, his voice is thick. He stares up at Nick. His hand is on Nick's waist.
"Tell me what you would have said," Nick orders. "Tell me to my face."Â
Joe blushes, his gaze slipping to the side. "I-" he says. "I met this guy at a club." He trails off, his cheeks flushed. He shakes his head.Â
"Tell me what you did tonight," Nick insists. He grabs Joe's chin, forces him to meet Nick's eyes.Â
"Kissed him," he says quietly.Â
Nick crushes a hard kiss to Joe's lips. His tongue flicks out against Joe's lip where it's swollen from Nick's teeth. He bites him again, slicks his tongue inside. Keeps kissing him hungry and hard until Joe's panting, his hand clutching Nick's hair, his body arching up off the futon. Nick pushes him back down.
"Did he kiss you here?" Nick bites down on the bruise beside Joe's nipple. Joe gasps. "Did he bite you here?" Nick asks, his tongue tracing over the bruise on Joe's hip. He sucks on Joe's skin, sucks the bruise darker with his lips and teeth. Joe whimpers, his hand tightening in Nick's hair. Nick looks up. Joe's looking back at him, his eyes glazed, his mouth wet. "What else?" Nick demands.Â
"I sucked his dick," Joe says, dazed.Â
"Show me." Nick pulls himself back to his feet, looming over Joe. Joe goes obediently down on his knees. His hands shake a little while he clumsily gets Nick's jeans open, gets his dick out. It bobs up toward his belly, hard, flushed, wet at the tip. Joe looks up at Nick, questioning, like he thinks Nick's going to change his mind. Nick cups the back of his head, his hair too short to get a good grip. He doesn't have to push hard. Joe gets the point, slides down on Nick's cock. Nick bites his lip, bites down on a groan. Joe's mouth- God, it feels so- He bobs his head, taking Nick pretty deep. His hands are braced on Nick's hips. His tongue swirls around the head of Nick's dick, and he goes down again, his cheeks hollowing out when he sucks. He's gotten good at this. The thought comes with a hot rush of fresh anger that makes his dick throb on Joe's tongue.Â
Nick pulls Joe's hair, grabs it on the top of his head where it's the longest and Joe moans in the back of his throat. He takes it when Nick pushes into his mouth, pushes in deep and sudden. He makes these whimpering sounds like he's never felt anything better than Nick's dick in his mouth, than Nick's dick nudging up against the back of his throat. He looks up at Nick, his eyes huge and glassy. He's got his own pants open, jerking himself, his dick hard in his hand. Nick shudders, feels himself go tight all over. He pushes Joe off his dick with a hard shove. Nick grabs the base of his dick, holds on until he's sure he's not going to come. Joe sits back on his heels, slouched, panting, his hand on his dick. Not really jacking himself, just touching a little, just waiting, looking up at Nick and waiting.
"Get up," Nick says. Joe pulls himself back to his feet, a little unsteady from whatever he drank. He still has his jeans on, pushed low on his hips, his dick straining out where they gape open. Nick grabs a handful of his waistband and pulls him close. He stumbles, colliding with Nick's chest before he gets his balance. Nick bites his neck hard enough to leave another mark, bites the line of his jaw. Joe opens easily for Nick's mouth, sucks on Nick's tongue when Nick presses inside. He steadies himself with an arm wrapped around Nick's chest. A hand tucked up inside Nick's shirt, pressed against the line of Nick's spine where it's slick with sweat. Nick grinds against him, feels the way Joe gasps into his mouth, the eager push of his hips.
Nick crowds up into him, a gruff noise in his throat, starts him stumbling backward down the hall toward Joe's bedroom. He gets his hands down inside the back of Joe's pants, fills them up with the heavy swell of Joe's ass. Joe makes a muffled sound into Nick's mouth when they knock up against the wall in the hall. Nick pins him there for a moment, hips grinding up against Joe in slow pushes, his hands spread wide and possessive across Joe's ass. Joe's head tips back against the wall, his foot hooking behind Nick's leg to tip him closer. Nick licks at the long line of his throat.Â
He slides a finger down into Joe's crack, rubs it against Joe's hole, feeling at the pucker. Joe whines his name, loud and needy. Nick tilts their foreheads together, stares at Joe from so close he can feel it on his skin every time Joe pants.Â
"Did you let him fuck you?" Nick says. He strokes his finger idly against Joe's asshole, doesn't push in, just touches at it and feels Joe shudder against him. His hands clutch at Nick's back.Â
Joe shakes his head no.
"Did you let anyone?"
"No," Joe says, drawn out like a moan as Nick's finger presses down a little, still not really going in, just hinting at it.
He feels a sharp stab of satisfaction. "Good," Nick says. He meets Joe's eyes. "Are you going to let me?"
Joe nods, his cheeks flushed, his chest heaving. He presses himself back against Nick's finger, his hands. "Yes," he says.
When they make it to the bedroom, Nick tips Joe back onto the bed with a little shove. Joe props himself up on his elbows as Nick strips Joe's pants impatiently down his legs, pulls off his underwear and his socks. He runs his hand up Joe's bare leg, fingers curled against the inside of his thigh. Joe sits up, tries to reach for Nick's shirt, but Nick holds him off with a hand braced on his chest. He shakes his head no.
"Get yourself ready," he says. Joe goes still, his fist in Nick's shirt. Nick thinks for a moment that he's going to say no, but then he lets go. He scoots up the bed, and turns to fumble around in the end table until he finds a bottle of lube.Â
Nick takes his clothes off slowly. He's blushing a little as he strips his shirt off over his head, starts to kind of feel things catch up to him, starts to kind of realize a little bit what he's been doing. Realize how messed up this is. He pulls off his pants too, hesitates over the underwear. He glances over at Joe, his hand self-consciously shielding his dick. Joe's watching him with heavy-lidded eyes. Staring at him while he sinks two slicked up fingers into his ass, his legs spread, sweat shining on his chest. He licks his lip, his dick hard on his belly, his eyes so wide and dark and hungry.Â
Nick strips off his underwear, feels the flush spreading down his chest as he watches Joe watch him pull them off. As he watches Joe's fingers disappear into his slick hole, watches his chest hitch with every breath. Watches his face crumple up prettily when he pushes a third finger into himself. His cheeks are flushed, and Nick can see it spreading down his chest. Nick stands at the foot of the bed. He can hear himself breathing, panting. He circles his hand around his dick, gives himself a couple strokes to try to take the edge off as he watches Joe stretch around his own fingers. As Joe works himself open confidently, practiced.Â
"You’ve done this before," Nick says. It's not a question, but Joe nods. Joe's still looking at him, intent, his pretty mouth falling open on a gasp as he pushes inside himself. "Toss me that lube," Nick says. Joe throws it to him, his other hand still working his fingers inside himself. Nick slicks his cock up, gets himself really wet. He keeps jacking himself a little, can't stop touching himself, but he makes himself go slowly, keep his grip light. "You ever get yourself off like that?"
"Yes," Joe says breathlessly. His dick jumps a little on his belly, spits out a slick little spurt of pre come. He whimpers, bites his lip.
"Who did you think about when you were coming with your fingers up your ass?" Nick asks idly. Joe's staring at Nick's dick, at his hand moving on his dick. Nick feels so hot all over, feels a little groggy, his dick aching hard in his hand.Â
"You," Joe pants. "I tried not to- I wanted you so much, I-"
Nick makes a rough sound that's embarrassingly close to growl and crawls up the bed. Joe eases his fingers out, his legs spread. Nick grabs his knees, bends his legs back against his chest. Joe's hands scramble at his chest as he pushes inside with one hard thrust, keeps pushing until his balls are snugged up against Joe's ass, his dick clutched in Joe's heat. Joe gasps under him, his hands grabbing at Nick's ribs. Nick's hips stutter, and he pants a little. God, it's so tight- He had no idea it would be- It's so good. He dicks in again, a jerky little thrust. Joe looks up at him, his eyes glazed, his voice small and shocked when he says, "Oh my God." Nick's hips roll, dick sliding in deep again. Again. He watches it flicker over Joe's face, a loud whimper in his throat as Nick fucks him. Nick'sfucking him, he realizes with a groan, riding Joe with the full length of his dick.Â
"Don’t let anyone-" Nick says, the words broken up in his mouth. "Anyone else- You can't-"
"No one else." Joe wraps his hand around the back of Nick's neck, pulls him down to Joe's open mouth. Their foreheads slide together, sweaty. He tilts his hips to take Nick deeper, reaches down between them to jack himself, his hand moving to the needy, frantic push of Nick's dick inside. Nick can feel it when he comes, Joe's body squeezing down around him while his cum spurts against Nick's belly in hard pulses. He watches Joe's mouth twists open, the way his eyebrows draw together. Nick barely manages to fuck him through it, his thrusts going jerky. Joe's hands stroke along his ribs, his breath coming hard. Nick gets in deep before he goes off, getting Joe all wet inside with his cum. He makes a helpless sound, pushes through his own come, keeps fucking Joe for a few more strokes just to feel how wet he is.
When Nick pulls out, he sags bonelessly down on top of Joe. Joe takes his weight with a grin. He wraps his arms tight around Nick's waist, presses his bent knees tight to Nick's hips. He touches his lips to Nick's sweaty temple. The two of them lie there for a long moment, panting together, exhausted.
"Hey, Joe," Nick says finally. "I think I might be a little bit gay."Â
