Need
Title: Need
Pairing: Ian/Anthony (Smosh)
Rating: E for Explicit
Notes: Thank you Snel for always supporting my small but all-consuming bursts of creative energy
You can also find this on Ao3
When Anthony leaves, it happens in increments. Ian sees it coming like a runaway train, but he doesn’t dodge it; he lays down on the tracks, twirls his own mustache, and closes his eyes, waiting for collision. When Anthony finally says it out loud, Ian has already been processing for months.
They’ve known each other for so long, and even though they stopped being friends somewhere along the way, he could have lost all his senses and still felt the shift in the universe when Anthony decided not to suffer quietly any longer.
When Anthony musters up the courage to tell him, Ian puts on a surprised face; Anthony sees right through it, as former best friends do.
The rest of the company is informed as well, and their reactions run the gamut. The cast and crew are devastated, while Defy reps are concerned about optics. Anthony pretends to be optimistic about the future, and Ian pretends to be a stone.
The last weeks of working together reach levels of torture previously outlawed by the Geneva Convention. They get through it because they don’t have a choice; Defy has their finances so deep in the shitter, that neither Anthony nor Ian can afford to break their contracts, so production must go on. Everyone suffers, and everyone keeps showing up to work.
On Anthony’s last day, he buys everyone lunch and puts on a happy mask that just won’t stick. When he leaves, he hugs Ian; not for show, but out of some deeply buried habit. Without knowing it, they simultaneously come to the same realization: They haven’t touched off camera in over a year.
Ian
Let it be known that Ian Andrew Hecox knows how to suffer. He has mastered the subtle art of wallowing. He agonizes with the best of them. In the wake of Anthony’s departure, he reaches new lows in terms of sleep quality, nutrition, work-life balance, and personal hygiene.
The loss of Anthony consistently takes up so much space within him that any other problems or worries arising have nowhere to sit. When Defy shuts down less than two years later, brutalizing his life’s work in the process, Ian barely flinches.
Anthony finds his footing. After an awkward fledging stage, he discovers a format that plays to his strengths, and an audience grows around it, aware of his Smosh past but largely unconcerned with it. Ian watches him evolve and blossom out of his periphery while fighting for his own life. The conviction comes unbidden: “He doesn’t need me anymore.” And the thought fills him with dread.
Anthony
The Defy shutdown is a bittersweet affair; Anthony watches it from the outside, craving a bucket of popcorn, unable to fight off the satisfaction that his personal evil has been defeated. Unfortunately, it comes at the expense of Smosh; and though he barely recognizes it as the labor of love he built with Ian, the anguish is real.
For a while, the Defy garbage fire is the talk of the digital town, and Anthony hears rumors about the chaotic party that happened in the aftermath. People sneaking out props that rightfully belong to Smosh (vital); cameras being stolen (arguably necessary); furniture being destroyed (questionable); and computers being peed on (a choice).
When Smosh is left without a parent company, it could be the end of the channel, and he shamefully wonders if Ian will reach out. If it’s truly over, even though Anthony dipped out early, maybe Ian would want to lay it to rest together. Somehow, though, Anthony doesn’t feel convinced that this is the end. He may not believe in Smosh anymore, but he believes in Ian.
He watches with a sort of awe as Ian not only secures a new company, Mythical; but starts to rebuild Smosh to it’s former – maybe even greater – glory. New cast members; a bigger crew; content that sometimes flops but feels like it once again comes from a place of passion rather than greed.
Anthony watches every video that Ian appears in, and the truth settles in him. “He doesn’t need me anymore.” And the thought fills him with relief.
Ian
After Rhett and Link pull Smosh from the grave, Ian never allows himself to fully relax. Between Anthony’s departure and Defy’s incompetence-slash-betrayal, every small inconvenience feels like another punch to the face. He takes the punches, absorbs them; after a while, he almost relies on them. He feels like a shark, needing to keep moving in order to stay alive.
The ghost of Anthony haunts him on and off the clock. In meetings, he glances at empty chairs, imagining his former best friend sitting there, holding back a laugh as Ian makes jerkoff motions when someone mentions the algorithm.
When he gets stuck creatively, which seems to happen more and more, he misses their chaotic brainstorming sessions, fueled by caffein and takeout, talking and laughing into the light morning hours. When a video does well, he wonders if Anthony sees it pop up on YouTube; he wonders if Anthony ever watches the stuff they do.
The continuous “ Where’s Anthony”-jokes hurt him, but he decides that it would hurt more if they stopped. At least the jokes mean that Anthony’s spirit still lives at Smosh; everyone who works there, even people who started after he left and have never worked alongside him, still know and reference him.
Anthony
Anthony only properly starts to heal once he decides that Ian no longer needs him. He walks into therapy with a renewed sense of purpose, sits down in the plush chair and tells his therapist that he wants to talk about Ian. The therapist is stunned, because she's been trying to get him to talk about Ian for the past several years. They've talked about Smosh at length, but he's only mentioned Ian in passing and never separately from Smosh.
Now, he lets it all out. He starts from the beginning, fondly remembering their budding friendship; he talks about building Smosh the Website and turning it into a shared thing between them, knowing the risks of mixing business and friendship. He cries quietly, his therapist never once rushing him, as he processes and mourns the loss of their bond. He smiles ruefully as he allows himself to be sentimental for a moment; blushes as he lets himself be proud of their shared body of work.
When his therapist hints at the possibility of a future for him and Ian, a new business venture or a friendship independent of Smosh, he shrinks slightly in his seat. "I told you; he doesn't need me anymore."
His therapist shrugs. "Need isn't the only thing that brings people together, Anthony."
Ian
Women are terrifying. Ian has known this for a long time, but it can still surprise him just how effortlessly calculating they can be. Dianna called him three days ago and invited him out to try a new restaurant; when he'd asked who else would be there - just to be a dick, honestly - she'd casually said, "A few friends," not committing to any names before pressing him for an answer.
He'd said yes, because he likes Dianna, and he likes most of her friends, and he really likes Ethiopian food. Though now, less than an hour before he was supposed to be at the restaurant, he’s rethinking liking Dianna.
She'd called under the guise of giving parking instructions, and then, as he’s half-listening and buttoning up a patterned shirt, she slips in, "Oh, and Anthony's coming."
He freezes with his fingers on the top button. After a beat of silence, he picks his phone off the bed, hoping Dianna will sense his glare through the call.
"What the fuck," he says flatly. "Anthony's coming, you're telling me that now?"
"Maybe I just found out."
"Oh, you just found out that you invited him? Really snuck that past yourself 'til now, huh?"
"I'm sorry, sheesh, I'll call him and tell him not to come."
"Obviously don't do that, Dianna!" He sighs, trying to calm down. "It's fine, I was just surprised; I'm sorry for yelling."
Dianna hums noncommittally, but when she speaks again, she sounds nervous. "Are you still coming? Please still come."
"Of course I'm still coming," he says, looking himself up and down in the mirror. "It'll be nice to see him again."
"Awesome! He's single, by the way."
"Bye, Dianna, see you there!"
Anthony When Dianna texts and asks him to come to dinner, Anthony accepts without hesitation. He loves Ethiopian food, which tends to have a lot of vegan options, and Dianna always has the inside scoop on up-and-coming restaurants. There is an added bonus, too; Dianna is really more Ian's friend than his, and he suspects he's been invited because Ian is gonna be there.
In the hours leading up to the dinner, he is nauseous with anxiety, but as soon as he steps into the restaurant and spots the rest of the party at their table, a strange calm falls over him. Of course, when he spots Ian - who in turn spots him - a flutter of butterflies swirls in his stomach, and he can’t hold back a smile. Ian returns it.
For a second it feels like the surroundings blur and all he can see is Ian. He holds eye contact all the way to the table, only breaking it to greet everyone else and take his seat. He suspects it’s no coincidence that the only empty chair is right across the table from Ian.
"Hi," he says breathlessly, trying to seem casual while fighting for his life.
"Hi," Ian responds. "Good to see you."
"You too."
For all that Anthony wants to catch up with Ian, he’s very aware of the other people at the table; most of whom seem unaware of Dianna’s obvious scheme and therefore do their best to include him and Ian in their conversation. He can’t be too upset about it; it’s less nerve-wracking than speaking to Ian directly; he can’t say everything he wants to with an audience anyway.
Besides, Ian is clearly in a good mood; someone at the table has complained about the number of ads she gets for ad-free mobile games, and questions how they’re making money. This has sent Ian off on an immediate rant.
"It's all data mining," he says for the third time in just as many minutes, a little too loud for a public place. "It's not just shady, it's straight up predatory; they collect everything they can get their hands on and sell it to the highest bidder. This is why we need better legislation-"
If Anthony could see himself from the outside, he’s pretty sure he'd have literal hearts in his eyes.
Ian & Anthony
Eventually dinner wraps up, and the group finds themselves outside, saying goodbye as they head for their respective cars and Ubers. Ian and Anthony hang back, soon finding themselves alone in the parking lot. For a moment, neither of them speaks. The evening air blows an empty plastic bag past them, like the inner-city version of a tumbleweed, and they both sputter with laughter.
As they collect themselves, Ian clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You too, man.”
Ian fears that the conversation is over; that he has to drive home with no closure whatsoever; but then Anthony’s eyes sparkle with that familiar warmth, and he says, “Do you maybe wanna come over to my place? Not now, I mean, but.. tomorrow?"
Delight and nervousness battle it out in Ian’s stomach; he thankfully catches himself before it shows on his face, managing a casual expression. “Sure, uh, text me when you're done doing, like, sunrise yoga or whatever."
Instead of dignifying the jab with a response, Anthony pulls Ian in for a warm hug, relishing how he tenses up for only a second before relaxing into the embrace.
"I'll text you as soon as the shaman leaves," Anthony quips. Pulling away, he puts his hands in his pockets, walking backwards towards his car. "I'd invite you over to talk tonight, but I had wine with dinner; might do something impulsive."
Ian scoffs and shakes his head, but there’s no missing the blush rising in his cheeks.
"Sure," he says about 20 seconds too late, giving Anthony a small wave as he also starts to leave. "See you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow," Anthony echoes with a smile, and it feels as if no time has passed.
The next day, Ian ends up at Anthony's place just in time for a late breakfast. The number of dishes littering the dining table tells Ian that Anthony has been stress-cooking, and he can’t help the warm feeling in his chest; clearly, this is important to both of them. He’s also touched to find that Anthony has remembered to get gluten-free bread for him; and as he tucks into a surprisingly flavorful tofu scramble, he’s overwhelmed with affection for his former best friend.
Here they are, the two of them, sharing a meal in Anthony's home as they have done a thousand times before in what felt like another lifetime. Conversation comes easy but stays light. The most recent earthquake in L.A.; the mayoral election; family members they know; friends they share. Smalltalk that should feel shallow but holds so many years of intimate knowledge of one another.
They finish eating but keep talking as they clear the table and load the dishwasher, tiptoeing towards the reason they’re there. Anthony asks about Smosh the way any friend of Ian's would, as if it hasn’t been the source of so much hurt; and Ian answers as if it’s just a place where he works, and not a house haunted by Anthony's absence.
Once there’s nothing left to clean and tidy, they go to the living room; Ian takes a seat on the couch while Anthony drops into the nearest chair. There’s a beat of silence. For the millionth time, Anthony thinks about the fight that never happened; he left Smosh without the screaming argument he half-expected. Ian just let him go.
He’s often wondered if a loud fight would have given him closure. Still, he hopes they’re not about to have that fight now. He couldn’t bear it. Sitting in his sunlit living room with Ian is the happiest he’s felt in years. As much as he wants this to be a new beginning, wants to keep the peace, there’s something he needs to say.
“I think a part of me wanted you to come after me, a big part even. In the beginning, when I was so angry at you, I wanted you to come knocking just so I could reject you. I know that’s awful, but it’s the truth.”
“I can’t say I don’t get it.”
“It took me a long time to stop being angry, and then I was just sad; I started wanting you to reach out, so I had an excuse to come back.”
“You wouldn’t have come back,” Ian says, shell-shocked and in denial.
“I would have.”
“Being under Defy nearly killed you!”
“Yeah, and coming back would have been stupid, but I would have. I was so scared of starting over without you; I would have come crawling back just to not risk failing. But you never came after me; and when Defy went down, you still didn’t.” Anthony cracks a smile. “You kept fighting. When Mythical bought Smosh, you still kept fighting. You brought our dream back to life with a team of amazing people around you. It hurt that you didn’t need me anymore, but I’m so proud of you.”
“That’s not true; I never stopped needing you.”
“Then why didn’t you come after me? Out of pride?”
“Usually pride would be a safe bet, but not this time. I wanted to chase you down the day you left. I lay in bed that night imagining myself driving over to your place, begging you to come back; but I knew you wouldn’t. And even though I didn’t wanna admit it to myself, I knew you were right to leave. After you left, I don’t know if you saw much of the content-“
“I did,” Anthony says, grimacing.
“Fuck. I was really hoping you didn’t; I was gonna make it sound not so bad, but.. Yeah, it got really bad; and when the shutdown happened, I almost lost hope. Without Smosh, I had nothing to offer you. So, I went looking for a new parent company, and- Look, you know I love Rhett and Link, but I chose Mythical solely because they were the ones willing to give us the most creative control.”
“It was the right choice.”
Ian smiles slightly. “I think so. They’re good Southern boys, and I trust them. Even though some people might say, don’t mix business and friendship- Uh, I guess we’d know about that; and Rhett and Link are childhood best friends anyway-“
“Ian,” Anthony says, stopping Ian’s rambling instantly.
“Mmyes?”
“What do you mean by ‘Without Smosh, I had nothing to offer you’?”
Ian adjusts his glasses, swallows once, and adjusts his glasses again before saying, “I didn’t wanna live the rest of my life not talking to you. Smosh was wrecked, but I thought, if I fixed it, there was a chance that I could have you back.”
“You worked your ass off to find a new parent company; and hired good people; and created better content; just to get me back? Not because you wanted to see Smosh back on its feet?”
“Come on, man, you think I have integrity like that?”
“I know you do,” Anthony says, and he can’t hold back a smile. “I’m honored, though.”
“You should be! It was stressful, and now I can’t have gluten anymore.”
“You think the gluten intolerance is because of stress? Not your aging body?”
Ian looks away, pouting, “We can’t all look like a piece of paper someone used to test their markers.”
“That’s sloppy, try again.”
“You look like a Halloween costume called Sexy Rorschach Test.”
“You think I’m sexy?” Anthony teases, looking at Ian with a mockery of a smolder.
Ian’s upper lip curls in annoyance. “You know you look good..”
“You look good too.”
Ian scoffs. “When we left dinner the other night, I looked like a Republican senator who’d just picked up a sex worker.”
Anthony bursts out laughing and falls back into the chair, his feet coming off the ground as his knees pull towards his chest. Ian watches him, trying to keep a straight face even as his shoulders shake slightly with held-in laughter. When Anthony gets a hold of himself, wiping a few tears off his face, the look he gives Ian is impossibly fond.
"You know I'd never make you pay for it," he says, a little too earnestly for a joke. Ian blushes, even as he scrunches up his nose.
"Wow, thanks so much," he says flatly, sending them both into a fit of giggles. When it subsides, Anthony lets out a little sigh. He looks serious again, and the words that follow don’t come easy.
“I didn't know you were struggling too, not 'til later. At the time, I thought you’d just stopped giving a shit. I couldn’t bear it; Smosh was our baby, and watching you be so casual about losing it was driving me crazy. But on top of that..” he hesitates for a moment, looking down at his hands. “Worse than that, I thought you’d stopped caring about me.”
"I could never. The truth is, at some point, I knew that you were gonna leave, before you said anything," Ian fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt cuff. "I gave up. I thought I'd already lost you; and if I'd admitted to myself how bad things were with Defy, I would have left, too. But that would mean losing Smosh completely, and then I'd have nothing to offer you.
I hung in there because I thought, if I get through this, if I can fix it, maybe he'll come back. Things got worse before they got better, and then you seemed to be doing so well. By the time I felt like Smosh was back on track, you were so successful on your own; I couldn't imagine you wanting to come back."
"Ian, what-" Anthony tries not to let frustration get the best of him. "That’s the second time you’ve said that: Without Smosh you had nothing to offer me? I loved Smosh, still do, but what you and I have has always mattered more."
This is it, Ian knows. This is the moment to be completely honest and vulnerable; speak now or forever hold your peace. Tell Anthony everything and let the chips fall where they may; or keep up the white lie that has fueled the fire leading to Anthony's departure. Here they are, hanging out for the first time in years, and as much as it terrifies Ian to threaten this budding new beginning, he knows he has to be honest.
He takes a deep breath, voice shaking slightly as he struggles to get the words out. "I'm not saying this was in any way reasonable, but.. I thought, if I didn't have Smosh as a buffer, I would ruin everything. I knew I could never have you the way I wanted, but with Smosh, at least there'd be this big thing keeping us together."
When he finally dares to look at Anthony, he finds him staring, stunned. "The way you wanted? We're best friends, did you want.. more?"
This is it. "Yes, I wanted- I want," Ian sighs, closing his eyes. "I never wanted to risk Smosh, and I especially never wanted to risk our friendship, but yes. Anthony, I'm so s-"
"I'm in love with you."
Ian's eyes fly open. "What?!"
Anthony rises to his feet, sits back down, gets back up, and starts pacing nervously. "Fuck, I can't believe I just said that."
"Do you mean it?"
"Yes, obviously!"
Ian gets up as well but stays in place as he watches Anthony do a lap around the living room. “You were in love with me and you never told me?”
“You never told me either!”
“Well, obviously not! What if it had ruined our friendship and the company we built together?”
A laugh sputters out of Anthony, stopping him in his tracks. He comes closer, carefully, as if unsure if he’s allowed. “I guess I can’t really throw stones when.. I’m a house of glass.”
Ian frowns. “What?”
“I don’t know, I can’t think right now, can I just-?”
Anthony takes another step forward and reaches for Ian, pulling him closer by his shirt. Ian goes willingly. He closes his eyes as he feels Anthony's breath on his chin. When their lips meet, Anthony sighs happily, and neither of them pull away to end the kiss, instead deepening it.
The idea that Anthony has to lean down to kiss him has Ian swooning a little. He's left antiquated ideas of masculinity behind long ago, uninterested in being a man's man; emotional vulnerability is old hat at this point; but being cradled in Anthony's arms still makes him feel safer and more protected than he's ever thought another man could make him.
He flicks his tongue over Anthony's bottom lip and is immediately granted access. Their combined breaths grow heavier, and hands start to explore. Ian sneaks a hand under Anthony's shirt, feeling delirious as abs flex under his touch. Anthony, made shameless by his arousal, doesn’t hesitate to grab a handful of Ian's ass and pull him even closer. Feeling the press of Anthony's hard-on against his stomach, Ian moans into the kiss and pulls back.
"Sorry, sorry," Anthony says, swallowing hard. "That was a lot."
"Don't be sorry; I was gonna suggest we move it to the bedroom."
For all that he's fantasized about it, Ian could never have imagined how having sex with Anthony would really be. In their friendship, they were always equals; in Anthony's bedroom, he takes charge, gently but firmly moving Ian around. He takes his sweet time laying him down on soft sheets, kissing and stroking each new section of skin exposed as they undress each other. When he pulls off Ian's t-shirt and throws it aside, Ian feels a flash of panic, insecurity surging.
They’ve seen each other in various stages of undress countless times; but since it happened last, Anthony discovered the healing powers of yoga and 5-hour tattoo sessions, while Ian put Smosh first and sacrificed all means of self-care. Instinctively, he covers his soft stomach, but Anthony is quick to catch his wrists, pinning them down by Ian's sides.
"Excuse me, I need a tidy workspace," he says, ignoring Ian's noise of discontent.
Releasing Ian's wrists, Anthony runs his hands up to Ian's chest and squeezes appreciatingly, earning himself a glare. "Are you having fun?"
"So much fun."
Ian sighs, accepting his fate; it’s hard to be truly upset when Anthony seems so genuinely into his body, needing to touch and taste everything. It’s not until they are in their underwear that Anthony seems hesitant. He stands next to the bed, paused with his hands on the waistband of his briefs, ready to pull them down, when he seems to have a dip in confidence.
His eyes are dark with lust but all too serious when they seek out Ian's. "Is this crazy?"
Ian pretends to think about it, then nods. "It's pretty crazy. Show me your cock."
Anthony sputters out a laugh, collecting himself as he sits down on the bed next to Ian. He strokes Ian's thigh, giving it an approving squeeze, willing his eyes to stop roaming while he voices his concern.
"I'm serious, Ian, are we being crazy? We've been apart for a while; now we're reconnecting and we're jumping right into bed? I don't wanna ruin this before it begins; this is not gonna be a hook-up and then radio silence, I won't do it."
Ian raises himself up on his elbow, "That's not gonna happen, I promise. I know this is all going so fast, but at the same time, I've been wanting this for literal years."
"Me too," Anthony says quietly.
"And we've both done anal before."
Anthony blushes, averting his eyes as he can’t fight back a smile. "Yeah, but I haven't been on the receiving end."
"Well, I have, so no worries."
"You've bottomed?!" Anthony whips his head back, staring incredulously. "I didn't know that, when was this? With who?"
Ian chuckles, endeared by Anthony seeming offended that Ian hasn't told him. After all, there was a time when they shared every little detail of their dating and sex lives; and Ian bottoming would definitely have been a big conversation, likely the day after it happened.
He shrugs, trying to sound casual. "An ex-girlfriend I was with for a year or so; you haven't met her, it started and ended while we've been apart. I let her peg me."
Anthony swallows, folding his arms across his chest. He nods slowly. "How was it?"
"I liked it. Only did it twice, though; while it was happening, I couldn't stop thinking about this guy I'm in love with."
Anthony scoffs out a laugh, but a blush rises to his cheeks. He gives Ian a gentle push, making him lie back, leaning down to join their lips for another kiss. It turns intense again almost immediately, and soon they are both panting heavily against each other’s mouths. Anthony backs off, ignoring Ian's protests; he shoves his briefs down and manages to kick them off before reaching for Ian's as well.
Ian consents with a distracted nod as he stares at Anthony's hard cock, his stomach flipping with anticipation at the size of him. He's seen it before, but not fully hard and not when he felt that he was allowed to look. Then, before he can register what is happening, Anthony has straddled him. "If you want me to bottom, you need to rearrange."
"Patience, baby, I just wanna see.."
Ian tries really hard to ignore how being called baby by Anthony is making him feel, instead watching as Anthony pushes down his own erection so it lays flush against Ian's stomach. He groans and his cock twitches. The look Ian shoots him is both amused and judgmental. "Are you measuring?"
"No, this would be measuring," Anthony says, taking both their cocks in his hand. Ian's hips buck slightly at the contact. Anthony chuckles, eyes darkening. "I was just checking how deep in your guts I'm gonna be."
Ian just barely manages to hold back a whimper, instead raising one knee to kick Anthony in the back.
"Go get lube, you freak. You have lube, right?"
Anthony's face blanches momentarily, then he dismounts and flees the room, coming back seconds later with a bright purple tube of lube, brand new with the plastic seal still on. He holds it up for Ian to see, holding his other hand up behind it like a beauty influencer showing off a product. Ian motions for him to get things moving and he grins, taking off the plastic seal.
"Adam & Eve sponsored some videos; they sent me a bunch of stuff. That drawer is full of condoms," he says with a nod, indicating the nightstand to Ian's left. Ian opens the drawer, which does indeed contain at least a dozen 10-packs of condoms. He opens a full pack and takes one out, turning it between his fingers.
"Full because you don't ever use them," he says teasingly.
Anthony doesn’t laugh. He throws the plastic seal in the trash and brings the lube over to the bed. He sets it down on the nightstand for a moment, reaching down to carefully take off Ian's glasses, looking into his eyes as he lowers them.
"Yeah, I haven't been interested in anyone else in a long time."
For someone jittery with eagerness, Anthony demonstrates extreme patience as he opens Ian up with slick fingers. Ian is choking back moans, leaking onto his own stomach as he gives Anthony the little guidance he needs. The memory of getting prepped by his ex-girlfriend is distant and growing dimmer by the minute. Anthony is less practiced, but he makes up for it in awed enthusiasm, eyes flickering from Ian's blushing face to his hole clenching around Anthony's fingers.
Soon Ian decides that Anthony has made sufficient room for himself and pulls him closer, kissing him messily as he rolls on a condom. Anthony lines himself up and presses his lips to Ian's neck as he inserts himself, little by little as Ian adjusts. When he finally bottoms out, Ian shudders out a moan, shaking hands finding Anthony's hips.
"Don't move."
"Am I hurting you?"
"No, I just don't wanna come yet."
Anthony snickers, placing a row of slow kisses from Ian's jaw to his shoulder. "I'm flattered."
"So full of yourself."
"I think you're one who's full of me, actually."
Ian rolls his eyes and Anthony laughs, gently brushing hair off Ian's damp forehead. They lock eyes, and for a moment time stands still as the weight of the moment hits them; after years spent missing each other, stumbling through the dull ache of loss, they have found their way back to each other in a way neither of them had dared hope for.
Part of Ian wants this moment to go on forever, savor their closeness for as long as he can before something else can try to break them. The rest of him, however, is very aware of Anthony's cock brushing his prostate.
“Okay,” he says in an outbreath. "Move."
Anthony does. He starts slow, careful and deliberate, rolling his hips in short, measured thrusts while searching Ian's face for signs of discomfort. The stretch is delicious even after his thorough prep, and Ian sighs in pleasure, pulling him in for a messy kiss, urging him to pick up the pace. Their combined sounds mix with birdsong from outside and in the midst of it, even with his face scrunched up in pleasure, Ian can't help but smile at the fact that he's having what may be the best lay of his life in broad daylight with his best friend.
Anthony slows down slightly, returning the smile, puzzled. "Why are you smiling?"
"You're still my best friend."
Anthony's hips jerks forward and a small moan startles out of him. He blushes and hides his face while Ian cackles. "Did that do something for you? You out here getting off on the power of friendship?"
"Shut the fuck up."
Before Ian can crack another joke, Anthony kisses him and speeds up his thrusts again, harder now, tapping his prostate on every turn. Ian groans against his lips, fingers digging into his sides, and Anthony pulls one of Ian's legs around himself to get deeper. They gasp into each other's mouths, bodies moving in perfect sync with each other as they always did. Anthony nips the sensitive skin under Ian's ear and revels in the whimper he gets in response.
"I'm close," Ian grits out as his cock twitches between their bodies.
Anthony nods jerkily in agreement, kissing him reassuringly. He gets a hand between them to jerk Ian off with a firm grip. "Me too, I'm- I'll follow you."
Promise? Ian thinks, and then he tumbles over the edge, moaning out a string of fuck-fuck-fuck as cum splatters up his chest. Anthony's rhythm falters at the sight, and as Ian tightens further around him, he surges forward to bring their sweaty foreheads together.
"Oh, oh my-" The sentence bleeds into a deep groan as he comes.
The rolls of his hips slow to a stop, and he brings their mouths together for another kiss. They lay there for a moment, catching their breath. Anthony's stomach flexes and unflexes a few times as the last traces of his orgasm ebb out, inadvertently rubbing against Ian's oversensitive cock and making him whimper.
Anthony pulls back, giggling. Running soothing fingers up and down Ian's chest, he carefully pulls out, and - slightly wobbly - he gets out of bed to dispose of the condom. He returns just in time to see Ian's eyes slip shut, and huffs out a laugh at the sight.
"Don't fall asleep, we gotta to clean up."
"Okay," Ian whispers but makes no effort to stay awake. Just before he knocks out completely, he's vaguely aware of Anthony wiping down both off their chests using Ian's t-shirt. Bastard.
Ian traces one line of Anthony’s tattoos across his chest, following its path downwards while Anthony watches his concentrated face with a fond smirk. When the line ends in a swirl by his groin, Ian flattens his hand on Anthony’s hip, thumbing the slightly protruding bone.
“They say that there’s a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.“
Anthony nods slowly. “At the end of the inky swirl it’s a dick instead.”
“I think I like that better.”
“I’m sure you do, gaylord.”
“Excuse me?!” Ian yells, and Anthony lets out a cackling laugh, not stopping even as he takes a pillow to the face. Ian straddles him, poking his fingers into Anthony’s sides. “You just had sex with a guy, I was there, and you’re calling me a gaylord?”
“Mercy!” Anthony yelps, still laughing, as he squirms to avoid Ian’s prodding fingers.
“Mercy? How about ‘sorry’! You don’t get to call me a gaylord, gaylord!”
Anthony catches both of his wrists, wheezing from laughter and tickles. “Sorry, I’m sorry!”
Ian lets his arms go limp and sighs, rolling his eyes. Anthony giggles and shakes his hands a little, making Ian’s arms wiggle. When he releases them, Ian plants his hands flat on Anthony’s chest, forcing a small ‘oomph’ out of him.
“I don’t think you’re sorry.”
Anthony’s eyes widen ever so slightly as a small jolt of anxiety runs through him. “What do you mean?”
“If you were really sorry,” Ian says, scowl softening into a grin. “you wouldn’t be at half-mast right now. Can’t even have a naked man sitting on you without getting a boner.”
“I feel like that’s a normal reaction.”
“You would feel like that, gaylord.”
Barking out a laugh, Anthony grips Ian’s hips and rolls them over. “You’re the gay one,” he says, panting with effort as he tries to pin Ian down, surprised at the amount of strength necessary. He’s suddenly reminded that Ian used to be something of an athlete.
Ian struggles half-heartedly .“Everyone always said you’re the pretty one, and I think we know what that means!”
Anthony snorts, finally trapping Ian’s wrists against the mattress, hips pressed between his legs to hold him in place. He’s fully hard now, and Ian is catching up quick. Anthony leans down and captures his lips in a slow, wet kiss. Ian moans against him and it’s like music to his ears. He pulls back, huffing out a small laugh when Ian tries to follow.
“If I say that I’m the gay one, can I fuck you again?”
Ian pretends to think about it, even as Anthony feels his cock twitch against his abdomen. Ian sighs dramatically. “Fine, but no take-backsies; if I let you put your dick in me again, you’re the gay one forever.”
Anthony sits back on his heels, eyes darkening as he pushes Ian’s thighs towards his torso. “Deal.”
After round two, they both drop into an unplanned nap. When they rouse, the early evening sun casts a soft, peachy pink glow over their tired bodies as they slowly get out of bed. Ian groans in pain and supports himself on the nightstand before taking a few unsteady steps. Anthony winces, shooting him an apologetic look.
“Shit, sorry, did I..?”
Ian waves dismissively. “Not my ass, my back; next time you decide to put me in a mating press, let me limber up first.”
“I know a guy who can teach you some yoga.”
Ian ignores him and they end up in the shower. Anthony insists on washing Ian’s hair and immediately gets shampoo in his eyes, giggling uncontrollably as he helps wash it out. Ian soaps up Anthony’s pecs for several minutes with a look of deep concentration and Anthony gets hard again.
“So definitely just your back hurts, right?” Anthony says, sneaking a hand down to Ian’s ass.
They do rock-paper-scissors to decide who has to leave the hot shower and fetch the lube. Anthony loses and pads barefoot to the bedroom, leaving a trail of water. When he returns, he pulls Ian out of the shower anyway and bends him over the bathroom counter.
Ian hisses as his bare stomach makes contact with cold marble, followed by a second hiss when Anthony pushes inside of him for the third time that day. Maybe he is a little sore, but he doesn’t even consider saying stop, especially when Anthony moans beautifully behind him.
Instead, he says, “I don’t know if I can come again,” and before Anthony can ask, “Don’t stop.”
Anthony grunts in response and fuck into him with small, shallow movements, clearly trying to be careful. It’s very sweet, Ian thinks, but it won’t do. He reaches behind him and grabs one of Anthony’s wrists, pulling him closer.
“We get it, you have a big dick; now stop fucking me from 10 feet away, I’m freezing.”
Anthony chuckles fondly and kisses a few waterdrops off Ian’s back, mesmerized by the goosebumps spreading across his pale skin. Sliding his arms around Ian’s waist, he shuffles closer, plastering his front to Ian’s back and burying his cock as deep as it will go.
Ian moans in pleasure and pain as he clenches around him, and nods with determination. “Alright, gaylord, get it done.”
Anthony huffs out a laugh in response. He barely pulls out, instead rolling his hips in short, sharp thrusts, nailing Ian’s prostate every time. Their combined moans echo off the bathroom tiles as Anthony makes short work of it; they’re both too tired and sore for this. Just this once, though, overstimulation is his friend, and he jerks Ian off in time with his thrusts, all but forcing his third orgasm out of him.
Ian yelps and shakes as few drops of cum drip onto the floor, and his body vice grips around Anthony, pulling his release from him. Ian’s knees wobble and it’s only Anthony’s body on his that keeps him from sliding onto the floor in a boneless heap.
Anthony presses his lips against Ian’s neck and doesn’t move for a good minute, breathing laboriously against his sensitive skin. Finally, having caught his breath, he lifts his head just enough to whisper, “I’m gonna pull out, are you standing?”
Ian nods, not sure if it’s true or not, and Anthony very carefully disconnects them, making soothing noises as Ian grimaces. Despite his protests, Anthony runs him a bath. He dozes off in the hot water, waking up momentarily to see Anthony sitting on the bathmat next to the tub, making sure he doesn’t drown. He’s reading a book about mindfulness, occasionally glancing at Ian, checking on him. Ian smiles softly before slipping back into slumber. The second time he wakes up, the water is tepid, and Anthony is asking for his takeout order.
Once the food arrives, they set up camp in the living room. Ian sits sidesaddle on the couch with a soft pillow under him, wearing Antony’s top sheet like a toga. Anthony is next to him, manspreading in his bathrobe and boxers. They eat in relative silence with Planet Earth playing on the big TV.
After slurping up the last of his pho, Ian sets down the bowl and chopsticks and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Okay, this might sound crazy, but-“
Anthony groans around a mouthful of vegan spring roll. “If you wanna go again, you can sit on it; I’m not getting up.”
Ian snorts, feeling his cheeks flush. “Jesus, that’s not what I meant; besides, my ass needs like, three business days to recover. Maybe let me finish?”
“I had you finishing a lot,” Anthony mumbles. Ian shoots him a look and he chuckles, holding a hand up in defense. Setting down his empty food container, he shifts one leg onto the couch to better face Ian.
“Sorry, finish your sentence, please. This might sound crazy, buuuut..?”
Ian looks into his eyes, and for one brief moment, they’re 16 again, sitting on Anthony’s bed in his childhood bedroom, brainstorming sketch ideas. Their shared history spans two decades, and he wouldn’t do a thing differently out of fear that they would end up anywhere but here. In the present, Anthony’s heart thumps; Ian looks as radiant and unafraid as Anthony always remembers him, and the look he gives Anthony is bright like the sun. “What if we bought back Smosh?”
//
